Duckshots!

If One Of Them Is Dead! (Scrooge x OC/Reader)

2017 Ducktales
Post-Cannon
Scrooge x OC/Reader
Female!Reader
Establish Relationship?
Mysterious Past

I watched him, waltzing around the room. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I hadn't had one entire conversation all night because his presence was such a distraction. He wasn't supposed to be here. It was inferring with my work. Yet there he was, being perfectly suave to everyone in the museum. It was only a matter of time before he saw me.

I check the time. I had been here two hours and had enough for a okay story. I was going to bail early and call it a night. I took one last look to check his location and our eyes locked. He nearly dropped his drink, even from a across the room. My breath hitched and he made a beeline for me but I had already spun on my heel. The rotating door never stopped as I nearly fell down the stairs. A small pressure on my elbow caught me. His face was full of emotions. I looked up at him and I knew I would have to be the one to break the silence. I never thought this day would come. I wanted to barf, but I swallowed.

"Mr. McDuck, it's an honor." That snapped him out of the spell.

"My apologies, Ms. Mr. Mallard?" He raised an eyebrow as he read my press badge.

"I was filling in for a friend," I said, taking the name tag off. "Name's ____."

"I see." He took a slow breath. "Sorry for being so forward, but you reminded me of an old friend."

"No harm." I gave him a smile and his eyes sparkled. "She must be a hell of woman to keep up with you."

"She was," he hummed.

"Sorry," I squirmed, not knowing what to do next.

"You didn't know." I took a step back, trying to leave. I tried to find words to leave. "If you're heading out, can I offer you a ride?"

He motioned for his driver.

"I can see the headlines now," I joked.

"I wasn't, I didn't mean," he floundered for the words.

He wasn't offended or even embarrassed. It seemed more like he didn't want me to assume the worse of him.

"It's my job to think that way," I smirked. I should said no. Truthfully, I didn't want to say no. I had so much control for over thirty years now. What was a car ride going to hurt? "I'm sure you're a prefect gentleman."

A buff man opened the door. I crawled in and sat in the seat facing backwards. He sat on the bench across from me. I told the driver the address, and he rolled up the window.

I ran my hands over the leather set and stared out the window. Anything not to look at him. He spared me no same kindness. His eyes were glued to me. Maybe this had been a mistake.

"Why a fake badge?" he finally asked.

"It's not fake. It's a friends. They don't care who's we have as long as we're advertising that you're speaking to us at your own risk. My boss is a stickler, and adding your name to the guest list takes knowing people." He didn't get the hint I was asking how he got in, because he didn't offer insight.

"So you are a reporter?"

"Yea, Mallard was sick, and I owed him. Though now he owes me because he didn't tell me the exact assignment before I agreed. I don't do galas." He heard me despite whispering the end of the sentence.

"Why not?"

I looked out the window and took a deep breath. I had to remind myself I was safe. It was just a drive home and FOWL was gone, I reminded myself.

"I'm an investigative reporter. My usually scene is being shut down by a receptionist, dirty back alleys, and the occasional on location bomb threat when I get lucky."