DuckTales One-Shots!

100.4

The triplets slept in their playpen as Donald was watching TV. He stood up to make himself something to eat when he heard one of the boys whine. He returned to the playpen and looked at the boys.

Dewey was curled up into a tight ball and was kicking the air. He appeared to be in pain and breathing fast.

"Dew, are you okay, baby?" Donald mumbled, picking him up.

Dewey's face was a bright cherry-red color. Donald put a hand against his forehead; he was very hot.

"Poor Dewey's not feeling too good, huh?" he asked, rocking the tiny duckling.

Huey woke up and yawned.

"Dada?" he asked. "Huh?"

"Your little brother's not feeling well, Huey," Donald said, although he figured Huey wouldn't really understand him. "He's sick."

"Dew sick?"

"Yes."

Huey reached out a hand to pat Dewey's back. Dewey continued to whimper, and didn't really want anyone touching him; any contact made him feel hotter.

Donald went into the kitchen and searched the pantry for any children's medicine. Finding none, he set Dewey back in the playpen and called the Windhams. They arrived with medicine that they had kept because of their own daughter, Anise.

Donald gave Dewey a bit of medicine. Although Dewey hated anything flavorless, bitter, sour, or spicy, he drank it anyway; despite being sort of rebellious, he generally took any medicine when he had to.

Donald took out a thermometer and took his temperature. It came up with 100.4. He ran his fingers through Dewey's hair.

"You poor thing," he said.

"I love you," Dewey babbled sleepily.

Huey, who was still very much awake, put Donald's other hand on his head. Donald picked them up and rocked them until they fell completely asleep. After that, he put them back in the playpen, turned off the TV and went to bed.

Donald woke up to the triplets giggling. He ran out of his room and looked into the playpen.

Dewey seemed pretty okay right now; he didn't look feverish at all. Donald checked his temperature and came up with 98.8.

"I'm so glad you're okay, my little Dewford," Donald said, picking up Dewey and hugging him.

"Love you, Dada," Dewey said happily.