Title: Slaying Giants
Fandom: Disney (more specifically, Mickey Mouse and Company)
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Mickey/Minnie, Mortimer, Ferdinand (Extra points if you remember who the original Mortimer and Ferdinand are!)
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: What should be a calm evening at Mickey's promptly takes some unexpected twists...
Word Count: 2,680
Written For: Fan FlashWorks 409: Show Off
Warnings: Real!Disney AU
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.











"Hey, boys, can I get a little help here?" Mickey asked as he passed behind the couch where his nephews sat on the very edge f their cushions, but they kept talking as though they didn't even hear him. He shrugged as best he could, with his arms loaded with groceries for their stay, and continued on to the kitchen. It had been quite some time since his sister had last let him keep his nephews, but he was determined things were going to go well this time.

He couldn't quite blame Felicity for being cautious in letting him keep the boys. After all, they did have a tendency to get into trouble, it seemed, every single time they came for a visit, but Donald's nephews were not visiting nor were Minnie's or Daisy's nieces or Pete's nephews. At least, Mickey thought, his jovial whistle pausing for just a moment and his tail giving a snap in the air behind him, none of the other kids were going to be around while his nephews were. Besides, Mickey thought, laying the groceries on the table, he'd bought plenty of movies and video games to keep them entertained and wanting to be at home.

He was pleased to hear them chattering in excited squeaks as he set about putting up the groceries. When he was done, he returned to the doorway and leaned against its frame while he listened, eager to find out what he had missed in their lives. The boys were getting older. They only had a few more years now, and they'd be considering jobs and colleges.

"I'm telling you, Ferdie, it was the best job I've ever done!" Morty squeaked jovially. "I killed a dozen of the bastards in one go, probably more! You should give it a try!"

Mickey almost fell. His mouth hung up, his whistle having died away completely now. The boys continued, seemingly unaware of his presence.

"I don't know, Morty. I'm not good with blades like you are." Ferdie's tail whipped around behind him, but he didn't seem at all upset that his brother was discussing multiple kills like some people might speak of the weather.

Swallowing hard and gathering his courage, Mickey leaned closer. Surely his nephews could not be involved in murder? He knew they were coming swiftly closer to adulthood, but his nephews were good kids. It'd be more like Pete's boys to be killing and robbing folks. He'd heard recently that one of them had already been caught with pixie dust.

"I'm way better with guns," Ferdie was saying, and Mickey's jaw dropped further. "You know that."

"I know, but you should give it a try. Knives are so much quieter, and cleaner too. Mom won't suspect a thing!"

Ferdie snickered. The sound seemed dark and ominous and sent chilling shivers sweeping down Mickey's spine. "Are you kidding? She's dumber than our uncle, and he's not going to know what we brought with us!"

There was the sound of a zipper being unzipped, and Mickey watched, heart in his throat, as the boys leaned close together over something between them on the couch. "Oh, cool!" Morty squealed, his tail going straight up behind him. "You brought the whole stash!"

"Of course, I did! I know how boring Uncle Mickey's is!"

"Ain't that the truth -- especially with Huey, Dewey, and Louie not being here! Those ducks know how to party!"

"Yeah, it's a shame what happened with Louie! You heard about it?"

"You mean that stint he's having to spend? Of course, I did! He shouldn't have brought it to school!"

"I guess that's true -- "

"Of course, it's true! He's always been such a show-off! I knew it was going to get him into trouble one day!"

"Hey, boys, whatcha got there?" Mickey struggled to keep his voice from hitting a note so high it would give him away. His heart seemed lodged permanently in his throat, and he was shivering from head to foot inside. He was a fine actor though -- he had made his entire livelihood on acting -- and remained calm on the outside. His gloved fingers tightly gripped the blade of his butcher knife as he began to lean over the couch.

His nephews immediately jumped into action. Ferdie zipped his bookbag while Morty leaned over him, blocking Mickey's view. "Nothing!" the mouse who was older by just a few seconds exclaimed cheerfully.

"Nope, not a thing, Uncle Mickey!" Ferdie agreed, looking up with a big grin after successfully having zipped his bag.

Morty visibly relaxed. He also grinned and chuckled as he added, "Not even a chicken wing!"

"Hey, Uncle Mickey," Ferdie asked puzzedly, "what's with the knife?"

Mickey shrugged one shoulder. "Oh, I was just getting ready to cut up a chicken for tonight's dinner."

The nephews exchanged a glance. Mickey's grip on the knife tightened as he watched both boys swallow. "You were?" Morty piped up cautiously.

"You betcha!" Mickey squeaked happily, as though nothing was amiss. "Minnie will be over after work, but I was off today so I thought I'd cook and surprise her. I always hate to see her disappointed. Don't you boys hate to see your sweet momma disappointed?"

They frowned. Their black, wiry tails twitched. "Why would Momma be upset?" asked Ferdie.

"Oh, I don't know." Mickey shrugged and lazily twirled the knife in the air. He was thankful for the air conditioner keeping his house cool; he certainly those hot and sweltering Summers where he had worked as a riverboat Captain and other odd jobs before finding his calling. "If maybe you boys were into something Felicity approve of? You'd break her heart." His own face fell for his own heart, too, was breaking. How could his sweet, kind, and intelligent nephews speak so easily of killing people with guns and knives?

He watched them exchange another look. Morty slowly, subtly shook his head. Ferdie's tail drooped.

"Is there something you boys want to tell me?" Mickey asked. "Maybe I can help with whatever problem you're having?"

"We're not having a problem, Uncle Mickey!" Morty spoke quickly.

"Okay, game's over," Mickey announced. He started to lower his cooking knife, but then raised it again and pointed directly at Ferdie's bookbag. "What's in the bag, boys?"

"Nothing!" Morty squealed, quickly throwing himself over the bag.

Ferdie frowned but did not speak.

"Ferdinand?" Mickey asked, looking at him.

"Don't you dare -- " Morty started.

"Don't threaten your brother," Mickey said and pointed his knife at him. "I don't know what kind of mess you've gotten yourselves into, but you're not going to threaten each other!" He stopped shaking as he realized Morty's eyes were becoming ever wider and starting to fill with tears.

"Y-you're threatening us, Uncla Mickey!" Mortimer exclaimed in a tinny voice Mickey had not heard for very many years.

Mickey dropped the knife instantly, but then picked it up again. "I don't understand," he confessed, frowning and looking at them both. "Weren't you two just in here talking about knifing and shooting people?! I know kids your generation are getting involved in drug and violence and the other nasty things of adulthood at ever younger ages, but that's why we live where we do! You don't have to do any of that awful stuff here at Disney!"

"Show him," Ferdinand said, his nose and tail quivering and tears also sparking in his big, wet eyes. "Just show him," he said again when Mortimer didn't comply. He shook his head. "Fine. I'll show him."

Mortimer actually leaned back on the couch and joined his hands together in his lap. "I don't believe you, Uncla Mickey!" he exclaimed, tears trailing down his face.

Mickey pointed again at Ferdinand's bookbag with his kitchen knife. "Show me."

Ferdinand grabbed his bookbag and yanked the zipper open. Games spilled out of the blue bag adorned with stars, which Mickey realized belatedly was the same bag he'd carried throughout most of elementary school. Ferdinand met Mickey's eyes, tears filling his own. "I-I can't believe you could think that of us, Uncla Mickey!" he cried, trembling all over with disappointment.

Mickey stared at the games. He dropped the knife onto the back of the couch and picked up one game after another. They were mostly shooting games, but there were a few assassin games in their meager collection as well. He stared at them, tears welling in his own big eyes. "Gosh, boys," he cried, his tail curling around his own feet, "I'm so very sorry!"

His mind suddenly swept back to another time, years ago, and another oddball job he'd taken to meet ends meet, and to impress a certain Princess, or at least she and her father had been calling her a Princess at that time. She'd certainly dressed and acted the part too. He had no regrets where Minnie was concerned -- Princess or commoner, she'd always be his top lady --, but right now, he felt absolutely awful. He had killed seven flies at that time and had allowed people to believe that he'd done far more, thus trapping himself in the escapades of having to beat a Giant! But that terror had been nothing to how awful he felt right now. Tears dribbled down his long nose and chin. "Gee, boys, I'm really very, very sorry!"

The twins exchanged a look. Slowly, in unison, they lifted their heads, which were not as little as they had once been, to look up at him. It was Mortimer, always the leader, who actually voiced their thought. "All's forgiven," he squeaked, a grin slowly spreading across his face, "if we can play them here in the open!"

Mickey stared at the games. His tail twitched. His nose twitched. His big ears twitched. "I know your mother doesn't approve."

"She doesn't have to know!" Morty cried.

"Oh, come on, Uncle Mickey!" Ferdie chimed in. "Like you said, at least we aren't out on the streets!" His tail whipped. "We could be like Donald's nephews!"

"Yeah," Mickey scratched an ear and tapped a foot against his living room floor. He was usually the proverbial King of his castle, but he certainly wasn't feeling that way tonight! "What was that I heard you two saying about Louie, anyway?"

"Ask your friend," Mortimer responded immediately before his brother could speak. Ferdinand shut his mouth as Mortimer's tail whisked through the air. "We boys have a strict no snitching code!" Morty added qucikly.

Mickey nodded. "That's fair enough, I reckon," he squeaked, thinking of some of the escapades he himself had shared with Donald and Goofy over the years. He certainly didn't need Minnie catch wind of some of them! Princess or not, she'd leave his tail for sure! He scratched his chin and tapped his foot again, for good measure.

"Oh, please, Uncle Mickey!" Ferdie cried, knowing he was the one for whom all the adults tended to have a soft spot. "Please! We won't tell Mom!"

"We won't tell a soul!" Morty quickly added, thinking of their "Aunt" Minnie. "Not a one! Nobody has to know! And we'll be quite about it when it's time for you to sleep!"

"And you'll do your homework?" Mickey asked.

"Uncle Mickey," Ferdinand said with a giggle, "it's Summer break! We don't have homework!"

Mickey's doorbell rang at just that moment. "Fine, fine," he said, relenting, knowing Minnie stood on the other side of that door, and remembering, too, that he was pretty sure one of Pete's nephews had already spent a stint in juvie. The boys could do a lot worse than video games. "But nobody knows!" he hissed in a whisper, tail slashing through the air, as he crossed over to answer his door.

Minnie was as beautiful as ever. She giggled as she teased him about taking so long to answer the door, and slipped in beside him before he could think of a reason to keep her from seeing the boys, and the violent games they had spread out over the couch. "You two have certainly grown a lot since I last saw you! Look at how handsome you've become," she squeaked delightedly, "just like your Uncle Mickey!"

Mickey blushed and began to hem and haw in his own doorway, dragging a foot across bashfully across his treshhold. Pluto bounced into the living room and barked happily, wiggling all over to greet his friend; Fiagro leapt from Minnie's arms and dashed toward the dog who, despite their rocky start, had become his best friend over the years.

"Whatcha playing?" Minnie asked, leaning over the couch and gazing at the television screen.

"Oh, just Kingdom Hearts," Mortimer answered, and sure enough, Mickey realized, in the little amount of time it had taken for him to greet Minnie, the boys had acted swiftly. There wasn't a trace of their own private stash of video games, and the whole kingdom had to accept Kingdom Hearts. Morty turned from the console and winked knowingly at his uncle, his tail swaying happily behind him.

Quickly recovering from his surprise, Mickey winked back and placed a gentle hand on the small of Minnie's back. He could feel the sway of her tail as he started to guide her away from the couch. "Oh, you two boys have always been such good, little gentlemen," she was squeaking, "not at all like Donald's nephews! You know, I saw that Louie of his the other day, and you wouldn't believe what that duck squawked at me!"

Huey, Louie, and Dewey had never had the best of role models, especially with running around with old Scrooge McDuck as often as they had growing up, but then, Mickey reminded himself, his own nephews could have also benefited from having better role models, a father figure who had been around more often rather than constantly acting or working small, oddball jobs in all sorts of countries or at least one who would not jump to such terrible conclusions about them. Guiding Minnie into his kitchen, he glanced back over at his nephews, who were both looking expectantly back at him from their game. He knew the moment he had Minnie out of the room, they'd be switching games, but relaxed when they both winked at him in unison. He winked back, promising himself he'd spend much more time with them going forward, and then put his attention on his Princess. He'd always treat her like a Princess, like his Queen even, as long as she'd have him.

He thought of the ring he'd been keeping in the top drawer of his bedside dresser and thought perhaps it was time he acted on that as well. Life was short to be constantly delaying the more important and wonderful aspects of life, such as spending time with his family and marrying the girl of his dreams. It might not be able to be cut short at any moment by an assassin or a Giant, but guns were still very real and vivid in the country. And then, too, you never knew when a mad farmer or a truck might get out of hand, he thought, reflecting back to his old friend, Horace. His tail swished.

"Mickey, are you listening?" Minnie squeaked suddenly, snapping Mickey out of his reverie.

"Yes, yes, sweetheart, of course!"

"So Daisy said -- "

He stared at her, still not really listening to her but nonetheless thinking how lucky he was to have her and the boys in the next room. Yeah, maybe it was time he slayed a few Giants. He'd ask her to marry him before the week was out, and he'd ask Felicity if he couldn't keep the boys all Summer. After all, it wouldn't be much longer before they were hard-working adults like their mother and uncle as well.

"Mickey?" Minnie's tail shot like a dark arrow behind her.

Instead of answering her verbally, he pulled her to him and kissed her long, firm, and hard on her beautiful lips. "I love you," he declared and then pulled away, whistling again, and started working on dinner.




The End