Characters not owned by me

This fic is dedicated to my friend who loves The Three Caballeros just as much as I do.

Chapter 1: Introductions

"...and don't come back until you lighten up that temper of yours!" A tall white duck proclaimed as he closed the door to the house.

"Dumb sisters..." A young white duck muttered as he stomped down the sidewalk. He wore a navy blue cap with a scarlet red tip over his face, a navy blue shirt, and a scarlet colored handkerchief wrapped around his neck. An angry expression was plastered on his face; the duck let out a frustrated groan. "I wish I never had one..." he muttered making a left turn, "They're annoying, and when they're younger than you, parents always believe them! Why, I'd like to show her a piece of my mind, no, all of it! Geez, times like this I wish I was an only-"

"My ball!"

The duck perked his head up at the sudden voice. His eyes widened at the sight before him. Some kid was about to run out into the streets! Quickly, he dashed toward the little creature, grabbing his gray jacket in the process. The creature jerked in surprise as he was slung back, toward his yard. As the smaller one lay on the grass, dazed of what had happen, the duck was able to note the kid's appearance.

It was a young rooster, about a year or two younger than him. He had a small red comb with two frills resting on his head. He was wearing a black shirt underneath a gray jacket, which the duck had grabbed earlier, along with black knee length shorts. He had a brown coating of feathers and also two claw-like feet piercing underneath his legs. The rooster let out a tiny groan, closing his eyes as he rubbed his sore side from the impact. "What the...?" He started as he gazed up at the angry looking duck in front of him.

"Are you blind? You nearly ran out into the streets!" The duck exclaimed, a twinge of frustration rising in his voice.

"I was just getting my ball."

"And what if you get hit?"

"By what? A car? No one drives through this street!"

"How would you know that?

The small rooster growled, "Because I play here everyday! Nothing will happen! Now, let me get my ball-"

"Yeah, sure. Just go, get your ball out in the street like it means nothing to you!"

"It DOES mean something to me! That's why I'm going to get it now!"

As the rooster leaped off the sidewalk and onto the streets, the duck pulled him back. Within a few seconds, a car zipped right by at a fast pace, leaving a trail of dust in the midst. 'That was close...' The duck thought making up comments about the reckless driver in his head. Looking down, he saw the small rooster hugging him tightly, his face buried in his shirt. The white duck frowned, but then smiled softly. "You ok, kiddo?" he asked as the rooster looked up.

"Yes...I'm ok. Th-Thank you," the rooster responded releasing his embrace.

The duck crouched down to his height and placed his two left fingers in an 'o' shape. "Not a problem. Now do you see why I was acting up?" He asked.

"Yeah, now I see," the rooster paused for a moment, "I'll be careful next time," another pause, "but I still want my ball back..."

The duck straightened himself and looked over at the ball that was still in the middle of the street. "Stay here, I'll go get it," the duck told the smaller creature as he made his way to the edge of the sidewalk. Looking both ways, the duck scurried toward the center of the street. Quickly grabbing the ball, he scurried back before any other cars could zip right by.

"Here you go kid," the duck smiled as he tossed the rooster his ball back.

The rooster grinned in reply as he tossed his ball into the air. "Gracias señor!" He thanked as he threw the ball back toward his yard where it landed near the steps. The duck stared in confusion at the sudden change in tongue. The rooster frowned at his silence, but then he caught on. "...Thanks sir!" he repeated this time in English.

The duck scowled, "No need for fancy names kiddo, I'd rather be called Donald."

Raising his hand, Donald rubbed this smaller bird's red comb. "Have a name squirt?" the duck said with a jokester grin. The rooster pulled his head up with a jerk; his face was full of frustration. "Of course I have a name!" he retaliated with a stomp on the ground. Soon, the rooster grinned at Donald; his thumb placed right on his shirt, on his chest. "I'm Diego, Diego Quintero Gonzales!"

Donald stared at the kid's proud facial expression before lifting his hand to rub the tiny red comb on the top. "That's a big name for a little guy like you," Donald said.

Diego grinned, "Papí says it will fit me when I get older."

"Yeah, kid...sure," the duck commented as he placed his hand down back to his side.

Suddenly, Donald found himself on the ground as he felt some sort of round object hit him from his backside. It came without notice. With a dazed look, Donald attempted to stand back up, but he fell back to the ground as soon as he felt the same, round object hit him once more. This time, as Donald stood up, his feathers had turned a reddish hue. Grumbling, he turned around to see who had thrown the object at him.

It was another rooster, this time however, standing near the stairs of the house. He wore a magenta colored hoodie strapped with a yellow zipper, and sported a darker shade of pants. He looked similar to Diego except that he was a few inches taller, about Donald's height, and he had a three frilled comb instead of two. The older rooster stared coldly at Donald, tightening his grip on the soccer ball. "Stay away from my little brother," he said in a demanding tone.

Donald frowned as Diego helped him to his feet. Once he was back on two feet, Donald growled, clenching his fists. "What's the big idea?" The duck demanded as he planted his foot forward. Donald glared at the bird in front of him. The rooster squinted his eyes; he brought back his arms, in an attempt to swing the ball once more...

"Francisco!" a voice yelled from the front door.

Donald jumped at the sudden yell. He felt Diego's body come up behind him, burying his hands and face into his back. The duck frowned as he placed his arms over the smaller bird's body. Bringing his head up, Donald saw a taller rooster, probably the one who yelled a few seconds ago, squatting down toward the smaller one. The duck couldn't quite understand the conversation being shared between them since the words the older bird spoke was from a different dialect.

"...do you understand?" the taller bird asked. Donald was glad he could pick up that phrase at least.

No answer came from the younger rooster.

"Francisco Quintero Gonzales, answer me."

The rooster dubbed 'Fransisco' stood motionless for a few seconds. Looking up at the older one's still gazing eyes, he responded meekly, "...Sí señor, I understand."

The taller bird smiled at this response, "Good, now, go get ready for dinner. Your brother and I will join you shortly."

Fransisco frowned. Looking back, he gazed warily, right where Donald was. He wasn't very fond of leaving that duck close with his little brother. The older rooster noticed this as he caught a glimpse of a twitching hand holding a jittery soccer ball. Placing a hand on the smaller rooster's shoulder, he gently pulled Francisco back into the house. "Nothing will happen, I promise," the taller bird said as he watched Fransisco stare blankly at the duck and his brother then slowly turned around and walked away.

"Ay caramba a veces es tan un puñado," the rooster stated as he walked down the steps. Donald watched carefully as the larger bird made his way toward Diego and him. He was a tall bird with a fully grown, red color comb hanging from his head. The rooster wore what appeared to be a long sleeve, yellow colored shirt covered by a blue vest. He wore long blue pants which had a brown belt decorated by a yellow buckle wrapped around the top. Donald watched as the older bird stopped in his tracks, bent down, and stretched out his hand toward the younger rooster behind him.

"Papí?" Diego called out as he stuck part of his head out.

The rooster smiled, "Come Diego, dinner is ready."

Diego straightened himself, easing himself away from Donald's back. Quickly, he ran toward his father, tightening his arms around the taller bird's neck.

"It's ok now," his father soothed as he returned his son's embrace.

Taking a look at Donald, the older bird responded, "Lo siento amigo. My eldest son is not the brightest of this household. He has, how you say, a nasty temper problem."

"Yeah, I felt it," Donald retorted, rubbing his backside which still burned from being hit.

The older bird smiled, "Perhaps you'd care to join us for dinner. You are Diego's friend after all."

The duck laughed, half embarrassed and half surprised. He looked over at the older bird who was still hugging Diego. Donald frowned. As much as he would love to stay, it was getting late, and he should start off back home before his mother died of worry. "Thanks, Mr...-"

"Quintero, amigo, but you have my permission to call me Miguel."

"Really? Cool, uh, I mean...thanks for the offer Miguel, but I should start heading back home. I don't want my folks worried about me or something like that," Donald explained. Miguel smiled in reply as he stood up, picking Diego up in the process. As he shifted his body toward the house, he took one last look toward the duck. "Adíos amigo, you're welcome here anytime," the rooster told him.

"...I am?"

"Of course, you saved my son from getting run over," Miguel winked.

Donald's eyes widened. He had no idea that he was being watched, however, he wouldn't deny that what he had did was pretty heroic. Placing his arms on his hips, Donald puffed his chest upwards as he grinned proudly. "Ah, no problem. Just doing what us ducks do best, saving those in peril," Donald said pretending to not seemed phase by the compliments.

"Ah, I see. Well, you ducks should continue doing just that then," Miguel said as he began walking toward the house, "Farewell amigo!"

Donald smiled widely as he waved goodbye. He caught a quick glimpse of a waving Diego before the door closed shut. "Well, guess I should hurry back home now," The duck said to himself as he ran off the yard and back onto the streets. Looking back, Donald watched as the house shrank from his line of sight. Probably, he'd make another visit soon, maybe tomorrow if possible. Making a left turn, Donald's mind began to wonder. "What was that kid's problem? It wasn't like I was going to attack Diego or something...did it?" he pondered before making a right turn.

"Well, that kid hates my guts. That's for sure..."

Donald skidded to a stop as he made his way toward his front porch. He knocked on the door and waited, hands folded behind his back. Soon, the door opened, revealing a taller male duck with combed feathers and a blue tuxedo shirt on. "Cooled off?" The older duck asked. Donald looked toward the ground then back to the taller male; a small smile plastered onto his face, "Yeah, I did...with a little help."

"You made a friend?" The duck asked as he watched his son enter the house, fixing his baseball cap.

"Yeah, I did."

The duck smiled. "That's my boy always being the social one!" He said triumphantly giving Donald a high five.

"Thanks dad," Donald smiled.

To be continued

For those of you who haven't watched the movie or the episode from House of Mouse, it's going to be hard following the plot for a while.

I've decided to write about how I think these three birds would have met at a younger age. I tried to imagine this story from a child's perspective rather than a young adult's (Explaining why some parts are drown out more than others). Until I can find an accurate translator, I will have to stick with computer translators. Please let me know if I write something wrong.