There was something quite unusual about the mouse, thoughtfully nudging the gas pedal with his foot in a shoe, the steering wheel to his red jalopy held firmly by his gloved hand as he basked in the sound filling his always-round ears with every pop and creak of the beaten-down vehicle. It was imperfect – shabby, to be more specific – and utterly unacceptable to anyone with less than an inkling of taste in automobiles.

Yes, Mickey Mouse was quite the unusual mouse indeed, he was fully aware. He liked it.

Slowing to a halt as he reached his destination, the mouse in red got out of his vehicle and set foot on the dock of his favorite duck's boat. "Donald?" Mickey called, "Are ya gonna sleep the day away or are we going to Goofy's for the Barbecue?" Receiving no reply from the sailor, the mouse took a deep breath before letting out the greatest shout a mouse could make, yelling, "Donald!"

At last, he heard the sound of a duck quacking in startlement, accompanied peculiarly with the sound of an alarm clock ringing. He heard many a thump and bump, followed by a crash and the duck himself falling out of the boat. "Waaaaaaaaaaaah!" Donald cried, before his duckbill landed on a plank of the dock and he proceeded to slide into the water below, making an embarrassing splash that partially moistened the decks in a way that Mickey could tell would need to be tended to at a later date – inwardly making a note to offer help in doing so, after the barbecue.

"Donald! Aww gosh, you're all wet!" Mickey squeaked as the duck climbed onto the deck, hurrying over to give him a hand, "Gee, Donald, how come you weren't awake? Did'ja stay up late, last night?"

Shaking from the cold water, Donald shook his fists like always and quacked, "What's the idea, Mickey? What are you doing here?" As usual, Mickey could hardly understand a word the duck quacked, but he was getting better at it – listening intently with his round ears taking in every flap of the duck's bill.

Gently smiling once he had figured out what the duck was asking, Mickey answered, "Donald, it's Saturday! We're having a barbecue at Goof's! You asked me to pick you up this time, remember?" Mickey realized shortly thereafter that he had asked quite the redundant question, and amended it with an apology, "Aww gosh. Excuse me, Donald, I guess I'm not 'all here' yet, haha!"

"You're not all here yet? I just woke up!" Donald replied, sharply, before inquiring, "Now how come I asked you to pick me up? Aren't you bringing Pluto? And what about Daisy?" It was quite a challenge to not only understand Donald, but a Donald that had just woken up, but Mickey felt up to the task.

Absently, Mickey thought, "I bet I can understand him better than Daisy can..." before setting it aside in his mind to respond to the duck's questions, saying, "Aww gee, Donald, you aren't gonna ask me to remind you of everything that happened last night, are ya? Pluto's being dogsat by Minnie, and... you and Daisy... Well, what I mean is... ya kinda sorta... broke? Broke up?" Once he had reminded the duck of this, that same gloom on his face returned just as it had first appeared the very night before. "Donald... C'mon, pal... Like I said last night, it'll all be okay, I promise."

This time, Mickey could not hear what the duck said in response, merely hearing the heartbroken grumblings of a cranky, sorrowful sailor, heading over to the jalopy faster than a tortoise. The mouse caught up and got in with the duck, buckling their seatbelts before driving off as they were meant to, several minutes ago – the mouse trying desperately to focus on the road but finding himself almost incapable of taking his mind off of the duck beside him.

He sighed, before he gave in to the desire to attempt to console Donald further. "Listen, Donald... about Daisy..." he started.

"Mickey," Donald interjected, dejectedly, "you're a nice guy, but I'd rather not talk about this for now." This promptly quieted the mouse down, leaving them both in silence. In spite of his insistence not to talk about it, Donald couldn't help but ask, "Daisy's gonna be at the barbecue?" Upon seeing the mouse nod, the duck groaned, "Aww, and we're going there? Nuts..."

It was obviously going to be awkward, Mickey knew that well before he had arrived at the dock, but seeing the anxiousness in the duck's eyes in person was something Mickey was having trouble arguing against. Then an idea came to him, causing him to slow the car to a halt as he turned to pull over on the side of the road. "What are you doing now?" Donald asked, confusedly, scanning the mouse's face for any indication of his intent.

Taking a deep breath, Mickey looked over at Donald and said, "Y'know, Donald, we don't have to go to the barbecue if you don't want to—and if ya wanna do something else I'll call Minnie up and she'll let everyone else know we're not gonna make it, it's really no trouble." With that, at last, he saw the grumpy duck's expression lighten up for the first time in days, if ever so slightly.

Responding to the offer, Donald spoke, "That sounds much better, Mickey, thank you," smiling his little duckbill smile. Then, Mickey revved his trusty jalopy back up once again, causing the moist pops and greasy creaks of the old vehicle to return and 'grace' the two's ears once more. "Augh, Mickey!" The duck cried, "How can you stand this racket, it's like we're driving pain on wheels!"

"It's my pain on wheels, Donald – that's how I can stand it, haha!" Mickey laughed, "There's just something about all this mayhem that really puts me at ease!" Glancing at the rear-view mirror, he could see the duck look utterly confounded by his praise of the deeply-unpleasant vehicle, eliciting a grin from the mouse as he conceded, "Ya have to learn to love it, I'll admit, but I've never in all my years met a car I loved more than this one, let me tell ya." Carefully, he got them back on the road and on their way to a new destination that might bring them more joy. "Where to, anyway?"

Giving it a moment of thought, Donald found himself wanting on ideas, admitting, "I'd like to go bowling, but I'd feel bad about not going with Goofy..."

It wasn't that Mickey didn't understand where Donald was coming from, he just knew when the duck's fear of new situations was only getting the better of him, reassuring him, "Aww we'll have other chances to go with Goof, it's no biggie. We can spend time together on our own, can't we?" He then began driving to the bowling place they frequented, grabbing his phone, and dialing Minnie's number, sandwiching it between his shoulder and his head once he had finished dialing. "Hiya Min, it's Mick," he spoke into the phone's mic, "listen, Donald's not feelin' up to going after all, so I'm gonna be out with him. Would'ja let the others know?... Yeah, I figured she would, but I think Donald really needs... I can tell him so later, if he's feeling better, but right now he could really use some space, okay? Thanks Min, talk to ya later, buh-bye." With that, he got the phone from his shoulder and set it down.

Curious, Donald asked, "Did she mention, uh... you know?" Upon receiving a nod in confirmation, he followed with another inquiry, "Anything I should know? Has she been talking about me? Is she sorry?"

Attempting to be patient, Mickey merely started to say, "Donald..." Fruitlessly, he searched for the words that would politely get them off the topic.

Impatient as he was, Donald was not keen on waiting to be deterred and instead pressed on, insisting, "C'mon, Mickey, you gotta give me something! I just gotta know what she's saying about me now, I just gotta—"

"Donald!" Mickey yelled, raising his voice at the duck in a tone that flirted with a loss of temper, hushing him for the time-being. As that moment sank in for the mouse, he sighed and apologized, "Sorry, I just... You really don't need to hear about it right now, Donald, trust me, it's not nice." Mickey then parked their car and shut it off. Taking on a lighter tone, he asked, "We're here to take your mind off all that, right?"

Giving the mouse's words some thought, Donald replied, "Yeah... okay, Mickey, you're right. Let's have some fun." Without further ado, they stepped out of the vehicle and went in the bowling establishment together. Mickey then shoved his hand down his back pocket, looking for his wallet, having to go through several quarters and nickels before finding it, then proceeding to go through it, getting enough cash to pay for the two's time. He handed it to the cashier while the duck went over to the bowling alley, "That should about cover it, pal," he told the cashier before joining the duck.

So the pair went on bowling like they normally would, yet there was some competitive dimension added to it, as it was only the two of them. Looks were exchanged and tension was in the air each time the other would go forward for their turn, escalating into trash-talk. "Break a leg, you rat, this couldn't be any easier than it already is," Donald jeered with a grin.

Giggling, Mickey responded, "Whatever you say, ya quack." There was a layer of posturing to the talk, but in reality they were both having a good time unwinding and letting loose. Mickey threw the bowling ball with his trademark skill and grace, only to come up one short of a strike – an honestly impressive feat to anyone but Donald right then.

Donald laughed, "You're gonna get smoked, Mick! Hahahahahaha..." He then went up for his turn, forcefully tossing the ball—making for a landing whose thud reverberated throughout the building—and then watching it miss every pin at the end of the lane.

The mouse had been ready to rib the duck beforehand – now he merely exhaled the air that was to be used for the teasing, quietly. When he looked at his friend, he could see a frustration in his eyes that would normally precede a tantrum; but now the duck sighed, resigning to the failure. Concernedly, Mickey walked over to the duck and offered, "Gee, Donald, uh... you still have another try! Maybe you'll get it this time!"

Slowly, Donald turned his head toward the mouse and looked into his hopeful eyes, finding himself utterly unable to share in the feeling of hope and optimism—replying, "Do you really think so? Or are you just saying that?" The optimism in Mickey's eyes seemed to fade when the duck said that, eliciting the duck to admit, "Okay, listen... I don't think I'm meant to succeed in life and be loved like you are—not even liked... It's like I was made as some joke, for everyone to laugh at whenever I failed."

It was then that Mickey hugged Donald as tight as he could without harming him.

"Donald, listen to me," Mickey spoke, whispering into the duck's ear, "I know I probably can't understand what you go through—at least not fully—but... I'm always rooting for ya, pal. No matter what, I always hope you succeed and that you get to be happy, because I think that's what you deserve more than anything else. Even if it doesn't always feel that way to you, that's the truth. You're loved. I promise you're loved." As he spoke, he did his best to hold the tears that had formed from hearing his friend feel so down about himself, his whispering serving as a convenient way to hide the fact that he was getting 'choked up,' as it were.

Eyes wide open from the sudden display of affection and affirmation, Donald reciprocated the hug and replied, "Okay, Mickey." Pulling away from the hug, the duck said, "I just don't think Daisy loves me anymore."

Mickey's gloved hand was then rested on the duck's shoulder, his eyes looking meaningfully into the duck's as Mickey sincerely said back to the duck, "I wasn't talking about Daisy." Before Donald could respond, Mickey added, "Now c'mon, let's see you knock every one of those pins down, ha-ha!"

His round-eared friend's optimism seemed to finally be rubbing off on him, as his words raised a smile on the duck's duckbill and gave him the confidence to grab up the next bowling ball, exclaiming, "Okay, here goes nothing!" The mouse made way for the duck and took a seat to watch what was about to happen, while the duck stepped up. He swung his arm backward, and then launched it forward, causing it to shoot straight through the lane and right down the middle of the cluster of pins left over from his previous try – knocking all but one and causing said one to wobble. The two watched the last pin standing's wobbles intently, waiting and hoping it would fall. And then...

It fell.

"Yeah! I did it! I'm the best bowler that ever bowled!" Donald quacked with pride while Mickey clapped approvingly. "I'm a winner! I'm a winner! I'm a winner! Yippee!" The web-footed duck exclaimed as he danced around the bowling alley in victory.

Smiling, Mickey congratulated the duck, saying, "Good job, Donald, you really did it!" As he watched the duck dance happily around, the mouse wondered if he knew what he meant when he promised he was loved. "It doesn't really matter," he thought, "as long as Donald's happy, there's not a lot to worry about." He certainly wasn't like your average mouse, gazing lovingly at the duck, but it didn't bother him – being different made him special, and there was nothing to be ashamed of about that.

The End

Author's Notes: This was nice to write! I've been a fan of Disney—and Mickey Mouse in particular— for most of my life, so writing this up was a really fun time for me!

Now, this story is more chaste than I usually write, but I'm happy with it. Yes, this is a Mickey/Donald story, I'm a very silly Disney fangirl and I think of these things sometimes. XD I hope everyone likes this story, any and all reviews or favorites or follows (even though it's a oneshot) are appreciated! Have a great rest of your day/night!