Hey, I'm back, thanks to everyone who's favourite and followed so far.

I was thinking of making this its own story, but it seemed to fit this one quite well.

I came up with this idea after noticing – and having it confirmed by CartoonLover422 – that Webby never accused Louie of 'Pulling a Louie' after this episode. I wondered why and this scene came into my mind.

Anyway, see chapter 1 for the disclaimer and let's crack on.

Thankfully Uncle Donald hadn't insisted they set the alarm, so when Dewey woke up he was pleasantly surprised to find it was quarter to 11. He got out of bed and stretched, before checking behind him.

It didn't surprise him to find that that Huey was already up, having probably woken at some ridiculous time like 8 in the morning. It also didn't surprise him to find that Louie was in bed, but he wasn't however asleep. He was on his phone as was his routine before he finally dragged his backside out of bed.

"Morning." Dewey said, pointedly.

Louie looked up and nodded at him. "Ah, Dewford. Joined the land of the living at last, have you?"

Dewey scoffed. "Says the king of the sleepers. Huey downstairs?"

Louie nodded, flicking his eyes back to his screen. "Yeah. He was on about making us breakfast."

"Great, just what I need. Blood poisoning before lunch. When is he going to give up on cooking?"

"As soon as his precious J.W.G stops telling him that 'practice makes perfect.'" Louie said, making inverted commas with his fingers.

Dewey chuckled. "Ah, he's not so bad. Well, c'mon you lump, let's go downstairs before Uncle Donald makes us."

His immediate younger brother sighed irritably but did actually get out of bed. "You better not be expecting me to get dressed." He said, warningly.

Dewey shook his head. "Dude, like I'd do that. If you want to prance about in luminous green pj's until midday, you go ahead. It's your call."

Louie smacked his brother on the shoulder. "Says the dork in the spaceships!"

The both laughed as they left the room. Although Dewey couldn't fight the niggling feeling that he was forgetting to do something…"Webby!" He said, suddenly.

Louie gave him a strange look. "What about her?"

"You know where she is?"

"Oh sure, give me a moment - just let me consult my crystal ball, of course I don't know where she is, bonehead! I've just got out of bed!"

Dewey rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, sheesh. You're a regular ray of sunshine aren't you? Oh, btw you okay? After last night, I mean?"

Louie paused before nodding. "Yeah…I'm good. Thanks Dewey."

"You thanked Huey?"

"Who are you, Uncle Donald? Yes, I thanked Huey. This morning when he woke me up to specifically ask if I was alright."

Dewey winced. He could just imagine how that conversation had gone. "You weren't too hard on him?"

"Aside from telling him where he could stuff the JWG after he tried to read out the chapter – the chapter mind you– on 'Dreams, Nightmares and the Subconscious', I was pretty good."

"Hmmm, sure. Well, I'm going to find Webby. See ya."

"Try her room first!" Louie called after him.

Dewey took his brothers advice and knocked on Webby's door.

Said door swung open and Webby stood there with a goofy grin on her face. "Hey, Dewey! Come in!"

Dewey did so and took the liberty of plonking himself in her desk chair. How was he going to do this?

"How's Louie?"

"Huh?" He looked up at her.

She clicked her tongue. "Louie, your brother. How is he, by the way? After last night and all-"

"-Oh! Yeah, he's fine. He's gone downstairs for breakfast now. No doubt he'll have at least two bowls of cereal and then a full English. But that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, well kind off. Mainly yesterday-"

"Oh, that went well didn't it? Freed a bunch of mummies and all, just par for the course really-"

"Webby, would you listen for a moment!?" Dewey found himself saying, much more forcefully than intended.

She blinked at him but nodded and proceeded to sit cross legged on her bed.

Dewey paused, thinking over how he was going to phrase this. "Yesterday…" he began at last. "Do you remember…saying anything? To Louie I mean."

Webby scrunched her beak up. "Well, yeah, sure. I said a lot of things to him. We were stuck together for two and a half hours." She grimaced. "I've had more fun breaking my arm."

That caused a surge of emotion to come over Dewey and leaping out the chair he snapped "Would you stop saying things like that about my brother!? I mean, yes he's a pain at times, but you've only known him six weeks! You can't go around telling him he's useless!"

Webby stood up forcefully and put her hands on her hips. "I never said he was useless! When did I say Louie was useless!?" She paused, then checked. "It is Louie we're talking about, right?"

"Yes it's Louie! Remember the one in green – leaves green – Louie green. Simple."

"But-"

"Don't skim over the question! What right have you got to tell him he's useless?"

"I never told him he was useless!"

"Well, you must have said something!"

Webby was about to argue further, but then closed her beak and thought back to the day before. Suddenly realisation dawned. "I might have accused him of 'pulling a Louie…'

"It's the same thing!"

"No, it isn't hot-head! Useless means you have no use, you can't do anything useful, pulling a Louie means, well. Pulling a Louie."

Dewey paused. "What? And what's that supposed to mean? Pulling a Louie?"

Webby scratched the back of her head as she tried to explain. "Pulling a Louie means…in my book…that he doesn't think things out properly. He doesn't look at the long term so to speak, just the short term. So yesterday he tried to talk us out of being kidnapped by that guard and he did managed it, but instead of getting us locked up he got us hanging over a bunch of sharp implements ready to kill us so…" She shrugged. "Frankly I'd have preferred the cell."

Dewey was starting to get his head around this. "So pulling a Louie could mean he makes a bad situation worse?" He translated for himself.

Webby nodded. "Yes. Which you can't deny surely?"

She had him there, but loyalty made him mutter. "He means well…"

Webby nodded again. "I know, but he just needs to realise that trying to take a short could lead to a even longer path. You never know where a shortcut is going to take you…"

"Okay, I got it. Can the for-tune cookie stuff."

"Can?"

"Er-stop it. Forget it."

"Got it." Webby scratched her arm. "I suppose I should go apoligise to Louie?"

"No!" Dewey said quickly.

Webby blinked and Dewey hastened to eplain. "Normally yes you would, but Louie is a con-man – his words not mine. He knows how little words mean – except when someone's insulting him then he typically takes it to heart – but if you want to apologise just show you trust him. Try and leave it up to him and don't accuse him of 'pulling a Louie'

"But if he's going desperately wrong? If you think I'm standing by while he nearly gets us killed-"

"-Well no, of Course not. In that case just grab the back of his hoodie and go 'Er, Louie? What do you think you're doing? Do you want to get us all killed?' And he'll probably brush you off, but he'll be thinking about what you said and he might give it up and turn the reigns over to you. Or if you think he's going really wrong just stamp on his foot hard and it should get the message across."

Webby giggled.

Dewey smiled before saying again. "Just don't accuse him of 'Pulling a Louie' again, please? For me and Huey?"

Webby grinned widely and suddenly hugged him, nearly knocking him of his feet. "Sure thing, Dewey!"

Dewey gently untangled himself from her grasp. "Great, thanks Webs. And, don't worry – Louie's still your friend." He added, as an afterthought.

She sighed in relief. "Oh good, I was wondering…"

"It takes more than that to shake one of us off. Trust me. Anyway, catch you later, Webs."

"Bye Dewey!"

He shut the door behind him and went downstairs to join his brothers.