Note: It occurs to me a lot of tech/pop culture I mention in these stories doesn't exist yet, since this show was based in the late nineties. But considering the source material, we're just gonna go with an alternate/more technically advanced Earth. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One day later

"You know, this a great time to capitalize on your medical technology. The world now knows you've ridden it of these dragons—"

"Saurians."

"—Saurians, and that the heroic Mighty Ducks' Team Captain Wildwing nearly died from it, if it weren't for their state-of-the-art doohickey—"

"Medicom."

"—Medicoomb, right boobola, but do you know how many calls we've gotten—"

Wildwing let out a long breath, tuning out the heavyset manager sitting next to him on the bleachers. He forlornly watched the ice rink in front of him, the rest of the team doing a little scrimmage with a substitute goalie. Hockey season was set to start in a few weeks and—while Wildwing was insistent that he would be up and skating by then—the team delicately advised that having a backup goalie might be in their best interest.

So now he sat and watched them practice with each other, his eyes following the puck and occasionally mumbling the play he could see being set in motion, before it even happened.

"Dive, I would've called offsides on that! Eyes on the biscuit!" Wildwing called, then cringed when he accidentally distracted his brother and let Mallory steal the puck from him.

"—so then, with the right contract of course, we can ask this big pharma company—"

"Protect the house!" Wildwing hollered out, watching the new goalie skate too far forwards. His warning was not in jest, because not a second later Duke came blazing by and scored, the loud horn blaring throughout the arena. Mallory skated up to him and they high-fived.

The white drake sighed again, his forearms resting on his knees. Phil was still talking next to him, oblivious to the fact that Wildwing had heard all of three sentences from his rambling.

A louder buzzer sounded a few minutes later, signaling the end of practice. Wildwing hopped up from his bench seat, giving Phil a quick, "Yeah, sure, just send me the paperwork," before heading down the steps to meet the team in the locker room.

Phil was excited when he replied, "You got it, boobie!" and instantly pulled out his cell phone.

With a greedy manager like Phil Palmfeather, Wildwing had learned a long time ago that fighting a contract before it was even drafted was pointless.

Half of Phil's ideas died before fruition, and half of the remaining ones Wildwing could usually nip in the bud by showing (via details on the documents) why the hefty man would end up losing money with whatever new cockamamie scheme he had in mind.

Getting to the bottom of the stairs, Wildwing let out a more laborious breath, holding onto the nearby handrail for support. He had already had his torture session with Bertha for the day, and wouldn't you know, five-pound weights were way heavier than three.

Once his heartrate returned from a drumroll to a more reasonable octave, the white drake made the rest of the trip around the rink and down the stairs to the locker room.

Yesterday, after watching the guys practice (Nosedive less so since Mallory had given him two dead legs for his smack talk), Wildwing had once again tried to talk to the redhead alone in the locker room. However, Grin (of all ducks) had suddenly insisted on a "team dinner", which ixnayed that plan, and was of course followed up by a "team movie night" idea by his younger brother.

Granted, hanging out with everyone had been a nice change of pace from the leader's previous recuperation methods, which essentially included his brother talking endlessly with whoever happened to be assigned to babysit him.

Wildwing nevertheless tried to position himself next to Mallory during their meal of fish and chips, but was thwarted by the impromptu arrival of Mookie, Thrash, and Buzz.

Getting a word in edgewise at the table was next to impossible, then, and being followed up with the action-packed Iron Man made the rest of the night a wash, too. The white drake had tried to settle himself near the commando—again—but Buzz had beaten him to it. Mallory offered him a warm, apologetic smile and was about to scoot over so Wildwing could have the edge of the couch, but Nosedive instead guided his older brother over to sit between himself and Thrash.

It didn't help that Wildwing had (embarrassingly) fallen asleep about three-quarters of the way through the movie, either. His brother had woken him up to an empty Rec Room and all but dragged the leader to his own bedroom before he passed out again.

So, to sum up the last twenty-four hours, Wildwing still had no idea how he and Mallory were escaping the Pond tonight, much less what the heck she wanted to celebrate.

Making it to the locker room, the white drake took a quick, inconspicuous breather by the doorway. He was already annoyed by needing a replacement goalie; he didn't need to give the team any more fuel for the fire by showing them how right they probably were.

Inside, the ducks were conversing lively with one another, with the substitute goalie already gathering his gear and waving goodbye. He paused when he saw Wildwing, however, and dropped his stuff to bound over to him.

"Hi there, I'm Matt!"

The young man energetically held his hand out to the leader, who stared dumbfoundedly at him for a second before shaking it.

"I'm a big fan! I'm from minor league myself," he continued when Wildwing didn't say anything.

"Oh, that's—"

"I come from Texas Stars—that's a part of the AHL, but your manager was a real nice fellow," (that got Nosedive to dramatically roll his eyes), "and said he'd might be able to get me into pros faster with this gig. Even though, you know, it's just temporary right now. And who could say no to playing with the Ducks, amirite?"

The man was talking faster than Phil did with his devious plans, and that was saying something. Wildwing realized he was still shaking Matt's hand and pulled away, only for the other goalie to reach into his pocket to retrieve a marker.

"Mind signing my jersey?"

Nosedive, behind the man, made a silent cuckoo motion by twirling his finger next to his head. Duke came over and wrapped his arm around Matt's shoulders good-naturedly.

"Come on Wing, don't let yer number one fan down, now!"

Matt grinned like the Joker before turning around to produce his back. "Right here next to the others!"

Sure enough, the rest of the team had already gone through the same awkward process, five less-than-straight signatures etched across the upper half of Matt's jersey. The leader let out a curt breath but went ahead and added his own signature to the group's scribbles.

"I'm so going to frame this when I get home!" He laughed to himself and added, "But I'll make sure it's airtight because woo-eee, do I stink!"

"In more ways than one," Mallory barely muttered.

When he was done, Wildwing gave Matt a forced grin and handed him back his marker. He happily took it and jogged back over to the exit, grabbing his gear on the way out.

"Awesome teamwork, guys! See y'all Monday!"

The door swung shut with a bang, leaving the rest of the team staring soundlessly at it.

"Where does Phil dig up these loons, anyway?" Nosedive asked no one in particular.

"Aw, he's just, y'know, excited," Tanya reasoned as she placed her gear in the locker, "and w-wet behind the ears."

"Wet? Tanya, he's still in da womb in dat case."

Wildwing, seeing Mallory finishing up storing her gear, nonchalantly walked up next to her. "Ready to go?" she asked when she saw him, shutting the metal door to her locker.

The captain's eyes widened at how loudly she had asked that, unsure of how to respond.

She turned and smiled at him, opening her beak to add more, but was interrupted with, "Go where?" from a nosy Nosedive.

"Shopping," Mallory answered simply. Wildwing felt his hand rubbing the back of his neck anxiously and mentally chastised himself to stop.

"Ew, that's a big N-O for me," the teenager replied. "Wait, why are you dragging my decrepit brother into this?"

"First off, ouch," Wildwing commented, turning around, "but, secondly, I could really use some new clothes, too." Inwardly he gave himself a pat on the back; he'd never been very good at lying on the spot.

"That's what the internet is for, bro."

"I haven't been out of this place in almost three weeks, Dive, I'm getting cabin fever." At least that was the truth.

"Yeah, but with Mallory you better be ready to run a marathon," Nosedive argued with a cheeky grin. The redhead glowered at him, so he added, "I'm sure they got some stretchers at the mall for you, bro, for when you inevitably pass out."

"Dive," Wildwing warned.

Mallory grabbed her towel and water bottle, motioning with her head. "Come on, we gotta switch out your bandages first," she said, changing the subject.

"No, nuh-uh!" Tanya intervened, stopping their progression. Mallory and Wildwing both looked at her with wide eyes, this time.

"It's Duke's, uh, turn!"

"Aw, Taunny, Mal's gonna do it!" Duke whined.

"What am I, chores now?" Wildwing asked the room.

"You a-always weasel your way out of these things," Tanya argued, waltzing up to him, "and I want e-everyone to know some basic f-first aid, like ban-bandaging. Capiche?"

Duke, like a boy having been scolded by his mother, nodded solemnly and gave Wildwing a gentle shove to the elevators. "Come on, cap'n, you 'eard the lady."

"Seriously, guys—"

Tanya had her arms crossed and glared at the two. Wildwing instantly shut up, while Duke simply stated, "Let's get yer feathery butt to the med bay so I'm off da hook already."

Mallory gave Wildwing another brief, apologetic glance, making Wildwing idly wonder how many of those he'd seen from her in just the past two days.

Oh well. At least he'd be able to go out with her tonight, under the guise of shopping. As he got into the elevator with the ex-thief, Duke grumbled, "Taunny's worse d'an my nana when it comes to sharin' da burden."

"Gee, a burden now. Thanks, Duke," Wildwing sighed out as the doors shut.