Disclaimer – the Mighty Ducks belong to Disney, not me, for what it's worth. And I've slightly expanded the psychological theory of imprinting in the first part of this story. As ducklings on Earth start eating food straight after being born (well, after a day, they don't eat for the first day, apparently) instead of being fed on milk like mammals are, my theory is that our alien counterparts are the same and therefore, they would imprint on the first person they saw as their primary caregiver, rather than their mother. Which cuts out any adorable-but-creepy-as-hell 'motherWildwing' stuff. And as to why the female members of the Mighty Ducks have breasts, answers on a postcard please. :D My theory is it's a sexual thing. ;)

This fanfic is largely inspired by the Hollies song, 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother', which if you ask me is pretty much the theme song for these two. :) If you haven't heard it, go to Youtube and look it up, now. It's a beautiful song and the comments section for the first entry of it on Youtube will make you cry like a baby. *Spoiler alert* That section inspired the last chapter of this fic, which I already have planned out in my head. *End spoiler alert* Now, enough of my waffling, go read the story!

Four times Wildwing carried Nosedive, and one time it was the other way around.

#1

Crack! The noise reverberated around the silent flat, startling the eight year old Duck sat on his bed, reading a comic. It had come from his t-shirt drawer. 'About time', he thought, jumping up to open the drawer. The library book hidden under his bed, which had gone into graphic detail on the process ahead, said this should have started four days ago. If it weren't for the warmth emitting from the egg the Duck then carefully scooped out of the drawer, he would've thought it was too late. Placing the egg on his bed and grabbing the towels he'd hidden in his room, the small, white feathered drake felt the stirrings of panic, mixed in with excitement. It was time. His baby sibling was on their way.

Sitting there in silence, the frightened Duck had plenty of time to think. This was going to take a while, the book had said. If you'd have told him a year ago that this would be happening to him, he'd have just laughed and gone back to his comic books. Loud, boisterous and immature, he was a typical young boy, full of energy and life. A little smaller than other Ducks his age but that was understandable. Everyone said he was lucky just to be alive. White Ducks were rare and hardly ever survived hatching. There were only a handful of them on Puckworld and they were largely regarded at best as disabled, at worst as second-class citizens. And that was before you even got to the kid's family. Teenage rebels who'd meet at school, they very quickly found themselves to be teenage parents. They tried their best at first, the father getting a job packing boxes in one of Puckworld's factories, but by the time their son had reached six, they were heavily involved in drink and drugs. How the boy's father kept his job, no one knew, but his mother just lay around the flat all day in a drug-induced stupor, leaving her son to fend for himself. She'd certainly not planned for another child, but accidents happen. Her first instinct had been to abandon her egg and leave it to go cold and die but her son had thwarted her efforts, hiding the egg in his room and keeping it warm. And now his hard work had paid off. The egg was about to hatch.

Another loud crack drew the Duck back to the present. There was a large split in the top of the egg and it was wobbling. He didn't know how long he'd been daydreaming for but he knew he didn't have long to wait now. And sure enough, before he had time to gather his thoughts the egg cracked open and out spilled a tiny baby drake, covered in blood and slime. 'Good job I remembered the towels', the boy thought, wrapping his brother up in them and lifting him into his arms nervously, unsure that he was doing it right. His brother's eyes were still closed and he personally thought he was quite ugly, with his little face screwed up and his eyes clamped shut. He didn't know if he was meant to feel anything, the baby book just talked about what the parents should expect to feel, but he just felt numb.

And then it happened. The little baby's eyes opened and looked straight into his. He didn't make a sound, just stared upwards at his older brother's face. And a wave of emotion overtook the older Duck. He sat down on his bed quickly, not losing eye contact even for a second. 'Is this imprinting?' he thought. 'I thought it was just meant to be him that did that. But I don't want anyone else looking after him now. He's my responsibility and I'm going to take care of him.' Maybe it's melodramatic to say this but to an outside observer viewing this scene, it would seem that the loud, immature child died within the boy then and an adult took his place. As his brother began to stir in his arms and softly cry, he stood up and paced up and down the small room, his baby brother resting against his shoulder, whispering softly to him. "It's ok, Nosedive," he whispered. "You're safe. I'm going to take care of you. I always will."