Chapter Text
“What are you doing for Halloween?”
Max paused in the doorway of his apartment, arms laden with full grocery bags and key still in the lock. Negaduck was sitting on the couch, one of Max’s legal pads spread on the coffee table before him and pen in hand.
“Please, come in, make yourself at home,” Max intoned, pulling his keys free from the door and kicking it closed. Toeing off his shoes, he made his way over to the kitchen, flipping more lights on as he went.
“What are you doing for Halloween?” Negaduck repeated, returning to the legal pad and scrawling on it with ferocity.
“Oh, my day was good. Grocery store was pretty busy, but it’s my own fault for going out on a Friday night.” Max began unpacking the grocery bags.
Negaduck didn’t look up. “That’s not an answer.”
“Good, I’m glad your day went well, too.” He shifted a few things around in the refrigerator before sliding the new items in. When he closed the door, Negaduck was standing at the opposite side of the counter wearing a scowl and clutching the legal pad to his chest.
“What are you doing for Halloween?”
Max leaned on the counter. “It’s June.”
“And Halloween is in October,” Negaduck said, as if Max was not understanding a very simple concept. “What are you—”
“I don’t know!” Max said, throwing his hands up before putting the other groceries away. “Probably going to Duckburg. Mr. McDuck just announced that he’s throwing a party.”
“Well,” said Negaduck, sitting on one of the stools tucked beneath the countertop, “since you’ll probably be going to the party and you’ll need a costume for the contest…” He slapped the legal pad on the counter, spun it around, then slid it across to Max.
He made it a point to finish putting the groceries away before he studied the legal pad.
It was a list.
Crowley – Negaduck
Aziraphale – Posiduck
Adam Young – Darkwing
Pepper – Gosalyn
Brian – Launchpad
Wensleydale – ???
Newt – Max
Anathema –???
Shadwell – Scrooge
Madame Tracy – ???
A note on the side read, “Use nephews to fill in gaps?”
“You don’t want Hastur or Ligur?” Max asked, looking up at Negaduck.
He scoffed. “I already have blank spaces and you want to add more people?”
Smirking, Max intoned, “So it’s safe to say Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel are out?”
Negaduck shuddered. “Archangels are so much worse than the dukes of Hell.”
Max reached forward and plucked the pen out of Negaduck’s feathered fingers. He made a few edits before sliding the pad back across the counter. Gathering his ingredients and cooking utensils, Max set a pan on the stove and turned the burner to “high.”
Max’s list read:
Crowley – Negaduck
Aziraphale – Posiduck Darkwing
Adam Young – Darkwing
Pepper – Gosalyn
Brian – Launchpad
Wensleydale – ???
Newt – Max
Anathema –??? Gosalyn
Shadwell – Scrooge Launchpad
Madame Tracy – ???
“You want to cut people?” Negaduck sounded disgusted.
“You have blank spaces. You’ll have to cut people.” Max poured oil into the pan and tossed in the tomatoes.
Negaduck scoffed.
“Besides, I’m pretty sure Mr. McDuck is judging the contest, so he can’t compete,” Max said, dumping pasta into boiling water. “I’m also pretty sure that you can’t recruit people from another universe to play dress up for Halloween.”
“But it’s so perfect, the Posiverse as Heaven, the Negaverse as Hell, and the Prime Universe as Earth.”
“I’m not saying the list isn’t accurate, it just isn’t feasible.” Max threw a towel over his shoulder and glanced at Negaduck. “Are you actually thinking of competing?”
“I’m thinking I’ll win.” Negaduck smacked the legal pad onto the counter.
Maybe introducing Negaduck to Good Omens had been a mistake. The grizzled mallard had paid more visits to the Prime Universe in the past few months than he had the past decade, most of his time entirely contained to Max and Gosalyn’s apartment.
First, it had been the book, well-thumbed and the spine broken in. It had started snide, a simple, “What the hell is this?” as Negaduck had held up the volume. And Max had responded, “I just finished re-reading it. It’s gonna be adapted into a show. You can borrow it if you want; it’s about the apocalypse.” The pages became extremely well-thumbed and the spine fully broken as Negaduck came by more and more to talk and discuss and theorize.
Then Max helped him download the audiobook. Negaduck, in turn, introduced Max to the additional recordings of the book and they compared and contrasted them. The current favorite was Martin Jarvis’s narration, but they both agreed the full cast dramatization was five star entertainment.
When the TV show premiered, they binged it together in one sitting. They spent hours afterwards discussing it and going back to re-watch the best parts. Which led to more long nights and debates and comparisons to the book. (Max’s copy had been officially adopted by Negaduck at this point, Negaduck gifting Max a new edition in return.)
Then again, maybe Negaduck’s Good Omens obsession hadn’t been all that bad. Unplanned visits and untold amount of break-ins aside, Max enjoyed his time with Negaduck and was endlessly fascinated with Negaduck’s obsession. And it was nice to have someone else who enjoyed the story as much as he did.
“I guess it makes sense when you think about it,” Max had told Gosalyn one night as they had settled into bed. “Negaduck hasn’t kept up with pop culture. It doesn’t exist in the Negaverse and he hasn’t had any reason to get involved with anything here. It was probably only a matter of time before he stumbled into something he liked.”
“And of course he gravitated to the story about a demon who doesn’t want the apocalypse to happen,” Gosalyn said around a yawn, snuggling into Max’s chest.
“You know, interestingly enough, the story does a really good job about reminding you that Crowley was an angel first. That he became a demon because he hung out with the wrong people and made some bad decisions. I can see why Negaduck identifies with him.”
By then, Gosalyn had fallen asleep, so Max had kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his arms around her, like he did every night.
She’d warned him, on several occasions, about Negaduck’s obsessive nature, and it truly was awesome to behold, but Max believed there were far worse things to obsess over. So no matter how little sleep he got, or how many times Negaduck sprang up out of nowhere scaring the bejeezus out of Max, or how many times they would talk about the same thing but with different words, Max could – and would – not begrudge the mallard his love of this story.
Max scooped pasta and ladled sauce into two bowls, cut a few slices of bread from the loaf he’d picked up at the store, and slid one bowl across the counter to Negaduck. He then dug into his own dinner, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Since we’ll be at the party anyway, Gos and I will join you. Besides, Huey’s been texting me saying that he and his brothers are going to sweep the floor with us, so. Wouldn’t mind beating him.”
“That won’t be hard,” Negaduck said, looking back at the list. “Now I have to get a Bentley.”
Max pointed his fork at him. “That’s not how Halloween works.”
“No, I’m gonna get one,” Negaduck said. He popped the last bite of bread into his mouth and tore the list off from the pad. “Tell the others what the plan is. And make sure they read the book.”
“So, basically, I do all the work.”
“Did you not just hear me say I have to get a Bentley?” Negaduck rolled his eyes.
“Which we established you don’t need.”
Negaduck shook his head, stuffed the list into a pocket in his cape, and swept over to the couch where he picked up his worn copy of Good Omens. He spared Max another glance, another shake of his head, and left.
Max sighed and helped himself to more food.
—...—...—...—...—...—...—
The party took place the day before Halloween.
Webby and the triplets ended up going as a costumed group of four. She wore a blue dress with ruby red slippers, Huey was dressed as a scarecrow with errant straw stuck to his flannel shirt and floppy hat, Dewey had rigged a cylinder out of poster board stapled together and a funnel on his head both painted silver, and Louie wore a lion onesie complete with a hood that he pulled over his head, giving him a faux mane. It was adorable and charming and their cohesion outstripped the other partygoers by several miles.
If the Good Omens group hadn’t come for blood, the Oz folk would have won.
Through a rather complicated series of events, Negaduck had hunted down and purchased a 1939 black Bentley, which the group had used to get to the party. Negaduck had never loved a vehicle more, not even his construction crane, and while it didn’t give them any advantage for the costume contest, just arriving in it gave the group the proper amount of confidence to stroll into the party.
Launchpad and Max were dressed in Witchfinder regalia, pockets bulging with alarmingly accurate trinkets that made up their respective armors of righteousness. Launchpad went around asking people if they were witches. Max, in his too big jacket and glasses, politely ambled his way around the room and occasionally would pull Launchpad away from a group when he brandished the Thundergun, which was also a very accurate prop.
Gosalyn had grumbled the most over her costume, but in the end committed. A wig pinned on, spectacles perched on her beak, wearing a lace top, long skirt, and a perfect recreation of the tartan trench coat from the TV show, she marched around the room, taking notes and asking people questions about lay lines or their auras. She started the night with her copy of The Nice and Accurate Prophesies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, but made sure to set it down so that Darkwing could scoop it up, as in accordance with their Great Plan.
Darkwing wore the light suit, gray waistcoat, blue button down, and tartan bowtie well, but the kindness of an angel was harder for him to put on. Aziraphale was a fussy angel, however, so Darkwing was able to pull it off. And since he kept his tone pleasant and his posture straight, Negaduck could fault him nothing. Especially when he stayed at Negaduck’s side all night long, bantering and arguing and assuaging.
Negaduck himself felt naked. He wasn’t, but since he wasn’t sporting his usual hat, mask, or cape, he was more exposed than he had been in about a decade. But Crowley had style, so Negaduck was very well dressed, got to waltz around the room with a confident swagger, and was allowed to wear sunglasses to help hide his identity.
Good Omens took the prize not just because they looked like carbon copies of their respective characters, but they stayed in character for the whole party. (Negaduck was still of the opinion that if they had played the theme song as they’d entered the ballroom, there wouldn’t have even been a competition, but he’d been out voted.)
It was, hands down, the best night of Negaduck’s life.
There were no plans for next Halloween, there would be no retribution to be had, despite what the triplets swore. Negaduck had only needed this one evening. He was satisfied. More than satisfied. He was happy. Everyone in his group had not only gone along with his idea, but had committed to it to a degree he hadn’t been expecting.
“I now know two things about you that are irrefutably true,” Darkwing said smugly, walking up to Negaduck with a plate full of food.
Negaduck, who was leaning against a wall surveying the dwindling crowd as the party drew to a close, scoffed. “That’s a big word for you.”
“Aziraphale is very smart, so I’ve been reading more to... never mind. One,” he held up a finger, “because you identify with Crowley, it means that you admit to having goodness in you because Crowley has goodness in him.”
Negaduck rolled his eyes which, even with the sunglasses on, he made sure was very obvious.
Darkwing grinned and held up a second finger. “Two: since you chose me to play Aziraphale, you see me as your best friend.”
Negaduck dropped his beak to his chest, eyeing Darkwing over the top of his sunglasses. “Well,” he said with a non-committal shrug, “you are enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”
“That’s a quote from the book,” Darkwing said, his tone reflecting just how proud he was of himself for knowing that information. He took up his post beside Negaduck, happily eating away. “For the record,” he said eventually, “you’re my best friend, too.”
Negaduck jerked as if he’d been electrocuted and looked around to Darkwing. “What about…?” he gestured over to Launchpad, who was standing with Max and Gosalyn, head thrown back in laughter.
Darkwing swallowed his food. “Nah, LP’s family. That transcends friendship in my book.”
Negaduck stood in stunned silence as he watched their group from across the room. There weren’t words to correspond with what he was feeling, the thoughts racing through his head too quickly to take hold. The emotion spreading through him was warm, even if it currently didn’t have a name.
After some immeasurable amount of time, Negaduck glanced back to Darkwing. “What does it say about us, that our closest friends are just versions of ourselves from other universes?”
Darkwing’s hand paused on its way up to his beak, the cracker piled high with expensive cheese in his fingers. “Best not to think about it,” he said before shoving it into his mouth.
Negaduck smirked and returned to his vigil. Max caught his eye and sent him a salute and a wink. Gripping his trophy and still far too self-satisfied to have received Scrooge’s heartfelt congratulations, Negaduck relaxed fully against the wall, “A Nightingale Sang In Berkley Square,” wafting sweetly through his head. If he hummed a few bars, well, Darkwing was the only one who heard it. And he was Negaduck’s best friend, so he certainly wouldn’t tell anybody.