#sorry PanJosé now you will be subjected to what every fandom gets when I join which is my never ending stream of thoughts and ideas

[xandertheundead]

It was rare that José ever regretted telling a joke.

Being witty was part of his charm, just like being loud and overly friendly was Panchito’s and being a ball of rage was Donald’s.

His jokes, even if he messed up the words in other languages usually landed well and José prided himself on being the funny one of their trio. However, there were times when he said something that may have been funny but later down the line it was not so humorous.

The most regrettable was truly the one about Panchito being the triplets real father.

They had been so wonderfully young and stupid, playing music, going on some adventures and annoying Donald’s Uncle Scrooge to no end sometimes. When Della was not chomping at the bit to go on some death defying trek, she would hang with them even when Donald complained and griped about it.

José adored Della, a woman with so much spirit that sometimes it frightened him was truly to be admired, and they got along very well, but the one she truly hit it off with was Panchito.

They were so very much alike that it was honestly terrifying sometimes the way their volume control went out the window and they both talked to each other a mile a minute, one in Spanish and one in English, yet both being able to understand each other perfectly. The joke at the time had been they were perfect for each other because they were the only ones who could wear each other out. José remembered covering his ears and Donald yelping when they had told the two that joke and in almost unison they both threw their heads back and laughed in the most obnoxiously loud way ever.

It wasn’t annoying, José and Donald would just share a look anytime Della would call Panchito her ‘platonic-boyfriend’ and Panchito would come up with something equally as silly.

It wasn’t until Della had her three eggs and refused to tell anyone who the father really was that José big mistake happened. It had been made to help lighten the mood when a relative of Donald and Della’s had started being passive-aggressive with her, questioning on why the eggs (they had yet to find out the sexes) had no father figure at her duckling shower. It was obvious Della was uncomfortable, the triplets father always being some big mystery that Della never truly liked talking about and Donald looked ready to kill which would have really ruined the mood so José did what he did best.

“Actually, I believe the father is the handsome guitarist from the band Three Caballeros. Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzalez.”

Everyone was silent except for the loud sound of Panchito comically spitting out his mouthful of punch all over the presents.

“Que?!” He gasped, wide eyes looking over at José in surprise and only when José mouthed at him to play along did he let out one of his famous gritos before slapping his thigh excitedly. “I believe, my dear friend José, that Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzalez the THIRD is the father of these lovely huevos!”

He crowed again, the family member looking more and more uncomfortable with every passing second especially when Panchito slung his arm around their shoulder and gave them a good ‘friendly’ shake. “Though I truly wonder if they will come out with beaks or bills.”

Panchito’s loud laugh drew so much attention and José had to smother his own laughter against his hand when Della barked out her own laugh and joined Panchito in on the insanity.

The joke was on going, which honestly after awhile José grew exasperated with when he started to notice things about Panchito in a more than friendly manner, and it was a Della and Panchito favorite right up until Della was lost.

It wasn’t spoken about again until much much later, after the whole FOWL chaos, when the boys had wanted to know more about their father. They had apparently asked Della while she was fixing up the Cloudslayer/Sun Chaser and on decade old instinct she replied. “Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzalez the THIRD.”

Getting panicked calls at two in the morning in Brazil was truly jarring, especially when you had three hysterical teen ducks yelling in the phone with loud laughter, irritated yelling with a dash of confused Scottish going on the background behind them. José groaned, wishing he could just end the call and curl back up with Panchito who had come awake at the noise as well and frowned when Panchito gave a sleepy smile when he figured out the problem.

“O que?” He grumbled when Panchito rubbed his back softly.

“Lo siento, Cariño.” Panchito hummed, sounding far more awake than he should have and José could hear the grin in his voice. “I forgot to tell you. You are a step-papa.”

“Escroto!” José growled as he shoved his pillow into Panchito’s face to silence his crowing laugh even though José had no one really to blame but himself.