#hitting tw

Remy frowned, adjusting the baby in his arms, his wings curling around them to block out the wind so she wouldn’t get cold as he double checked that the purple ribbon was leading him inside.

It was.

“Huh.” The word left his lips involuntarily as he moved to the sliding glass door, the latch unlocking at his touch so he could slip inside the darkened room. Maybe she wasn’t going to the millionaire but to their maid or butler instead. That would make far more sens--

WHAM.

Remy staggered as something cold and definitely made of heavy metal hit the side of his face. His sunglasses flew off, landing somewhere to his left as he whirled to the source, wing raising in time to block the frying pan swinging again for his head. “WATCH THE BABY!” He screeched at his unknown assailant as he desperately tried to blink the stars from his eyes. 

Geez. And he’d thought seeing stars was a myth. 

The shadowy figure froze. “Lights.” A man said in a low voice.

Remy hissed, ducking his aching head as the room flooded with light, blinding him. His wings automatically folded in over him to protect his poor eyes, but also so he could check on the baby girl. 

If this idiot had harmed her---

But no. The tightness in his chest eased to see her still sleeping soundly. Good. The dust had helped to keep her asleep despite the noise. 

He looked up, wings pulling back as he straightened to glare at the man in a black hoodie with dark eyeshadow under his eyes like a freaking raccoon standing before him with a  frying pan held in his hands. “Geez Rapunzel. You’re lucky you didn’t hurt her!” 

The man bared his teeth, a hiss coming from his lips, though his grey storm colored eyes anxiously checked the bundle in Remy’s arms. “What sort of idiot brings a baby to a break-in?” He demanded.

Remy scoffed, taking a slow step backwards to get out of range of the ‘weapon,’ holding his charge protectively. “Gurl! Me? Break in--out of the two of us--” He gestured with one wing to his brown leather jacket and jeans, wondering why no one else had come to investigate the commotion yet. “Which of us looks more like a robber? Cus it certainly ain’t me, Sugarbee.” 

The man glanced down to his clothes and smirked before he surged forward, pressing the edge of the frying pan against Remy’s throat before he could blink. “I’m the one who lives here, Flynn Rider.” He growled, stormy eyes glittering. “I can dress however the blazes I want and no freaking glowing green-eyed Angel is going to tell me how to dress.” 

Angel?

Remy froze, swallowing as the cold metal pressed against his throat. Impossible. Adults shouldn’t be able to-- “You can see my wings?” He asked carefully, ignoring the comment about his eyes. He already knew people were offset by the metallic quality they held, but it came with being a S.T.O.R.K. along with the wings.

“Well…yah?” The man frowned, grey eyes flicking to them, the baby and then back to Remy himself. “I mean you’re no Mothman, that’s for sure, they're more polite.” 

No Mothman? The man spoke like he’d met one. That wasn’t--they didn’t exist! It shou--who was this guy?! His wings spread out, puffing up. “But that’s---you shouldn’t!”

The man raised his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Why shouldn’t I be able to see them? They’re rather hard to miss.” He gestured to the wings with his makeshift weapon. “All white and huge.” 

“Because you’re not---” Remy cut off, abruptly realizing where exactly the purple ribbon in the room led. “Oh Jiminy Crickets.” He breathed as he made the connection.  “You are.” It still didn’t explain how his wings were visible to this guy, but--

The man tensed, fingers going white on the handle. “I’m what?” 

Remy relaxed, wings snapping shut. It was unusual, yes, but there were no other ribbons drifting through the apartment. Meaning that the Emo Nightmare before him was the only person here. A single father. Unusual, but not uncommon. “You ever hear of a S.T.O.R.K?” He asked, moving a step closer, brushing the sleeping baby girl’s cheek with a finger. 

“The regular bird, or the legends about how babies--” The man inhaled sharply, going pale as the frying pan slipped from his fingers to clatter to the floor. 

Remy smirked. Looked like Rapunzel could piece the puzzle together on his own. “Still wondering why I’m here in your apartment with a baby?” 

If anything the soon-to-be Father got paler, stumbling back a step. “I can’t!” His voice cracked.

Yah, Remy had heard similar exclamations with other deliveries he’d made. “Of course you can.” He said, carefully holding the little girl out to him. He wouldn’t be here if the young man wouldn’t be a good Dad. “You already have a Father’s protective instinct down.” 

If he didn’t end up with half his face black and blue in the morning, Remy would be very surprised. “You’ll be fine.” 

“But she’s a tiny baby! What if I hurt--no.” The young man violently shook his head, vaulting over the back of the black couch to put a blockade between him and Remy, crossing his arms in front of him as a feeble blockade. “No. No, I can’t take her! I’m not a good dad. I won’t be--I can’t!” 

Denial too was to be expected. It isn’t always easy to comprehend that you’re suddenly a parent. Though no new Dad had reacted quite like this before. “You’ll be fine.” Remy soothed. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I don’t make mistakes.” No S.T.O.R.K. did. “Here.” Again he held her out. “Just hold her and you’ll see.” 

The familial bond could only be made once the parents, or in this case, parent held the child in his arms. Not before. But once he did. Flynn Rider here would be fine. He’d be a great Dad.  

 Edgelord shuddered, closing his eyes as he turned away, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “No. Please. No. I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T! She deserves better. Please.” 

Please.

The purple ribbon fizzled out, vanishing before Remy’s eyes only for a bright pink ribbon to suddenly flash into view, leading out and away from the apartment. 

What the what?! Remy pulled the child close to his chest, rocking her as she stirred, whimpering in her sleep. The ribbon had just--that had never happened before! EVER. Once a S.T.O.R.K. chose a ribbon, then the child would go to that family. No question. And now--suddenly--Remy swallowed, slowly shaking his head, his wings half spreading, fluttering in his confusion. 

He didn’t get it. But if the man felt that strongly, so strongly to change the ribbon’s color-- 

”Alright. Hey. Hey. Gurl, it’s alright. You don’t have to say yes.” It was unusual. Actually, all of this was just plain weird. No one ever refused a S.T.O.R.K. once they were chosen. “I can take her to another.” 

The man refused to turn around. “Then do it.” He choked out. “Go.” 

Remy frowned, but didn’t argue, scooping up his sunglasses as he moved to the open balcony door. He needed to get the baby girl to this family of this new glowing pink parent line before the sun rose. 

Still, he paused on the threshold, looking over his shoulder to the man in black. “I do stand by what I said though.” He slipped outside, spreading his wings. “You will make a great Dad.”  He called as he took a running leap, jumping off the balcony to soar up into the night sky, following the new ribbon’s trail northeast towards Boston. 

Remy set his jaw, holding the babe close to his chest as he climbed. He just needed to find the right child to prove it.