Work Text:
“‘Dango...” Tyler’s heart was in his throat, but he thought he was doing a good job of playing it cool. “Is this why you were away for so long? You could have told me.”
Fandango tore his gaze away from the swaddled bundle in his arms and met Tyler’s own, looking as startled to be caught with his secret baby in his arms as Tyler was to be doing the catching.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything. You could never be an uggo to me, no matter how swollen your ankles got,” Tyler continued. “You didn’t have to do this alone. I would have made an honest man of you.” His voice didn’t sound as steady as he’d have liked, but that was okay; Fandango wouldn’t hold it against him. “I still will, if you’ll have-”
“Breezy!” Fandango interrupted, speaking urgently enough to capture his focus - unusual for them; his partner almost always had his full attention - but quietly enough not to disturb the baby cradled against his gorgeous chest. “She isn’t mine. Someone left her in a basket on our doorstep.”
“Oh. That’s... they must have thought Fashion Police Headquarters would be a safe place for her.” It wasn’t a bad guess. Tyler had always found Dango’s arms to be a safe place, after all. “Does she have a tag?”
Fandango shook his head, deflated by the lack of clues. “The only collar is the one on her dress.”
The baby made an unhappy sound, and Fandango swept across the floor in a smooth dance step that simultaneously soothed the baby and carried them both closer to Tyler.
“Don’t worry, Baby,” he said, and her big brown eyes watched him intently. He reached one hand toward her and she wrapped a chubby fist around his thumb. “We’re on the case.”