Work Text:
Remy didn't remember what had happened. He'd been going to the old lady's kitchen, Emile in tow, to get... Ah, something, he couldn't remember just then. And yet, now he was back above the kitchen, home, with his brother fussing over him and his dad's voice saying things his brain couldn't quite process. Remy tensed as Emile poked him in the ribs. What on Earth was he doing? Remy took a moment to muster up the energy to talk.
"What's going on?"
Emile smiled shakily when his brother spoke. "Hey, you're talking. That's gotta be good, right? I'm making sure you're not hurt."
"What do you mean?"
"You passed out, Remy!" Emile explained, his smile melting away into a look of concern. In the back of Remy's muddled mind, he appreciated that his brother cared. Emile didn't understand him, but to Emile, Remy did matter. That meant a lot.
But that warm, fuzzy familial feeling was lost when Remy realized what Emile had said. "I did?"
"You did." Remy flinched at his father's stern voice. "Why could that be, Remy?" Django's tone made it clear that he knew. He'd noticed how little Remy had been eating. And of course, Remy had missed his father's panic, his desperation, when Emile had brought him back unconscious. All he knew was now his father was bringing up the same old song and dance, and the frustration that caused seemed to help clear his head, in a sense. It was pinpointing the issue of whether or not Remy should be picky with his food and letting him focus on only that.
"I was hungry, okay? But that-"
"How can you be so stubborn, Remy? You need to eat. I don't care about hoitey-toitey human food. You'll take what we have! Now that you've seen what happens, I expect you to stop complaining about what we eat."
"Are you kidding me?" Remy tried to get up, but found it made his head spin, so he just glared up at his father. "Dad, this just proves I'm right! We should be eating the good stuff! I bet it wasn't the hunger that made me faint, it's what I've been eating!" It didn't sound particularly convincing, even to Remy. It wasn't as if the other rats who ate plenty of garbage were fainting left and right. But he pushed on. "This isn't the way things should be! Stealing things nobody wants so we can-"
"So we can live."
"But what kind of life? Eating trash and stuck hiding in the dark?"
"Remy, it's nature. Emile, take your brother somewhere quiet to rest."
"But I'm still talking to you!" Remy protested, as Emile lifted him up with a mumbled apology. Django watched them leave, crossing his arms over his chest. Teenagers could never admit they were wrong, but Remy must have learned after what happened. Surely this human food business was done.