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Judy unlocks her apartment door with a click, slipping inside quietly and closing the door just as quietly. She removes her police vest, her belt, and tosses it haphazardly on her desk. Then, she collapses on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, finally, she allows herself to smile.
“I’m getting married,” she says aloud, delicate as a dragonfly’s wings, as a gossamer veil, all white.
“Married,” she repeats, running the word over her tongue. The smile she contained until now bubbles over into a painful, face-splitting grin, accompanied by a giggle, a laugh, an outburst of laughter. Judy grabs her pillow and wraps her body around it to suffocate the hysterical sound, kicking her feet excitedly.
Oh, she’s a kitten again, tapping her feet when she makes the safety patrol, when she receives her first character counts award, when she finishes out school on the straight-A honor roll. She’s as innocent as she was in the school play, in the face of Gideon’s taunts, because guess what? Judy Hopps can do anything. She became a police officer, cracked Zootopia’s biggest case, and she’s getting married. Married!
She bites her lip. Maybe it’s taboo, but she just can’t help it. She has to. “Judy Hopps,” she says, tentative. “No…Judy Wilde.” The name sends her into another fit of kicks and giggles and a blush that burns her hot to the tips of her ears.
You’re so embarrassing, he would say. Judy knows because she knows him like she knows her heart. Because he is her heart. She’s memorized his every mannerism, every habit, every hair on his head because she never knows when to quit when it comes to something (or someone) she loves. She will become the best officer in Zootopia. She will become the best authority on Nick Wilde. She won’t stop or slow down until she gets there.
Judy Wilde, because Nick Hopps sounded silly for a fox, and Hopps-Wilde or Wilde-Hopps were reminisce of a monster bunny terrorizing the city. Judy Wilde sounds like an adventurer and a fighter and it sounds like her. Why would she settle for any less than destiny?
Oh, gross. You don’t believe in destiny anyway—you believe in working to make your own future exactly what you want it to be, Carrots.
Oh whatever, Brain Nick, she thinks without any venom. This was one of the happiest days of her life, and if she wanted to be a little fanciful and romantic and “gross,” she was allowed to be. She’s excited, and she wants to share that excitement with someone, anyone, everyone. But she keeps it contained.
She doesn’t have to worry about having someone to share with anymore, because this is the last day in her apartment. Nick insisted on cleaning up his place before she came, and he also insisted that they not move into her “shithole city dump,” which she thinks is a bit of a repetitive exaggeration. But Judy, doesn’t mind, really. Tonight is a night to say goodbye.
Goodbye to coming home alone, goodbye to dinners for one, goodbye to a silence broken only by the radio that kept her company when everyone else went home. And hello to a big bed, a warm body beside her; hello to movie nights and cooking side-by-side; hello to late night talks and banter all day long.
Well. It might not be that different from now, after all. She didn’t know why she kept paying rent when she fell asleep at Nick’s place most nights anyway.
Oh, finally, Brain Nick says. You’ll start paying rent.
Judy reaches for her phone even though they haven’t been apart for more than an hour. Maybe she’s being clingy. Maybe. But this was…special.
She doesn’t need to look at the keypad to type his number in. He picks up on the second ring and she feels ridiculously pleased that he’s just as giddy as her. They don’t speak for a moment. Judy’s whiskers twitch in amusement. “Hey,” she says.
“I was wondering who was going to call first,” Nick says. She can see his smug face in the tone of his voice.
“Please,” Judy says. “Nick Wilde? Picking up on the second ring? Sounds like some pretty pathetic pining if you ask me. What were you doing, sitting by the phone?”
“Maybe,” Nick says with honesty that leaves her breathless. “Not very manly of me to leave you hanging, huh?”
“The image of you twirling your hair and checking your phone every minute is kind of endearing actually,” Judy says too quickly, tripping over her words. “I mean,” she takes a breath, “I mean, I’m glad I’m not bothering you.”
“You couldn’t,” Nick says. “Well, you bother me pretty much every day, so I should say that I’m used to it by now.”
“Jerk,” Judy laughs into the receiver, tension easing between them. “I miss your dumb face.”
“Never fear, you’ll be seeing a helluva lot of it once we’re…um. Once we’re married.” He says it the same way she does, like it’s a secret treasure they’re only just now discovering. Words like ‘marriage’ and ‘fiancée’ and ‘wedding’ have to be treated with the utmost delicacy, this side up, handle with care. They’re not to be taken lightly, but heavy with their meaning, heavy as the pounding of twin hearts.
(For once, Judy thinks, his heart will beat as fast as mine.)
“Hey, Judes, can I…can I ask you something?” Nick says.
“Yeah?” Judy replies.
“Why today?” he asks. “You could’ve asked me any day out of a thousand in front of us, but you chose today. Why?”
The memory of asking him, of hopping up onto the counter of their break room and looking him in the eye, voice calm and clear, a mask for her racing thoughts, flashes bright through her mind. But another memory shines brighter—one of approval and love and the most important thing she had aside from her job and her fox: family.
“Are you sure, Judy?” her mother had asked, a paw on her father’s shoulder, eyes clear and full of nothing but love and acceptance. (And of course, that lingering concern Judy adored so much.)
She had nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat as all the fear of rejection flooded from her body, replaced with a love for her parents that had never pounded through her veins stronger than in that moment. Her father had smiled.
“It’s not that we have any problem with it,” he explained. “You know, you were the one who opened our eyes to the wonderful nature of foxes. Gideon is kind, and honest, and a hard-worker. He’s lovely to have over for dinner and, well,” he exchanged glances with his wife, “well, we’d love to invite a fox into our family. You made that acceptance possible.”
“It’s just—interspecies relations aren’t the most…conventional…partnerships, dear,” her mother said. “You’ve done such an amazing job breaking barriers, but this one is a toughy. There are still a lot of folks out there who frown upon interspecies prey or predator relationships, not to speak of prey-predator relationships.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to keep making changes and widening peoples’ minds,” Judy had said finally, smiling tentatively at her parents. “I’m not giving up Nick because some people talk behind our backs. I’m sure he feels the same.”
Her father had stepped forward, placed his paws on her shoulders. “Then let me ask you one final question: do you really, really love him?”
Judy can’t explain what had gone through her mind at that moment. Every close call, every dumb joke, every passing touch, every smile, every snarl, every inch of him and second they shared—they flashed through her mind and she felt tears fill her eyes and overflow.
“Yes,” she said, final as the click of handcuffs closing, of the sliding of a badge over fabric. As final as her ticket to Zootopia that had taken her away from everything she had ever known and brought her home. She had sniffled and wiped her eyes, but there was no shame in being in love.
“Then go get him,” her mother said.
But that was a story for another time.
“Clawhauser,” Judy replies. “Clawhauser made me realize it was time to ask.”
On the other end of the line, Nick cackles. “So, so let me get this straight—he actually assumed we had already moved in? And that you were cheating on me by flirting with that timber wolf? Oh, that is just too good.”
“I know, right?” Judy says. “Who dates timber wolves?”
“I guess if Clawhauser knew, it was about time we screwed our heads on, huh,” Nick says more gently. “I’m glad you did it, even if you didn’t get down on one knee.” Judy rolls her eyes, even though she knows he can’t see it. “I wouldn’t have been able to.”
“Sure you would,” Judy counters. “I’m just a widdle, tiny bunny. I’m not scary.”
“Yeah,” Nick agrees. “I’m not scared of you. But I was scared of my feelings for you.”
Judy’s breath catches. “Nick…”
“Let me off easy, would you?” he teases weakly. “I’m used to being told no; it wouldn’t have been a surprise if you turned me down. But I didn’t want to hear no. And if I couldn’t hear yes, I’d rather hear nothing at all.”
“I’m glad I asked you, too,” Judy says. Quiet, to match him. “Hey Nick?”
“Mm?”
“Dibs on choosing our wedding colors,” she says.
“Oh, no way in hell,” he laughs. “You’ll just make it ZPD colors out of your sick, sick love affair with police work.”
“I was thinking blueberry blue,” she says smugly.
“That’s cheating!” Nick grouses. “You know that’s my favorite.”
“Get ready for a lifetime of cheating, babe,” Judy giggles. “You signed up for it.”
“At least let me wear the dress,” Nick sighs dramatically. “I’ll have you know white is my color.”
“I’d probably trip over the train anyway,” Judy says thoughtfully.
“Shit, I shouldn’t joke around with you like that,” he says. “Knowing you, you’d actually get me a dress.”
“And you would make a beautiful bride in it, too,” she teases.
“Jerk,” he says. Her face aches from smiling.
“Thanks for saying yes,” she says finally. “I’m going to sleep, now, I think. And thank you for picking up the phone.”
“Gee, Carrots, if you’re going to thank me over little things like that, our whole life will be thanks,” Nick says.
“Well, I sure am thankful for it,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. “Everything that was, everything that is, everything that will be.”
“Sap,” he says. A pause. “But I guess it’s about time I start returning the favors you’ve done me.”
“You can start by giving me a back rub,” Judy yawns into the phone. “Also…call a realtor or something…we need a real house…eventually…”
“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” Nick says fondly. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“Mmkay,” she agrees. “Good night, Nick. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Judy. Good night.”
She lets him hang up just to listen to the static for a moment and imagine it’s his breath tickling across the airwaves. She puts her phone on her side table and closes her eyes again. In her mind’s eye, she can see him, fur ruffled and uniform creased, not fully tucked in around the back. He’s clutching a latte in either hand, hers with extra foam. He slinks into the station with poor posture and a grimace on his face, and when he yawns, his breath might even smell.
But when he sees her tomorrow morning, like he does every morning, he will smile and crack a joke at her expense, straighten up just a little taller, puff his chest up a little higher, and that is what makes it all worth it.