Chapter Text
For as much as Nick liked to complain, therapy wasn’t terrible.
It wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. Bogo had made the conditions very clear, and Nick could deal with that.
Mostly because he also had his own non-negotiable conditions.
And they looked a lot like Judy Hopps.
Which meant that once a week, he and Judy strolled side by side into their little group, sat hip to hip in their stiff plastic chairs, and did their best to participate in corporate mandated group healing.
Well. At least Judy did.
For all her early denial, Judy had climbed down off the weather wall with adrenaline pumping through her veins, tear tracks on her face, and a newfound commitment to Dr. Q Fuzzby's Partner Counseling.
“You know you can’t get an A in therapy, right?” Nick had told her just a few days before after they’d left work together, huddled across from one another at a small coffee house.
“Of course I know that,” she’d said, brow furrowed, studying her Partnership for Dummies like gospel. “Now quiz me again!”
Nick had conceded with a fond sigh and shuffled through her little note cards of handwritten terms like emotional regulation and conflict management. He supposed if anyone could have gotten an A in therapy, Judy Hopps would be the first to do it.
And it wasn’t as if he didn’t get anything out of therapy either. As much as he hated to admit it, Fuzzby knew her stuff, and she'd been too quick to see through him. Nick had begrudgingly taken to her lessons, parsing through them with the care of disabling a bomb (but only once his apartment door was closed and he was left alone). His front was a strong one. He’d built it himself, brick by brick, and had retreated away to its safety so very long ago, hiding behind sly smiles and hooded eyes while the world had raged and howled around him.
Vulnerability and care were dangerous and painful things, and it was easier to keep them where other animals couldn't reach, couldn't grab and rip and tear.
Not until Judy.
Not until one, unassuming rabbit had pounded her fists against the bricks and, when that had failed, stubbornly scaled the wall.
And so he was trying. Building doors and windows where there once had never been any, because not so very long ago he’d pulled her into his arms and held her tight and promised to never forget that life was worth the pain if she was by his side.
Then again, it wasn’t like every single session hit home, either.
Like today’s.
Which had, apparently, been about active listening.
At least that’s what Nick thought it had probably been about based on the giant words on the chalkboard and the packets Fuzzby was handing out.
In his defense though, how was he supposed to learn about active listening when Judy had recently switched to a new shampoo.
He’d clocked it the moment they’d met one another outside the precinct. It had swept over on a stray breeze; clovers and sea salt and soft enough to keep from covering the grassy, sun warmed smell that was all Judy, and it had become a test of willpower not to tip forward and burrow his face away in that little dip between her shoulder and neck.
He took a long sip from his overpriced latte instead.
Truly, he deserved awards for his strength.
Something tapping his tail dragged him out of his thoughts, and he looked down where a foot was hammering away. Judy was at his side chatting amicably with a few of the newer partners (a sheep named Sam and their partner, Zach; a towering timber wolf with a shy, cautious smile) about a new reptile owned restaurant Gary had recommended. At least, he was pretty sure that's what it was about. Her foot beat a steady rhythm the more animated she got and. Nick was content to sit back and watch her, only reaching out once to give her foot a light nudge.
She grinned sheepishly up at him, her foot settling to a slower tap tap tap before turning again towards her captive audience.
“Nick usually knows every good spot, so it's been cool having so many new ones move in. Sort of evens the odds, you know. And then we get to discover them together. There’s actually this little kabob restaurant on Third and Palm. The nicest family of cobras opened it a few weeks ago. They’ve got this tofu thing that’s just incredible. Right, Nick?”
She looked back at him then, her smile all warmth and honey, and Nick knew if he wasn’t careful he could have fallen into it.
It was even worse when she reached out and rested her paw against his wrist. He looked down at it and swallowed. Her fur was soft against his.
“Nick?”
He blinked, glancing back up from where she was still touching him. “Oh yeah,” he agreed quickly, lounging back like a cool, totally chill fox that didn’t have a hoard of butterflies currently taking up residence in his stomach. He did his best to stay as still as possible, anything to keep from jostling her paw away and losing that little point of contact. In his other paw the cold from his drink was a welcome relief, condensation collecting in his fur. “So good, Carrots.”
And it had been pretty good. There’d been a line out the door, and they’d practically hovered to find seats, jumping at the chance when a pair of kangaroos had hopped away. The shrimp skewers were some of the best he’d had in a while, and the coffee was strong and rich with condensed milk and rose water. But the highlight of it all had been the little countertops circling the tiny, crowded, hole-in-the-wall, packed with stools for small and mid-sized mammals. Which meant that the two of them had needed to bunch tight together, side by side, elbow to elbow, laughing and trading jokes and bits of pita as they ate over greasy wax paper, paws covered in honey and spices.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think that kind of review would have flown on Zelp.
[BEST FRIEND'S EYES SPARKLED JUST RIGHT UNDER THE REPTILE HEAT LAMPS, AND HER FUR SMELLED LIKE PISTACHIOS AND ROSE WATER FOR DAYS AFTER. 10/10 WOULD GO AGAIN.]
Yeah. Probably not.
The pair she was talking to started to say something.
Not that Nick heard.
In hindsight, that probably didn’t bode well for that whole active listening thing.
The group began to wrap up when Fuzzby clapped her little paws together and bid them all goodbye with reminders to do their homework (little packets of journaling prompts that Nick would half ass and Judy would commit to with the zeal of a tortured writer) and to have a wonderful rest of their afternoon.
Judy got up and stretched, gathering her things, trading goodbyes even while she hovered by Nick’s side.
He got up, ready to follow her, when-
“Officer Wilde?”
He and Judy both stopped and turned at the sound of his name.
Dr. Fuzzby was arranging the rest of the packets neatly in her paws. She smiled when she saw them both looking. “If I can just speak to you for a moment?”
The two of them took a step closer and nodded, in unison.
Fuzzby laughed. She shook her head and waved the paw still holding the packets. They fluttered gently against one another. “I know it’s usually both of you together, but I just need Officer Wilde this time.”
He frowned, looking down towards Judy, who was already looking back up at him. He turned back to Fuzzby. “Something wrong?”
“We haven’t done anything,” Judy added quickly, shifting closer to Nick, ready to shield him. A move that did not make those butterflies flap even faster at all.
“I know that, and nothing’s wrong,” Fuzzby soothed. “I just needed to have a quick conversation with Nick.” She turned her gaze to Judy. “You can wait just outside. I promise, I’m not going to steal him for too long.”
Judy and Nick looked at one another again. He shrugged and she deflated, nodding. “I’ll just…” She jerked her thumb towards the door.
Dr. Fuzzby waited until Judy was outside and the door was closed behind her to turn her full attention onto Nick.
“Thank you for humoring me.” She climbed onto the chair behind her desk, setting the packets down, going through the drawers to put things away.
“No prob, doc.”
“It’s just so rare that I get to talk to any of you one-on-one in this precinct. It’s always nice to get a second between sessions.” Her pencils dropped into a drawer with little clink clink clinks, followed by her stapler. “And I know you’re busy right now, so I had to find a good time.”
He nodded mutely, taking another sip from his coffee, waiting.
Because here was the thing. He’d been a hustler. He understood a hustle. And something about the way this soft little mammal was talking made him feel an awful lot like he was about to be dragged into one.
Two could play that game.
Dr. Fuzzby finally closed the last drawer and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. There was a little working zen waterfall on the left corner and a sandbox just in front of it. “You and Judy are doing wonderfully. I just thought you should know that.”
“Course we are,” he sat down, kicking his feet up onto the desk in the perfect image of calm and cool. “It’s us. We’re national treasures.”
“And I must say,” she continued, “the two of you are some of the closest partners I’ve ever had the pleasure of counseling.”
“Yeah, well.” Nick shrugged. “Near death will do that to a friendship.” He offered her a smile that was all teeth.
Fuzzby hummed, smile irritatingly patient. “Always ready with a joke, aren’t you.”
“What can I say, doc. I was born with an extra funny bone.”
Jokes were good. He could do jokes. Jokes were light. Jokes were a breeze. Jokes were easier than pulling apart his chest to show her the way his heart was still putting itself back together from the grief of almost losing his one bunny pack.
Jokes were easier than saying he woke up sweating some nights, texting Judy at all hours and not feeling like he could catch a breath until she’d texted him back the next morning; happy and breathing and wonderfully alive.
So yeah.
He was a fan of jokes.
Just like he wasn’t a fan of the way Fuzzby was looking at him like she could see right through his skin. He stuck the straw of his coffee into his mouth and gave it a chew.
“Anyway,” said Fuzzby, still just as deceptively serene as ever, “I’ve been mulling something over the past few days. I thought maybe I’d run it by you.”
“Sure,” he said, taking another drink. “Why not.”
Dr. Fuzzby steepled her paws beside the little zen waterfall, smiling amicably at the fox across from her. “When did you figure out you were in love with Judy Hopps?”
Nick choked on his stupid, fancy, overpriced seven dollar iced latte.
She waited patiently while he pounded at his chest. He was never getting another seven dollar latte ever again. Not after this betrayal. “What!?” he garbled around another cough.
“Oh. You didn’t hear me? I said—”
“I know what you said!”
“Wonderful,” said Dr. Fuzby. “And here I was worried you didn’t get anything from our active listening session.”
He ignored her very pointed jab, continuing to pound at his chest. The room felt smaller. Warmer. Suffocating. “Who said I was in love with her!”
“Just an observation,” said Dr. Fuzby, breezily as ever. “I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed, but I figured that you either didn’t or-”
“I'M NOT-!” He nearly toppled backwards, managing to get his feet beneath him in time to stand, the chair screeching out behind him. Ears pinned flat, heart drumming, he turned back almost expecting Judy to have materialized somewhere in the room. “I’m not in love with her!” The words cut through his teeth when he hissed them, whipping back around towards the still unfazed therapist.
“You’re not?” She raised her brows. “I mean, there isn’t anything wrong with it. I’m not HR, and I doubt they’d have an issue if I spoke to them-”
He shook his head, waving his arms. His coffee sloshed about merrily in the cup. His head was spinning. He was pretty sure that if he looked down, he’d see his heart right there, beating away frantically on his sleeve. “I’m not,” he said again, voice cracking. “I mean- it’s not even- you don’t- we’re just… I’m not!”
The zen waterfall continued its happy little splishing and splashing. He could have sworn it was taunting him. With a hum, Fuzzby gave him another long look.
It made Nick's skin feel too tight.
"Well then," she said. “I must have been mistaken.”
Her eyes told a different story.
“No problem,” he ground out. “Happens to the best of us.”
“It certainly does.” She smiled again at him, gaze never straying. “And if you ever do need to talk about anything, at all, I’m always here.”
Nick left quickly, glad to see that Judy wasn’t lingering outside the door when he stalked out. He went to take another sip of coffee, but it tasted like ash on his tongue. He scoffed and tossed it in the next bin he passed.
Judy was sitting on a bench in the lobby, and when he turned the corner into view she caught his eye and waved, beaming. "What did Fuzzby want?"
Nick swallowed, donning his sunglasses as he began the quick walk out. "Nothing much," he lied, quickly. He saluted Clawhauser as they passed the desk. "Just wanted to let me know we were acing therapy."
He could feel Judy's eyes on the back of his neck. Her gaze pricked. He kept his own steadily forward and did everything to keep his ears from pinning. There was a question sitting at the tip of her tongue (he could almost hear it crackling like a live wire) and so when her phone dinging took her attention away, it was nothing short of relief.
She looked down, jogging to his side. "Gary," she said, by way of explanation, flashing her phone his way. He bent over her to peek.
Gary: I have acquired the cellular device, Judy Hopps!
Gary: This is Gary, in case you did not know!
Gary: Gary de'Snake.
Gary: The snake one.
Nick snorted, artfully dodging a swat.
"Be nice. He just got a phone today. His first one, apparently."
Gary: This cellular device has pictures! 🐍
Gary: 🐰
Gary: 🦊
Gary: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆 my favorite vegetable! Wonderful!
"No kidding," said Nick, ears warm. "I can't tell."
Her phone dinged again, and she typed something quickly back. "He emailed everyone his number. And I mean everyone. Pretty sure the mailmammal is on the email chain. We have got to teach him about internet safety." They passed through the precincts front doors and Judy pocketed her phone with a sigh, smile tired. "Still, it's nice to hear from him. He misses you. Says he wants us all to get together soon." She twisted around, walking backwards to face him. Her paw reached out, and when she grabbed his wrist, her earlier questions mercifully forgotten, her smile could have rivaled the sun. "But until then, my brother sent me some new movie recommendations. What are you doing tomorrow night?"
The butterflies in his stomach chose that moment to start up again.
Stop it, he scolded, doing his best to put on an easy smile while he sauntered closer to his partner, saying something about how he could probably make room in his ridiculously busy schedule for her just as the next cool breeze turned the air velvet with her smell. Leave me alone!
You’re the one with feelings, buddy, the butterflies tittered back. Also, is this place rent controlled? Because I've got a feeling we’re gonna be here for a loooong time.
Fuzzby’s words stuck with Nick like brambles, cutting and stinging.
"Like she knows anything," he muttered to himself in a rare moment alone, Judy talking to a young Pig in a Zootopia University sweatshirt who was asking for subway directions.
Honestly. All he could do was scoff.
He scoffed in the squad car. He scoffed after work was done, and he walked Judy to the train station. He continued scoffing longer after they’d parted ways and he was at his front door, phone in hand, already texting Judy some dumb joke he’d remembered but forgotten to tell her, laughing at the dumb gif she sent back.
“The hell does she know,” he told himself, still scoffing as he brushed his teeth (with an actual toothbrush this time because he was trying to do better or something crazy like that). A tired fox looked back at him from in the mirror. “She doesn’t know anything! She’s never had a partner almost die before. She never had a partner who was their pack before. She’s a shrink! She's psychobabbling!”
The fox in the mirror nodded back at him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Just psychobabbling.”
Somewhat content, he splashed water on his face and shut off the bathroom light.
The TV was still on. It flickered dim, blue pixels across the walls, flashing every so often and joining with the dance of lights already pooling in from his apartment windows. He wandered towards it and turned it off, eyes adjusting easily to the darkness, and tossed the remote onto the couch. It bounced twice across the cushions before landing sideways against a folded pile of fabric he'd forgotten had been there.
The sweatshirt was dark blue with an old, long since closed bar logo faded across the front. It was soft with age. One of his favorites that he reached for when the weather began to cool.
Fall was beginning to settle into place through Zootopia. The weather walls didn’t affect Center City much, their seasons coming and going with the steady march of time, and a crisp chill was beginning to wrap its way around the streets. He could feel his winter coat starting to come in, but it would be weeks for that to finish growing, so he'd taken to whatever bits of comfort he could find until then.
(Not that he was looking forward to being a poofy mess, but with the way Judy was enjoying curling against him, he figured maybe this would be the year he actually started to see the pros.)
Apparently, bunnies didn’t have the same luxury.
“My fur gets thicker,” she'd grumbled just a few nights ago when they were in the middle of watching a TV show that he’d paused when he’d noticed her shivering next to him. “Just not like yours. It’s not fair.”
“Well whose fault is that, Carrots?”
“... Evolution's?”
He’d laughed, poking a claw gently against her angry, scrunched up nose, and padded off. He'd returned moments later from his room, sweatshirt in hand. There was an art in how he'd wrestled it onto her, cackling at the indignant noises coming from beneath the fabric, but once it was on, there'd been no room complaints. The hem pooled to her knees when she tugged at it and the sleeves went past her wrists, and the neckline hung down one shoulder, but she’d just hummed, contented in the warmth, and snuggled back next to him.
He’d nearly forgotten. And now here was the sweatshirt, folded up neatly in the space where she’d been sitting.
He lifted it up and gave it a shake. He'd been happy to give it to her. Seeing her in his things had awoken something dormant that he wasn't willing to give room for thought yet, but made his heart flutter nonetheless.
He went to fold it up again, to put it away, but-
Nick unfolded it again, holding the sweatshirt out. It swayed gently, the dark blue catching the lights from outside. He tilted his head, and then slowly, carefully, he brought it up to his face and breathed.
And.
And.
And oh…
Her smell was everywhere.
Everywhere and everything.
Grassy and sweet and violet and her. He stayed there with the sweatshirt against his face pressing his nose to the soft fabric, just so he could continue breathing in Judy.
He wasn't sure when he ended up in bed, but all he knew was that he ended up there, tipping sideways against his pillows, holding it against his chest and burying his face into any part he could reach. Her smell on his sheets was a whole other kind of wonderful, the sweatshirt soft and just the right size to fit bundled against his chest, and he held it close and tight and-
Nick sat up.
He blinked.
“Oh,” said Nick into the dark of his room. “Oh fuck.”