Work Text:
“Any idea of where you wanna start?” Nick asked Judy, referring to the perps who had run away during his prison break. She knew he wasn't a fan of speaking about work during their off-hours, especially given they were currently at Gary's housewarming party, but this is what their conversation had led them to: Judy had promised she'd return the carrot pen to him after they solved a new case together.
She brought a paw to her chin. “It’d be fitting if it was us who captured Bellwether again, don’t you think?”
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, that reminds me, I actually saw her in prison. Did you know she’s been shearing her own wool and making furniture out of it?” Nick gave a comically exaggerated shudder.
“I suppose prisoners don’t have many hobbies available to them,” said Judy with a shrug.
“You’re defending Bellwether? Maybe we should put you behind bars too,” he quipped. She stared at him with an unimpressed expression that had become quite common on her when dealing with Nick’s teasing. He raised a finger. “Actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea! It might be the only way to stop you from drowning yourself in water tubes made for aquatic mammals. I’ve been playing babysitter for too long and I’m a little tir–”
“Love ya, partner.”
Nick shut up immediately, his expression dropping as fast as his ears. She wasn’t as quick on the draw as she had wanted, but Nick was nonetheless staring at her as if she was holding a dangerous weapon in her paws instead of a novelty toy. His words had been recorded, what, a minute ago? And she had already found an excellent use for them. If anything, it was quite satisfying to use Nick’s own tactics against him; he had cast the first stone after all, back at the Honeymoon Lodge climb.
“That’s no way to talk to your partner, who you love,” she said brightly. For good measure she replayed the recording, both because she was finding she did like listening to it, and to make Nick cringe again.
“That makes no sense,” argued Nick, crossing his arms. “‘As I’m always saying, I really am just a dumb bunny,’ is an A+ joke, if a little mean. It has a zing to it. Blockbuster actors would kill for my comedic timing. ‘I’ve been playing babysitter for too long and I love ya, partner’? That isn’t even a coherent sentence! Sorry, Fluff, but this new recording just isn’t as versatile.”
Judy shrugged, ensuring her smug smile was cheekier than his. “I don’t care for versatility. I just like being reminded that my partner appreciates me even if his jokes can get extremely irritating. Seriously, I get the water tube stunt was stupid of me, you remind me every day. When are you gonna let me live it down?”
He eyed the pen as she waved it around, leaning back a little. “Well, you’ll certainly not hear a peep from me on the topic again if you keep flaunting that thing around.”
Briefly, she wondered if using Nick’s rare display of vulnerability to poke fun at him would backfire and make him retreat into his shell again. She jabbed Nick’s chest good-naturedly, attempting to correct herself. “Take this as a learning opportunity. It won’t kill you to say the L-word more often than once in a decade.”
“What I’m learning is that you’re far needier than I thought,” shot back Nick.
Click. “Love ya, partner.”
Nick flinched and Judy had to contain a giggle. Her smirk was reaching levels of smugness never before seen on the bunny.
“Boy, I cannot wait to get that pen back.”
And now, a typical day with Hopps and Wilde—and Judy’s new ammunition:
“You’re late,” chastised Judy, fighting the profound urge to thump the floor with her foot. “Roll call is about to start.”
Nick raised an amused eyebrow as he approached her. “That means, by definition, that I’m not late. Didn’t think you’d be one to misinterpret words, Carrots.”
Judy stood before the briefing room door so Nick couldn’t escape her reprimand. “According to the ZPD handbook, it’s advised that new recruits arrive at least 30 minutes before roll call so that they can demonstrate the reliability and discipline expected of a ZPD officer.”
“You said it, ‘advised’. Synonyms: suggested, recommended. Also known as: not mandatory. Perhaps I could get you a dictionary for your birthday.” Nick’s eyes went down to Judy’s rapidly thumping foot, and his smirk grew. “Easy there, you’re going to crack the tiles.”
“Love ya, partner.”
Nick’s ears shot up and he glanced from side to side of the hallway, alarmed that one of their coworkers would listen in. “Don’t play that here!”
Judy sighed with pleasure as her posture visibly relaxed—all an act. Her foot, of course, slowed down and stopped too. “You can’t believe how soothing it is to my soul to wipe that smug smile off your face. It’s strangely healing.”
He snorted. “Whatever. Bogo must be almost here. Let’s go.”
With no new leads on Bellwether’s whereabouts, the Dream Team was assigned a long day of… patrolling. Judy would have fought Bogo on the issue, and argued that many other criminals apart from Bellwether were still at large, if she hadn’t suspected it’d earn her a year of parking duty. Besides, the simple task was welcomed after the stress the Lynxley Case had caused her and Nick. Their morning was spent driving and walking all through Savannah Central: the Financial District, the Serengeti High Street, the Baobab Quarter, the Ebenezer Lynxley Plaza—wait, that one was getting its name officially changed. How neat!
At one point, the pair was approached by what looked like a tortoise tourist, carrying both a map of the city and an oversized camera, and looking far too decrepit to comprehend Zoogle Maps.
“Officers, please. If you have a moment, could you point me towards the Rainforest District?”
Nick was about to reply but Judy’s mouth moved faster, excited as she was to lend a paw. “You’re looking for the subway lines 5, 7, or 8, ma’am. Line 5 isn’t too far, actually! Walk down this street, take the third turn to the left, and you’ll find the Teide subway stop. Board in the direction of Distant Treehouses, and once you’re past Tropic you’ll be within the district.”
The fox stood between Judy and the tortoise, not before giving the bunny a look. “If I may offer an alternative, ma’am, that bus stop right there,” Nick pointed across the street, “has a direct bus to Amazonian Square, the main hub of the Rainforest District. It’s the bus 3A, okay? It passes frequently, it’s cheap and fast, and best of all, quite scenic,” he finished with a dashing smile.
The tortoise thanked them profusely for their help and left. Judy cringed; she didn’t need to turn to Nick to know he was sporting a haughty smirk.
“You know, I seem to recall a certain fuzzy someone criticising how you don’t let me speak first often. What was her name… Oh, right, Doctor Fuzzby?”
“I know,” groaned Judy, rubbing her face. “I’m still—I’m working on it, really. Did I give the tortoise the wrong instructions?”
“So many wrong instructions,” snorted Nick. “Teide doesn’t even have a direct line to the Rainforest District, you have to transfer in Gobi.”
“Cripes. I’m never learning this city’s layout.”
“And you’ve been here for a year!” said Nick cheerfully. “I suppose when you grow up surrounded by nothing but hills of carrot fields you can’t really develop a sense of direction. You’re too much of a… country bunny, to put it nicely.”
“Love ya, partner.”
To his credit, Nick’s smirk didn’t falter this time. “Play that all you want, Carrots. You know I’m right.”
“Lo-Lo-Lo-Love ya-ya-ya, p-p-part-ne-ne-ner.”
The repeated playing—a stunt she had learnt from him, no less—did seem to get under Nick’s fur, as his face twitched ever so slightly each time the recording stopped and restarted like a broken record. Judy gave a happy bounce. “You said I could play it all I wanted.”
After a short pause Nick crouched down to her eye level, smirked impishly, and flicked her nose playfully. “I’m still right.”
At 10 o’clock sharp Judy and Nick always required a treat to carry them through the morning until lunch, usually a pastry and a coffee. It didn’t matter if they were patrolling, on a stakeout, or filling paperwork back at their desks: the morning treats were sacred, a tradition to be broken only if they were in the middle of a pursuit, literally. Today, it was Judy’s turn to buy them.
Nick rubbed his paws at the sight of Judy, or rather, the two warm cups she was holding as she left a coffee shop, one filled with coffee and another with tea. “Finally,” he drawled, reigning in a yawn.
“You drink too much coffee. I know you’re not a morning mammal, but surely this can’t be healthy for one scrawny fox.”
“‘Not a morning mammal’ is a funny way of saying ‘nocturnal animal’,” replied Nick, taking his cup from Judy’s paw almost desperately. He took a greedy gulp, and it seemingly took all his willpower to avoid spitting it back. He grimaced, his tongue flicking out. “It’s so sugary! Did you give them the wrong order?”
“What? No, I’m pretty sure I asked for a plain black coffee,” said Judy, fishing for the receipt in her uniform pocket. “The barista must have…” She trailed off, her eyes slowly narrowing at him. Her paw began searching for the carrot pen instead. “Why are you assuming it was I who made a mistake?”
Nick coughed a little, schooling his expression of disgust. His sunglasses allowed him to pretend he was looking at Judy, even though they both knew he was avoiding her eyes like a kit caught with a paw in the cookie jar.
“But of course, I’m such a dumb bunny! Even saying the words ‘plain’ and ‘black’ is an impossible task for me,” teased Judy.
The fox remained silent, choosing to take a tiny sip of his terrible coffee instead.
“The headlines write themselves,” she continued, emphasising her words with exaggerated gestures, “Judy Hopps, hero of the city, incapable of not butchering a coffee order for her innocent partner who has never made a single mistake.”
“It’s good coffee,” muttered Nick, fighting for his life as he took another minuscule sip.
Judy simply grinned at him, relishing how effectively she had managed to corner her usually unshakeable friend. Then she clicked the recorder button anyway.
“Love ya, partner.”
Nick stomped the pavement a little indignantly. “That wasn’t even the right context! I wasn't teasing you, I didn’t say a thing!”
“But you were thinking it.”
“Oh, thought crimes are real now. Sue me.”
A few laughs later, Judy did return to the coffee shop to fetch Nick a proper plain black coffee.
It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Predator and prey relations were still tense across the city, and that’s how they’d remain for long. Add reptiles to the mix, and incidents were bound to happen frequently. One such occasion had arisen in a high-end stationery shop, The Pig-Pen, whose boar owner was refusing to sell his customised products to an iguana, attracting a commotion to its doorstep. Technically no illegalities were being committed, but Judy had an ace up her sleeve for all the specist storekeepers plaguing Zootopia.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, approaching the counter and the grumpy boar behind it. “I couldn’t help but notice there’s exposed wiring behind those shelves of paper stacks. This, in an establishment containing more than 25% of highly flammable products, constitutes a class B fire hazard as per the ZFD guidelines and is thus prosecutable as a public endangerment crime. What’s more, I do not see any fire extinguisher in the premises which, given the circumstances, could entail a rather hefty fine under the 2007 Fire Safety Act, Clause 6.4.”
Then, once the storekeeper was left scrambling for excuses, Judy suggested she could let her speech be ‘just’ a warning if he simply sold the iguana… What was it? Ah, ‘a set of designer Pig-Pen binders’, said the reptile. That explained the insistence to buy at that specific store.
Judy could certainly empathise with the desire for unique stationery.
“Your encyclopedic knowledge of business regulations truly terrifies me,” joked Nick as the pair returned to their cruiser. “Are you sure your true calling wasn’t a business inspector?”
Judy let out a nervous giggle. “Well, it’s not like the 2007 Fire Safety Act actually exists. Nor a ‘class B hazard’ in the ZFD guidelines.”
“You. Are. Kidding me.” Nick rather looked like he’d been told he had won the lottery. “That was a hustle?!”
“Don’t sound so impressed, I’m not proud of myself,” said Judy, averting her gaze. “That boar will be back to discriminating against reptiles soon. I’d rather teach these mammals that the world won’t end if they sell fancy binders to an iguana… or ice cream to a fox. But I also know that a mammal who’s specist enough to deny someone service won’t change their ways after one nice talk. At least now there’s a happy iguana who…”
It took a second for Judy to notice Nick had fallen behind, seemingly struck by a revelation about their very first meeting. “Wait, the trunk glove thing was fake too?! Do elephants not need a trunk glove when scooping ice cream?!”
“They do need it! Just like how exposed wiring and a lack of a fire extinguisher are also liable to fines. My warnings aren’t unfounded: that boar should really get those things checked before he gets in trouble with insurance or an inspection. I just… improvise the legalese, because ‘fire safety act, clause 6.4’ sounds serious and important.” She punched Nick’s arm, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you’re the formal con-mammal. You know better than anyone how a little truth makes a lie easier to swallow.”
Without warning, Nick knelt down in front of her, on one knee, and took her paw, and Judy could have sworn her heart was about to burst for a second. One singular thought immediately shook her off her astonishment: they were still out in the street.
“N-Nick, we’re in uniform! Be professional!” she hissed, her voice high-pitched.
“Judith Laverne Hopps, you have outwit me more times than I have fingers on my paws. You’re more sly than any bunny I’ve met, or any fox for that matter. Thou art the sly-est of them all. From hustler to hustler, I bestow you with the highest honor I can think of. Will you be my—”
“Love ya, partner.”
Nick sprung up. Funny how he could leave his shame aside to embarrass her with a fake proposal, but he drew the line at listening to his voice make an actually heartfelt admission. He still looked far too smug in Judy’s opinion though, so she also shoved him around a little for his stunt.
“You’re so mean,” he said. “You’re training the jokes out of me with that pen. This is Pavlovian. Soon I’ll be the humorless, meek little fox you want.”
“Pavlovian? You aren’t beating the ‘orange dog’ allegations.”
He shrugged. “Eh, you’ve seen the bucket of tennis balls at my place. I’m not beating squat.”
Judy snorted and shook her head. Nick truly had a superpower to aggravate her and amuse her from one second to another. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Credit where credit was due, Judy could understand why Bogo had them patrol the main district. She saw it on the faces of every reptile struggling to adapt to the hustle and bustle of the city, how their anxieties were alleviated at the sight of mammals who had fought so fiercely in their name. The partners’ presence alone seemed to ward off the hostility often present through the streets lately.
Solve a few more altercations here and there, and suddenly the sun was hidden past skyscrapers and their shift was over. On their return to the precinct they received excellent news: certain sources had spotted Bellwether around various districts through the day. More importantly, she had dyed her wool purple. Allegedly. It was such a stupidly eye-catching choice that Judy wondered if it was all a trap, that the ewe would now dye herself another color so Judy and Nick would be left chasing after a purple ghost. However, that was a problem for tomorrow. Judy was genuinely (sort of) trying to learn to compartmentalise. Work-life balance and all that.
Bellwether couldn’t leave the city anyway, given the many ZPD eyes permanently watching every escape route. It was an exceptional measure meant for the dozens of fugitives running amok. Speaking of which…
“Can you believe Lagirafe bought a train ticket to skip town?” announced Wolford, stuffing something into his locker. A good deal of their colleagues, also finishing their workday, laughed along. “An honest-to-goodness train ticket, no fake identity at all! Easiest catch of my life, what was he thinking?”
Gene Zebrowski—not a zebra—grunted. Gene Zebraxton spoke. “How boring. Gene and I had the coolest chase down Resort Street in Sahara Square. It was out of an action movie!” You didn’t have to be very sharp to predict what happened next: “Zebros!” they yelled as they headbutted each other. Judy fought an eyeroll.
“Well, Delgato and I found the whole Red Claws gang holed up together in an abandoned warehouse at the Rainforest outskirts,” said Fangmeyer, already in her casual clothes. “Seven perps caught in one day. That’s a whole record for us.”
“C’mon, everyone, keep the locker talk down.” Nick made a show of covering Judy’s ears. “Don’t brag about how much fun you had catching bad guys today in front of Hopps. She’ll have an aneurysm.”
The joke was, of course, a riot, because everyone knew Judy wanted to explode with complaints the second Bogo assigned her a day of patrolling. She gave Nick a death glare, made more ominous under the room’s laughter, and she brought her paw down to the carrot pen on her toolbelt. Judy had only known Nick for a year and she knew little of his past, yet she was also positive he had never looked more terrified in his whole life.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he mouthed. “Not here.”
“Try me,” her unimpressed look said.
“Do you want everyone to know you have a recording of that?” he mouthed. Yes, Judy was really good at reading Nick’s lips. Long story.
Unfortunately, he was right. The momentaneous embarrasement Nick would suffer if she played the audio in front of their coworkers would pale in comparison to the reactions they’d have if they learnt she kept a recording of a dear friend professing his love to her. Kept close at paw for easier replayability, no less, which she often did.
Sometimes even when the fox wasn’t around to be annoyed by it.
She settled for an elbow to Nick’s ribs. “Jerk,” she said primly, earning more laughs around the room.
Finally, they were out of the ZPD building, stopping just short of the staircase down to the plaza.
“So,” began Nick. “Movie night at yours or mine?”
She cringed. “I think yours. My neighbours had a bad fight this morning… It was a whole deal. I think they’ll be very shouty tonight.”
“Mine it is, then.”
And thus, ends a typical day with Wilde and Hopps.
Judy and Nick apprehended Bellwether with an hour to spare before she boarded a plane destined to Outback Island. It was… a mess. Perhaps knowing she had nothing to lose, as she had already been sentenced to a lifetime in prison for the Nighthowlers conspiracy, she fought her recapture tooth and hoof, and the dang ewe was far more slippery than Judy could have imagined. The pursuit through the airport hangars ended with Bellwether’s spectacular—and accidental—destruction of Mayor Winddancer’s private jet.
But that was a story for another day.
Nick was being reasonably successful in his attempts to whittle down his walls and open up to Judy. A particular achievement involved not just inviting her to the shabby basement he called his den, but also regaling Judy with stories and anecdotes whenever she let her inner busybody shine through and she nosed around the various trinkets he was hoarding. Often he wasn’t ready to share information, especially if it seemed to involve either of his late parents, but whereas before he would have deflected the topic with a joke or straight up shut down the conversation, now there was an implicit promise that someday, one day, he would speak.
That’s why, when Nick asked her to take a day off with him (one among the numerous days off Judy always bragged that she never took), it was only fair she said yes. She, too, wanted to demonstrate her progress and prove she could take life just a little slower. Even if she’d rather pull off her front teeth with pliers.
“Consider it a celebration for catching Bellwether,” Nick had said. He smirked. “And also because, to be honest, I just feel like taking a day off.”
On the day in question the two met at Amazonian Square, each haphazardly carrying boxes of food. The location was new for Judy, as she had never travelled so deep into the Rainforest District. There lay the tallest and thickest trees of the area, where their artificial roots wouldn’t endanger the foundations of the traditional buildings in Savannah Central. Among them, one tree was crowned by a wooden picnic area entangled around its highest branches, its multi-level platforms all connected through hanging bridges and swirly walkways. Only reachable by the sky-trams, Judy and Nick first left behind the mammal-made clouds of humidity that permeated the bottom layers of the district, then the canopy formed by the larger trees, until the foliage gave way to a stunning view of the Zootopian skyline. The midday sun made the Savannah Central skyscrapers glisten in colorful rainbows, the Tundratown snow reflect such a bright white it hurt the eyes, and Sahara Square dance under the heat haze. Past the city limits were sharp cliffs and green meadows, and at the very horizon, shimmering, was the city of Coopenhoofen.
Nick seemed quite pleased with Judy’s starstruck reaction. She spent a considerable amount of time during the sky-tram ride using her phone camera: vertical and horizontal photos and videos, panoramic pictures, selfies with and without Nick (but mostly with)… She counted 83 new items in her gallery afterwards, and it was worth it.
“Thank goodness for Mondays,” said Nick at the sight of the sparsely populated picnic area. He elbowed Judy, grinning. “See why I asked for today off?”
It took them little effort to find a secluded spot in the shade with a good view. Soon, the table was crowded with containers of food, and it was time for Judy to take out her own surprise.
“Cripes, Carrots. You want me to die of a sugar rush?” asked Nick, his mouth watering at the tray of diverse pastries, cookies, and desserts she had just unveiled. All made with blueberries, of course.
Judy smiled with satisfaction. “On Mondays some of my siblings deliver produce from our farm to the city. I took the chance to ask Gideon—remember him? That Bunnyburrows fox I told you about, bakes really good pies? Well, I asked him to make you a few treats, and I had my brother Jason bring them freshly-made with him.”
“I love Gideon, lemme just say that,” said Nick, hungry eyes still fixated on the tray. He let out a small laugh that sounded unusually childish, coming from him. “Will you be on my case if I start with the desserts instead of a salad like a well-adjusted adult?”
She shrugged good-naturedly. “Aren’t you forgetting something, though?”
Nick looked overwhelmed with options. He settled on a purple slice of pie. “Oh, yeah, all this stuff can’t have been cheap. Shoot me a message with the price later. I’ll pay you right away.”
“What? No, I don’t want your money. You’re forgetting something else.”
It took Nick a hot minute to register her words; he had taken a bite of the pie, and he rather looked like his brain had melted from pleasure. He slapped his forehead. “Of course, the magic words! Thank you, Judy, very much.”
“Hmm. Nope, I think you’re still forgetting something.”
That gave the fox some pause. “Uh…”
Judy rolled her eyes, took out the carrot pen, and played the recording. “Love ya, partner.”
Nick hid his full mouth with a paw and chuckled. “Have you considered that maybe I just don’t want to devalue the word?”
“You just said ‘I love Gideon’.”
“Ah, a little jealous, aren’t we?” he said with a smirk. “Worry not, I have no intention to run off to the sticks and become the business partner of a baker I’ve never met.”
“Should I worry if you do meet him?” she joked. He didn’t reply, choosing instead to raise an eyebrow and regard her with that stupid smug expression of his.
The meal was excellent. As excellent as food prepared hours earlier by two not-so-great cooks could be, that is. But they were alone in what had quickly become one of her favorite spots in the city, enjoying a fantastic view, and having a pleasantly mindless conversation she couldn’t imagine having with anyone else. Because no one had ever been as approachable, as easy-to-talk-to, as loving as Nick was becoming, little by little, in what she knew was taking an herculean effort he was mustering just for her.
“Y’know, on the topic of the carrot pen,” began Nick between bites of a pasta salad. “I’ve been thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“We got Bellwether. We solved ‘the next case’. I believe, as per your own words, that I should be getting that pen back.”
Judy tapped her chin with her plastic fork, pretending she was considering it. “Hmm… I think I’d rather keep it, thank you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “So Judith Laverne Hopps is a liar?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling cheekily. She pointed her fork at him accusingly. “Should I remind you how you told me I could retrieve the pen after you recorded the ‘dumb bunny’ soundbite, but then you kept it?”
“Because I asked to keep it,” he emphasised.
Judy hunched a little, avoiding his eyes. She could understand wanting to retrieve a pen that was being used to tease him. What he wasn’t aware of, and he should never be made aware of, was how she had taken a liking to playing the recording in the privacy of her own home. It never failed to get a smile out of her alongside a little inexplicable thrill. She didn’t want to lose that.
“Well, can I keep it?” she asked, her voice quiet enough to almost be muffled by the rustling of the canopy. How did this happen? When had she become so flustered over the pen she had been using to tease him? Nick reeled back, seemingly stunned into silence by her tone. “I—I mean! What if I stop using it to pester you?”
“That doesn’t really bother me,” he muttered, measuring his words. It was his turn to avoid Judy’s eyes, rubbing the fur behind his neck with a certain awkwardness. He was conflicted on how much to reveal; she had seen that expression many times whenever she picked a knick-knack lying around his place and asked ‘What’s this?’. But she was patient, and eventually he gave in. “You know how I have an article about the Nighthowlers case framed on a shelf? I… I used to have the stand for the carrot pen too. The one you gave me that said ‘To a sly fox from a dumb bunny’. It’s not like I invited anyone to my place, but… I liked having the carrot pen on display anyway. I was proud of it. Of what it meant.”
Judy felt a familiar knot in her throat. For a second, they were back at the weather wall, both so vulnerable that confessions were desperately rushing out.
He had shown her honesty, and she could pay back in kind.
“I like listening to it.” She cleared her throat and giggled nervously. “I don’t have many friends in the city. It’s nice to know someone cares.”
Close enough.
She’d rather jump over the platform railing than even accept that this conversation shouldn’t be as hard as it was if Nick truly was nothing more than a close friend. She hadn’t signed up to navigate the difficulties that would entail.
Nick nodded, a smile—not a smirk—forming in his muzzle. “You did say I should learn that saying the L-word won’t kill me… Alright, I have a new proposal,” he said. “You can keep the pen until—”
“No, Nick, I didn’t mean to turn this into a competition—”
“—until I stop being a wuss and those words come to me naturally. If you want me to say them more often, I will.” His smile regained a hint of his usual smirks. “I refuse to be the ‘emotionally insecure whatever’ Dr Fuzzy insisted I am.”
Despite everything, she giggled. “You know it’s Dr Fuzzby. You’ve said her name correctly before.”
He shrugged, leaning back. “Sounds about the same to me.”
So she won the battle. The pen was now in her custody for an indefinite—but hopefully short—amount of time. Perhaps emboldened by Nick’s concession, she planted her elbows on the table and leaned forward.
“You could start practising now.” She fluttered her eyelashes quickly with a silly smile, making both Nick and herself laugh, and dispelling the tense atmosphere.
Then, when they returned to their food, when Judy had lowered her guard, when there was nothing but the song of the wind and the leaves and the cicadas, Nick said it.
“Love you, Judy.”
The words were uttered sheepishly, accompanied by a small grimace as if speaking them caused him pain. But he didn’t take them back. There was no follow-up joke nor deflection. His tone sounded different from his banter, different from his ‘You know you love me’s, or his ‘darling’s and ‘sweetheart’s. This was the Nick that he had been forced to bury for so long. He smiled at her, and Judy would have felt flustered had she not been so overwhelmed by pride.
“Love you too, Nick.”
Days later, Nick gave Judy a gift: a stand for the carrot pen with a customised inscription. ‘From your emotional support animal.’ Judy set it on her windowsill. She certainly could understand Nick: there was something special about placing such a significant token of their relationship on proud display.
She glanced from side to side, as if her tiny apartment could be housing other animals. She clicked the button.
“Love ya, partner.”
And again.
“Love ya, partner.”
Oh, Judy…
“Hey, bunny!” her neighbour shouted, awaking her from her trance. “Are you gonna keep playing that all night?!”
She glared daggers through the wall, the busybodies, and she yelled a half-hearted threat to deter them from their nosiness.
Still… perhaps, in a roundabout way, they were right. Perhaps she should be seeking the real deal. Perhaps that’s why, as late as it already was, she was fetching a coat, her keys, and her phone to call Nick.