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— Welcome to the Honeymoon Lodge! You are our firs-st honeymooners-s, and it is very important to us-s that you fully enjoy your time within these walls-s-s.
The cobra at the reception ceremoniously spread its hood. Nick and Judy exchanged glances, then protested in unison.
— Oh, thank you, but we're just... On vacation!
— Yeah, we're just colleagues. Partners. Dream team. Work buddies. No hint of a "couple," ahem. — Nick gave a short laugh, adjusting the wreath of yellow flowers gathered on the way to the mountain top. — In short, friends on a joint vacation.
He picked up the keys from the counter — the keychain in the shape of a rattlesnake's tail tip rustled softly — and strode briskly down the corridor. Since their first visit, everything had changed for the better: no more holes in the floor, cobwebs, or puddles of jojoba oil.
— And here's our room, — Wilde announced, stopping in front of a door with a carved number "3" and a horn-shaped handle.
— Wait, there's just... One?
It suddenly dawned on Judy that she hadn't had time to check the booking, which Nick had taken care of.
— Yes, but I was assured it was a double, so... — He turned the key in the lock, swung the door open, and, without turning around, spread his arms in an inviting gesture. — Ta-da-a-a! There's enough room for both of us.
— Double doesn't mean two separate beds, Nick.
Judy sighed. Wilde turned, followed her gaze, and froze.
Behind him was only one, albeit quite wide, bed. The entire bedspread was strewn with bright yellow petals.
×××
— I'm s-sorry, the hotel is completely out of free rooms-s. I have nowhere to res-settle you.
— But... You said yourself we were the first honeymooners!
— Correct, you were the firs-st to book the honeymoon s-suite. The other rooms-s are occupied by other guests-s-s until tomorrow morning.
Nick exhaled in dismay, stepping away from the counter. Judy, sipping a carrot smoothie through a straw, watched him make his way to their table by the window.
— Sorry, Carrots, I messed up. We'll have to find another place.
— Okay. It's late, though... Let's go back to the room and figure something out for the night.
Nick glanced into the darkness outside the window. For the first time in Judy's memory, he looked so upset, admitting his mistake.
Coming out of the shower twenty minutes later, she saw the suite plunged into darkness, the untouched bed, and a sleeping bag at the foot.
A pair of red ears stuck out of the bag, twitching as soon as the cold white light from the bathroom fell on them.
— Bed's all yours, Judy. I'll... Sleep on the floor.
— Oh... Are you sure?
— Of course. After all, it was my fault.
Judy chuckled softly. The smug scammer-fox she had met in the center of Zootopia at the very beginning of her career was nothing like her current partner.
— Okay. Good night.
— Sleep well, Carrots.
Brushing off the petals, Judy crawled under the covers, yawned, and stretched sleepily. The tram ride from Copenhoofen really had been exhausting, but sleep wouldn't come; the presence of someone else was getting on her nerves. Half-asleep, she fumbled on the nightstand for the carrot-shaped pen, dragged it under the blanket, and, placing it by the pillow, pressed the button under the cracked speaker.
«I love you, partner»
The recording of Nick's voice, her proven remedy for anxiety and insomnia, cut through the dead silence and wiped away all drowsiness. Judy froze, feeling her heart pounding frantically.
Just as she thought with relief that Wilde must be long and sound asleep, his voice sounded again.
This time in reality.
— You know, I can repeat that anytime. Just ask.
— What was it about «only once in ten years» then?
Judy was desperately fighting embarrassment but couldn't help herself. There was a rustling sound — Nick sat up in his makeshift bed, meeting her gaze.
— I'll... Say it in advance. We're not strangers after all.
Judy watched him, eyes wide open. He waited for an answer for a while, but then, realizing it was useless, chuckled softly.
Judy's heart sank somewhere into her heels at the sound of a zipper being undone, the rustling of the sleeping bag, and a few weightless steps. The mattress sagged under Nick's weight as he sat on the edge of the bed.
— You remember our safe word, right?
— What?!
Judy suddenly realized she had been clutching the carrot pen to her chest all this time.
— Our safe word. Before heading to the Marsh Market, I told you it would be «coconut». You probably weren't listening anyway, since we still got into that crazy beaver's car...
— Why... Are you saying all this?
Nick fidgeted, searching for words.
— I just don't want to cause you discomfort. Even by accident. If you don't like something, just say «coconut», and I'll stop.
— Okay...
Leaning over, he gently took the pen from Judy's hands, placed it on the nightstand. Then covered her with the blanket.
Judy turned her head, trying to see his face in the darkness.
— I love you, Carrots. Is that what you'd want to hear every night before bed?
Judy opened her mouth but didn't have time to make a sound — without a moment's hesitation, Nick nuzzled her cheek with his cold, damp nose.
— Sweet dreams, — he whispered right into her ear, pulling away.
— Nick?..
Judy said it almost soundlessly, and the rustling of the blanket swallowed the sound.
— Nick...
Wilde had already taken the first step towards the sleeping bag. Judy, snapping out of her stupor, finally made her voice work.
She abruptly pushed herself up on her elbows.
— Coconut! Or not coconut... Watermelon! Apple?..
— What are you... — Nick laughed, stopping halfway throug the room. — What exactly are you trying to say?
— What's the opposite of coconut?
— Do you want me to come back?
— Yes!
Judy pressed her ears, tightly squeezing her eyes shut, and sat up on the bed.
— There's no code word for that. You'll have to ask.
— Come back... Please?
She opened one eye. The familiar sly smile lit up Nick's face, he sat back on the bed, this time a little closer to the headboard.
— Okay. What would you like me to do?
— I... I don't know...
— No problem, I'm good at improvising. Remember, you can always stop me.
Up close, his face looked a little different, no longer cheeky, but rather wistful and a little sad. He found Judy's hand on the blanket, covered it with his palm.
— What are you feeling right now?
— A lot of things... Hard to sort out. — While the green eyes drew nearer, her nose twitched a couple of times.
At the last moment, Wilde lowered his gaze and gently touched her cheek — not with his nose this time, but with his lips. Judy's breath caught.
— And now?..
Green eyes gleamed from under the lashes.
— Like I was... Running at full speed and then jumped off a cliff. Everything feels so...
— Weightless? — Nick suggested in a half-whisper; they were both speaking much softer than before.
— Yes. And my heart is pounding, and it's hot inside. Feels like there's not enough air. And it's a bit awkward... To say all this out loud. You know...
Judy laughed nervously under the attentive, observant gaze.
— So it's not like I think about it that often... Actually, no, I think about it constantly. Why haven't you said it yet?
— Said what?..
Nick chuckled softly, looked away.
— Maybe you already did. Just now.
— Did wh-
She didn't get to finish — Nick's lips pressed against hers softly, undemandingly, and lingered just a moment longer than on her cheek.
Pulling away, Nick didn't move far.
— You've already admitted twice that you love me. Even if in a bit of a... roundabout way.
— Me? Love? You? But how... We're partners, colleagues, and...
Judy's head was spinning. Her partner looked at her with a piercing, desperate glint in his eyes. Without letting her finish, he passionately kissed her a second time.
— But we're... a dream... team...
— You can keep telling that to yourself if you want. — Nick turned to the window, and moonlight washed over his face. — Or maybe you really believe it, and I was wrong, assuming you were stuck in the denial phase. Maybe that's the thing we're too different for.
Their hands were still touching. Judy interlaced their fingers, gathering all her resolve.
— But Nick... I didn't say «coconut».
— Sorry, Carrots. To go further, that's not enough yet.
His fingers slipped from her palm, and Judy was suddenly seized by anger — at herself and her uncalled-for shyness, at the habit of «keeping up the façade», at the mask of unflappable affability that had grown onto her skin. He had hooked her right away — not only by being a quite inventive criminal, but by cruelly and mercilessly saying to her face everything that had hung in the air until the day when they first met.
In the end, he was wrong, but it was sobering.
She admired his self-sufficiency, his ability to accept his imperfections, his freedom from the painful need for others' approval. He was the only one she didn't need to prove anything to, and he was the only one who changed not to prove something, but just... For them?
She had done the same. What was that, if not love?
— Wait. — She firmly grabbed Nick's wrist, caught and held his detached gaze. — I'm sorry, these things are really hard for me. But it is exactly as you said.
— And they say that I am emotionally immature.
Nick was smiling. Judy pulled him toward her, drew him onto the flower-scented blanket, and returned the warm embrace.
— Stay, — she mumbled into his fluffy shoulder.
— As you wish, Carrots.
A cool nose nuzzled into her neck, lips pressed against soft fur, and Judy closed her eyes, trembling from her claw tips to the ends of her ears. Just like back then, in the museum, during the performance they put on for Miss Bellwether; a huge maw closed carefully around her throat, and her heart wearily skipped a beat.
— Don't be afraid, I don't bite, — He whispered. — Unless it is for pleasure...
Sharp fangs gently nipped the delicate edge of her ear, hot breath washed over, and Judy, clutching Nick to her with all her might, squeaked softly into his chest.
×××
— Good news! The single suite next door is becoming available today, so I can move there.
Nick was leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. The impudent smirk on his face wasn't even spoiled by the wilted wreath of yellow flowers.
Judy came out, her wet ears wrapped in a towel, and stopped right in front of him.
— Carrots, what's wrong? You're looking at me kind of strange...
— Yes, Nick. Coconut.
When he realized what exactly that phrase referred to, the smirk turned into a wide, happy smile.