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“For a so-called solitary animal, you sure stick to Hopps a lot.”
If it were anyone but Chief Bogo, Nick would’ve just ignored it. But he had a soft spot for the bull. Plus, he was his boss now.
So he settles for a quick quip of how foxes are carrot fans, with all the orange and whatnot. He doesn’t fool either of them. But the chief (mercifully) drops it.
His mother was the last important person he’d had. When she was gone (too soon, too abruptly, such an unfair business), there was pretty much nothing else to look forward to in life. At the tender age of 12, Nicholas Wilde decided to live solely for himself. This was a canine eat canine world after all, and foxes were particularly hateful targets. No one would extend him an olive branch. The world would only see him as a tricky, low-life animal, so that’s what he would become.
He never looked back.
Until he met that rabbit.
Somehow, the silly (genius, cunning, incredible, breathtaking) rabbit changed his entire world in a matter of hours. She showed him how to hope, daring him to dream — of being someone, of actually belonging to a pack — and he found himself dangerously caring.
At his age (not that he’s old, but he definitely feels it close to her youthfulness and boundless energy) and now he’s entertaining dreams, kindness and all that gooey stuff. It’s honestly a little embarrassing, but as long as no one knows, it’s fine.
It is fine. No one can read him — he made sure of that a long time ago. So they can think whatever they want of him: a sleazebag, a criminal, a loser, a nobody…
A cop.
If someone had told him a year ago he’d drop the pawsicle business and become a cop, of all things, he’d suggest they up the dosage of whatever meds they were on. And yet, here he was.
Spending months in the academy, learning how to catch criminals, running and exerting his body more than he’d ever done in his life — and why was he wasting time with gym class, the absolute worst of all things, all over again?
As much as he’d liked to complain (and would to anyone around him who wouldn’t punch him), he knew the reason very well.
Nick could no longer lie to himself. A shame, really, since it was a talent he honed so well over the years.
Judy Hopps is the reason.
At his age, and here was Nicholas Wilde doing his absolute best to ace tests and exercise nonstop. All in order to become a cop. A profession he never cared for and frankly had no respect for.
None of that mattered. Not really.
Whatever it took to make sure he could be around Judy. Be able to see that incredible bunny, her captivating energy and hope, and just get to bask in all that light.
And also, to keep her safe. Because that bunny was one jump away from an accident and someone had to make sure she was safe. Nick absolutely could not trust anyone else in that regard.
He didn’t even want to think of her having a partner that wasn’t him. A partner in all possible meanings, ideally, but that was clearly a conversation they would never have. As much as Carrots was doing her best to open her mind and expand her horizons, interspecies relationships were and had always been taboo. He could never risk her career and reputation like that. Deep down, he also knew he couldn’t provide her the love, care, and decency she truly deserved.
Being her partner in the force was more than enough. It was a true luxury.
Spending every weekday — and most weekends, if we’re being honest — near her was more than enough. Showing the good (and bad) parts of Zootopia, teaching the best places to buy the good smoothies (none of that overpriced stuff) and, sure, follow her to the latest boring cop flick or Gazelle show.
Whatever made her happy. And, most importantly, making sure she didn’t hurt her cute- oops, darling little self, of course.
So Nicholas Wilde became a cop, of all things.
Funny how life is. Someone for sure was laughing at him and it’s not all his ex-colleagues who make sure to poke fun at his new uniform every time they see him.
Eh, who cares. He gets to hang out with Carrots, after all. None of them get that honor.
Except Finn, he gets a pass. While it couldn’t quite be said the smaller fox had been a mentor, he’d still been a reassuring presence in Nick’s life. Finn didn’t know his mother but he treated him like family — the closest thing either of them knew at that point. Both of them were so tired of this world but still wanted to keep going, maybe to find something worthwhile. They were both solitary (lonely) creatures, after all.
Nick is so thankful Judy appeared in his life. She showed him the way.
He isn’t quite sure what Finn is looking for (neither does the fennec fox, really), but he hopes he finds it one day.
“Call me anytime you need help, Nick.”
“Even for baby stuff?” He can’t help himself, even though he knows the answers.
Turns out, he didn’t know the answer.
“Sure. Just keep your paws and snout to yourself.” Finn replies gruffly.
Nick is much too shocked to even reply for once. Taking advantage of the silence, Finn adds, “Don’t mess this up, Nick. A girl like that doesn’t show up more than once.”
He wonders if Finn is talking from experience. Not like he’d ever dare to ask. He quite likes his paws and snout, thank you.
Clawhauser can be aggravating but he’s a big fluff (‘sweetheart’, as Judy likes to call him though Nick doesn’t quite appreciate anyone getting called that… except him). He sure loves to come up with couple names for them and ask how many dates they’ve been on. The answer is always zero but of course he never believes it.
Thankfully, no one in the precinct takes him that seriously, what with his tendency to create couples out of multiple officers and celebrities. That’s another small mercy in the cop den that Nick might never become truly fond of — but Judy doesn’t need to know that, ever.
“Thank you for always taking care of our daughter.”
This time, Nick can’t really say anything. No smart quip, no cautious distancing posturing and definitely no ignoring. Judy’s mother looks so much like her (it should be the other way around, but not for Nick; his bunny came first always) and he needs to clamp down on everything he’s feeling before he can answer.
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Hopps.”
His voice is far from being his usual polished casual coolness, but it works — thank god Judy’s handling her many siblings because, by now, she can catch when he’s being purposefully too indifferent. She’s catching on much too quickly to anything nowadays.
He doesn’t dare to do his smooth act, not around her parents. Much less hold her mother’s paws in what could be a reassuring gesture- if it weren’t a fox and a rabbit (who owned fox repellent and advised her daughter to always carry it with her).
Still, there was true thankfulness in both parents’ eyes. They were a bit scared, sure, but more than willing to get to know him. To thank him for keeping their courageous (terrifyingly so) daughter safe from all harm.
To say Nick was honored was the understatement of the century. As much as he really enjoyed meeting her family and hanging out with her (almost infinite seeming) nephews and nieces, he knew they weren’t his family. They were hers.
But it still felt like a luxury to even get to meet them at all, especially with how rocky their partnership started.
“Pawbert and I were partners… at least, that’s what I thought. Finally, there was someone in Zootopia on my side. And he even paid for my trip and all that! Guess I trusted way too easily, huh?”, The sadness in Gary’s laughter didn’t fit him at all.
Nick doesn’t really know the guy but from the little they talked, it already feels unnatural to hear the viper sound like that. He’s a little bit like Judy in a way. Someone so full of hope and good feeling down like that… it just doesn’t seem right. It makes Nick uncomfortable to a point he doesn’t quite know what to do (and he always hates that feeling).
“When I saw you and Judy, I understood. What you guys have is really special.” Gary added, with his always too kind eyes.
The viper and bunny have another thing in common: that unique (maybe even superanimal) quality of maintaining hope no matter what. Nick envied that. Animals like them dared to dream and risk everything, even when the world showed it did not care about them. That it’d rather they disappeared, to make things easier on everyone else. But that’s exactly why they were so inspiring.
And for the third time in his life, after his mother passed, Nick felt like trusting an animal.
They didn’t discuss their little conversation on the bridge. It still felt too raw, too soon. Not like he had anything to hide, really. He word vomited so much, the embarrassment was still all too real (luckily his fur was reddish because that’d make it too apparent) but then Judy word vomited even more and everything she said… calling him her fluffle even!
Nick totally didn’t search that word nonstop as soon as he had some free time (even page 9 still had some useful links, surprisingly). He likes to think Judy did the same with ‘pack’, but that might just be hopeful thinking on his end.
For him, that bridge would forever be the place he confessed his guts out to Judy. He didn’t quite dare to think if it meant more on her end. Just holding a special place in her heart meant so much (too much) but he still dared to dream.
Judy had quite an effect on him and the whole dreaming thing (fantasies too, but that’s neither here nor there).
It wasn’t the time to discuss this yet. He wanted to give her time. It was the least he could do. If maybe, someday, she ever had an inkling to try it, he would absolutely be there. Until then (if it ever happened), it was already incredible being her partner.
They still had two years of training too. Plenty could happen by then.
Before their first year in therapy is up, Judy surprises him. As she always did.
Right after Gazelle’s latest show (that coincided quite neatly with his birthday, she happily noted while he groaned — getting a show ticket as a gift wasn’t ideal but who was he to complain?) they were saying goodbye in front of his doorstep.
He still had the old run-down place — he was saving up for better things — and as Judy now started renting a much better apartment, she had to leave earlier than before. It was all the way on the other side of town, but she still made the effort to spend as much time as possible, even if it interfered with her sleep. Maybe it was the new, fancier place but Judy was in the habit of nitpicking all the bad things about Nick’s apartment lately. He agreed with all her points but not like he cared much about where he slept.
Judy though, deserved the best. That included the best possible apartment, neighborhood, food, opportunities and yes, sleep. Nick would make sure he’d find a place nearby hers soon so she could get all her important 8 hours of beauty rabbit sleep.
Strangely, Judy got too quiet. She was all big eyes and alert ears.
For a second, he wonders if she’s hearing a robber somewhere or a child crying (her hearing was that incredible) but then she extends her paw, closed. Almost as if she was going to punch him but he knew better.
Still, the closed paw is curious. Even more so when she doesn’t say anything. She orders him to put his paw under hers. They’ve been working on her bossing tendencies (and he quite delighted in pointing out the many times she bossed him around on non-life threatening occasions) but right now, she gets a pass. He’s too curious.
As soon as he puts his paw under hers, he feels something small and cold against his fur.
He doesn’t get the time to process the sensation of whatever object that is since Judy moves like lightning.
A quick press on his cheek and she’s suddenly all the way to her car (an actual one, not a meter maid vehicle), blushing and waving before she steps on it.
“Let me know your answer, slick!”
She’s out of sight in seconds. Flash could finally find a worthy rival.
Nick just blinks for a while. His mind takes forever to catch up to him.
It wasn’t just a press, that was a kiss! A very short, blink and you miss it little peck, but it was one! He was very much awake and well rested so his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him!
Usually, he’d like to challenge himself and try to discover the object by guessing but not now. Right now, he needs to know what it is. Though he has an inkling of what it could be- but Nick was never a big dreamer. Not ever since he was 12 years old.
And yet, he guesses it right.
In the middle of his palm, there it was: a small key shaped like a fox.
That sly bunny. She was always much faster (and certain) than he could ever be. And for that, he was thankful.
Guarding the key with his life, he got his phone with the other paw.
As if Nick needed time to think.
“Sooo, how soon can I move in, Carrots?”
Nick Wilde was still a solitary animal by his own definition. Only his pack (Judy) was the exception.