Chapter Text
January had settled over Zootopia with that typical heaviness of the beginning of the year. It was that strange limbo where New Year's resolutions still felt fresh yet daunting, leaving the rest of the month as a long hurdle race to actually get them started. The entire city seemed to be suffering from a collective hangover of Howlidays lights and family dinners, struggling to find its usual rhythm.
That morning, patrol had taken Judy and Nick to Tundratown. To commemorate that year's winter, the government had decided to crank up the power of the Weather Wall, achieving an "authentically arctic" atmosphere. Unlike other patrols where the weather was merely chilly, this year the air bit like an icy blade. It was a bone-chilling cold, and the only reason Judy felt her paws were still attached to her body was the promise of the steaming drink she was about to order.
To avoid ending up like pawsicles, they make a strategic stop at Antlerbucks. The place, a haven of dark wood and amber lighting created a cozy sanctuary against the biting chill outside. The heater worked at full blast, causing the floor-to-ceiling windows to fog up with a thick mist that hides the shimmering, icy world beyond the glass. While they wait in line, Judy notices that the festive spirit of December has been replaced by a different kind of commercial urgency.
"Have you noticed?" Judy asks, nodding towards a neon pink sign by the pastry case advertising a 'Deer to My Heart' Red Velvet Latte. "It’s barely January 12th. People haven't even finished putting away their Howliday trees, and they’ve already invaded everything with ads for the 'Sweetheart Ball'."
Nick, wrapped in his ZPD winter jacket with a scarf almost completely enveloping his muzzle, remains focused on the espresso machine. Even though he is naturally a lot more cold-tolerant than Judy, Nick always finds a way to look particularly miserable whenever the thermometer dips lower than usual.
"It’s the circle of life, Carrots. Capitalism never sleeps," he says as the barista slides his Caramel Macchiato across the counter. "As soon as you finish digesting New Year's dinner, they’re already selling you heart-shaped chocolates to make you feel guilty for being single, or to bait you into spending what you didn't spend in December on a dinner that’ll probably end in a fight over who pays the check."
"Don't tell me you're a Valentine's Day Grinch, Nick?"
"I’m just an observer of the obvious," Nick retorts, after taking a quick sip of his Macchiato and gestures vaguely at the ad. "Have you seen the price of bouquets that week? It’s a total shakedown. They slap a red ribbon on a dying plant and suddenly it’s worth a week’s pay.”
Judy rolls her eyes, taking her own drink from the barista as they start heading towards the exit.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Anti-Capitalist. Let's get moving before you start a protest in the middle of the coffee shop."
They push through the heavy glass door, the warmth of Antlerbucks instantly swallowed by the biting atmosphere of Tundratown. Judy tucks her chin into her collar, following Nick as he trudges toward the cruiser.
They scramble into the car, the heater immediately roaring to life. With her fingers still stiff from the biting cold, Judy decides to let Nick drive, despite his notoriously reckless—and occasionally terrifying—way of handling the steering wheel.
As they pull away, Judy leans her head against the window, watching the Tundratown scenery blur past. Even through the frosted glass, she notices the subtle shift in the district: a few pink banners hanging from the ice-sculpted storefronts displaying heart-shaped boxes of frozen truffles.
Honestly, Valentine's Day has always been a "blink-and-you-miss-it" kind of day for her. Back in Bunnyburrow, it was just another excuse for a massive, chaotic family gathering—congratulating her thousand siblings, catching up with childhood friends, and sharing small, home-made treats. It was sweet, predictable, and simple; a day filled with laughter and platonic affection that never required much thought.
But this year, a prickle of curiosity starts to itch at the back of her mind. She finds herself wondering what a "real" city Valentine's looks like—or more specifically, what it looks like for a fox who claims to hate it so much.
She steals a glance at Nick. He’s focused on the road, one paw casually on the wheel while he takes another sip of his coffee, looking effortlessly cool despite the oversized scarf. Suddenly, Judy feels a strange, fluttering tingle in her stomach—a mix of nerves and a sudden, sharp interest that she can't quite name. She quickly looks back at the window, her ears twitching in embarrassment as her heart begins to race.
"So, what about your Valentines?" Judy asks, the question slipping out before she can stop it. She immediately regrets it, but she's already opened her mouth, so she pushes forward. "Has there ever been someone lucky enough to soften that cynical, frozen heart of yours? Or maybe you're just bitter because you've never had a proper Valentine's date," she adds quickly, bumping her shoulder against the seat.
For a split second, Judy thinks she sees Nick’s grip tighten on the steering wheel, his frame going momentarily rigid. It's so fast that she’s sure she must have imagined it—a trick of the shadows in the car—because a heartbeat later, he’s already leaning back with his usual effortless cool pose.
Nick snorts, leaning his head against the headrest with that lazy smirk. "Please, Carrots. My Februarys usually consisted of selling 'exclusive' chocolate-covered strawberries that were actually just regular berries and red food coloring. I was too busy making a profit from the lovestruck fools to actually be one of them."
"Right. So, you're telling me nobody has ever sent you a secret admirer gift? Not even one of those giant, annoying heart-shaped balloons that squeak when you touch them?" Judy prods, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Well," Nick draws out the word, a flash of mock-vanity crossing his face as he checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. "In my teenage years, back in the prime of my youth, there was a time when they arrived in piles. I don't know, I think it was right after my growth spurt. Though, let’s be honest, Carrots—I’m like a fine cheese or a vintage rug. I only get better with age. This," he gestures vaguely to his face with a smirk, "is a timeless masterpiece."
"How tragic for you," she retorts, trying to drown out that strange sensation that definitely couldn't be possessiveness. Absolutely not. "I’m surprised you didn't hire a bodyguard just to handle the baked goods. Or maybe you just ate your way through the heartbreak."
But despite her teasing, a thought lingers. Of course. Of course he had admirers, and honestly, he probably still does. Judy feels a weird, sharp pinch of something uncomfortable in her chest that she pushes down as soon as it surfaces.
It isn't that strange, really. You don't exactly need a high IQ to notice that Nick is—infuriatingly enough—wickedly attractive. Between the effortless way he carries himself, the rich sunset-hued fur and that damned crooked, annoying smirk, he has a way of drawing eyes without even trying—and don't even get her started on how he looks in a tailor suit.
There was something about Nick that is just... unfairly sexy. So, of course there must have been a line of vixens—or any animal, for that matter—waiting for a chance to get his attention.
“And have you ever actually given someone a gift?" Judy asks. She doesn't even know what's motivating the question, but she feels a heavy, sinking sensation in her stomach at the mere thought of the answer.
"Nah," Nick retorts, slowing down for a red light and looking at her with those characteristic half-lidded eyes. "Please, I find the whole thing a bit... cheesy. It’s offensive, really, the way they try to monetize basic affection. You want to show someone you care? Buy them a donut on a random Tuesday in July. Don’t wait until the industry forces you to buy a dozen overpriced roses that are going to be dead by Friday anyway. It’s a supply and demand trap, and I’m too smart to fall for pink-colored bait."
"So, Nicholas Wilde, a heartbreaker on top of everything else," Judy says. Her chest lightens with relief knowing there wasn’t someone special receiving roses from him, but at the same time, a sharp pang of disappointment pricks at her. A confusing mess of emotions, so she quickly shakes it off, staring out the frosted window.
"And... what about you?" Nick asks after a moment, his voice dropping into a lower, more rhythmic tone.
"What about what?"
“Don't play coy, Hopps. Your past Valentines," he clarifies, a teasing smile playing on his muzzle. "I’m curious. Was there a whole line of stuttering rabbits waiting outside your burrow with hand-written poems and those giant, tacky teddy bears holding plush hearts? I bet you had a drawer full of love letters."
Judy snorts, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leans back against the door.
"Of course, Wilde. Duh. From the crack of dawn, piles of bouquets would start arriving at the door—living in the country gives you access to the most beautiful wildflowers, you know. Then came the sweets; I’m talking artisanal chocolates that would make the finest chocolate in this city taste like mud. And then there were the plushies—bigger than me, mind you. And the balloons? My family’s house practically had to be tied down so it wouldn't float away with all the heart-shaped helium drifting around."
She lets the silence hang for about ten seconds, watching the snow brush against the windshield. Beside her, Nick’s posture goes strangely still.
"Really?" Nick keeps his eyes fixed on the road.. His voice is... different. The teasing edge has vanished, replaced by a quiet tone that Judy can't quite place.
"No," she admits softly. "The truth is, I usually only got gifts from my friends. And a few from my siblings, though it’s hard to get a present for each of over two hundred people when December has just ended. It’s a bit of a logistical nightmare." She shrugs, looking out at the icy streets. "To be honest, February 14th has never really been a highlight in my life. It was just another day. No poems, no secret admirers, no dramatic gestures. Perfectly quiet. It saved me the drama of having to reject anyone."
Suddenly, Nick jerks the steering wheel with a sharp, unnecessary swerve to the right, the tires letting out a muffled protest against the slushy asphalt.
"Nick! What the heck?" Judy snaps, her paws flying out to brace herself against the dashboard as her heart lurches into her throat. She knew he wasn't exactly a chauffeur, but that move was completely reckless even for him.
"No gifts?" Nick repeats, ignoring her mini-heart attack. He sounds genuinely incredulous, his eyes darting to her for a split second before returning to the road. "Not even one? I don't know, maybe some anonymous coward declaring their undying love through a poorly rhymed letter or something of the sort?"
Judy feels her cheeks flush. It's suddenly embarrassing to admit she’s never been on the receiving end of a romantic gesture, especially when Nicholas Wilde apparently had a 'fan club' during his youth.
"No. Is there a problem with that?" she asks, trying to keep her voice light, almost mocking, to hide the twinge of shame. "Besides, it’s not like I ever gave it much attention. Something more important always came up. School projects, helping my family, the Academy... and now, this month-long training session."
Nick lets out a slow, deliberate breath. "A month, huh? So the rumors are true? Some hotshot from the ZIA is actually coming down to show us how the real pros do it?"
"That’s what I heard Bogo telling Hogbottom a few days ago," Judy says, feeling her heart rate settle as the topic shifts. She was the one who brought it up, but the conversation about her love life—or lack thereof—was starting to wear her thin. "He said it was necessary to get the precinct in order because our 'guest' expects everything to be in its place. He must be someone very important."
"Important or not, Bogo just likes everything to be a specific brand of perfection when guests are around," Nick mutters. His eyes still hold a lingering spark of whatever he was thinking before. "I just hope this mysterious agent doesn't mind the smell of stale coffee and industrial-strength floor cleaner."
***
The air inside Precinct 1 is thick with the scent of industrial floor wax and Chief Bogo’s mounting anxiety. It is still early morning, but the Chief has been on a warpath since sunrise, ensuring that every desk is cleared and every officer looks presentable for the ZIA arrival scheduled for later that day.
"I'm telling you, Carrots," Nick whispers, leaning casually towards her as they walk through the main hallway, "if Bogo polishes those horns any harder, he’s going to start reflecting sunlight and blind the entire Bullpen. We’d get paid leave for a work-related injury, so maybe it's not all bad..."
Judy shakes her head with a smile, nudging him with her elbow. "Be nice, Officer Wilde. It’s a big deal. Having a ZIA specialist here for a whole month is a huge opportunity for the precinct. Try to look like a professional."
"Yeah, yeah. A month of 'optimized procedures' and probably a lot of custom-tailored gear that costs more than our annual salary," Nick rolls his eyes, but as they move further from the Bullpen, his expression softens into that smile he only uses with her. He reaches into a brown paper bag he has tucked under his arm and pulls out a small cardboard box. "Anyway... since it’s just a regular, boring Tuesday in January..."
He opens the lid just enough for her to see. Inside are three gourmet carrot-glazed donuts, the steam still rising from them, smelling of fresh dough and cinnamon.
It’s a simple, everyday gesture in their relationship. It is rare for a morning to pass without one of them bringing the other a treat, whether it’s from the precinct’s breakroom or from the places they pass on their way to work. They’ve done this a thousand times, yet today, Judy feels a dizzying surge of happiness for the pretty detail.
"Oh, so the great Nicholas Wilde, the heartbreaker of the city, is actually a mammal of his word," Judy teases, her eyes sparkling as she takes the box, purposely ignoring the way her pulse quickened.
"Anything to keep my partner from dying of boredom or fainting from hunger during the long day ahead of us," Nick replies smoothly.
"You say that as if I’m the one who consumes pounds of sugar, when that’s clearly you," Judy retorts with a playful roll of her eyes, hugging the box close. "Thank you, Nick."
Nick looks at her and he gives her a genuine, wide-beaming smile—the kind that shows all his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes. It’s a rare sight and it makes Judy’s breath hitch.
"You're welcome, Carrots," he says, though the tender moment is short-lived as his eyes dart back to the box. "However... I still need to perform the official quality control."
"Oh, no you don't!" Judy laughs, already anticipating his move.
"Just a nibble, Hopps! I need to make sure the glaze isn't toxic," he teases, reaching out a paw.
"You had your chance at the bakery, back off!" Judy giggles, spinning on her heels and dodging his grasp.
To Judy, what happens next feels like something straight out of a movie.
One second she is laughing, and the next, the world tilts on its axis. Her feet find no purchase on the floor—Bogo’s obsession with industrial-strength wax has turned the hallway into a skating rink.
Time seems to stretch into slow motion. She feels herself falling backward, her paws losing their grip on the precious cardboard box.
She sees the donuts beginning to slide, the lid of the box popping open in mid-air. Even with her fast reflexes, Judy knows she’s too off-balance to save herself and her gift.
But the impact with the floor never comes.
The mammal she crashed into reacts with impossible precision. A firm hand quickly catches her waist, stabilizing her, while his other hand reaches out to catch the box just as it was about to slip away.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I—" she starts to stammer, her gaze still fixed on the pastry box held steady by a silver-furred paw.
"Steady there, Officer," a velvet, cultured baritone says.
Only then does Judy look up. The mammal holding her is a silver-gray hare with a gaze as sharp as a diamond. He is striking, with distinct, dark triangular markings at the tips of his ears and subtle, elegant stripes along his cheekbones that accentuate his sharp jawline. He looks like he just stepped off the set of an action film, his black tactical suit tailored to perfection without a single wrinkle.
"Are you okay, Judy?"
The sound of Nick’s voice right beside her snaps her to reality. He has moved to her side with a quickness that rivals the stranger’s, his paw hovering near her shoulder, his eyes wide with concern.
Judy blinks, finally finding her footing as the hare gently releases her waist. She gives Nick a quick, reassuring nod to let him know she's in one piece, but her eyes immediately dart back to the stranger.
"I am so sorry!" Judy says, offering a sheepish smile. She quickly brushes her paws against her uniform, trying to smooth out any invisible wrinkles from the collision. "I didn't mean to crash into you like that. The floors are a bit... treacherous this morning."
The silver hare doesn't look bothered at all. He offers a polite, effortless tilt of his head, handing the box of donuts back to Judy.
"No harm done, Officer. It’s a rare pleasure to be greeted with such... enthusiasm."
"Anyway, our apologies for the chaos. Can we help you with something, Mr...?"
"Agent Savage!"
The booming voice of Bogo echoes through the hallway. He approaches with a wide smile, the kind of genuine grin that makes Judy completely forget how anxious and grumpy he had looked only an hour ago.
"Chief Bogo,” Savage turns, shaking Bogo’s hoof with a firm, professional grip. "I apologize for the early arrival. The transport from the ZIA headquarters made excellent time, and I saw no reason to wait at the terminal."
"Nonsense, Agent! We are honored to have you ahead of schedule," Bogo says, beaming with respect.
Judy stands there, frozen. Her grip on the donut box falters again, her paws feeling suddenly clumsy. Savage? The name echoes in her mind like a headline from a tactical journal.
"Agent Savage?" she whispers, her voice cracking with disbelief. "As... the Agent Jack Savage? That one?"
Judy whips her head around to look at Nick, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in shock. She’s desperate for him to acknowledge the gravity of the moment, to see the living legend standing in their hallway. But Nick just stands there unimpressed arching a brow.
"The one and only," Bogo says, pride swelling in his chest. "Agent Savage will be leading our advanced tactical integration for the next month. I expect everyone to give him their full cooperation."
Savage’s cool, diamond-sharp eyes flick towards Nick and Judy. "I look forward to working with the ZPD’s finest."
Nick lets out a hum that sounds suspiciously like a scoff. "Well, welcome to the Precinct, Agent. I’d offer you a donut, but they’ve already had a pretty exciting morning."
Agent Savage simply offers a small, professional smile, his gaze steady as he looks at Nick. "I appreciate the thought, Officer. However, I’ve found I work better without the sugar rush. But please," he adds, nodding toward the box in Judy’s paws with polite efficiency, "don't let my early arrival interrupt you. Don't let me keep you from your meal. We’ll have plenty of time for introductions and to get to know each other over the coming days."
"Quite right!" Bogo interrupts, clapping a massive hoof on Jack’s shoulder. He turns to Nick and Judy, though his eyes stay mostly on the Agent. "Officers, I expect you to be on your best behavior. This is a rare privilege for Precinct 1. Make sure you show Agent Savage the level of professionalism we pride ourselves on. I want everything to be perfect while he’s under our roof."
Without waiting for a response, Bogo begins guiding Jack towards his office, his voice echoing as he boasts about the precinct’s recent closure rates.
Once they lose sight of them, Judy lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her heart still doing a frantic little dance in her chest. She looks down at the box of donuts—now a survivor of a near-disaster—and then back at the empty hallway with wide, shimmering eyes.
"Wow," she breathes, her voice barely a whisper, filled with pure awe. "Nick... I can't believe it. I mean, I knew we were getting a specialist, but him? I never in a million years imagined the ZIA would actually send Jack Savage to a local precinct. It’s like having a legend walk right through the front door!"
Nick stuffs his paws deep into his pockets with a casualness that Judy thinks, just for a moment, looks a little too practiced. "Yeah, well, he certainly dresses like a legend. Did you see that suit? I’m pretty sure the thread count alone costs more than our health insurance. It’s practically glowing."
Judy nudges him with her shoulder, a distracted smile playing on her lips as she tries to process the fact that Jack Savage is going to be their instructor. "Oh, stop it. You’re just annoyed because he made a high-speed rescue look like a walk in the park."
"I was merely letting the guest of honor have his moment, for your information," Nick retorts, jerking his head towards the breakroom. "C’mon. Let's get some coffee before Bogo decides to wax our uniforms to match the floor. We should probably be ready before the 'legend' starts his first session."
Judy lets the initial shock finally settle into a warm hum of excitement. "Deal. But after that, don’t even think I’m sharing a single donut with you," she teases, hugging the box a little tighter. It was a bluff, of course; there wasn't a single day where they hadn't ended up splitting their meals.
Nick lets out a short, amused huff. "Right. Like you could ever resist my 'starving fox' eyes, Carrots. I’m a professional, remember?"
Judy offers him a feigned skeptical look. "Keep dreaming. Those eyes haven't worked on me since the first time you hustled me."
Judy feels a spark of anticipation., similar to the feeling of her first day at the force or since the day Nick became her partner. January had started cold and predictable, but with Jack Savage in the building, the rest of the month promised to be anything but ordinary.
And if the training was really going to last an entire month, it meant her mind would be far too occupied with tactical drills and professional evaluations to dwell on the upcoming date on the calendar. After all, Valentine's Day was just another commercial trap—or so Nick said—and being busy meant she wouldn't have to overthink the fact that, for the first time in her life, she actually had someone she wanted to be chosen by in that romantic way.
Focusing on the training was much safer than wondering if a certain fox would ever see her as more than just a partner and his friend. It was probably for the best, Judy told herself, even as her heart gave a stubborn, hopeful little thump.