Chapter Text
In the Hopps family burrow, it seemed that things were finally returning to normal, more or less. Burrow. For anyone unfamiliar with rabbit megafamilies, the word would probably conjure up an image of a quaint little hole in the ground, but only the latter part would be accurate. The Hopps burrow, above ground, was already the size of a manor, but twice that, counting the underground levels, and still growing. This tended to happen, after all, when many branches of a rabbit family remained engaged in a mutual farming business.
For instance, what awaited a young couple then, ready to settle into their own place, was probably not a housewarming party but rather, a grueling amount of digging. On a more positive note, you were never far away from your 287 brothers and sisters which… was just a simpler term to use before you started mixing up third and fourth cousins.
Although this expanding labyrinth of long-eared cotton puffs was confusing and semi-chaotic under normal circumstances, it had been even more so lately due to the heavily distracted leadership: Bonnie and Stuart Hopps. For the last few days, their drastically different child, Judy, had been a wanted fugitive together with that partner fox of hers. During this time, they had been forced to delegate nearly all responsibilities to the cousin families. It was impossible for them to focus on anything, when every next news update could be devastating.
On some level they knew they had sometimes been a little unfair, directing so much attention to the one child who had moved to the city, and flipped the script completely. Meanwhile they had four litters, totalling twenty-three children in the immediate family line. Those children all lived predictably: doing chores, studying agriculture, or something equally undramatic, and they married early.
But it was difficult not to be preoccupied with Judy, because what she did raised so many strange questions.
No longer Zootopia’s most wanted, she was again heralded like some kind of heroic role model. At times, such commotion did raise the family’s standing in the local community, which was admittedly a point of pride. Yet at the same time, if she truly was a role model, she was no product of their own modeling. In fact, she had done nearly everything opposite of what they had advised. Some of their less congratulatory neighbors occasionally commented on the rather unbunnylike behavior described in the news reports. At those times, Bonnie and Stu would just lift their noses in the air. Some were obviously jealous that their own kits were so utterly unremarkable, but perhaps sometimes… they just had the tiniest sliver of a point?
"Home at last!" Bonnie elated. "Thank the stars that this whole mess is over."
They had just returned from a visit to Zootopia, where Judy and Nick had been acquitted after apparently uncovering some unpleasant schemes that an elite family of lynxes had desperately wanted to keep hidden. Now those cats were in jail, and their daughter and her fox partner were safe.
"Yes Honey." Stu replied "But don't you think she seemed a little rattled? Do you really think she's okay?"
"Now, now honeybun, it was just the other day she was on the run, being chased by both the police and criminals. One can’t even imagine it".
Stu pondered this and realized it indeed was unimaginable. His wife was right, as she usually was.
"I suppose we ought to give her a serious talking-to, once this all simmers down." He lifted a finger to accentuate the point. "A talk about staying safe, following rules, and not going on any reckless adventures that drastically improves the world." he proclaimed with satisfaction.
"Yes, those are the worst." Bonnie agreed, but then she pondered: "What about the time we drove up alongside a speeding train, and you jumped over? To get to the baby who had snuck aboard."
Stu dismissively waved a paw.
"Pfft. That wasn't so bad. Not more dangerous than jumping on an out-of-control farming vehicle."
She smiled, because her husband did have a point. That wasn't the same thing at all.
It was a couple of days later, right at the end of an ordinary Hopps family dinner. At the head of one of the long tables, Stu raised his microphone and addressed the roughly two hundred rabbits in the dining hall.
"We've had ourselves another wonderful dinner together." he announced, earning the customary quick little applause. "Now, is anyone still eating?".
Something faint came from the back of the room, along with a name. Might have been Timothy.
"Well tell him to hurry it up".
Stu waited about thirty seconds, checking his watch with solemn patience.
"Now I'm calling it." He consulted his prepared list. "Dorothy’s and Peter's families, you are on cleaning duty. Clover, Hazel and Jack's families, you are on dishes. And the rest of you are off duty, but don't stay up too late now. The early chores tomorrow are all yours. Alright, let's get moving!"
The room immediately filled with the noise of chairs scraping and bunnies moving into position. Within moments the lapine disarray aligned itself into choreography. Plates were lifted, trays passed, chairs stacked, and crumbs brushed away. Efficient and coordinated, with everyone pulling in the same direction. Just like it should be.
This was a particular point of pride for the buck.
Naturally, all their kits and relatives had their own personalities and interests, as they should, but those things were meant to fit neatly into the small pockets where time permitted. Stu for instance enjoyed playing cards, mostly online these days. Setting up a real game, with his nearby friends, was a scarce possibility. Anyway, nobody strictly needed more than one, maybe two, hours a day to do their own thing.
Except, of course, for the one child who seemed insistent on doing things her own way for all hours of the day. He waved the thought away, mostly, but surely now, two whole days later, she could at least take the time to call her parents? A little while later he found his wife in the large cleanup section of the kitchen. Her attention was split between overseeing the work and revising the schedules and lists for tomorrow.
Stu was immediately gripped by fondness.
"The way you're able to do two completely different things at the same time, is downright super bunny."
She smiled at the compliment, one she had heard so many times that either her husband had the short-term memory of a goldfish, or he simply felt it necessary to express the same gratitude forever.
"Three things now. I'm also talking to you."
It wasn’t unkind, but the signal was clear that he shouldn't distract her too much.
"Oh, right." He leaned in anyway, studying her laptop screen. "Wait, how come Nathan is crossed out on early chores?"
"Oh, he's staying over at Gideon's again. Didn't you see he wasn't present at dinner?"
Stu scratched his head.
"How could I have missed that?… But what, again? He's staying over there a lot."
"More late work regarding our produce-pastry arrangements. There's still details to iron out, I suppose."
That was certainly true. Half a year ago they had started doing business with the vulpine pastry chef. Decent fellow Gideon Grey. Salt-of-the-earth sort of fox. Honest, and not the least bit sly. One of the good ones, definitely. Another thought occurred to Stu, and he was deeply moved as the thought landed.
"Our boy Nate is a true Hopps. Think about willingly sleeping over in a fox's den so often, all for the sake of the family!" He was getting himself teary-eyed at the obvious sacrifice.
"Well, he says he doesn't mind, and I do think they're good friends... Now will you let me concentrate sweetheart?"
"Oops, sorry. Just… when you're done, I think we should call Judy."
"We will"
She restored her focus to the list in front of her… and to Jack's kits, who were currently loading a dishwasher with utensils that, under no circumstances should ever be put there.
A while later, after all the chores had been assigned and the next day’s plans carefully drawn up and sent through the house email chain, Bonnie and Stu retreated to one of the burrow’s quieter lounge rooms. Stu lifted his phone.
"Call Judy"
The phone answered in it’s cheerful artificial monotone: "Calling Juliette Dandelion Hopps."
"No no. Stop! Please call Judy!"
"Call cancelled. And calling Rudy - cheapskate, farm equipment."
In another panic, he managed to abort the second call, one that would have reached a business contact he never wanted to talk to, unless it was absolutely necessary.
Bonnie’s paw gently landed on his wrist.
"Oh let me do it. Alpaca, please call Judith Laverne Hopps."
The voice responded instantly in the same pleasantly robotic tone: "Calling Judith Laverne Hopps."
It was his phone, but for some reason, it was a lot less rebellious when his wife commanded it. Two signals later the call connected, filling the screen with their daughter’s face. The surrounding lights were dim, and not much of the room around her could be seen. Judy smiled broadly, but the crease in her forehead made it seem a little forced.
"Mom, dad! Hi! You're calling me… already."
Two days earlier they had scrambled to the city to check on her and had managed to spend a brief bit of time together. Everything had technically been fine, but she had been very clear that what came next would be a high-speed circus of investigators, press briefings, and piles of urgent bureaucracy. It had played out exactly like that the last time as well. Still, forty-eight hours was practically an eternity, wasn't it?
"Yes we are honeybun. How's it going with everything? Please tell us things are finally slowing down."
"Umm, things are actually not slowing down just yet. Not even a little."
The two bunny parents’ faces shifted immediately into concern.
"Oh, but at least make sure you eat, sleep and brush those teeth." Stu instructed his wincing daughter, thinking he heard something like a snort somewhere in the background. Where was she anyway?
"And also to file those teeth. That’s important. You know what happened to your aunt Rosemary." Bonnie supplied.
Stu was no longer listening. His attention had caught something else entirely.
"When did you go and get yourself a green sofa?"
Judy tilted her head at the strange question. Then she understood.
"What? Oh! This isn't mine. It is in fact Nick's sofa, because right now, I am sitting on his sofa… which is standing in his apartment."
The image tilted as Judy shifted the phone to give them a better look, and now they could see more of the couch. A game controller. A bowl of popcorn. Sitting comfortably right next to it, sure enough, their daughter’s vulpine police partner, wearing a cozy hoodie. He lifted a paw in greeting.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hopps, what a delight, and might I say, you look ever so radiant Mrs. Hopps. You know sometimes I think you must've had Judy when you were just a teenager, because it's almost hard to tell you apart," Nick smarmed pleasantly, and then yelped at the small elbow that planted itself sharply in his side.
"Well that's almost true." Bonnie chuckled with some notable satisfaction.
Stu fell slightly off balance but determined to steer the conversation back where it belonged, and away from… whatever this was.
"Err. But it's awfully late isn't it? Shouldn't you be at home pumpkin?"
"That's a good question Dad. Like I said, we're still having some very long days, and Nick's place is closer."
From somewhere beside her came Nick’s voice: "Plus, the fact that the reporters can't figure out my home address. That’s one of the benefits when you're renting in third paw."
Stu pondered that for a while.
"That's mighty thoughtful of you Nicholas but... honeybun, are you saying you're sleeping over in a fox's den?"
"Yes? Yes I am. On this very sofa actually. Is that a problem?" She sounded a little more pointed now, but it needed to be said.
"It's just, well if you are doing that..." Stu paused. He actually wasn't entirely sure what the problem was, only that there had to be one. He had expected to discover the reasoning before he ran out of words. Fortunately, it arrived just then:
"You'll be scaring away any nice rabbit bucks, if they knew you were doing that," he said with clear satisfaction.
Somewhere beside Judy a sharp squeal erupted, and she shot an irate glare sideways, then back at him. Excellent. It seemed like Nick was equally shocked by the seriousness of this situation, and firmly in Stu’s corner.
"Your father has a point there."
Perfect, Bonnie too. Now everyone had sided appropriately against his daughter.
"That's completely mad. How in the world do you even think I'd be off chasing bucks at a time like this? And what's so strange about crashing at a friend's place? Not a fox, dad. A friend! The best friend I've ever had, who happens to be a fox."
This wasn't good. She sounded angry now, even though he had been perfectly considerate and reasonable.
"Carrot cake, I..."
"She does have a point there."
Bonnie said that. Wait, what? Did everyone switch sides, against him now?
"Think about Nathan dear."
Stu twitched a little, because that made perfect sense. They had just been discussing something very similar right before this.
"Oh, right. I didn't think of that."
Across the screen Judy looked utterly baffled. The irritation seemed like it had drained from her face, as she understandably lost the thread.
"What? What's this about Nathan?"
Bonnie didn’t leave her daughter hanging and immediately took over the conversation:
"Do you remember that we have some business with Gideon Grey?"
Judy paused for a moment to think.
"Yes, you're providing Gideon with fruits and berries and he bakes pies. What's that got to do with Nathan?" She asked, unsurprisingly still puzzled.
"You see, Nathan has more or less taken over handling that part of our business, so him and Gideon, they have lots to talk about. And once in a while… no, very often actually, they stay up late, planning business. So Nate ends up sleeping over in the fox's den so to speak."
Bonnie finished with a smile, and Stu confirmed with an enthusiastic nod.
"Can you believe that Jude? He's just as hardworking as you, which.." His expression shifted toward confusion. "...somehow puts you in the situation that you must accept a lot of hospitality from foxes? Just like you!" He finished bravely, not understanding even the first wheel of that particular train of logic. Judy however grew pensive, clearly following a train of thought of her own.
"You became the produce supplier of Gideon's pastry business, but that was months ago.. You have to deal with tax reports and stuff, sure, but is it really all that much to handle? I mean it can’t be that much paperwork, and Gideon's place is what? At fifteen minutes of driving distance?"
At that moment a dark-furred fox paw slid into frame and interrupted her with a tap on her shoulder. Judy turned toward Nick. Since the parents couldn’t hear him, he must've been gesturing silently off-screen. It made Judy frown in confusion. First, she shook her head slightly, not understanding what he was trying to convey. Then she froze, her visible eye widened.
"Judy... Jude the dude, are you still with us? Is something wrong?" Stu tried.
Slowly, almost mechanically, her stunned face angled back towards the screen, and the instant she was looking directly at them again, she produced a strained grin, twitching at the edges.
"Nothing! Just.. I had no idea Nate was working so hard. It's a bit of a surprise."
Stu felt a sudden pang of affection in his chest. So that’s what it was. Judy was worrying about her brother overexerting himself.
"I'll make sure he doesn't overdo it. I'll tell him he has to slow down, and stay home for a while."
"What? No, no, no. You should definitely let Nate do his thing. If he's not complaining there's no need to fuss."
Something peculiar came over her eyes, clear and unguarded, as if something was moving through her. She bit her lower lip which trembled slightly. Without a doubt, this was compassion for her brother’s professional emergence. Stu could’ve gotten teary-eyed for less.
"Nate huh? He was always shy and thoughtful, but if he’s doing what I think he is… he's really bold."
Her eyes slowly drifted to the side, toward where Nick was sitting just out of frame, but then snapped back again, as if burnt.
"Yes he is! Nate's fixin' up to be a bona fide entrepreneur! Smart as a whip and twice as nice." Stu cheered.
Beside Judy, Nick made another sound. Was he laughing? No, he was probably just coughing or clearing his throat.
"Well, we could talk about your brothers and sisters all night." Stu felt ready to wrap things up. If there had been something important they had intended to address with this call, he had clearly forgotten it by now. Which meant it couldn’t have been that important.
But Bonnie suddenly wanted in again:
"Wait, before we hang up. If you are going to sleep on Nick's couch, please tell me you have protection?"
Judy’s pupils shrank into tiny dots. Her mouth slowly fell open.
"Oh no. Don't tell me you forgot!"
Several excruciating seconds passed where Judy appeared completely frozen in place.
"No biggie. Just ask Nick to run out and buy you some. I'm sure the shops are open all night there in the city."
Judy still hadn’t moved, and Stu suddenly felt deeply uncertain about the entire direction of this conversation. His wife had started something here, and he had absolutely no intention of stepping in front of it. Finally Judy spoke. Slowly. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"What... are we... even talking about here?"
Bonnie looked at Judy with genuine concern.
"Scent mask, of course. Don't tell me you've slept on that couch before and not used any mask after?"
"Umm, I might've. Once or twice." Judy seemed to shift and unclench a little.
"Oh dear. Then you've gone out of there and smelled like a fox."
"Yep, great! Scent mask, we are on it! We will get that, for sure."
"See to it that you do. It's important. Especially around the bum area. Canine types, they notice."
"Mom!" Judy blurted, but was immediately interrupted by another gentle rap from the fox paw beside her.
"May I?" Nick suddenly leaned into frame as the phone shifted over to his paw. "Yeah, hi. Thanks for making us aware. I will go out and buy a scent mask for your daughter with utmost haste." He nodded politely. "But just so you know, the canines of Zootopia, of which I'm a representative… It’s true that many have excellent senses of smell, just as yours truly, but the fact is that almost all of us are much too occupied with our busy lives, to really take the time out of our day to… sniff the bums of perfect strangers."
He delivered this observation calmly and politely, like talking about the weather.
"So we don't really spend any time informing ourselves in that sort of manner."
The screen jolted slightly as Judy immediately snatched the phone back.
"Gimme that!"
What followed was their daughter hurriedly drawing the call to a close, marching through goodbyes and promises to talk again soon, in short order. Then the screen went dark.
Stu leaned back in his chair. He felt good, mostly.
"See, she's doing great!"
Still… he couldn’t quite shake a faint feeling of uncertainty about the chat they just had. It was almost like there had been several conversations happening all at once, some of which he had only garnered snippets of. Stu considered this possibility briefly, and then dismissed it entirely.
Because that didn’t make any sense at all.