Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Stop lying to yourself, Wilde. We all know you have no business being here. You’re out of your element, fox.”

“Funny you say that Trunks, I was just thinking the same thing about an elephant in the arctic.”

“Runt.”

“Gesundheit.”

The elephant’s trunk curled and his ears twitched. He looked as though he was going to lunge for Nick, but turned and walked away to keep himself from all but intentionally stepping on the snarky fox. Nick smiled, content in his mockery. But always one to ruffle some feathers (or fur), he threw one last punch.

“Hey you’ve got it next time, Pachson. Perfect that pirouette and maybe tomorrow they’ll give you a stage for your little ice routine!”

The pachyderm spun on his heel. Nick smirked.

“You wanna talk ‘little,’ fox? I’ll—"

A wolf’s arm shot off in front of Pachson.

“Not worth it, Jack. Look at him.”

The elephant snorted.

“Barely makes for a trooper, let alone a cop.”

The pair turned and walked the other way, but the wolf kept talking.

“He won’t last. He and his dumb little girlfriend will split up and ‘Officer Wilde’ will never see the light of day.”

“Hmph. ‘Recruit.’ That dog’s barely a cadet.”

“I’M saying!”

Nick rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his locker. The moment he threw open the small metal door, the facade dropped. His mouth, eyes, and ears all fell in exhaustion and annoyance.

Nick absolutely hated his time in the academy. Now was one of these many moments where he wondered why he was still showing up each day. This wasn’t a mandatory thing, outside of his police prerequisites, and he really didn’t want to be a cop that badly. There wasn’t a single soul on this campus that respected him enough to keep him here. He was achy, mentally exhausted, and missed the sweet cherry flavor of a good ol’ scheme. He could walk off right now and never look back. Guaranteed, no one here would care.

For the third time this week, Nick picked up his ZPD branded windbreaker from his locker and considered making a run for it. Pulling his phone out to look for an escape route, he saw his lockscreen and exhaled through his nose, long and slow.

His lockscreen was a selfie. Him and Judy. Her pulling him in forcefully, him visibly annoyed. Both of them enjoying each other’s presence immensely, whether he’d ever admit it out loud or not.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

He put the windbreaker down, grabbed a pair of sweatpants to change into, and slammed his locker closed. Sitting on the bench in the academy locker room, Nick swiped his phone open and entered his most recent text conversation with Carrots, typing and sending out a new message.

Nick:
you got the drugs?

He smiled to himself. Only moments later, a response came through.

Carrots:
Nicholas Wilde, you are a police officer.
I do not have drugs, but I do have the two dozen peanut butter cookies from Pangolia Bakery that you requested.
Unlaced.

Nick:
correction
YOU are a police officer
i am but a simple recruit
looking forward to indulging his legume-based stimulants

Carrots:
Cookies.
OUR cookies.

Nick opened his Venmoo app and sent Judy five dollars. Another text came in.

Carrots:
They were twenty.

Nick:
if you wanna get high with me fluff just say so

Nick put his phone down and changed into his sweatpants. He then picked up his gym shorts and shoved them back into his locker, grabbing his empty duffel bag, and shutting the locker door again. He picked his phone back up off the bench.

Carrots:
-_-
Your sugar addiction does not qualify as drugs.
You know, my place is still an option.

Nick:
geez carrots take me out to dinner first

Carrots:
I am.
We are literally going out for dinner first.

Nick:
you think im easy don’t you?

Carrots:
Oh I KNOW you’re easy.
I’m serious though, we don’t have to waste money on a movie, we can hang here.
If you want.

Nick:
nah ive heard the horror stories
not touching that shoebox

Carrots:
Suit yourself.

Nick slung his empty duffel bag over his shoulder before his phone buzzed again. It was a photo of Judy eating one of his cookies.

Nick’s eyes widened in feigned surprise, as though Judy could see him. He texted back quick.

Nick:
PETTY THIEF

Carrots:
Get here faster I guess.

Nick laughed, despite himself. He pocketed his phone and headed back to his bunk.

It wasn’t a secret that Nick was here because of Judy. In fact, it was quite literally front page news.

Dynamic Duo Saves City

Hopping Wilde Mayoral Scandal

Pred and Prey…PARTNERS?? Perhaps

Being in the public eye was new to the fox. He'd spent his whole life thus far making sure he skulked below the radar, and now a third of the city recognized him at a glance. It was…off-putting to say the least.

There was also the outrage.

Rabbit Officer Ruins Relations, Convinces Fox to Join Cops

Corruption or Coercion? How Lesser Mammals are Ruining the City

Try Everything But That: First Fox Recruit at ZPA Threatens the Sanctity of the Badge

And that’s what he had expected.

Still. There was something to the novelty of being openly defiant against everyone’s expectations and beliefs, rather than just playing a part. And Judy was insistent that it was no role this time, that Nick’s place was with her in the ZPD.

Emphasis on “with her,” of course.

So he stayed.

Except for this weekend, when he was placing all that emphasis on “with her,” and taking all two and a half days of his allotted time off for the month to spend by her side, doing whatever her little rabbit heart desired.

Nick climbed up to his top bunk. He threw enough clothes for three days into his bag, pulled his wallet and keys out of the ceiling panel he’d hid them behind, and leapt down to saunter out the door.

Carrots Cookies here I come.

“You could’ve changed your clothes first, you know.”

“And make it look like I care? Why lie, Carrots?”

“I don’t know,” she taunted, “you sure rushed over here quick for someone who doesn’t care.”

“You were on a confectionery rampage. I acted in defense.” Nick took a bite of another cookie.

The two of them were walking through the city square, Pangolia bag in Nick’s paw, now several cookies lighter. Judy grabbed another from the bag. Nick pulled it to his chest.

“You’re very defensive about these things,” Judy said taking a bite of her own. “What’s the deal?”

“If you must know,” he said, “I am going through sugar withdrawals. Academy cuisine is hardly what I’d call food.”

A smile tugged at Judy’s mouth as she swallowed the snack. “From what I recall, there’s constant replenishment of fresh veggies accessible in the dining hall.”

“That’s what I said, hardly food.” He reached back into the bag for another.

“You’re a mess,” Judy laughed, shaking her head. She looked at her phone for the time. “Okay listen, so I know you wanted to do dinner first, but the new Indillama Jones only has two more screenings today…”

“Food first,” Nick stated simply, “llama later.”

“Well yes, I hear you, but if we want to make it in time for the—“

“Don’t stress, Carrots. We’ve got all weekend. I haven’t taken it slow in six weeks.” He looked down at her, gaze easy. “Don’t make me spend my vacation rabbit hunting.”

Her ears tilted forward and she jutted her chin up at him with a grin. “Like you could keep up,” she replied cheekily. Judy looked back at her phone and pulled up the checklist in her ‘Reminders’ app. “Anyway I’ve got a full itinerary of things for this weekend before you head back and I want to make sure we can get everything in, which means we have to stay on our game.” Leave it to Judy to have a weekend off still packed to the brim. “I want to maximize efficiency in—“

“In hanging out?” the fox tittered. “Fluff, have you ever had friends before?”

“Stop interrupting me.” Her nose twitched. “Yes, I’ve had friends before. And they’ve always appreciated my can-do attitude, initiative, and leadership abilities.” She waggled her phone in his face. “And my itineraries.”

Nick scoffed. “Sounds more like sheep herding than friendship.”

Judy hesitated. Nick looked at her.

“Your friends were sheep, weren’t they?”

“…You’re stereotyping.”

“Of course they were sheep,” he laughed. Judy squared up and hit him in the side, but the fox giggled through the impact.

“Have you learned nothing about dismantling bias?” she asked, exasperated. “We just did like, a whole thing about that.” Nick reached into the bag.

“It’s different if I’m right,” he gloated. His paw emerged with another cookie. Judy plucked it out from his grasp and took a bite, leaving his fingers empty and his mouth slightly ajar. He blinked, watching her chew. His cookie. “I’ve made a horrible mistake with you,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’re a jerk,” Judy giggled through a mouthful of dessert. “And a glutton.”

“A glutton for punishment, maybe.”

With a sigh, he pulled out the last cookie and held it in his maw, crumpling up the bag and tossing it over his left shoulder. The balled up paper sunk squarely into a trash can that lined the sidewalk. Nick’s future with the ZBA squandered, he decided he could handle a little scheduled programming if it meant the rabbit to his right was happy. Of course, he’d complain the whole way, because who would he be if he didn’t? Nick took a proper bite of the cookie in his mouth and mussed the fur between her ears with his free paw.

“Lead the way, Fluff. To the llama we go.”

Her plans for them really were packed to the brim, but Nick did whatever he could to derail them.

The tod whined incessantly through the trailers, insisting they could have skipped them in favor of stopping for fries. Judy bought him a popcorn to shut him up, and his complaints faltered the moment the movie started. The film was the exact right formula of action-packed, mystery, and totally mindless to hold both of their attentions, but just dumb enough as the sequel to a sequel to a sequel for them both to complain endlessly on the way out. Their exchange of gleeful animosity carried them to Judy’s next bulletpoint, takeout from a sushi restaurant just a few blocks from the theater.

They grabbed dinner and Judy led them both to an area that she hyped up as “a beautiful secluded area of the city that almost no one knows about.”

It was a row of tables and chairs lining the main Savannah Central fountain.

Nick practically tore her a new one on her touristy preferences.

“Then show me some of your super secret places to go,” she demanded.

“If I did,” he replied, grabbing a piece of salmon nigiri with his paw, “they wouldn’t be secret and secluded anymore, would they?” He popped the sushi in his mouth.

Judy pointed at him with her expertly positioned chopsticks (a true feat with only four fingers). “Until I see the proof, you’re a liar.” She picked a piece of her veggie roll up and held it to her mouth. “And please learn to use chopsticks.”

“Rabbit, I’ve lived here my entire life. I know every nook and cranny there is.” He swallowed. “You’re a cop. Learn the streets better. Or don’t. And…” He reached down for another piece and made unbending eye contact with her while bringing it to his mouth. “No, no I will not.” He shoved it in his mouth and she shook her head in disapproval. Her head shake was promptly met with a flung chopstick colliding with her shoulder. The smug smile of an immature fox peered at her when she gazed up through her eyelashes in the direction of the offender.

She paid it no mind urgently. Judy believed that she preferred to lie in wait.

But she had no patience, so she didn’t wait long.

At some point, all four chopsticks ended up thrown at each other anyway. Along with all balled up napkins present, both empty takeout containers, and a dollop of wasabi that narrowly avoided taking the vision in Nick’s left eye.

Eventually they remembered they were not high school kits mid-cafeteria food fight, and decided it was time to head home. Nick walked Judy to the subway station before catching a ride off the Sv16—that would be off, not on the bus, as he perched himself on the precarious exhaust pipe to avoid paying the transit fare.

Hey, newly law-abiding citizen or not, who said you had to pay a dime if you weren’t inside the vehicle?

Honestly, he should’ve been a lawyer.

Nick negotiated their meetup time the following day down from a brisk 8 o’clock in the morning to a ripe 10 AM. Just across the Savannah, they found each other in Haymarket, browsing the weekend selections at the shops.

Well, Nick found Judy browsing. He just kind of existed.

She brought him to a small cafe that had croissants she swore she’d commit crimes for (he wanted so badly to test that claim), and had an entire route of the bazaar mapped out for the two of them to take for the rest of the day. They spent a few hours meandering through the predominately equine-centric neighborhood (heh, NEIGHborhood), simply enjoying each other’s presence. Judy told stories about work and asked questions about training that never seemed to get answered, while Nick, with a constant stream of oversized snacks and drinks in paw that he always somehow haggled down to half-priced, listened and watched as she periodically got distracted by things she didn’t need and didn’t have room for in her apartment. Most of his interjections came in the form of mockery directed toward the coworkers in her anecdotes, and attempts to delay them at every turn Judy wanted to take. Either that, or making Judy laugh, something he was getting better at daily, and taking increasing pride in (even if harboring on a pun or a bad joke for too long meant a snicker and an eye roll, Judy getting long tired of his beating a dea—

Well, anyway).

At some point, while Judy was distracted at a small stand on the corner, idly chatting with a young appaloosa selling upcycled homemade jewelry, Nick finally spotted a shop he was actually interested in.

Looking back at the distracted rabbit, Nick brushed Judy idly with his tail, announcing his departure. Without looking at him, she gave him a thumbs up, and he traipsed off.

His walk across the street, while brief, had Nick reflecting on that momentary interaction he’d just had, one he could only label as “domestic.” He mentally shuddered at the presence of the word in his vernacular, and immediately dismissed any impending self-reflection the moment he crossed the threshold of his destination, breathing in the musky, stale lemon-scented air of his natural habitat—

A video game store.

Now this was more his steed speed (DANGIT).

Nick sauntered around the store slowly, gazing at the walls of games and posters. A Roaring Stones song played quietly overhead, signs from the heavens that he was destined to meander his way into this very store at this very moment (thank you, Judy).

In the middle of the store stood two pillars where the maze of shelves curved inward. Upon further inspection, the pillars seemed to actually be tall glass casings reaching floor to ceiling, the right side lined top to bottom with shelves of retro gaming consoles, which Nick stopped to admire. He’d been a fan of the games since he was just a kit, so the nostalgia factor certainly played a large part in his fascination. But beyond that, he had a great appreciation for the complete collection before his eyes. Nick had always been a collector of sorts, but more in the Jack-of-all-trades sort of way where he moderately dipped into a little of everything he enjoyed a bit. He’d never really been one for working hard and putting his all into any one thing, as evidenced by his incredibly scattered career history…if you could even call it that. But it gave him all the more respect for those who could, making the collector’s display in front of his eyes an absolute spectacle of a feat.

The fox’s gaze drifted over to the store’s leftside glass casing, with the intention of making his way there leisurely while window shopping a bit throughout the rest of the establishment. He wasn’t expecting to double take at the sight of an old arcade game centered in the casing and be immediately drawn to the large item protected within. And yet, that's exactly what happened.

His paws fell out of his pockets and his eyes widened in awe. Nick approached the pillar with nothing but wonder.

Inside was a bright red retro arcade machine in seemingly perfect condition. The cartoon image on the side depicted a buff mule holding an incapacitated damsel-in-distress-type zebra, being chased by a short female pony—a mare—in overalls and a hat. The instantly recognizable characters were one thing, but the authenticity and mint condition of this iconic vintage machine threw Nick into a level of astonishment that he was simply not wearing the right socks for.

He also didn’t wear socks, so there was that too.

Nick stood staring at the game for what felt like an eternity, yet simply was not long enough. There were only two other patrons in the store, and the employees seemed completely unbothered, so as far as he was concerned, Nick could camp out here eyes glued to the console for the rest of his life, police training be absolutely damned.

Alas, a bunny walked in to claim him eventually.

Across the store, Judy spotted none other than a pastel yellow Pawaiian-shirted fox with his back to the door, tail low to the ground and swaying slightly. She smiled and walked in his direction, looking at the objects in her paws and speaking once she knew she was within his earshot.

“Nick, look, that sweet horse gave us free bracelets! Of course I gave her a ten anyway because she spent all that work on making them herself, and I know you probably won’t wear it, but it’s a really cool process the way she sanded down all the glass from the…”

Looking up from the jewelry, Judy noticed Nick hadn’t moved at the sound of her voice. His ears were upright but low and he was staring very intensely at the glass in front of him. The world around him seemed to cease its existence. Judy’s ears tilted curiously.

She pocketed the bracelets and wandered over.

“What are we looking at?” she asked, approaching him on his right, raising up to her tiptoes to get a glimpse over his shoulder.

The stars gleaming in Nick’s eyes had never been bigger. His mesmerized voice dropped into a low, breathy register.

“An original Donkey Kong arcade cabinet from the initial rollout of the game almost forty years ago. The origin of all things Mare-io, before the NES console was even released. I haven’t seen one of these in decades…and never in this condition.”

He pawed at the glass gently. Judy watched him in amusement.

“Do you and that game need a room, Nick?”

His ears pinned back and he pressed his muzzle flat against the glass door. “Desperately.”

Judy snorted.

“Well I think the employees might have something to say about that,” she said, jutting her thumb in the direction of a teenaged giraffe in a uniform shirt who was watching Nick with a less-than-enthused expression on their face. The giraffe rolled their eyes and grabbed a spray bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels.

Reluctantly, Nick took that as his cue.

He peeled himself away from the window and shoved his paws back in his pockets, eyelids returning to half-mast as he backed away from the machine. Against all his wishes and desires, he turned toward the exit and began strolling out, Judy trailing close behind.

“So it was a good game, I assume?” she asked innocently as she caught up. Nick’s pace slowed.

“Carrots, Donkey Kong was the origin of all good games. It was the first domino in the lineup of Nintendoe’s entire contemporary catalogue.” The fox stared patronizingly down at the dumb bunny. “Yeah, it was a ‘good game.’”

His implied quotations did not go unheard. Judy smiled at her friend’s rare enthusiasm.

“Good to know,” she said. “I’ve never played.”

“You’ve never played Donkey Kong?”

“I mean, no. I’ve never played any of it.”

This time he stopped walking entirely. It took her two strides to realize they were no longer moving in tandem. Judy turned around.

“You’ve...” he trailed off in shock. The rabbit resisted a grin from forming.

“You’ve never played…any of it?”

Her grin won out.

“No, I have not.”

Nick stared in horror. She shrugged.

“A couple of my siblings were into Nintendoe games, I just never paid it much mind.”

“Carrots.”

Judy cocked a brow. “Are you ever planning to let up on that name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m calling you by your name," he deadpanned. "Carrots,” he repeated, tone identical to the moment before. She rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously telling me you have never once played Super Mare-io?”

Judy looked amused. She eyed him fully.

“This bothers you a lot, doesn’t it?” she asked, holding back genuine laughter.

Nick sighed. “I just don’t know if I can be associated with someone so uncultured and out of touch with reality,” he stated, turning up his nose in superiority. Judy gazed at him blankly, though fond amusement tinged her expression, her half-lidded glare giving way to play.

“Okay, fox. What are you going to do about it then?”

Nick looked at her a moment longer before making up his mind. His leisurely pace resumed, yet he stayed quiet. Judy took off alongside him.

"Nothing?" she urged.

No response.

Her nose twitched.

"So that's it? A horse in overalls is the downfall of this fire-forged friendship?"

Nick tsked. "Hopps, you have far too much faith in my loyalty." He looked down at her with a gentle smirk. "Don't worry those big fuzzy ears of yours. What's next on your agenda?"

If the perk in her ears was any indication, Nick presumed his deflection was successful. Judy's phone was in her hand and she was back to listing off their activities for the day within seconds.

Nick Wilde was a plotter, not a planner.

So he followed her lead for the rest of the day.

Now if you had asked Nick what else he did that day, he couldn't tell you. There was more food. There was a subway ride, maybe two. There was a constant stream of monologuing from an overzealous rabbit that if he didn't know any better, he might've even called cute. All he knew was that when he arrived home that night, he was $50 poorer, and knew exactly what the next day would entail, whether Judy knew it or not.

Because again, Judy Hopps was a planner. But Nick Wilde? He could plot.

So when the following morning rolled around, he didn't scheme too hard. He simply lied in wait.

Because he knew how to do that.

Judy excitedly approached their meeting point, a sidewalk at an intersection much closer to his residence than to hers. That was at her insistence, actually, as she had wanted to meet him at his front door. But that threshold was a line Nick was nowhere near willing to let her cross.

Yet. Probably ever.

To Judy's surprise, Nick was already waiting for her when she arrived, casually leaning against a lamppost. Paws in the pockets of his khakis, a loose yellow tie draped over his untucked olive green button-down, brand new shiny sunglasses adorning his face. No cares in the world.

The rabbit skipped just a bit in her last steps over to him, ears perking up at the realization that he'd been waiting for a while. She smiled.

"Well someone's becoming a morning person!" Judy beamed. "The academy and I are rubbing off on you yet!" Nick scoffed. He tipped his sunglasses down his nose to peer at her over the lenses.

"I sleep standing up."

He straightened himself up from the post and took off down the sidewalk, headed in the direction Judy had just bounded in from.

“Uhh, Nick?” He turned to look at the bunny, still standing where she had stopped when she met him moments ago. Confusion warped her features, giving way to a dumbfounded expression that Nick found far too amusing for his own good. “Where are you going? We’re supposed to head to—hey! What are you doing??”

Judy found herself with a pair of fox paws on her shoulders (well, her entire torso really, she's incredibly tiny), suddenly being pushed in the direction of Nick’s choice, heels only slightly digging into the sidewalk as he gently led her to who knows where. He moved her like she was a simple piece of furniture that was actually supposed to go in that corner over there. She looked around like she had forgotten she was nothing but a chair in the wrong place.

“New plan,” the fox said. “Clear your schedule.”

"Wha-hey, no, but I like my—would you cut that out?!" Judy scrambled her arms and legs, shimmying her back out of Nick's grasp. Something chairs were not supposed to do. Turning to look at him, she crossed her arms and leaned her weight to the right, left foot thumping rapidly against the pavement. She whined, more like a cupboard than a chair, but the analogy was irrelevant. "I like my schedule. I thought you liked my schedule."

Nick shrugged. "It's fine. It's cute." Judy pointed at him accusingly.

"Hey," she warned. He smirked, paws raised in surrender.

"Just the schedule. I wouldn't dare."

"Hm." She lowered her point and stood solidly, paws on hips, arms akimbo. The downward tilt by her head had her peering even further up at his face than normal. One eyebrow raised, a slight smile she couldn't hide, and a lilt in her voice that confirmed her amusement by the situation despite what she may have wanted to present, Judy made another attempt at interrogation. "Where do you think you're taking me?"

"Officer Hopps," Nick grinned cheesily. "Do you not trust me? Is it—" he gasped, "is it because I'm a fox? Why I never..." Nick turned his head away in mock offense, but his eyes remained fixed on Judy. She rolled her eyes.

"That card only works so many times, you know." Judy shoved Nick in the stomach. He stumbled back momentarily, smile resilient. "Where," she tried again, "are we going?" This was getting exhausting.

Nick thrived on her exasperation.

"We are going," he returned, "somewhere special. For important things."

"We had plans."

“This is an emergency change of plans. You need an education.”

“Uh huh,” she sighed. "Right." They stared at each other for a moment longer before Judy finally caved. She rolled her head in the direction Nick had been pushing her and he took his place, taking the directional lead in a casual stroll by her side.

Nick had quickly learned that Judy was the type to crave information on any matter. He imagined she must have been the one to remind the teacher to assign homework in grade school, the loser who spent recess with the math teacher on purpose. Nothing made him more sure of this theory than accurately deducing that the cue to dismantling her hardheadedness was bribery by education.

What a nerd.

But today, he still called it a win.

"This education," she pushed. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

A win for a win he supposed.

“Sandy’s Jaguarcade," Nick finally replied. "Ever heard of it?"

Judy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh!” she exclaimed giddily, more so than he had expected, despite it being Judy. She hopped a bit as she squealed, with significantly more bounce in the steps that followed. “I actually love that place!” she said. Nick’s ears quirked just a tad. He looked down and assessed her.

“Excuse me, I thought you didn’t know video games. Are you trying to hustle me?” He shook his head and faced forward again. “You can’t get me twice, you know.” Judy laughed.

“No no, I’ve only been there a couple times. My family needed somewhere kit-friendly to go after my ZPD graduation,” she explained, “so we hung out there for a bit and let my siblings torment the staff.” The look in her eyes grew devious. “I’m a menace at Prance Prance Revolution. In case you were wondering.”

Nick scoffed. The image of Judy paying actual money to dance and prance along to top 40 hits made the utmost sense if he knew anything about her, and was something he momentarily considered asking to see. Then he remembered the fierce competition he would be toying with by taunting her into a game, and decided he wanted nothing participatory to do with that. He opted for pure mockery.

“You would be PPR fan, wouldn’t you.”

“You’re just bitter because you have no rhythm.”

“No, I’m just better than you because I don’t disrespect myself enough to hop around in public. Like a rabbit. My rhythm is fantastic.”

“Based on what?” Judy’s ears tipped back. Her nose twitched. “Source your evidence.”

“Guitar,” he replied simply.

She was surprised. “You play guitar?”

“Of course I play guitar.” Nick snuck her a side glance. He smirked. “If it’s plastic and got five buttons, I absolutely do.”

Judy shoved him. Again. “Guitar Herd does not count as playing an instrument!”

Nick wobbled back into place. “Who said anything about playing an instrument? I said I had rhythm. And the high scores at Sandy’s are only in concurrence with that claim.”

“Well we’re just going to have to test these claims, you know.” She slid her paws into her jacket pockets. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m a pretty fierce competitor.”

“You don't say,” Nick said as they rounded the corner, the arcade coming clearly into view just a few storefronts down the street. When they reached the door, Nick held it open and ushered Judy in with a light wave. He flipped his sunglasses to the top of his head and winked down at the bunny. “Remember darlin', this isn’t about competition. This is about education.” Judy took a step inside with a smile and looked back.

“Well then, get ready to be schooled.”

It took her two games before she utterly annihilated him.

Whatever the plan had been that day, it was shot. They spent the entire day at the Jaguarcade, floating from cabinet to console and back, machine to machine, moving from game to game to game to game. Nick himself reached a level of enthusiasm Judy had previously thought he was incapable of. Nonchalance had never been so far from the fox's demeanor as he indulged himself in a childlike wonder it was likely no one else knew he possessed. The rabbit nodded along as he pointedly taught her about decades of history, fun facts, and miscellaneous details on rows and rows of classic games found in the old-school arcade. She actually seemed to enjoy it, listening intently and seemingly filing away the information as though she might have some use for it at a later date. Of course, once she got a hang of the controls, Judy returned the favor by whooping Nick’s fluffy orange tail into next week on every single game he chose to introduce her to. It only took a good thirty seconds of learning how to properly work the joystick before every 1V1 game was a landslide defeat.

Not generally a sore loser, Nick took it all in grace. But for as much as he was not a sore loser, Judy was, unsurprisingly, a very sore winner.

The gloating was fierce.

And it was only interrupted by the loud rumble of the victor's stomach.

The realization that Judy didn't feed herself often didn't take long to dawn on Nick. This lifestyle was largely antithetical to how he lived his life, something overly sweet or impossibly salty within reach at almost all times. Fortunately they were at a retro-gaming arcade, which was good for two things: losing all concerns about the current state of the modern world in the galactic-printed carpeting, and providing overpriced, sugary, greasy food for a constant stream of mouthwatering fulfillment and regret.

Apparently, Nick and Sandy were tight. Or, at least, they knew each other in some capacity that may or may not have included a sketchy past Judy was instructed not to question if she wanted free lunch. Which she did want, and fortunately her rumbling stomach was marginally more intrusive than her inquisitive nature.

Free carrot sodas and mozzarella sticks it was.

And onion rings.

And fried carrot sticks.

And garlic knots.

And slushees.

And nachos.

Judy tapped out before the garlic knots even showed up, prying for what kind of favor could have possibly warranted placing them both into oil-induced comas, but Nick insisted that his debts were paid and all activities that followed would be entirely law-abiding.

"You wouldn't discourage the simple kindness of a dear friend of mine, wouldya, Carrots?" Nick was on his second slushee and Judy wondered if his stomach was simply a bottomless pit, thanking any and all deities that her fox friend had evolved past his rabbit-devouring tendencies. Had this still been the Stone Age, she realized she’d have been inhaled in an instant, possibly with a side of prehistoric fries.

"That jaguar can clearly see we're a third of his size," Judy groaned, head flopped over the back of the booth seat she was sprawled out on. "We can’t eat as much as he can.”

“Speak for yourself. It’s an art form.” He shoveled more deep fried carbs into his face.

“I'm just worried he's trying to incapacitate us as vengeance for something stupid you did to him once.”

“All you need to know,” Nick said through a full mouth, “is that Sandy and I are good, and these nachos were a kind, legal favor.” He swallowed. “A favor you are yet to indulge in, might I add.”

Judy slid down, hitting the seat of the booth with a groan and a soft thump. Now entirely horizontal, she closed her eyes. “I've indulged enough.” Nick smiled to himself.

"Well that's too bad," he said. "Because I'm just getting started, and—why, would you look at that? A free Guitar Herd console, just for me to show off on." Judy's ears shot up, entirely perpendicular to her body. She kind of looked like a periscope. Nick swallowed the instinctive cackle the motion almost elicited. Slowly, Judy rose back up.

"You are so lucky I'm on the verge of a food coma, or I'd be dragging you over to those dance mats instead." She quickly glanced at the Prance Prance Revolution game just a few spots down from Nick's own choice. He tauntingly raised a brow.

"In public? You couldn't pay me to shake my hips."

"You couldn't shake your hips if I paid you," she replied cheekily. "Let's go, showoff. Time to show off." She stood up and dragged him to the plastic guitars on the other side of the room (not without his snacks in tow, of course).

Nick wasn't wrong about his skill level on the game. It clearly would have never translated to any actual musical skill, but his rhythm on the toy was definitely a feat. Judy was sincerely impressed. Her dexterity was exceptional and she had expected to catch up to him at the same speed as she had on the classic games, but to her surprise (and Nick's too, if he was being honest), she never did catch up.

Until the last round, when Nick suffered two simultaneously devastating experiences—being bested at his own game, and finding out that Judy Hopps was a Weezel fan.

(Okay, fine, truthfully he was too, and had their entire discography on CD hidden somewhere in his apartment. But it wouldn't make it any less fun to make fun of her in the meantime.)

Once again, officially marking his defeat on every single game they had attempted, Nintendoe-newbie-Judy triumphed.

Though Nick still considered himself the real winner, as he never once danced, and he never did find out what the day's itinerary was supposed to entail.

They didn’t leave until Sandy kicked them out.

Despite the late night, Judy had insisted on walking him to the train the next morning. Which for Nick meant waking up at 3:30 in the morning and interacting with that ball of static electric energy before 5 o’clock even rolled around. Which one could probably argue might be a form of torture.

But it was Judy.

They met a few blocks away from the train, at the closest convenient point between both their homes. Naturally hyper despite the lack of rest, the rabbit had brought him a large coffee from a 24-hour gas station, absolutely loaded with sugary creamers (just a guess on her part, but an accurate one). He somehow downed the entire thing over the twelve-minute walk as he listened to Judy tell him about the new theft case she was being assigned to, as per an email she had apparently received yesterday.

They waited on the platform, only a few scattered exhausted riders sitting around the area. Nick was still slowly waking up when an announcement came on overhead that the train would be arriving in two minutes.

“Hate to say it,” Judy drawled, “but I think I might actually miss you this month.” Nick snickered.

“You’re telling me this weekend wasn’t already the result of your Wilde-withdrawal? he replied. “I fear for my safety if you actually miss me next time.”

Judy gently punched him, but again, it was Judy, and it was still far too hard for this early in the morning.

“Oh hush, you had fun. Don’t lie to me.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” He smiled at her exhaustedly. She grinned back.

The train rushed up behind him.

“My ride’s here,” Nick said.

The cars came to a stop and the doors opened.

“Don’t keep that meter running,” Judy joked back. “Let me know when you get back safe?”

“Sure. Let me know when you get a life?”

“I certainly won’t!” she called after him. Nick smiled and shook his head.

As he stepped onto the train, Nick wondered for the thousandth time why exactly he was bothering to go back to the grueling training of the ZPA when his life here at home seemed to get better by the day.

He found an empty seat (the whole train, really, no one in their right mind was going anywhere this early), and turned to look out the window. Expecting to simply watch the less-than-stellar scenery shift as the car pulled away, he was instead met with a frantically waving bunny, grin painting her entire face, energy lighting up the whole platform well before the sun rose to do it itself. Her eyes sparkled and she bounced in place, giddy ears held high, waving her best friend off to another month working as hard as he possibly could to become nothing but a holstered addition to her utility belt—that is to say, a thing attached to her hip at all times, readied for her use whenever she reached.

Oh.

Right.

The fox smiled warmly and waved back in a two-fingered salute. The response stilled Judy’s arm and Nick watched her shoulders rise in a quick giggle. As soon as the train started to move, he watched her turn and hop away, bounding down the steps to the platform in the direction of her place of employment, probably to get there four hours before her shift actually started.

Nick watched in the direction of the spot she’d occupied well after the train pulled her out of sight.

He was reluctant to admit it to himself, because he didn’t like the implications, but somewhere inside him, Nick knew that Judy was one hundred percent of the reason he was keeping himself in training. It’s not that she had that much power over him. She wasn’t that special. It’s just that...she was his friend. And he didn’t have a lot of those. He wasn’t used to it.

And the thing about Judy is that she liked being his friend. He couldn't even try to self-sabotage the close relationship they had, because she’d shut it down immediately. She’d hold him accountable and wouldn’t let him get out and run away just because he felt he didn’t deserve it. That’s what he had always done in the past, and she refused to let him get away with it. Because she said she cared, but also it was because she was crazy. The whole experience of having her as a friend was really, really crazy.

But it was also really nice.

So it wasn’t out of the question or anything strange to say that maybe his friend—the first real, unconditional friend he’d had in years…maybe...ever?—was the reason he was able to keep his motivation up. And on his way back to the academy after his first real weekend off, he thought about just how okay it was. And how he could get through the rest of this training if it meant strengthening his best friendship at the end of this. He was almost excited to get back.

He did not, however, account for another full month without seeing her.

He also forgot that a month is more than enough time for the novelty of motivation to wear off.

And most importantly, he forgot that he was Nick Wilde. And Nick Wilde didn't do feelings.