Chapter Text
Nick Wilde, as he often and loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen, was a solitary creature.
That meant that, in his thirty-three years of living, he had never once needed to take another animal’s needs—or feelings—into consideration as he trotted about, doing his own thing every single day of his miserable existence.
And then came along the bunny.
Nick Wilde liked to get home and strip immediately to his boxers, sink into the couch and rot for at least four hours before dragging himself to bed. Well, Nick didn’t do that anymore, just in case Judy—the bunny in question—decided to randomly show up at his apartment at 9 PM and catch him in a state of thorough undress (and that would be a scandalous picture for her, indeed).
He imagined her flustered little ears jolting upwards, the nervous tick of her nose as she tried to shield her eyes from the view… and so he didn’t do it anymore. Because it would make Judy uncomfortable.
He started feeling silly after a few months, when Judy never showed up to his place at all during his time at the Academy. But wouldn’t you know it — the night where all hell broke loose for them at the Zootopia Gala, there she was, hopping into his filthy apartment, and Nick felt vindicated.
Hey, at least she didn’t catch him naked.
Nick wasn’t a total slob, per se, but he had a pretty loose idea on what he considered to be a habitable environment. He shed his ties on the floor whenever they were no longer necessary, he collected takeout boxes for a few weeks and enjoyed making towers with them (it so amused him) before taking them out eventually into the trash.
It’s not that he didn’t respect his place. He actually felt pride in occupying it — taking up space, owning it. He didn’t need to bounce from shitty apartment to shitty apartment anymore, not since making good on his taxes, and he had Judy to thank for that.
So it was only fair to keep her in mind as he vacuumed far more than he would have ever considered doing if he were thinking only about himself.
Nick Wilde was also in his very own Time Zone™.
He woke up when he felt like it, started his day when he felt awake enough, went to bed when his body went limp, and left all the lights on just in case he woke up in the middle of the night with a brilliant idea for a new hustle that absolutely could not wait until morning.
He wasn’t used to a rigid, structured routine. So imagine his surprise when, on his and Judy’s very first day as official police partners, he found himself standing on her doorstep at exactly 6:30 AM, ready to head out together and face Chief Bogo and the rest of the team as a unit.
Nick didn’t do it again the day after that.
But he’d wanted to.
He was ready every morning to make it to Judy’s place before work. Every morning, he decided against it — at the risk of looking clingy — and headed to Pawbucks instead, grabbing her a large caramel macchiato with cinnamon and a splash of carrot latte, unmixed.
She beamed every time she saw he got her order right, when he arrived at her cubicle at precisely 07:01 AM, just because he wouldn’t dare, for the sake of his reputation, to show the ZPD he cared that much about being timely for them.
It wasn’t for them. It was never for them, and Nick knew that. He been knew, as the kids would say.
But now, Judy knew it too.
Two nights ago, he almost lost her.
That bastard Pawbert almost succeeded in taking her away from him, shot her in the neck with enough venom to take out a buffalo like Bogo. His Judy.
He stood here, watching her in contemplative silence as he considered all of this. All around him, Gary’s living room felt like a bomb had just gone off. Two hundred of Judy’s younger siblings ran wild back and forth around the house, while seventy-five of the older ones attempted to make pawpsicles with Finnick for the rest of the guests.
He tried to play it cool, he really did. The mood was different now, less desperate and raw than it had been on top of that weather wall, where the only two things that existed in the world were each other.
But the thing was… he needed to give her back the pen.
He’d gone back for it, and couldn’t believe his eyes when he pieced it together and saw that it worked — brand-new cables, gears, glue. Fixed.
And then it just came out.
He didn’t plan it. Nick Wilde was very good at planning things—angles, exits, jokes that landed before anyone noticed he was, in fact, scared. This wasn’t one of those things.
“Love you, partner,” he blurted out.
Too fast. Too honest.
He tried to save it, because of course he did. “But I’m still me,” he added quickly, forcing a grin that felt half a second too late. “So I’m only saying it once a decade.”
The words didn’t leave his lips. They detonated.
Love you love you love you love you love you love you love you love you love you.
The sounds they emitted ricocheted inside his skull like a siren going off in the middle of the war zone that was Gary’s living room.
The echo was deafening, like the hollow moment after a bomb hit ground zero.
Love you.
Nick looked around in a spike of panic, because surely everyone heard that. Surely it was written across his face, glowing in neon: CONFESSION ACQUIRED, APPREHEND SUBJECT. The final piece of evidence incriminating him in the worst crime he’d ever committed.
He braced himself for impact. Apologize. Laugh it off. Pack a bag. Run. He’d done it before with many a mammal—cut clean, leave first, don’t give the world the satisfaction.
And then he heard it again.
Not in his head this time.
“Love you, partner.”
It was his voice, but he just sounded like himself? Not… a terrorist, not like he had imagined it. Just him. Nick.
And when Judy realized what the pen just did, she looked at him with the most beautiful expression he’d ever seen.
The world didn’t end. The sirens faded.
Everything was going to be alright.
Probably.
*
Nick insisted on driving Judy home that night, in the police car Bogo had lent them. The engine hummed steadily as they left Reptile Ravine and eased into the wider streets of Tundratown.
Judy sat in the passenger seat with the window cracked open, one elbow resting against the door. She looked calm enough at first glance—ears upright, gaze fixed on the dark stretch of mountains ahead—but Nick noticed how still she was.
Up ahead, high in the distance, Lynxley Mansion cut a pale shape against the snow-covered peaks. Just a glimpse of it. And then it was gone.
Judy’s ears twitched back. She shivered, full-bodied, from the tip of her feet to the top of her ears, and Nick knew it had little to do with the cold.
Still, he quickly rolled the windows back up, blocking the passage of freezing air.
Nick cleared his throat, aiming for casual. “Not exactly our part of town, huh?”
“No,” Judy agreed, distantly. “It’s really not.”
“I mean, I’m sure you could live wherever you set your mind to, Carrots. But I’m telling you, Savannah Central is where it’s at.”
Judy finally turned to look at him, this time with a faint smile. “It’s where you’re at.”
“That’s right,” Nick said. “Where else would you wanna be?”
Judy chuckled, shifting closer to the center console. He felt the chill her body was emitting as she got closer to him. Nick glanced around and remembered she was wearing only a light jacket. (He was only wearing a Pawaiian shirt himself.)
“Hey, you’re cold,” Nick observed very cleverly. “Come ‘ere.”
Nick raised one arm and Judy scooted over a bit, until she was plastered to his hip. He lowered his arm around her middle and pulled her in, instinct taking over. His tail followed, curling around her and tucking her in completely.
“Thanks, Slick,” Judy murmured, exhaling against his chest.
They drove around a while longer just like this, as the Zootopian city lights slipped by them. Judy didn’t look back at the mountains again.
Nick was starting to wonder if this was what Heaven felt like when he heard Judy’s voice again, a little muffled by his fur.
“I missed you yesterday,” she said.
“What?”
“I said, I missed you yesterday,” Judy repeated, lifting her chin slightly as his tail shifted. “But I guess… now I know where you went. I kind of feel relieved.”
“You’re relieved I wasn’t out partying like crazy to celebrate my newfound innocence?”
“To tell you the truth?” Judy admitted, ears lowering. “Yeah.”
Nick blinked. “Really? Carrots, where would I even go without you? You know I don’t like leaving the house.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. It’s just—” She hesitated. “I thought you were going to die. On that wall. I saw you on the CCTV. You and… Pawbert. I saw you falling and I—” Her voice hitched. “I ran, Nick. And it still wasn’t enough. If it wasn’t for Gary…”
“Hey, hey,” Nick murmured, tightening his tail around her instinctively. “I’m here. We’re both here. That’s it. It’s over now. Don’t let your brain drag you back there.”
“I’m trying,” Judy said quietly. “It was easier today. It’s easier when you’re with me.” She paused. “When I got back to my apartment, it was so quiet. I couldn’t sleep. I just kept replaying it over and over. I guess… I just wanted to be with you a little longer yesterday, is all.”
Nick swallowed hard. She was giving him a lot today, so much more than he deserved. He could give her something back.
“I missed you a lot yesterday, too,” Nick said, squeezing her paw lightly just once. “I just figured you’d want space after all that paperwork. And those damn press conferences. I know I just wanted some peace and quiet after all that. But that includes you, you know.” He glanced at her. “My peace and quiet. We could’ve hung out.”
Judy closed her eyes, leaning back a little bit towards the seat. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll try to remember that.”
They finished their ride to Judy’s place in calm companionship, holding on tight to each other.
Nick walked her to her front door. Judy stopped with her back to him, staring at the closed door like it had personally offended her.
Finally, she turned around and looked at him defiantly. She started interrogating him out of the blue. “I saw the correspondence at your door. Three letters, says your rent is past due. They could kick you out after three months with zero pay. Is there any reason why you’re not paying rent, Nick?”
“Nope,” he said, not surprised in the slightest with her 100% sound analysis. “Just forgot.”
Judy let out a long breath, like she was relieved somehow he was being so irresponsible with his living arrangements.
She walked in his direction, both arms out, a concentrated look on her face. Nick was just starting to worry for his life, when her cheeks landed on his stomach and then she was hugging him fiercely.
Well. Okay then.
He hugged her back without thinking — one paw cradling the back of her head, the other settling around her waist. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny Nick screamed, What are we doing?
Judy pulled back, cupping his face so he had no choice but to look at her.
“I think we should move in together,” she said.
Nick stared.
She tipped his snout down just a little and kissed his cheek. Two seconds. Maybe less.
“Okay. Yeah,” he managed.
She kept saying words after that. Words that sounded like “efficient” and “logical sense” and “sharing expenses”, but Nick stopped listening the moment her lips connected to his face.
Excuse me?? Tiny Nick yelled at him. Is that just something we just do now??
There was a new status quo to their relationship and Nick apparently hasn’t gotten the memo.
This should be fine.
Not like he was rocking the solo life in the basement of Gym Trunks or anything.
*
It was incredible. The mob boss lady, Mr. Big’s daughter—what was her name? Frubelina or some shit like that?—who apparently believed she was best friends with Judy had found them an apartment in a single day.
They still needed a week to terminate their current leases. Nick also needed to pay back the three months he was behind, assuming he wanted to leave his place in one piece.
Small details.
He waited outside Judy’s apartment building that afternoon, hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the front door and fully appreciating the colossal mistake he was probably about to make.
Whatever else was going on between them, Nick and Judy were friends. Best friends. The real kind. They were also police partners who worked side by side six days a week, ten to twelve hours a day.
And—worth noting—she was all he had.
He’d made that painfully clear to her already. With humiliating honesty.
Moving in together like this was dangerous. The price was steep. What was I thinking that night?
Oh. Right.
I wasn’t.
If they turned out to be incompatible roommates, it wouldn’t just be awkward. It could be the end of everything: their professional partnership, the easy rhythm they’d built, the unspoken understanding that made the job bearable.
And even worse, if Nick couldn’t control himself or his pesky feelings, he might even scare Judy away forever.
And then he would never see her again. Or hear her laugh. Or comfort her when she cried. He would never feel his shoulder slightly dislocate again when she punched him.
And that was unthinkable.
So Nick was just going to have to suck it up and reel it in. Be normal. Be a good roommate. A good partner. Nothing more.
Bam!
The front door flew open.
“Judy!” Nick called, snapping out of it as she stormed out of the building, slamming the gate shut behind her. Her face was flushed, ears pinned back, and she made a point of not looking at him as she marched straight onto the sidewalk. “Hey. What happened?”
“Nosy neighbors,” Judy said flatly. “Can’t wait to never see them again. Ever.”
Nick jogged to catch up with her. “Is that something you do? Slam doors and then just… never see an animal again forever?”
“Haven’t yet,” Judy replied. “Wouldn’t mind them being the first. Though I did threaten to strangle them, so it wouldn’t be exactly what you’re implying. Just close.”
Nick blinked, trying to reconcile that with the knot in his chest. He shook his head quickly to refocus, then sprang into action.
He hurried ahead and stepped into her path, stopping her in her tracks. “Hey, hey, hey, Carrots. Relax,” Nick said, taking the liberty of running both paws lightly over her shoulders.
He flashed his most disarming grin. Surely that’d do it. “It’s just Bucky and Pronks. They suck, hard, but you know deep down they probably mean well. So just forget about it, okay?”
Judy didn’t respond. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. So Nick rested his paws gently at the base of her neck, thumbs brushing familiar territory, applying just the tiniest amount of pressure — the spot he knew held all her tension.
Her chin tipped upward, and she finally looked at him. Her expression was unfocused, hazy.
What the hell did they say to her?
When her eyes sharpened again, Nick knew it was the end of whatever fragile moment they’d been suspended in, right there in the middle of a quiet street outside the Grand Pangolin Arms.
He lifted his paws even higher despite himself, brushing her ears down in a soft, fleeting caress, then stepped aside, putting space between them again.
From across the street, a badger in a baseball cap was watching them a little too closely. Nick ignored him.
“I don’t know why I let them get to me,” Judy said finally. “I’m sorry I greeted you like that. That was out of line.”
“What, that?” Nick waved it off. “That was a more positive greeting than most of my ‘good mornings,’ so you’re golden, Carrots.”
“And today is such a big day for us,” Judy went on. “We’re gonna go see our first apartment.”
Our first…?
“That’s not how I wanted to kickstart this experience with you,” she added quickly. “You’re gonna think I’m a terrible roommate.”
Nick’s entire world paused.
“Judy,” he said carefully, “do you have tentacles?”
“What?”
“Because that would make you a terrible roommate to me. You do not. Meaning,” he gestured vaguely, searching for the right tone, “you are perfect exactly as you are. Believe me, you haven’t offended me.”
Nick hesitated. Thought about it. Thought better of it. Then reached out and took her paw in his.
“Let’s reset the vibe, okay, honey?” he said teasingly. “First apartment. Yay, us.”
Judy stared at him. Then at their interlocked paws. The look on her face reminded him of the moment just before they’d jumped out of that moving truck into the snow days ago.
He still had no idea what that look meant.
But hey — it looked like he’d turned the vibe around. At least a little.
*
Fru Fru had found them a decent enough apartment, all things considered. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchenette. No roaches. Three subway stops from the ZPD. Nothing fancy, but a solid foundation — sturdy walls, which Judy seemed especially pleased about.
He kind of had to tip his hat off to the tiny, scary lady.
It’s better than anything Nick’s ever had, so that scared him more than any stunt that arctic shrew with shiny, voluminous locks could ever pull off.
And she was adamant they could afford it, which he had no reason to doubt. It was their combined salaries, after all (and perhaps just a quick snap from Mr. Big’s fingers).
It felt… permanent, almost. Like he could actually picture himself staying put for a while.
The apartment came with cupboards and cabinets already installed, wooden-framed beds in both rooms, and fully finished bathrooms. All they’d need were appliances, and they’d be ready to move in.
“My TV will go in here,” Nick said, standing in the living room and framing a spot on the wall with his fingers.
Judy laughed, the sound echoing lightly off the bare walls. “What size is your TV? I’ve never seen it.”
“It’s just a small thing.”
“Small thing?” She leaned into the doorway, amused. “Have you seen my TV? Mine is small even for rats.”
“Well, mine is small by elephant-standards.”
“Of course you’d have a massive TV.”
“Naturally.”
“What about your couch?” Judy called from the hallway, poking her head into the bathroom and inspecting the sink. “Is that coming with you too?”
Nick actually flinched from the kitchen, “No, that… that is staying right there where it is, Carrots. Trust me, we wanna leave that behind.”
She narrowed her eyes as she came back into the living room, arms crossed. “It’s seen too much?”
“Too much,” Nick confirmed. “Besides,” he grinned, suddenly animated, “we get to buy a new couch. You and me. What do you say?”
Judy smiled, wide and genuine, but then her gaze drifted past him. She took the room in again — the empty corners, the bare floor, the clean slate. Her smile softened into something quieter.
“I didn’t bring much with me to Zootopia,” she said. “Just a suitcase.”
Nick knew. In that awful little pod she’d lived in, the only personal things that ever stood out to him were her family portrait and a handful of books.
“I’m excited,” she added, voice gentler now, “to turn this place into our home.”
Ouch.
Nick’s heart didn’t even get a chance to recover between hits.
“Okay, Carrots,” he said solemnly, nodding once. “Message received. Decorations and trinkets to your little heart’s desire.” He glanced around the empty apartment, already imagining it filled in. “We’ll make it work.”