Title: Our Next Hustle

Summary:

"Remember this," she did say, aloud, and kissed him once more. "This is me. This is real. This is us."

In which interspecies relationships are actually illegal, and Judy has agreed to her parents' plan for safety.

"It's happening."

Tears fell before she could stop them. Both of theirs. Before she could think of the good, before she could come up with a way to say that things would be okay. Before any comfort, no comfort, no comfort. Just disappointment, just loss, just tears. No comfort. So she couldn't say, we'll be okay, not without it feeling like a lie. And she couldn't lie, not to him.

"I can't—" Judy cut herself off. Saying that she couldn't do something, no matter what it was, felt wrong, so wrong. Yet those were the only words repeating over and over (and over and over and—) in her mind. Endlessly. I can't do this. She didn't need to say it for Nick to know, and instead, she rested her head under his chin, burying her face in the fur and cloth to hide herself.

"We could run away," Nick murmured, but his own heart wasn't in the words. He knew they couldn't, knew that Judy Hopps, of all mammals, couldn't up and leave her family behind like that. Not even for him. Not even if she wanted to. And she knew that he knew that. So his chest released a sigh. His arms wrapped around the smaller figure and held her close, in the corner of the bed they'd shared for so long. (For the last time? For the last time.) "You know," he attempted to tease her, "you never had seemed the clingy type."

The comment earned him a half-hearted punch in the arm.

"Dumb fox," she spoke into his fur, voice muffled, but his ears were focused enough on her that he could still hear. Judy tried to take deep breaths. Sobs tried to break up her breathing, serving difficulty to her on an unwelcome platter she hadn't ordered. Along with the difficulty of the entire situation. "I need—" deep breath, paw suddenly touched by his, small breath (of relief). "I need you. Nick, I—"

"You don't," he corrected. Stroked the pad of her paw, stroked the tip of one of her ears with his other paw. "You're okay." he wished she needed him, but still, still, this was Judy Hopps. She didn't need anyone. She won wars for herself, not mere battles, and nothing could stop her from getting what she wanted. Nothing. Except— "This is for your parents." He breathed out slowly. Breathed in slowly, tried to memorize her scents. "Think of it as our next hustle." Maybe more. "It's—"

"Not forever," she finished. "But it might as well be. It feels like—"

"Like forever," Nick agreed. This, he did feel with his entire heart. How could he not? Spending any amount of time away was enough. Those three months were enough. Those nine months of academy? More than enough. Unbearable, nearly. "I know." Another slow exhale. Another deep inhale. He couldn't get enough of her, not possibly, not now. "But I'll write you. Text you, if they don't block it. I'll—"

"Sneak things to me," Judy remembered what he'd promised before. Her breathing could begin to steady, the pressure forgiving a bit so she could feel some calm. "Sly fox." The former conman's experience made a smile begin to form on the bunny's face, for just a moment. Before reality kicked it away. "I only want you," she pushed herself away from his chest so she could look him in the eyes. His gentle, knowing eyes. "Promise you'll remember that? For me." She couldn't tolerate the idea of Nick thinking she loved someone else; thinking that he wasn't on her mind and in her heart.

He couldn't lie. That would be hard. "I promise to try," he breathed the words out. His gaze averted for a moment; he could only think of loss when he looked at her. He didn't want to remember that this would be the last time he'd get this chance for forever. He looked again, at her beautiful eyes that always caught him off-guard, and tried to memorize the hues. "You know it's..." The fox swallowed. He didn't know how to explain, how to let Judy know that he couldn't just remember their intimacy, their life, not after he'd have to see a contradiction of it plastered into view for the public, for her parents, and against him.

She relieved him of the need to explain by cradling the sides of his face in her paws and pressing her lips to his, as if to say, it's okay. I understand. "Remember this," she did say, aloud, and she kissed him once more. "This is real. This is me. This is us." she kissed him again, and he felt her lip tremble this time because tears took over again and forced her voice to break when she continued to speak. "This is the truth. That I love you."

This time, Nick buried his muzzle under Judy's chin, breathing in her scent from her neck and shoulders, and trembling a bit as he attempted to steady said breathing. He needed to remember this, and her, and everything he could that would help him. The act wouldn't be permanent. Nick forced an empty chuckle as his mouth somehow managed to continue forming words, despite the frozen state of the rest of his body. "Just remember: it's called a hustle, sweetheart."

"We'll hustle them good," Judy let out a tiny laugh, as well, but they both knew neither of them really felt any amusement. "You won't back out, right?"

"Never," Nick nodded. "That, I can promise. You're stuck with that." He paused. "Unless you—"

"Never," Judy echoed. "You're stuck with me, too."

The way Judy's phone vibrated, next, in her pocket against both their bodies, felt like an attack. A brutal message: You're done.

Judy's hesitance showed through the way she couldn't quite let go, even while she pulled away. She held on to his neck, his shoulders, the folds of his clothing. His sleeves. His paws. "My parents, I..." His fingertips. Until she did pull away, forcing her heart down like an anchor that sunk immediately. There was no question about who it had anchored to. "I need to go."

"Then go."