It was nearing the third month of Fangmeyer and Mick's strange dining and drinking relationship. Sometimes Fangmeyer would crash at Mick's after a long shift on the beat, or Mick would stay overnight at Fangmeyer's if he had an early start at the labs. This cycle would continue for weeks at a time, the two migrating between apartments as Mick made his food, while Fangmeyer chipped in for ingredients and booze.
Winter was encroaching over Zootopia, with residents beginning to bundle up and seek warmth amongst each other and what remained of the sunlight. Making her way to her car, Fangmeyer shivered in the chilled air.
Colder than last year, for sure, she thought to herself. I can't even bear to think how Frankie's doing without any fur.
As Fangmeyer drove along the long, twisting roads of the Rainforest District, she noticed a near absence of traffic.
Yep, definitely colder than last year, Fangmeyer deducted, turning up her car heater. Like Hell I'd be caught outside in the District just as Winter rolls in.
Approaching the familiar apartment block, Fangmeyer braced herself to get out of the car, the blast of cool air an unwelcome contrast to the heated interior of her car. Grabbing the shopping bag of food and drink, she dashed over to the complex, eagerly awaiting the heat she so desperately craved. Finally arriving outside Mick's apartment, she knocked on the door hurriedly, mouth beginning to salivate in anticipation for more of his cooking. As the door opened, Fangmeyer's mouth swung open at the sight in front of her; at the door wasn't Mick, but a portly creature seemingly made of entirely jackets, jumpers and all manners of winter clothing.
"I- Mick?" Fangmeyer stuttered.
The creature only made a wide beckoning gesture as it gave a muffled 'mmph'.
As the pair made it inside, the creature took the scarf and beanie from its face to reveal the less-than-jolly face of Mick, eyes swollen and nose glistening.
Fangmeyer couldn't help herself. She began laughing uproariously at the scene before her.
"Oh, Gods Mick, you look ridiculous! Why're you dressed like that? I mean it's becoming Winter and all, but this is rather excessive."
A grin slowly appearing on his muzzle and Fangmeyer laughed, eventually chuckling as well.
"Turns out District Winters can be quite harsh when compared to Barren winters."
"While I'm sure that's true, wouldn't you at least have your winter coat by now?"
From what little head Fangmeyer could see, she was sure Mick was starting to blush.
"I- uh – well, it's summer in the Barrens right now, yeah? So, uh, I… got clipped for summer just before I left…"
Fangmeyer couldn't help it. She began laughing at the Dingo's expense once again.
"Damn, Mick how thick can you get?" asked the tigress, holding her sides as she cackled and laughed.
"Hey, fuck off I forgot!" Mick said indignantly. "I mean I GUESS I can't cook anything for you, what with this cold," Mick said, trying to bluff his friend.
"Ohhh no you don't," Fangmeyer said, bringing her toothy grin closer to Mick's muzzle. "You can't bluff me with that. It's either you cook for us, or we join a suicide pact and let me cook."
"Surely your cooking can't be that bad. I mean you always say that whenever I offer to teach you."
"I technically sent Francine to hospital this one time."
"Technically sent her?"
"She thought she lost her ability to taste, so we went to the hospital to check it out. Doctor said it'd pass in a day or two; no permanent damage."
This was more than enough to spur the dingo into action.
"Okay, fine. But I hope you brought a little summin' summin' to clear this sinus of mine."
Reaching into one of her grocery bags on the bench top, she took out a long glass bottle filled with a bronze liquid, showcasing it to the canine with a knowing grin on her face.
Snatching the bottle, Mick tore off the lid and took a swig, gasping as it went down, eyes wide.
"Oath ME, that hit the spot. Fang, you're too good to me; bringing whiskey to a Winter's meetup was your best idea yet."
Taking a deep breath from his nose, he took Fangmeyer's bags from the bench and got to work.
The night went as it had done for months; the pair talked about work, their discoveries, their triumphs and their failures. Mick would always be enraptured by Fangmeyer's tales of action and mystery from cases she'd taken on over the years, and Fangmeyer loved how much care Mick put into his work and how much interest he took, and truth be told she found the whole concept of a psycho-plant really quite interesting too.
As the two talked and ate, Fangmeyer could see something was wrong with Mick; his gesture became less and less wide, his voice became huskier and she could swear she heard the sound of chattering teeth. It was evident the cold weather mixed with his fever was giving him to quarter, even with the heating system trying its best. The pair had emptied the whiskey bottle nearly an hour ago and her eyes began to start feeling the effects. Mick had nearly kept to his glass (and at some points the bottle) like and infant to a teat, drinking greedily, seemingly to warm his core as best he could; but with all the firewater gone, he was starting to slow down. She really didn't like how he looked, in fact she was getting more and more worried the more he showed.
"H-hey Fang," Mick chattered to his police friend, who was seemingly lost in thought.
"Ye-what? Hm?" bumbled Fangmeyer, leaving of her train of thought. "Whassup?"
"'S not that late, yeah? Y'up for a movie?"
Didn't sound like a bad idea to her.
"Yeah, sure. Any action movies?"
"I've got Zooflix, so, yeah nah just take your pick," slurred Mick making his way to the pantry.
"Whoa there cowpup, settle down. I'll fetch the goodies, just go set yourself down on that couch o'er there," offered Fangmeyer, barring Mick from continuing.
"And they say chivalry is dead. My thanks madam," Mick said with a posh accent, bowing as best he could with multiple layers of clothing.
As Fangmeyer stumbled back with a bowl and some chips, she spotted Mick hunched over the remote and hand over his mouth in contemplation, looking over the selection of movies.
"Found anything?" Fangmeyer asked, pouring the chips.
"I'm pretty soused right now so I've not a clue. Do you know any movie that we can just watch and not need a brain?"
"Ha! Yeah, I've just the thing."
Taking the remote from Mick, Fangmeyer put on her movie, something about a terrorist attack and a group of soldiers doing heroic deeds; Mick couldn't really tell but it seemed brainless enough.
As the two watched the film in their stupor, Fangmeyer could feel the couch gently shaking. Looking over, she saw Mick shivering quite violently, eyes not leaving the screen.
I mean, this is just so he can warm up, thought Fangmeyer as she moved closer to the dingo, wrapping a muscular arm around him. Nearly jumping, Mick turned to look at her in surprise.
"Don't worry bud, m'not gonna bite you," reassured Fangmeyer. "Just getting you warm is all."
Too tired to talk back, Mick simply got comfortable and began to slowly nestle in.
Fangmeyer could feel the shivers begin to fade the longer she held him and she felt… nice.
As the movie ended, Mick let out a loud and drawn out yawn, smacking his lips after, prompting Fangmeyer to do the same.
"S'not a bad movie, Fang. Well it is, but it looked c-cool at least," said Mick as he started stretching. "Bed's b-been made and it's-s all yours when you want it. Just lemme fetch a pillow and I'll cop the couch."
"Um, no you won't," Fangmeyer said sternly. "You're sick as shit and staying out on a couch will do you no favours. Come, you're taking the bed."
"Sorry to deny you Fang, but this couch can barely hold your leg, let alone your entire body."
Taking the bundled canine, she carried him to his room. "Yeah no way I'd sleep on that couch. You're coming with me."
As the gears in his head finally started to turn, Mick gasped. "Whoa, w-whoa, wait on. Are you s-sure you're comfortable with sharing a-a bed?"
"Hell yeah I'm comfortable with it. You've got a good bed," Fangmeyer said nonchalantly while shedding her jacket.
"That's n-not what I meant…" Mick relented as he took of the bulky ski jacket on the top of his mound of clothing and lying down on the mattress.
"Alright Mick, you take the left and I'll take the right. Just face the other way and it'll be fine, alright?"
Nodding an 'I guess so', Mick followed Fangmeyer into bed and got comfortable.
While Mick practically passed out as soon as he closed his eyes, Fangmeyer was having a great deal letting sleep claim her. Mick's intermittent shivers were vibrating the bed and kept her up and looking over he shoulder, she spotted him almost balled up. Whatever fever he had was a doozy, and it made Fangmeyer glad that diseases didn't tend to cross the species barrier. However the sight of her friend struggling to retain heat didn't sit well with her; well, that, and she needed her 'beauty' sleep. After considering it for a brief moment, Fangmeyer slowly turned over, trying not to rouse the sleeping dingo, and pulled his back into her chest. While he at first began to squirm, Mick began to settle down and eventually nestled himself into Fangmeyer's embrace. Just as planned, Mick's shivers died down, and with that, Fangmeyer began to doze off.
The two of them had the most comfortable sleep they've had in a while.
