They might have worried about Chief Bogo under normal circumstances, but neither the fox nor the rabbit care too much in that moment. He is in the other room, anyway – the apartment, more specifically – and they figure they will hear the buffalo as he stomps toward the open front door, giving them ample time to separate their arms from around each other's bodies.
One could consider it cuddling, but it is a bit of a strong term, anyway. Judy Hopps rests her head against Nick Wilde's chest, immovable except for her slow, minute breathing, the rest of her body splayed out against the flower print-wallpapered hallway of the five-story apartment building with the green door. The fox's head, meanwhile, is reclined against the wall, his back lazily propped up beside it.
She came as soon as she got his text, tossing back what was left of her gin and tonic and passing some cash to Artie Colston to pay with since the barkeep was not nearby – which Colston refused and agreed to cover anyway – before excusing herself from their admittedly engrossing conversation to hop across the Meadowlands to where she had last left Nick, just a few hours before, on the outside stoop.
For his part, Nick had left out in his text most of the details about the visitor in his mother's apartment unit, about the shiny blade, the clinking noise, the sudden flight out, he assumed, the open window he had been stupid enough to keep open. It was not until Judy arrived that she heard them detailed out in front of her like a card game with many moves, all of which had their share of other little goings-on that led to that moment.
Judy sighs, her breath escaping against the fabric of Nick's undershirt, watching it ripple over the red fur beneath.
She feels a soft flick against the fur atop her head, and her ears dart up instinctively as she, too, hears the approaching footsteps. They scramble off each other, untangling limbs and smoothing out wrinkles in clothing, by the time Bogo's head pokes around the doorframe.
"Wilde. A moment?"
"How long are we talking? I'd like to get back to that beauty sleep."
Snorting, the buffalo motions inside. "Quit the wisecracking and we'll all be back in bed a lot sooner." His eyes narrow as he looks past the fox. "Hopps," he adds. "Come in too. Perhaps you can keep your partner to task."
"Permission to use brute force?" asks the rabbit with a pronounced yawn.
"Permitted."
Nick frowns as he enters his mother's apartment, clambering up to a seat at the dining room table. "Sheesh. Whole lot of talk of violence against a guy who almost got offed just now."
Bogo shuts the door behind them, settling into a crossed-arm lean against the frame, while Judy takes a seat across from the fox at the kitchen table. Nick's mother is nowhere to be found, though her bedroom door is shut, as is the living room window.
"Mrs. Wilde is back in bed," the chief starts, "and I will have officers posted in the hallway and outside the building this evening. Though it seems she may not have been the target, is that correct?"
"Whatever went bump in the night came and visited me first, that's for sure."
"And only did so once you were on the premises. From what I understand, your mother hasn't had a run-in with the law or fallen afoul of anyone who might wish to harm her."
Nick nods slowly, seeing no reason to disagree. Whatever the Wildes' life decisions in the past as a whole, his mother had always taken the road more traveled, played it safe. Someone had to.
"Wilde," the chief speaks again, his voice lower than before, perhaps remembering the slumbering fox in the other room whose apartment they have briefly commandeered. "No funny business here. Have you told me everything you know about the Lawson family?"
"…aside from what I told you and the other officers at the precinct?"
Uncrossing his arms, Bogo strides across the living room, past the seated fox and his rabbit partner, silent as she watches the conversation unfold. He pauses only once he is at the window, glancing out into the street below.
"First, I find you and Officer Hopps on the underground back doorstep of precinct one on the night when an alleged criminal announces his return to Zootopia. Then, said criminal is suddenly exonerated by a tipoff we received blaming his brother –directly after the two of you," he draws his gaze from the scene outside to glare at his two officers, "visit. The fellow officer paired with you then mysteriously vanishes while investigating this case with you.
"And now," he points a hoof at the couch on which Nick had been sleeping soundly a little over an hour prior, "I was this close to having to investigate a crime scene with an officer of mine's body laying right there on that sofa."
He paused, exhaling a long breath. "Someone seems to want you dead, Wilde, or at least harmed. And if you know the reason why that is," he shifts his gaze from Nick to Judy, "either of you, then you need to tell me why right here and now, otherwise the ZPD cannot help you."
Silence overtakes the room, the lone sound a ticking clock above the couch that suddenly seems much louder and more obnoxious than Nick ever recalls it being. But Bogo seems in no hurry to break it, and for her part Judy swears to muteness as well, even though she is certain the chief has caught the fox in a lie – or a stretching of the truth, as he might put it.
Instead, she heard the very thing she knows to be false.
"I saw a guy get killed 20 years ago," Nick replies resolutely. "Nothing more."
"Maybe someone recognized him from back then," offers Judy, a train of thought entering her mind that still does not make a lick of sense to her but is better, she feels, than remaining silent.
Bogo steps away from the window, his eyes on Nick and Nick alone despite his response that is tailored toward Judy. "You're saying that they recognized some teenage fox two decades later, figured out his name and his whereabouts, and have been tracking him since?"
The rabbit swallows.
"Sure. Nick, you were all over the streets back then, weren't you?"
Stoically, the fox nods.
"Then there's a chance Lawson or one of his goons at least knew his name. Shoot, Nick, maybe your friend that was with you is in danger too," she adds, whipping around and facing him expectantly.
"I… think he moved out to the country. Foxgrove," he says, his eyes wandering for a moment to the ceiling. "I think he's fine. But you're right, Hopps. That could be…"
He is cut off by a loud grunt emitted by the buffalo, who takes to pacing once, twice, a third time in front of them, hooves stomping on the floor as much as he can seem to manage without waking Mrs. Wilde or one of her neighbors.
The third time, he makes his way to the door and then turns back toward them with a hoof massaging his forehead, barely missing the fox and bunny's exchange of anxious glances.
"I'll escort you home."
"You don't have to…" Judy starts.
"Hopps, remind me where I made an offer and not a direct order."
"But my apartment is halfway across the city –"
"Just stay the night with me, Carrots."
Two heads swivel toward Nick, who returns their expressions with a shrug. "I crash at your place all the time. What's the big deal?"
"Well, yeah…" Judy begins, about to remind him how he always insists on doing so but has always maintained some kind of excuse as to why it would not work out inversely.
"Nope," Bogo holds up a hoof. "Whatever it is, don't care. Wilde's place it is. You can sort it out when you get there. And close your windows, please."
The chief rolls his eyes, it dawning on him that two of his officers occasionally stayed the night with each other, and that he now owes money to Clawhauser because of it.
xXxXxXx
When Judy lived in Bunnyburrow, waking up to the smell of coffee was a regular occurrence, an expectation rather than a rarity. Not that she partook until she was nearly out of high school; the taste never enticed her, and even the aroma was less a satisfying sensation and more an unwelcome reminder that she had to get out of bed, regardless of her present state.
Nowadays, this was limited to the times she visited her parents, Stu Hopps putting on a few pots shortly after the crack of dawn as he had for decades, and rarely otherwise.
Though Nick's apartment was, apparently, an exception.
And she would not have minded, except...
"So, all this time..." she begins as soon as he rounds the corner into the bedroom, the rays of the early morning sun alighting his features from the tiny, fogged-out window next to the bed.
The fox freezes, clearly not having expected Judy to be awake yet but also quickly realizing that to which she refers.
"This is about the coffee, isn't it?" he cuts her off cheerily, jerking his head back toward the kitchen.
"I'd say 'smart fox,' but -"
"I dunno, I thought you'd want to wake up to the smell in your five-star accommodations."
Huffing, Judy leans up from her pillow and props herself up with her elbows, glaring at the fox. "Even though you told me you didn't have a coffee pot."
"Did I?"
"Which is the excuse you use for us buying it each morning."
"That so?"
"And that's why you're late to the bullpen half the time."
"Oh, well, that just don't do."
The rabbit rolls her eyes as she leans up further, stretching her arms over her head. The scene around the room is surprisingly clean, or cleaner than she expected Nick Wilde's bedroom to be. Originally, she thought the lateness of the evening combined with dim lighting had played tricks on her eyes.
There are still a few design choices she would not make, like the tiny television set being placed to the left of the bed rather than at its foot, or really some more interior decoration at all, since the bed is accompanied merely by a dresser on which the TV sits plus a small nightstand to her right whose only use seems to be to have different glasses of liquid spilled on it, probably in the middle of the night or in the morning when peripheral senses are not up to code yet.
But it is quaint, much like the place she moved into a year before, an upgrade over her tiny studio from when she first moved to Zootopia. Really, she is not sure why Nick never allowed her inside before then, insisting instead on meeting at her place or somewhere in the city.
Then she remembers the coffee pot, and while she is sure it is not the sole reason, she decides to pretend it is anyway, rather than dwell too long on a subject that might ruin an otherwise restful sleep.
"So, admit it."
Nick, clearly with a shower under his belt that morning judging by the still-fluffed-up fur at random places on his exposed forearms and atop his head, sits down on the edge of the bed, grinning. In this time, he has procured two mugs, each with no relation to the other – a ZPD cup from their fundraiser last winter and one containing the Bugburga logo, which Judy finds ironic given that the fast food chain has never, to her knowledge, served coffee. And even if it did, Nick would not be caught dead drinking it.
"Well," starts Nick, blowing slightly in between words onto the steaming brew, "I could tell you I just bought it, but that probably wouldn't suffice, huh?"
"Did you?"
"I… what's the right answer here?"
"Just admit you don't like making it at home and prefer it from a café," says Judy, a hint of disdain snaking beneath her voice. "Let me guess: whatever brand you bought months ago isn't very good."
"Oh, absolutely. Terrible, even."
Moments later, when she takes her first sip, Judy finds she is inclined to agree.
It is a few minutes afterward when Judy, left by Nick to get dressed for the day, emerges from the bedroom, still clutching that awful cup of coffee she is determined to finish, if only to prove the point to him that it is not so bad, even if she does not fully believe it herself.
She finds the fox already in his uniform for the day, which surprises her until she notices the clothes hanger dangling from the wall next to the living room window that now seems to hold an upcoming day's roster of casual attire.
"Makes getting dressed go a lot quicker," Nick says from the couch, noticing the direction of her glance.
"Think I just expected everything to be strewn all over the apartment, that's all," she replies, joining him.
Nick rolls his eyes, pointing to himself with both paws. "Tailor's son, Carrots. You really think I wouldn't take care of my clothes, at least?"
She sighs, taking another swig of her coffee. Nick follows. They do not mention the night before, when the two of them, exhausted, both clambered into the same bed without even thinking of the fact that they would be sharing it with the other.
Nor do they discuss the wandering arm one caught curled around the other's body in the early hours of the morning.
Glancing around for the time, Judy eventually finds a digital clock on the side table next to the couch and snorts. "Half hour until roll call. Think we'll make it?"
"Nah," says Nick with a quick shake of his head, adding a small grin. "Definitely tardy. But I think we've earned it."
xXxXxXx
Except it probably would have been better for them to arrive on time.
Nick gets the text first, a rare few-word message from Clawhauser, who is usually long-winded with his correspondences. He reads it a couple of times over before passing the phone to Judy, who stops in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks from the station.
"Oh… oh," the rabbit sputters, Nick following her eyes as they dart back and forth over each word again and again. "Oh, cheese and crackers, that's—"
She hands Nick back his phone, or rather nearly throws it, barely paying enough mind to ensure he catches it, leaving the fox to fumble the device in his paws, very close to dropping it as she pulls out her own.
"Carrots, you better not be texting who I think you're texting…" her partner warns once he finally maintains a strong hold on his phone, sending Judy an uneasy glare.
To be fair, she is not. She knows full well that doing so would potentially become more trouble than it was worth, could even cost her a job.
Which is why she is texting Finnick instead.
"I know," she says candidly, typing the last few letters and thrusting her phone back into her pocket. "I texted Finnick."
"…I… ugh, Rabbit, I swear—"
"I'm not letting Fru Fru get caught up in this," she says with a wave of her paw, adding after a beat: "Or Judy."
Nick exhales loudly through his nose, crossing his arms. "Yeah, but if they trace it back to you…"
"They won't. Finnick is discreet. You know that. And he knows the secret back way in and out."
Smacking a paw to his face, Nick lets it run slowly down the length of his snout and cheek, tugging on the fur beneath his eyelid. She hears him groan, and fleetingly she thinks that maybe her decision was not totally sound, but she swallows it down.
She would not let Mr. Big's family get caught up in his mess.
"What'd you tell him?" Nick asks eventually, his voice lower than before, not defeated but closer to it.
"Asked if he was going to see Fru today. Y'know, since they're friends now and all."
"Which still shocks me to no end. That fox barely likes me."
"Surprised me too. But he and I agreed on a message like this, just in case something ever happened and we needed to get her out of there. You know… this sort of thing."
Nick clicks his tongue. "You mean Big would get caught up in something shady, like a kidnapping? What's this world coming to?"
"I just wish I'd seen it sooner," groans Judy, turning back toward the precinct. "Bogo'll probably say the same thing."
"You're right. C'mon, Hopps, let's go get our 40 lashes."
But if Chief Bogo has any mind to punish his two smallest officers for lacking such due diligence the previous day, he does not seem to feel that it needs to happen just yet. The buffalo is waiting for both Judy and Nick when they arrive at the front door of the station, leaning against the dispatch desk with Clawhauser, though he appears uninterested in making any sort of small talk with the cheetah, who shoots the bunny and fox a look of concern when they entered.
Instead, Bogo silently motions to the bullpen, and after exchanging an apprehensive glance, the pair obliges, following the buffalo inside.
"Remember," mutters Nick through gritted teeth, emitting as soft a vocal as he can muster as they near the door, "Ben did us a favor by texting me. We don't actually know what's coming, as far as Bogo knows."
Judy nods, steeling herself internally with a deep breath, clenching her paws into fists. She does not appreciate the ambush she knew was coming, though she understands why it had to be done.
The air is dense inside the bullpen, the room quiet but the mood anticipatory. Captain Artie Colston is there, leaning against the window at the other side of the room, giving Judy a quick nod when their eyes meet. With all that had happened in the previous 12 hours or so, she has almost completely forgotten their conversation the night before at Pawper's, or the insight he gave her that she had planned to use with Nick that day. She realizes she has not even shared the information with her partner yet, not about the Swintons, Sneak's meeting or anything of the sort.
It has been a rough few hours.
Bogo and Colston are joined by a few other officers, some of them from the first precinct and others Judy still does not quite recognize, though she has seen a few of them around the station the previous few days. Still, some are missing – like Francine, for instance, and Fangmeyer as well. Judy also does not see Captain Geoffers, who has had Bogo's ear for much of the week, quite the visible presence around the office, and Colston's closest officer, Tigoro, is also absent.
"Whose funeral is it?" Nick breaks the silence, shutting the door behind them and hoping the answer to his question is not too unpleasant.
Luckily, if Bogo has any mind to scold either officer, he is cut off by Colston, who reveals that which they already know.
"We found Wolfie, we think," the wolf growls, folding his arms across his chest. "Got a tipoff that Big has him. Geoffers and Tigoro are en route leading a welcoming party as we speak."
The words that have been on the tip of Judy's tongue ever since she first read the news from Clawhauser finally leave her mouth: "Why would Big want Wolfie, or any officer of the ZPD, for that matter?"
Bogo struts from the podium at the front of the bullpen, walking slowly until he towers above Nick and Judy, his expression irresolute.
"That," he booms, "is what we're hoping the two of you can tell us."
