"Thanks for not getting that on the floor," Gideon said while fetching Bo some water.
"Don't mention it," he replied weakly, accepting the token of refreshment.
"At least in polite company," quipped Nick as he sealed the vat, coughing some with a wave of his paw over his nose.
"I really liked that vat, too," lamented the stouter fox, "I'll stash it in the closet and then haul it off to a compost heap as soon as I can. The cream would clog up my drains if I tried pouring it out."
A sharp knock on the backdoor brought the three of them to attention, and then Nick snapped his fingers, "Why, that must be Judy," which brought a different kind of smile to each of their faces. Gideon, the closest, opened the door to a grinning Judy Hopps and a pickup truck, filled with canisters of cream from none other than Ms. Clara's Soy Farm.
"Hey guys, sorry it took so long," she said, turning back and giving a thumbs-up to the bovine driver, a slender old bison, whom giggled and killed the engine before stepping out.
"Gideon, my red velvet cupcake, why didn't you say you needed cream?" she said in a subtle low and a warm smile, "You know I'm always happy to provide you whatever you need."
"Gosh, Ms. Clara, I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner, but I woulda felt bad if I turned down what was given to me," he said, reaching up to drop the tailgate, "It made some real nasty stuff, though. Say, d'you still have that compost pit where you dump all yer bad cream? I could use that right about now."
"Of course, always, just put it in the back of the truck and I'll truck it away," Clara tittered, and smiled wider as she saw Bo step quickly into view to touch noses with Judy, "Ohh, Bo, as handsome as ever, it's great to see you again. Thank you for taking out that stump last week, it was frightfully ugly."
"Any time, Ms. C," he grinned, hoisting Judy up onto the open tailgate with ease.
"Oh my, and this charming fellow must be Nick," she cooed, extending her hoof to the taller fox as he hopped up into the bed of the truck with Judy.
"The pleasure's all mine," insisted Nick with a disarming smile, touching the very tip of his muzzle to the back of her knuckles in a manner most dapper.
"Such a gentlefox," she swooned, batting her long-lashed eyes before bending forward to lean on the side, watching as Nick & Judy wobbled a canister to the edge of the bed so either Bo or Gideon could haul it into the kitchen. "It's so wonderful to see foxes and rabbits working together. It seems like only yesterday- oh, listen to an old fuddy-duddy like me, reminiscing when there's work to be done. I brought some sandwiches for everyone, you young folk need your strength!" she said, humming a happy diddy as she reached behind the driver's seat of her truck to pull out some paper bags.
"Err, what'd you mean jus' now, Clara?" asked Gideon, pausing the production as everyone looked to the bovine.
"Oh, nothing but an old biddy's ramblings, pay no attention to me," she insisted, setting the paper bags down in the bed, "How're Goliath & Ruth enjoying their Caribouan Cruise? I'm so envious of them; maybe I should go one of these days."
"Well," answered Gideon, rubbing the nape of his neck, "They turned their phones off, so I guess they're having fun. Should be back later this week," he looked to Nick as he hoisted another canister of cream, "They'll wanna meetcha, Stretch, if you can stay?"
"That depends, if Nick wants to use up all his sick days in a week," Judy said, smirking at her partner.
"I have a very convincing cough, years of experience," the fox smirked right back.
"I hope you don't mind my prying, Nick, but I know nothing about your parents. What do they do?" Clara asked, anticipation high in her tone.
"I don't mind at all, Clara," assured Nick, sitting down on side of the truck with his feet on the wheel well, Judy straddling the side of the truck nearer the bovine, inspecting the bag lunches. This extra space gave Gideon & Bo room to load the vat of whipped cream into the bed. "John & Jackie Wilde, he's a tailor and she keeps house, lived in Zootopia for as long as I've known them, so at least 30 years," he said with a grin, "Also, I suggest you not open this unless absolutely necessary, it's pretty bad."
"Turkey, cheese, & tomato sandwiches for the foxes," listed Judy, handing one to each, "Lettuce, cucumber, & bean sprouts for the rabbits. Nothing for yourself, Ms. Clara?"
"Oh, you're a sweetheart Judy, but no, I have plenty to eat back at the farm."
"Hey Nick," said Gideon after long minute of thoughtful chewing, "You said your Mom's name was 'Jackie'? This is a shot in the dark, but her maiden name wouldn't happen to be 'Savage', would it?"
"Yes, why?" Nick asked hesitantly.
"Oh my gosh!" Judy suddenly said, ears sprung like traps, "Are you two cousins?"
"Uhh, I-I dunno, I mean, Ma's maiden name is 'Savage', and she always said that her 'Jackie' was 'lost to some Wilde fox in the city' – I never figured she meant 'Wilde' as a name until now. Heck, Ma's from a litter of six, so... maybe?"
"That'd be an amazing coincidence if you weren't cousins," Bo said, finally swallowing his mouthful of sandwich.
"I guess Mrs. Grey didn't go into depth about this wayward sibling of hers," Nick remarked, "Ringing any bells, Clara?"
"Mmmm," she lowed in thought, "None a bit. I didn't know Ruth very well before she and Goliath moved into town from Knottedwood. He cleared the land and built that house himself, you know," Gideon grunted a monosyllabic confirmation to this, "He makes the most wonderful furniture, why, I have an endtable myself, lovely little thing. Well, I won't keep you youngin's any longer, not when there's a whole Saturday of youth ahead of you."
"Thank you again for all the help, Ms. Clara, you've been amazing," said Judy, neatly folding up her paper bag and hopping from the side of the truck.
"Oh, t'weren't a thing at all," tittered the old, slender bison, "And don't you worry none about this nasty stuff in here, I know what to do with it." As the four stood at the bakery's kitchen, Ms. Clara drove off into the hazy afternoon. Nick, Gideon, & Bo each made to enter the backdoor and nearly jumped as Judy stood in their path, arms crossed and smirking.
"So," she said.
"So..." replied Nick.
"There's some... explaining that needs to happen?" suggested Bo.
"There is," she agreed, and turned on a heel to walk inside.
"I... didn't believe them about the whipped cream, at first," admitted Bo, "I honestly thought they were stringin' me along."
"It took quite a bit of convincing, but it all came out in the end, wouldn't you agree?" asked Nick with broad smile.
"He upchucked into the vat," explained Gideon, leaning to Judy with a paw at the side of his mouth, to which she grimaced.
"I still hate you both," scowled Bo, sweeping a glare at either fox.
"Be that as it may, the issue at hand is the whipped cream," asserted Nick, "We've got a day-&-a-half to get enough made so it doesn't look like we threw out the other stuff."
"This keeps getting weirder and weirder," grumbled Bo.
"You're right," Judy said to Bo, and then held his paw, "Thank you for sticking through with this, Bobo, it means a lot to me."
"Okay, Juju," he said, and leaned in to touch noses. Nick & Gideon exchanged incredulity.
"Just like that?" challenged Gideon.
"Just like that," affirmed Bo.
"And you're not writing it off as an upset stomach, because you ate too much whipped cream at once?" criticized Nick.
"This guy chugs pudding before juggling kettle weights," Judy explained, "He's got an iron stomach."
"Where were you when we had to prove Heaven & Hell to this guy?" Nick asked Judy.
"I was off doing impossible things, Slick," she said with that cocky smirk tilting her head, "Where were you?"
"Going insane," he answered, gesturing with a twirl of his fingers at the sides of his head, "But I'm willing to let it slide this one time, since we're on such a tight schedule."
"Right, so, what we've got here is enough cream to last the week," began Gideon, stooping to retrieve his big bowls from the open shelf under the counter, "Bo, you're whippin', keep it a quick, steady pace. Nick, you're pourin' in the sunflower oil, not too much but not too little at a time. Judy, there're a whole buncha plastic containers in the backroom, I need you to clean 'em, dry 'em, and fill 'em with whipped cream." Judy's face hardened into grinning determination as she saluted, and then sped off to gather up the Tupperware.
"A little bit of sunflower oil, for that Grey's Bakery froth," Nick thought aloud.
"Actually," began Bo, "It's a common misconception that whipped cream is mostly cream. It's actually one part cream to three parts organic oil, usually sunflower."
"Wow, learn something new every day," Nick said, and then exchanged an eye roll with Gideon to once more pity the lost nuance. "And what're you doing, oh master of the kitchen?"
"I'm mixin' the cream and the dry sweetener," he explained, retrieving whisks for Bo and himself, "I should have enough for all of it."
They worked through the afternoon, in time feeling the machinations of team cooperation for a fluid system. As the last drop of cream mixed with the last bit of oil, Judy sealed the last Tupperware into the last fridge-space. Sunlight travelled up the wall towards the ceiling in a rich, earthen gold, speaking its final thoughts of the day. Bo lay collapsed on the kitchen's tiled floor, ice packs covering from shoulders to fingertips.
"I'm skipping arm-day this week," he mumbled, Judy tiptoeing up-&-down his back.
"That's my big bun," she cooed, crouching to stroke his ears, toes curling around his neck to continue the therapeutic kneading.
Nick swabbed up the remains of spilled cream & sunflower oil (as much as a mop could handle, in any case, since it also got on him), while Gideon washed the mixing things.
"I'm surprised to see neither hide nor hair of your sister, being in town as she is," Nick whispered while leaning in to address the stouter fox.
"Oh, she's probably with friends, or something," he said, if a bit dejected, "haven't even heard from her, yet. Think I should call?" He pulled the sink's stopper to let the sudsy water drain out.
"A text message wouldn't go amiss. I'll take care of drying these," offered Nick, taking up a towel. Gideon smiled and grabbed a towel for himself, patting his paws dry before pulling out his phone. "So, how's our whipping boy?" Nick asked, returning to normal volume.
"He's fine," Judy answered.
"I'm fine..." Bo grumbled.
"Alright, up up, big guy," she said, climbing off and clapping his shoulder, "We're gonna be late for supper."
"Can't have that," he grunted, sliding his arms out from the limp ice packs as Judy gathered them up.
"D'you bunnies need a ride?" Gideon asked, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
"Thanks, Gideon, but I promised my parents to meet them at the bus depot as a condition of 'hanging out' today," she sighed with anticipatory frustration, "My Uncle Terry's coming in tonight, and he's still a bit..." she tapped her temple with an apologetic shrug, "They're gonna need all the help they can get."
"Oh, Uncle Terry," said Bo, rubbing the back of his head in uncertainty.
"Perhaps better to skip those introductions, at least tonight," suggested Nick, stashing the mixing bowls and whisks away.
"Let me know if you meet up with Esther, okay?" said Judy as she & Bo went out the back door and around to the front.
"One of these days, I will get a conversation pass her," said Nick, leaning out the kitchen door to peek through the bakery's window and spotting the pair of rabbits on the sidewalk, "Any word yet?"
"No," admitted Gideon, "but it's only been a few minutes. C'mon, we need to get the sunflower oil outta these clothes."
"The washing machine is...?"
"I have it 'round the si- What're you doin'?" asked Gideon, halting as he brought up the dish soap from under the sink.
"I'm... undressing?" guessed Nick, his shirt already halfway unbuttoned.
"Don't you wanna, ya'know, go up to change, and then bring the oily clothes down afterwards?" suggested Gideon, earning a bewildered stare from Nick.
"No, because that would require multiple trips and I am a lazy fox," he explained, "Besides, we saw each other naked this morning, remember?"
"Oh, oh yeah, huh..." he trailed off.
Nick shrugged off his shirt and tie to hand them over to Gideon, "Plus, your bakery is up against an empty lot, which is up against the woods, so I'm not altogether worried someone might see me without my shirt."
"Right, because that'd be dumb, to worry about it, I mean," Gideon tried, with an awkward chuckle.
"What's the matter, Bangs, is it because Bo's got a six-pack and you've got a keg?" asked the taller fox while leaning on the counter, "That doesn't mean you should think any less of yourself. Look at me," Nick then gestured to his own physique, "I'm a twig, I have to run around in the rain to get wet."
"N-no, it's not that, I jus'... I'll get your shirt done first, and then I'll do mine," he said, squirting a bit too much dish soap directly onto the oil spot for scrubbing, and then initiated with gusto. "I got cooking oil on my sleeves all the time, that's why I roll 'em up."
"Sensible," replied Nick, I imagine you keep your pants clean by pulling them down before using the toilet, too. He studied the baker a moment, and then smirked, "You must have a really embarrassing tattoo, huh? You know, it's only dyed fur, shave it off and it'll grow back in a few months."
"I don't have... I mean, this morning, that jus' kinda happened, a one-time thing, but we had a good laugh about it, right?" he rambled, all the while scrubbing harder, fiercer, feverishly on the shirt until it ripped with a harsh yelp of personal annoyance, "Gosh, Nick, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... I have some other shirts you can borrow-"
"Bangs, relax," assured Nick with a quick pat on the shoulder, "it's an old shirt, I have more, and this'll make a decent dishrag."
"Okay, okay," he recovered, gradually, still lamenting the torn shirt before balling it up and tossing it into a nearby bucket.
"This means you're starting on your shirt now, right?" Nick tested. Gideon froze like he did in the shower, as if completely vulnerable before the taller fox. Whatever you're bashful about can't possibly be that bad, he speculated, his quirked brow & wry smile a downy challenge that the stouter fox could still turn down. However, the frown on his face and the lump in his throat spoke volumes about how cornered he felt, not by Nick, but his own inner turmoil.
"I-I-I guess so, huh...?" Gideon said, shuffling his feet to face Nick. His paws trembled as he tugged at the top button, gazing down at it, his breath shallow & slow until it finally popped open. His looked up to check on Nick, but found that he was practically lounging against the counter, glancing off to some other direction in patient nonchalance. Gideon continued downward, checking less and less as more and more buttons opened.
"There, see?" said Nick as Gideon wrung his paws around his shirt, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"I...I guess not, huh?"
"Now, give us a turn and we'll see what you're so worried about," Nick said, gesturing with a twirl of his finger, Nothing on the front, but then, you weren't hiding your belly this morning, were you? Gideon froze again, and stiffly shook his head. Nick quirked his brow higher, "Look, whatever's back there I promise I won't tell anyone, okay? Cross my heart," and drew an 'X' over his chest.
The stouter fox finally whimpered some relenting affirmation and pivoted ever-so-slowly, laying his shirt out on the counter to busy himself. Deciding to meet him halfway, Nick stepped around to Gideon's back for inspection. There's nothing here, except an obvious need for a trim, he observed, leaning in and squinting in the dim light, his nocturnal eyes compensating adequately, Some minor discoloration, but nothing weird, except how tense Gideon is. He glanced down at the curled tail, its puff-o-meter cranked to 11, Time to diffuse this situation.
"Ahh, I see..." he began, and before Gideon's fur could stand even more on end, he quickly continued, "There is this... spare tire!" He clapped the stouter fox's love handles, something he saw other cops doing to Clawhauser and hoped against hope this might have a similar effect. Gideon breathed sharply, paws gripping the counter for dear life as he loosed a shrill, extended string of rapid-fire, uncontrollable laughter. Oh, thank goodness, begged Nick as he kept at it, tickling the rotund sides until Gideon rolled on the floor, arms tucked in to protect from the onslaught. The muttered phrases "I hate you" and "I hate you so much" were disproved by the enveloping merriment.
Nick vaulted back and edged towards the door as Gideon immediately sprung to his feet with fangs and claws, "I'mma kill you dead, Stretch," he vowed through heaves and panting.
"You'll have to catch me, first," Nick teased, swishing his tail and whipping out the door, pursuit hot on his heels. He was chased around the van, ducking around one corner and then doubling back, springing around to blindside the riled Gideon for a tail-tug. A mad dash broke out towards the woodland at the end of the lot, laughter echoing through the air.
"You get back here so I can kill you!" demanded Gideon.
"That's not how incentive works!" called Nick, hurdling the lower rung of the fence between the woods and the lot. He dashed into the carpet of foliage and twisting roots of the twilight tree line for several yards before looking over his shoulder to the barely visible, Bunnyburrow sky beyond the canopy, but saw no sign of Gideon. He stopped to regain his breath, realizing that he'd run into a firefly-lit area he'd never been before. "Bangs?" he asked the dim light, and pivoted to return to the empty lot when he was tackled to the leafy ground.
"Looks like I gotcha, Stretch, 'cause you can't outrun me in these here woods," he growled, pinning the slenderer fox to the ground with curled lips and bared fangs. He opened his jaws to close them again around Nick's nose and chin, but only for an instant. After a smug smirk, he sprung with agility unbefitting his portly physique and darted back to town, roaring in laughter.
"Hey!" called Nick, clambering to his feet and running after his adversary, "I get to bite you back, that's how this works!"
"Not if I touch the van!" Gideon declared, hopping the fence and dashing with all his strength.
"No fair, making up rules!"
"Cry cry, baby foxy!"
Nick held advantage in a straight run, closing the gap as soon as he touched the empty lot, but Gideon's head-start was substantial. Both foxes leaped in the last few yards, the stouter reaching for the bumper at a long dive while the taller pounced at a sharp angle. In a cloud of dust, the two slid an extra few inches with Nick the one pinning.
"I got the tire, you can't bite me," mocked Gideon, and indeed, his paws pressed against the rubber wheel.
"That doesn't count," huffed Nick, crossing his arms.
"It's part of the van, ain't it?"
"Well, I still get to bite you because I caught you before you touched the van."
"Nuh-uh, you can't bite me after I touched the van, that's what I said."
"Don't make me tickle you again," warned Nick.
"Get off me!" laughed Gideon, bucking him to the side before rolling to his feet, extending a paw to aid Nick. Both foxes laughed as they clapped dust off themselves.
"I'm hungry, are you hungry?"
"I'm starving," announced Gideon, "so tonight, we're having stir fry."
"Oh, is there a Bamboo Paradise nearby, and if so, can we also get wontons?" asked Nick as they walked around the van, to the stairs leading up to the apartment.
"Nope, I'm making it myself," Gideon revealed, ducking first into the bakery's kitchen to pull close and secure the exit.
"Right, how can you want to cook anything after today?"
"I guess I'm in a real good mood right now," beamed the stouter fox, twirling his keys around a finger and climbing the stairs up to his apartment door, unlocking the passageway to his bachelor den and the promise of dinner beyond, "but first, a shirt."
"Yes, we wouldn't want to give Bo any more credence than he already has," Nick remarked, heading into the bathroom to search for one of his scruffier shirts, and change out for a cleaner pair of pants. In the solitude of the bathroom, Nick took a moment to think while clapping dust from his tail into the tub. So, why's Gideon so nervous about his back, anyway? Sure, he's pudgy, but he's no Benjamin Clawhauser, and it shows more on his front anyway. Maybe he simply doesn't like others behind him... he did say he was teased as a kit, it's possible he was traumatized by others sneaking up on him. Enough of that over a long period of time would make anyone jumpy.
Nick pulled on some lounging clothes and walked out into the living room, hearing the sounds of kitchen-based preperation. Before Nick made himself known, he stood in front of the couch, but out of sight from the kitchen to study the family picture on the wall. At first glance, it was clear where Gideon's bangs came from, the paternal fox boasted a shaggy pair that hung past his uniquely dark muzzle, 'Goliath', huh? he pondered, only now fully grasping the sheer size of Gideon's father, That's an earned name if I ever heard one.
Goliath looked somewhere between a wolf and a fox, in both size and appearance, especially the paws big enough to cover young Gideon's torso. Were they ever raised in anger, I wonder... He thought back to a particular class in ZPD training, nicknamed the "Bad-Touch" class, which taught cadets to recognize signs of physical abuse and violence by touch, since most mammals have fur thick enough to hide scars & bruises; Nick lamented slacking in those lessons for this specific moment.
He returned to the portrait on the wall, eyes following around the family until he saw whom, he reasoned, was young Esther. She certainly takes more after her father, look at those bangs, he thought, and those ears, the arms, the eyes... nose... Hmm, not much of Ruth in her, is there? Nick stepped up to get a closer look, but also into line-of-sight from the kitchen. Gangly sort, isn't she, doesn't look anything like her mother-?
"You said you wanted wontons, Stretch?" interrupted Gideon's voice.
"By what sorcery are you making wontons?" asked Nick, quickly pivoting as though in mid-step.
"Evil most foul; promised my first born for the recipe."
"Well, they'll be waiting a long while on payment, won't they?" said the taller fox, halting in the kitchen entryway to gawk at the golden pile of stir-fried rice. Sweet heavens...
"Haha, you're funny. Before you sit down, you'd best set the table," instructed Gideon, wearing a clean shirt but still in his jeans, "Dinner with the Greys ain't a spectator sport."
"Ugh, work," groaned Nick, hovering over the chair before standing back up. He pointed his finger to recall where he saw his host stash the dishes, "So that's Ruth & Goliath over the couch, is it?"
"Yep," chuckled Gideon, pulling out the wontons from their oily dip to set them on a dripping tray, "I call 'em 'Ma' & 'Pa', though, a bit more convenient for me."
"For Esther as well, I imagine. She certainly takes after your father."
"That's 'cause she takes after only him; we're half-siblings, Essy & me," Gideon explained, taking out a serving spoon to scoop from the steaming stack, into the bowls Nick retrieved.
"Oh… is this an awkward subject or…?"
"Not a bit," chuckled Gideon, pulling a chair to sit down as Nick did the same, "We come to the understandin' that there's more to family than blood. 'Sides, we both got Pa, and Ma was Esther's wet-nurse, so we might as well be siblings." He then grinned mischievously, "Unless you & me really are cousins, then maybe we can make an exception if you take a fancy to her."
"Mmh," moaned Nick, gasping as he swallowed his first bite of the stir-fried rice, eyes rolled up into his skull, "Nope, it's settled, we're tying the knot right after dinner, cousins or not," and proceeded to shovel rice into his mouth.
"And what about the dessert?" Gideon managed amid laughter, a paw covering his mouth to catch any flying grains of rice, "I have a peach pie in there I haven't cut into yet."
"Bring it, we'll make it a wedding pie," Nick said, finishing up his bowl and thrusting it over the table, "right after this next helping."
"Alright, slow down, Stretch, you're gonna choke," he chuckled, standing up to scoop some more.
"You're right, Dad would flay me alive if he found out I was wed without one of his suits," Nick realized, accepting the new bowl of flavorful rice, "and there's still the issue of the commute. I'd spend all my time going back and forth from the precinct, I'd have hardly any time to enjoy this delicious food."
"Well, at least you changed your mind before leaving me at the altar," Gideon said with feigned lament, "that'd've broken my heart."
"And then you'd never, ever speak to me again?"
"I'd certainly never cook for you ever again."
"Whoa, whoa," Nick said, paws up in feigned concern, "let's not joke about that."
"I don't think I'm ready to settle down anyway," said Gideon as he rose from his chair, and then turned to fetch a pair of brews from the fridge, "So we'll have to settle for a bond of brotherhood, or something." He popped the caps and handed one bottle to Nick, readily standing to accept it.
"We should say a toast," pondered Nick, "I think that's how this works."
"Alright, umm…" Gideon began, "To trust, no matter if you're a bunny or a fox."
"To friends," continued Nick, "who don't keep you in a box."
"To… good food," said Gideon, and then catching the cue, he recalled a tavern toast he heard a while ago, "may it never lack?"
"To family," he clinked the neck of his bottle with Gideon's, "that always has your back."
Gideon brightened.
"Cheers," said Nick, and swigged his drink.
"Cheers," replied Gideon, and did the same, "So, I think that makes us brothers, now?"
"I think that makes us musketeers."