"This is utterly insane. This is the Mayor's house! The Mayor lives here!"

The Dreemurr residence was comfortably large. Authentic wood floors. Soothing wallpaper. Big, soft armchairs.

A sitting room, quiet and detached from the world, perfect for any occasion. Including yelling at your best friend.

Judy cringed. "It's... it's outside the box! No-one will think to look for us here."

"Yes!" said Nick. "Because if we stay we'll immediately be discovered!"

"You said I could pick the next hideout!""

"I did! Because I kinda assumed you wouldn't pick something this ridiculous! I'm legitimately going insane, Carrots, what's your excuse?!"

Judy sighed. She lowered her voice, trying to calm the atmosphere. "Nick. You aren't going insane."

"Oh, so you believe what the nine-year-old showed us?"

She met his gaze. "The picture in that book matched what you've been seeing. Right?"

"I mean..." He folded his arms. "...yeah. I guess."

"Then I believe it."

Nick sighed. He eased himself into Asgore's favourite armchair, which was considerably too large for him. It was a good problem for an armchair to have. Certainly better than the reverse.

Judy stepped a little closer, but made sure to give him space. They were alone. Sly had disappeared, and wrangled Asriel away as he went.

Just Nick and Judy.

"I don't know," said Nick. He kept his eyes on the rug. "Am I being stubborn? Is it dumb to rule stuff out so strongly?"

"Well, I see where you're coming from. It's not unreasonable..."

"Right..." he sighed. "I'm just – so tired." He buried his head in his hands. "Bellwether died, except maybe she didn't, and there's a ghost, or maybe there isn't, and it's all my fault..."

"But maybe it isn't," said Judy firmly.

"No. That's the one thing I'm sure of." He still wasn't looking at her. "Even in the best case scenario, where I'm innocent and only a little insane, I should be doing more. I should be fighting to make sure no-one else suffers with me."

"That's exactly what you're doing."

"It doesn't feel like it. Whatever about Sly, we shouldn't be endangering the Dreemurrs. They're good people. And..." His voice was quiet. "And so are you. I really don't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah," she smirked, "because I'm such a delicate flower..."

"I'm not kidding!" he snapped, more loudly than he intended. "I know you're tough. Tougher than I am. But we rely on each other now. I'm supposed to watch your back." He glared at his own shaking hands. "And how am I supposed to do that when I don't know even what's real?!"

Judy said nothing, and Nick felt a sudden rush of fear, followed by shame. Here she was, by his side like always. Trying to help. And he had lost his grip on himself and yelled, and now she was upset. Silent.

But even after years together, Judy had a knack for surprising him. She wasn't silent out of anger. She had a better idea.

Nick started when he felt a warmth around his chest. Judy had joined him on the armchair, hopping up to catch him in a tight hug.

"Wh–" He coughed, suddenly self-conscious. "What are you doing?"

"Just an idea." Her voice was soft. "I'm real, aren't I?"

"I... You feel real."

"Good." She settled into his lap. "Then maybe that's where we start. We'll work out the rest from there."

Nick focused very, very closely on the window. "Is this – This is a real bunny solution. Y'know? Hugging. Jeez."

"You want me to stop? I can stop."

Nick didn't reply. Then, firmly but gently, he returned the embrace. Pulling her close and keeping her there.

She chuckled, then went quiet. Nick lost himself in the moment, letting everything – his fear, his doubt, even the persistent itching of his spine – fade away.

He had rarely hugged anyone for this long, even his mother. Even Judy. Little details became evident. Her pulse, her breath. The texture of her fur. And under that, the muscle.

"...You've always been stronger than me," he murmured. "I give up. I give up all the time. But nothing puts you off."

"Don't put yourself down, Nick."

"It's true. One bad night set me back twenty years. But you never gave up on your dream."

She laughed. "Yeah. I held onto my dream so hard I almost broke the whole city with it."

Judy gently rubbed his back.

"I don't know when to quit. That's a real, genuine flaw. It's still something I'm working on." Her little arms were tight against him. "But it means I won't quit on you. No matter what."

"You're such a dumb bunny."

Nick's voice cracked on the last word. He held her closer, eyes scrunched against tears.

"Thank you."

She didn't reply. She didn't have to.

They stayed like that, clutching each other as though nothing else mattered. For a while, nothing did. They didn't hear Sly pad up to the door, pausing to watch them for a moment. The sight brought a quiet smile to his face. He knew better than to intrude.

He gently clicked the door shut, leaving them in peace. Instead, he ambled down the hallway. The walls were lined with family photographs, depicting the Dreemurrs throughout various happy times. Other faces dotted the hallway – apparently Mufasa Kifalme was a close friend, judging from the photograph of their two families posing together. But mostly, the collection felt very personal.

Sly slowed to a stop in front of one photograph. It focused on a young Asriel – well, younger – laughing in an amusement park. Whoever had taken the photo had angled down to his level, but there was no mistaking that the two pairs of legs in frame belonged to Toriel and Asgore.

There had been a photograph just like that in Sly's childhood home. Mom. Dad. Son.

Sly had to forcefully pull himself back to the present. The sound of heavy footsteps provided a welcome distraction.

"Hey," he said, slipping a smile into place. "Just admiring the fine art. Don't mind me."

"Oh, I see."

Before Sly stood the man of the house – a stout goat in a pink floral shirt. Asgore Dreemurr was a calming presence. He had a deep voice and spoke slowly. Despite his strong build, there was a softness to his eyes.

"Tea?"

"I'm more of a lemonade guy, but sure. Long past due I started acting my age."

With a chuckle, Asgore led him into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Sly was furnished with a chair and a warm mug.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome," said Asgore, sitting across from him.

"Not just for the drink, I mean." Sly took a sip. Inexperienced as he was with tea, he could tell Asgore made a good cup. "You're a good man. Not everybody would've given us shelter. I hear aiding and abetting fugitives is a crime."

"Well... I admit it's my first time harbouring a thief." Asgore met his gaze. "But you protected our son when no-one else could. We owe you a great debt."

"Hey, like I told your wife – I don't charge a fee or anything." He smiled, softly wry. "I'm just not as profit-driven as all the other master thieves. I see a kid in danger, I try to help. Just like anybody else would."

"Whatever your reasons, you saved his life. My family will always remember that."

Sly couldn't quite find a response. He stuck to his tea.

"As for Mister Wilde and Miss Hopps," continued Asgore, "I suppose you could say we owe them a favour as well."

"Did they help you with a case or something?"

"Not specifically... but yes." His face darkened somewhat. "I used to run a flower shop. It was broken into during Dawn Bellwether's scheme."

"That's right..." murmured Sly. "A flower was the main ingredient of that poison, right?"

"It was."

"Did you lose a lot?"

Asgore frowned at his cup. "The actual theft was not very taxing. But it was a deeply unpleasant experience. As occupations go, 'florist' is quite placid. We couldn't understand this sudden spike in break-ins."

Sly folded his arms. "There's absolutely no honour to targetting innocents like that. I'm sorry you had to face it."

"Thank you."

Asgore glanced toward the living room, his eyes gentle.

"After they solved that mystery, it was a huge relief. Not just for my shop, but the whole city. You say not everyone would help them, and I suppose that's true. But I think we are also far from the only ones."

"Still though," frowned Sly. "Your wife is the Mayor. Mightn't this be dangerous for her career?"

"Yes, that does concern me. But as it happens, she just left town for a conference, and I am expecting no company. As long as you leave soon – which Mister Wilde seems quite eager to do – I don't anticipate a problem."

"Alright then. It's your call." Sly took another drink, then realized something. "Say. You said you 'used to' be a florist. What happened to the shop? If you don't mind me asking."

Asgore beamed proudly. "I retired so I could be a full-time dad!"

"Oh!" Sly's ears perked. "That's great."

"It is..."

Asgore glanced to an armchair in the corner of the room. It had been claimed by a steadily mounting pile of papers. An invasion.

"Tori's always so busy. Being Mayor is a huge responsibility. But at least it pays better than her work as a schoolteacher. For the moment, we don't need the income of the old Flower King shop." His smile was luminous. "So I decided it only made sense to come home! It's not as easy as it sounds – I doubt I'll ever come close to Tori's baking – but Asriel and I, we get by very well."

Sly smiled shyly into his cup. "...I think I'd like that."

He looked to Asgore, that gentle wryness returning to his eyes.

"Most of the women I meet are, um... career-focused. I've got enough money to retire right now, but if C–" He coughed, too smoothly. "If my hypothetical wife wanted to keep working, that's fine with me. And... I really want kids. Someday."

Asgore blinked. "Really? I apologise if it sounds rude, but you didn't strike me as the type."

"That's fair," chuckled Sly. "Between my demeanour and my chosen career, I can see why you might have difficulty picturing me, y'know, wearing a sweater and attending PTA meetings."

He gazed into his tea, both hands around the mug. The warmth was comforting.

"But my dad... He got there in the end. He went from living like me to living like you, and honestly, I think that was his greatest achievement."

Sly smiled at Asgore, but it didn't fully reach his eyes.

"And they seemed happy, him and my mom. Maybe every kid thinks that of their parents. I didn't get a chance to talk to them more seriously about their relationship or anything. But I have really, really happy memories of my early life thanks to them. So, y'know."

Asgore seemed thoughtful. He somehow spoke even more slowly. "As a parent, I can tell you... it is no small undertaking. It has not always been easy, or fun. Toriel and I have not always agreed on what is best for our son." He smiled. "But we both want what is best for him, and that is the core of it. Parenting is the ultimate act of selflessness, I suppose. You must commit to always putting your child ahead of yourself."

"Right..."

Asgore's smile grew. "And if you don't mind me saying... judging by how committed you seem to your friends, I would say you have the makings of a good father already."

"Why would I mind you saying that?" said Sly, mildly awed. "That's maybe the nicest thing someone's ever said to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome!"

"Most of the strangers I meet call me names and try to murder me, so... I guess I'm not used to compliments."

Sly took a long sip of his tea, looking out the window.

"Well," he said, "if you don't mind me saying, you seem like a pretty good dad yourself. Asriel is a wonderful kid. You two have done a great job raising him."

"You're too kind."

"No, I think I'm a justified level of kind. In most situations."

Sly looked back to Asgore, one eyebrow raised.

"That said... I don't mean to step on your toes, since you're a dad and I'm not, but you need to monitor his Internet use. Like, seriously."

"Yes."

"He has been talking to actual criminals."

The afternoon passed quietly. Sly spent the day with Asriel, regaling him with stories of the Cooper Gang's adventures. He sanitised certain details, especially when Asgore was nearby, to ensure there was nothing that would traumatise a nine-year-old boy. But Sly had very distinct memories of being a nine-year-old boy, and certain law enforcement agents might argue that in many ways he still was one. As such, he knew better than to sanitise everything. Asriel deserved to hear the good parts.

Asgore offered him a bed more than once, but Sly declined. He assumed Nick and Judy were completely unconscious after the night they had. They needed sleep. Sly preferred to stay awake in case anything went wrong. He was used to missing sleep on longer operations. Ambling around a pleasant family home was rest enough.

The several cups of expensive coffee he downed helped too.

Eventually the sky began to darken. Sly wasn't sure what the plan was from here – how they intended to fight back against the Phantasm, or Bellwether, or both – but he remembered what Nick had said about working at night. That much hadn't changed.

It was time to check in on the partners.

Sly padded back to the living room. Deciding that kicking down the door wasn't funny enough to be acceptable, he just let it swing open silently. He was glad he did. The sight was lovely.

Nick and Judy hadn't moved. They were still on the armchair, but sleep had relaxed them. Instead of the tight embrace they had been sharing hours earlier, Judy was now comfortably rested in Nick's arms, slack with sleep.

Sly smiled. He took out his Binocucom and snapped a photo with its camera. Finally, a decent vacation photograph.

[image]
That accomplished, he gently nudged them awake with his cane.

Nick woke quickly, sucking in a breath through his nose. He tensed, a bolt of fear pushing him awake. When his eyes landed on Sly, however, he relaxed.

"Oh. S'you."

"S'me!" Sly beamed as the partners roused themselves. "You two fell asleep like that. Every time I think you couldn't get more adorable, you prove me wrong."

Nick yawned, long and leisurely, before speaking in a sleepy mumble. "I'm gonna throw you outta window."

"Feisty, Nick. Only makes you cuter."

"Ahh..." Judy rolled her neck. "I think I needed that."

"I definitely did," said Nick quietly. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

"Weirdly enough... I think I am sleeping better." He stretched. "Sleep hygiene's a real mystery, alright. Turns out what was keeping me awake was my job and home and life prospects and reputation as a decent person who doesn't immediately need to be arrested. Who knew?"

"And your phone," smirked Judy, sliding off him to the floor. "Don't forget that, too."

"How could I? I haven't been online in almost two days, now. That's good sleep hygiene."

"Silver lining!"

"Silver lining."

"I'm really glad you guys are feeling better," said Sly. "Now come on. Asgore's letting us sit in on Sunday dinner. Smells about as good as vegetables ever get. Us omnivores make do, right Nick?"

"That's so nice of him." Nick lowered himself from the chair. "He doesn't have to..."

"I don't think he has to do any of this," smiled Sly. "He wants to."

Nick just nodded.

And so, Nick Wilde, a ZPD fugitive and possible haunting victim and almost definite murderer, found himself sitting at an old, solid table in a warm living room. The head of the table. An honoured guest.

Judy sat next to him, close as always, watching him with bright purple eyes. Making sure he was okay. Sly sat at her right, giving Nick space. At the foot of the table was Asriel, with Asgore on the left by the window. The autumn sunset trickled in behind him.

The food was delicious. Nick's last meal had been a cold sandwich assembled from stolen parts; and ethical quandaries aside, he had eaten it a full day ago. So much had happened since then – so much of it terrifying – that Nick had no chance to realize just how hungry he was. Thankfully, Asgore was a committed host. The portions Nick was given would have struck him as overkill in any other circumstance. As it stood, he took it all, and gratefully.

Nick was quiet at first, focused on sating his hunger and blocking out recent bad memories. But conversation flowed around him. Asgore and his son were wonderful hosts, Sly had already become a family friend, and Judy was... well, still Judy. The table was awash with laughter and anecdotes. Before long, Nick was eagerly jumping in between mouthfuls.

By the time the meal was over, Nick felt like a weight had been lifted from him. As Asgore began collecting plates, he stood. "Here, Gorey, let me give you a hand."

"Oh, no. I can do it."

"I insist! I'm used to handling my own."

Nick followed Asgore to the kitchen. As he passed Judy, he gave her a wink. She visibly relaxed at seeing him so relaxed, and that made him relax further.

Good conversation over Sunday dinner. The world felt less cold.

"Thanks again for everything, Asgore." Nick set his share of plates down by the sink. "I... I'll pay you back. Somehow."

Asgore chuckled. "No need, Nick. I find helping others is its own reward."

"Yeah. Maybe." Nick smirked, shifting to more comfortable territory. "Gotta say, though, I'm surprised. I didn't know you and Tori were into, y'know... occult stuff."

"Um... what?"

"The book?" Nick held up a hand. "The one with too many fingers? Full of ghost stuff? I figured Asriel borrowed it from one of you."

Confusion passed over Asgore's face like a slow cloud. "...Is that what you came here for?"

"P-pretty much." The food in Nick's stomach, so warm a moment ago, turned to ice. "Why?"

Moments later, he was storming back to the living room.

"Guys. We need to talk–"

He froze. Judy and Sly were also frozen. Asriel was doing his best to freeze, but couldn't quite hide the tremors in his hands. Sitting next to him, in his father's empty chair, was a wolf with a gun.

"Well, now." Wolf gave Nick a lazy smile. "Great minds, pup. I was just saying the same thing."

[Did you know this story is also on AO3?
Did you also know this story is better on AO3?
Did you know that as a modern, functional website that isn't held together with toothpicks, AO3 offers authors the chance to embed images directly into chapters?
...What I'm saying here is that there's a really, really nice artwork I commissioned for this story, viewable either on AO3 or one of my Tumblrs (weirdzootopiaframes or extraneousdominomask). I'd include an actual link but I'm not even allowed that much.]