I'm just gonna be upfront here: while this story's technically meant to stand alone on its own, just like the other dozen Zootopia one-shots I've written (all of which are listed in sequential order on AO3, btw!), there will be a few references here to some events from those other stories. Again, nothing deeply consequential, but I think it probably hits better if you've read at least the previous four ("Edge of Town," "Hang Me in the Stars," "When You Say Nothing At All" and "Chamomile")? Maybe? I dunno! I'm not trying to sell you on more reading here, it's just a suggestion!

More notes at the end.

Cinder and Smoke

Judy Hopps could sense his question before he asked it. Nick Wilde asked a lot of questions, after all, whether he cared about the answer or not.

He sure could be inquisitive when he wanted to be. Call it genuine curiosity, most of the time. Then there were the instances in Bunnyburrow where he gleefully asked the rabbit to explain some mundane aspect of country life – a podunk pop quiz, he called it, even though she would soon remind him, once more, that Podunk was in the next county over – for seemingly no other reason to hear her talk about rotating crop fields, what creeking was and why her high school classmates still seemed intent on passing weekends that way well into their mid-20s, her family's time-honored, anxiously harbored secret of how to grow an abnormally large pumpkin for contests Judy then also had to explain the existence of—

Wait, no. That was a cough. He was coughing. Hacking up a damn lung, in fact, like he had gotten a hold of one of Pop-Pop's Nicarpawuan cigars. Which was probably not out of the question.

"Cheese and—good gravy, Nick, do you need a glass of water?"

The fox continued to hack away, leaning against the side of the barn behind the Hoppses' Bunnyburrow homestead with an outstretched paw. He shook his head and wiggled the mug of coffee he held in his other paw.

"You're still drinking that?!" Judy's incredulous tone had overtaken the brief twinge of concern he had for him, especially once he started downing what had to be either his fourth cup that day or the same one nursed for what was coming up on 13 hours.

"It's – cough – not coffee," Nick struggled to sputter, wiping his snout on his forearm as he continued to lean against the barn. "Cripes, Hopps, I'm not a heathen, it's night. Hrm. No, it's – ahem, ugh, one sec…" He took another short swig.

"It's the same mug from this morning."

"Yeah, but it's got bourbon in it now."

"Where on earth did you get bourbon?"

"Pop-Pop."

She should have known.

"Anyway, I was about to ask—" Right after all, Judy thought, unable to hide the beginnings of a smug smile. What is it this time? – "about the smell, but then I caught some of it in my throat, and, well," Nick wagged the mug at her again, "now this tastes like it was smoked for a couple of days, so there's that."

"First of all, I thought you liked liquor that tastes like a campfire," Judy pointed out.

"I do. This is an improvement. Please tell your grandfather to buy better bourbon."

"I think he made it."

"Please tell your grandfather to make better bourbon."

She rolled her eyes; he was complaining about free alcohol, but she was not going to be the one to point that out.

"You can tell him that yourself. Which I'd love to see, actually." The rabbit placed her paws on her hips in a pose teetering on mocking. "Because I noticed something."

Nick clicked his tongue. "We're getting away from the smell question, but go on, junior detective."

"See, I know your voice. How you talk to mammals. You take the same tone most of the time," Judy explained, smirking as her eyes momentarily darted to her childhood home, where she thought she might have spied two little rabbit ears disappearing from an alit upstairs window. "Cool, most of the time. Sure of yourself. Confident. Knowing how to lay on the charm without coming off as a sleazeball."

"Ah, well, tell that to my ex-wif—"

"But every once in a while, it's different," she continued. "Like when you met Pop-Pop."

She waited for the mask to slip, but he held on admirably. "Oh?" was Nick's only response.

"Your voice goes higher. Not, like, that much higher. But higher. And you talk a little faster, too."

Judy heard Nick exhale a little through his nose. A minute noise, much like the differences in sounds she picked up on earlier that day when her partner at the Zootopia Police Department met her grandfather. She was getting quite good at figuring out his tells, if she did say so herself.

But now was not the time for a pat on the back, because …

"Feels nice out," the rabbit spoke, gesturing her paw across the grassy backyard of the Hopps homestead nearest the barn. "But we … might wanna take this inside the barn. We've got an audience out here."

She jerked her head toward the house, and Nick followed her signal to that same upstairs window where Judy had seen the transitory pair of ears. She now counted at least a half dozen in view; they could not get out of one another's way fast enough, especially when the heads to which they were attached realized Judy's friend from work had spotted them, too.

"Ah. Right," Nick said with a chuckle.

"My siblings," Judy offered in apology. "Well, some of them."

"The pre-teens. Of course. And you'd dare deprive them of a show?"

"Shut it, dumb fox, and help me lift this latch. It sticks sometimes."

It was an ultimately unnecessary gesture; the barn's aging wood had settled in the warmth of early fall, and the bronze latch keeping the two tall, imposing front doors from swaying ajar unhooked from its resting spot rather easily. Judy did not regret the ask, though, savoring the spark that coursed through her body when the fur of her paw brushed against Nick's as they met on the handle.

This is it, she thought, steeling herself, trying to ignore the flush she felt in her cheeks after their brief rendezvous. You got this, Hopps.

The slightly chillier air within rushed through the newfound gap between the doors, a sensation for which Judy was grateful as it cooled her burning cheeks. Turning her head away from his, lest he pick up on a tell of her own, she glanced out once more at the evening sky that blanketed Bunnyburrow.

And what an evening it was. Really, they could not have picked a better time to take the few-hour train ride from the heart of Zootopia to Bunnyburrow. Judy sometimes pined for these nights in her new home, those late fall evenings spent in the expanse that was the Tri-Burrows, inundated with flat farmland on all sides so you could feel every breeze that passed across the terrain. The air was lighter, without restriction, often the type of temperature so pleasant that you scarcely noticed it, as though your body temperature melded with it in some blissful infinity.

That was to say nothing about the stars that scattered across the night sky, the ephemeral twinkling that was so much more visible in Bunnyburrow than in Zootopia and its outskirts, where unnatural light sullied one's view. Judy was not even a purist in that regard; she liked the bright lights of the city, really. Downtown Bunnyburrow had a single neon light, a giant, blinking "eat at Hogg's" arrow, mostly orange but with a little yellow, enticing both wayward travelers and hungry locals to the nearby diner of the same name. Each district of Zootopia, on the other paw, was chock full of their own flashing signs and billboards – especially the area just beyond Savanna Central, the illumination of which could be seen on the horizon for miles and miles away. It was vibrant. Alive. Full of possibility.

But that would not befit their current situation. Judy appreciated the way the stars only somewhat bathed their surroundings in a pale glow. She could see the family barn they stood beside, but instead of sitting in view as the stark, tall edifice it often was against the rest of the Hoppses' farmland, it almost melted into the sky, a dark structure against a sea of even blacker night. The trees nearby were similarly situated, little blips against starlight and sky as they snaked along the tiny, babbling creek that ran through the property, ebbing toward the barn for the briefest of moments, enough that its light trickle was the only sound around.

Except for Nick's coughing, which had mostly subsided.

Judy flipped on the light switch she knew to be just inside the barn to the right of the door. On cue, a low-hanging lamp flickered on in the center of the room, illuminating the floor immediately beneath it as well as some of the auxiliary space surrounding it. She knew there were more switches, more lights to be found around the barn's exterior, helpful during late nights in the barn when natural light would not already be streaming inside and the middle lamp was not sufficient.

But she knew this would be enough. She grasped the edge of one door and motioned at the other, catching Nick's eye; he nodded, and the pair pried open the entrance so that the entryway was wide open, allowing for delicate starlight to filter inside.

"Should be some blankets back by Dad's old Cattelac," Judy said as they stepped inside. "Let me grab them."

She stepped around a bucket in the center of the room she assumed was there to catch a leak from the ceiling but had not been returned to its usual cabinet; otherwise, the place was mostly clean, just as she remembered it since the last time she had been inside. Stu Hopps had always taken care to keep up the cleanliness of the place, a far cry from some of the barns Judy had been in as a kid when visiting friends, with all kinds of farm equipment, gadgets, trinkets and other junk strewn about haphazardly.

"They're a little scratchy," she announced after retrieving the maroon blankets, turning and stepping back toward the front of the barn. "Better than cold concrete, though."

"Especially for an aging fox like me," agreed Nick, taking one of the worn-down garments and spreading it onto the floor, but not before taking one last swig of the bourbon within his mug. "Bad back and all."

"Your back is fine and you're not that old."

"Tell that to every bone in my body when I wake up."

"That's just because you're getting back in shape again after your so-called cheat week," Judy countered, using her paws for emphasis on the last two words as she laid out her own blanket next to Nick's and sat down on it.

"The city had 100 feasts to celebrate the centennial. Who was I to turn them down?"

Rolling her eyes as she laid back on the blanket, one paw behind her head to cushion it a bit from the ground beneath, Judy said, "You could have been more tactical is all."

"That's not what Zootopia's founding fathers would have wanted," argued Nick, joining Judy in the same position on his own blanket.

For a while they laid there, transfixed by practically everything around them – the sound of the nearby brook, the low hum of the nearby light, and most of all the night sky, of which they had a fairly prime view from where they had placed the blankets – near the barn doors but inside enough that any more of Judy's curious siblings could no longer spy on their big sister and the fox she had brought home.

"There was a fire once."

"Hm?" Nick cocked his head to the side.

"You asked about the smell," Judy explained. "Or … you were going to, before we got sidetracked."

The fox smiled, leaning up on the back of his arms to get a better look at her. "Silly me. Practically forgot."

"It wasn't anything too dangerous, thankfully," continued the rabbit, eyes studying the cracks in the wood above her on the barn's ceiling where intermittent starlight was occasionally able to seep through. "This isn't the original barn, basically. We had the same one for years – my dad was a kid when they built it, I think. Might have even been before him? Anyway, it was old. Probably needed to be torn down and rebuilt. But Dad was attached to the thing, so instead he tried to update it. Had us move everything out so they could redo the wiring.

"One night we wake up to the smell of smoke – some of the new electrical wasn't done right and the whole barn was completely engulfed in flames. I dunno if Dad even called the fire department – not like they would've gotten there in time anyway. Whole thing burned down to the studs."

"You are saying so many words I've never heard you say before," interjected Nick. "Studs. Electrical. Engulfed." He repeated them, only as an impersonation of her voice this time. "Wait, did I get it right? Say studs again."

Judy ignored him. "All that was really left was the concrete, mostly. Think they were able to repurpose some of the wood on the far side for this one, too. They built a new barn, installed everything right this time and … well, here we are."

"Your dad's wooden barn burned down so he built another wooden barn in its place."

"He prefers the aesthetic. I dunno, ask him."

"And the smell comes in … where?"

Judy shrugged, glancing around the giant, dimly lit structure. "Pop-Pop reckoned smoke damage seeped into the foundation, plus they used some of the old wood where they could since Dad's a bit of a cheapskate when he wants to be. Either way, there you go. Barn smells like smoke."

Nick inhaled slowly through his snout, breathing in the slightly smoke smell-tinged air around him, and exhaled. "Long payoff, but I'll just say: I don't mind it, actually."

"No?"

"Reminds me of growing up. Barrels burning on every street corner. Random arson everywhere you looked. The city was in shambles, you see, and –"

"You literally told me once your block was one of the quietest in Zootopia and how you couldn't wait to move out of your mom's apartment because nothing ever happened there."

"Did I say that? I must be misremembering. All the smoke inhalation and all."

He leaned back again, resting the back of his head against his outstretched, reclined paws.

"Nah, if you must know, it reminds me of the campfire we enjoyed in precinct 13 the one time. The apology bonfire. When you were mad at me and I tried to make it up to you by reminding you of your bonfires back home. I'm going to say the words apology bonfire again because I think it's actually a very funny phrase and I want to figure out how to use it again."

Judy could not help but shoot the fox a meaningful smirk. "I remember two things about that night."

"One of them being that you still think we were breaking the law, even though, as I must remind you, we are the law," Nick said.

"No, no. I mean, still a little miffed about that, but no. First … it's funny. You and I made plans to make it to Bunnyburrow that next day, but we didn't make it."

"Monsoon to end all monsoons. Canceled every train out of Zootopia. Still think the mayor had something to do with it so everyone had to go to the Founder's Day celebration at City Hall instead."

"But we still made it eventually. A few times, actually. This is, what, visit number four?"

"Yeah, but this time you immediately put me to work helping bring in your family's fall harvest. Dreamy. How about the other thing?"

It was Judy's turn to sit up, leaning forward and arranging herself into a cross-legged perch. She rested an arm on her left pant leg and laid her chin against the back of her paw. She grinned as she remembered that evening; she did not know if he noticed but did not mind if he did.

"It was the first time I felt like we were gonna … be all right. As partners," she quickly added. "You were my friend before then, obviously, and my work partner, too – but that night, as we talked about the past, present, future, whatever, it felt like we got over a hump of some sort, finished the growing pains of figuring out how to work together, how to communicate both as colleagues and friends."

"And it's all been gravy since."

"I know you're kind of mocking me because you make fun of me every time I use that phrase, but yes, you're right."

Nick was level with her again, joining her in a sitting position on the blankets, albeit with his left leg up and cradling his left arm, his right leg splayed out in front of him. Judy felt his tail briefly brush against her back as he readjusted himself.

"It's funny," he started; Judy followed his gaze to the stars they could see above them through the open barn doors. "That night, I also picked that spot in 13 because … well, I remember it was the place I could see the stars the most from in Zootopia. Took my share of vixens out there growing up. Thought it was the best it could get, you know? It felt like all the light from the city was far away enough that what we could see from there was, like, everything."

He chuckled. "But then I come out here to the sticks and realize I was dead wrong. There's so much more in the sky. I'm a little jealous of you getting to grow up with this, Hopps."

"Zootopia has a planetarium. Museums. The Internet exists. You never saw a picture of what the sky was supposed to look like?"

"Would you believe me if I also thought that was a lie propagated by the mayor?"

"Why would whatever mayor of Zootopia you had as a kit lie to you about what's actually in the sky?"

"I dunno, Carrots, I'm doing a bit. When in doubt, I'm doing a bit. Just assume it's a bit."

Shaking her head disapprovingly, the rabbit relented, "Fine. As long as our friendship isn't one."

Nick barked out a laugh. "No, that's … that's definitely real."

For once, Nick Wilde did not seem to know what to say next, and Judy was about to cut through the few-beat silence that followed with some sort of gentle ribbing of her own, taking a page from the fox's book. She was surprised when he spoke again before she could formulate a self-deprecating retort, and even more surprised when she heard the next words out of his mouth.

"Seriously, Hopps … thanks. For this view of the stars. For bringing me home to meet your family these last few months. For the hospitality. I … well, I never got out of the city much, and when it comes to meeting friends' parents, it just didn't really happen very often. Never got that close."

"What about those vixens from earlier?" Judy asked with a sly smile.

The fox laughed, shaking his head with a quick jerk. "They, uh … yeah, we never really lasted long enough for that."

"Well, they don't know what they're missing."

Judy had said the sentence absentmindedly, really. On autopilot. It was what she meant, sure, but she did not mean to say it out loud.

And yet there it was, out in the open. She was certain he heard him; how could he not have? And suddenly all the emotions and memories came flowing back to the front of her mind – the late-night Zootopia bonfire for two, the heart-to-heart with Gideon Grey where she first admitted her feelings about her partner to another mammal, the dance at the Cottons' place, their not-a-date-by-name-but-basically-a-date a week earlier at the fancy restaurant in Zootopia.

"Carrots …" Nick's voice carved through Judy's subconscious, grasping her and pulling her back to the present.

She blinked. His snout was next to hers. So close she could feel his breath against her cheek.

"I'm about to ask you something that the youth would call cringe? I think? But …" he moved his face away from hers, rising to his full height and then extending a paw, "do you, uh … wanna dance?"

Judy did not even answer him – or if she did, the memory of the utterance left her brain immediately. Next thing she remembered, she was on her feet as well, waiting expectantly as the fox thumbed through his phone.

"I thought you didn't get much cell reception out here," Judy admonished him, trying to hold back a shy grin but failing handsomely.

"I downloaded a song."

"Who still downloads music?"

"Shut up. Ah, there it is."

He placed his phone back on the blanket; through its tiny speakers came a song Judy did not recognize, a folk song playing a simple melody in ¾ time. A soaring, clear-as-a-bell female voice eventually joined in, singing lilting lyrics about, as far as Judy could surmise, the ideal day spent with a loved one.

But she was not too focused on lyrical content. Nick had taken the bunny's paw in his, and after a quick breath, he led her across the floor in a twirling waltz befitting of the rootsy tune.

"I need you to note that I've gotten better at leading since last time," came Nick's first words, shortly after the first chorus. "Please clap."

"I'd have to let go of your paw to do that," Judy countered, instead gripping the fox's paw tighter, as well as his waist.

"Fine. Clap at the end."

"Is that really how you want this to end?" she asked coyly. He did not respond.

Occasionally, they would sway near the doorway again, and the sky would again come into view. As the evening had pressed on, it had only grown darker out, further highlighting the tiny white dots' impact on the tapestry before them. She would find herself momentarily disappointed when it was out of view again, though she was then enraptured by the glow of the single illuminated lamp in the center of the barn. There was something about the way it hit Nick's face, shrouding him in partial shadow where the light could not reach. Accentuating features in ways she had never noticed before.

"Judy, I …" Nick was speaking again, this time slowing their gait slightly while his eyes met hers instead of shifting focus between the rabbit and the ground around them.

"I meant it," Judy breathed when she found the fox unable to complete whatever sentence he meant to construct. "About the vixens. Sorry, I just … I know you second guess yourself sometimes, and I want you to understand that I'm with you. This is right. This is real. And –"

This time, the kiss found her lips. Not like before, the forehead peck that sent Judy's mind racing 100 miles a minute. Not like the little brushes against each other's fur, the lingering touches that could mean everything and nothing, the words that spilled from a fox or a bunny's mouth that might have sounded like one thing but meant another. This was real, unmistakable. Obvious, too – like it had always meant to be this way. As though their bodies should have always fit together that way, even if it was clear it would take some getting used to, the sizes of their respective muzzles not the surest combination.

And yet, it also felt sure, easy, correct – especially when Judy deepened the kiss, her paws leaving his side and cupping his face. Somewhere in her peripheral, she realized the song Nick had chosen had ended and something else was playing instead, something with a decidedly brisker tempo. Classic rock, maybe? It did not matter; they were no longer dancing.

She did not want to pull away; dearly, she wished the moment could continue, as if even though they had waited for this long to finally embrace, they might never have such a chance again. But she had to come up for air sometime, and so she did – unfortunately, Nick had decided on this action at practically the same time, and their bodies, previously intertwined and now untangling, stuttered a bit, Nick stepping backward and Judy forward.

It was unfortunate that in the path of their dance, they had neglected to remember the metal bucket in the center of the room near the low-hanging light. Least of all Nick, whose right paw stepped carelessly into the pail; he slipped immediately, overcorrecting after losing his balance and tumbling to the ground, Judy shrieking gleefully as she fell after him.

Nick caught the rabbit in his arms as they fell; he absorbed most of the impact with the concrete floor, and she rolled off him, still laughing, while he skidded to his side.

The fox yelped upon the second impact, paws clutching his knees. "Ah! Jeez. That's gonna smart in the morning."

"Oh, no!" Judy hopped to her feet and reached out to Nick, momentarily concerned. "I'm sorry! Did I—"

"Hush, Carrots, it's fine," Nick said, wincing nonetheless. "Just a scrape." He waved her off.

After a few moments, he looked up at her, and Judy realized she was getting an honest-to-goodness smile from Nick, not the smirk usually accompanying a half-lidded gaze. "Worth it, though."

The rabbit beamed at him as she helped him to stand. "Yeah," she agreed. "I'll say."

"So was this your plan all along?" he asked finally as he brushed some specks of dirt from his shirt and pants. "Bring me out to the barn to seduce me?"

"Remember how I talked about when you met Pop-Pop earlier?" questioned Judy, reaching out to take the fox's paws in hers.

"When you roasted me for talking differently around him, yes, I do indeed recall."

"It's the moment I knew for sure," she continued, lifting her gaze to his glinting emerald eyes. "Well, sure enough that I could make a move if I saw an opening."

"There's that go-getter spirit again."

"Like, after the Peter Liger date – yes, I'm gonna call it a date – I was pretty sure. The forehead kiss before you left. But I had to be sure."

"Or maybe I mistook it for detective mode. Anyway, go on."

"When you finally met Pop-Pop this trip, like I said, your voice changed. Something was different. And then I remembered what I told you in precinct 13 that night after I'd had a few more beers. When I was talking about every member of my family who still lived at home since you bet I couldn't actually name them all."

"You could have been making bunnies up for all I know."

She tightened her grip on his paws rather than giving him the usual punch in the ribs. "I told you that Pop-Pop's opinion was what I valued more than anyone in my family. My parents are great bunnies and all, but Pop-Pop, he … he can see right through any mammal, I feel like. Knows exactly who they are. Can sniff out a good weasel from an untrustworthy sheep. And I don't think he's ever really been wrong, far as I can remember.

"I heard something I don't get much from Nick Wilde when I saw you meet him: nerves. Anxiety. You wanted to make a good impression. And it wasn't as easy as it was with my parents, because Mom and Dad, despite their occasional biases, are warm, inviting mammals. You had to try with Pop-Pop. And I could tell you really wanted to, that it was important to make the right impression."

Nick drew Judy into a hug, wrapping his arms around her, cupping the small of her back. "Do you think I did?"

"I know you did. Which is a good thing because I, uh … think I really want you to be my boyfriend."

"Oh, is that what all that was about?" He shot her a toothy grin.

"Afraid so. What do you say, Wilde?"

At first she thought he might be pushing her away, but in reality, the fox was placing Judy in front of him so he could get a better look at her, so that their eyes could meet again. She had only seen the expression he gave her once before: the day he graduated from the Zootopia Police Academy, when she gave him the badge that officially cemented their status as partners.

"Never thought I'd fall for a bunny," Nick laughed. "Must be something you Hoppses but in the water out here. But yes, 100%. You're worth it, Judy."

The pair embraced again before Nick seemed to finally realize his phone was still playing music. He scurried away to pause the tune and offered a meek, apologetic grin.

"The song was a nice touch, by the way," Judy offered, joining him again at the blanket. "If I didn't know any better I'd call it planned."

"Had the idea in my back pocket if the situation ever presented itself," he admitted, stuffing his phone into his pocket. "You're not the only one who's been agonizing over this moment."

Together, the pair glanced again at the starry night sky, Nick's arm wrapped around Judy's shoulder, hers clutching his waist. The Hopps home was visible from their vantage point, though there was no longer a light on upstairs.

"Think your brothers and sisters saw?" Nick asked.

"If they did, I'm sure they're already telling Mom and Dad, despite how late it is," giggled Judy, her free paw rubbing her suddenly sleepy eyes.

"As long as they don't tell your grandpa. I've got business with him anyway, might as well make it a one-two punch."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I've got a new idea for his bourbon distilling that I gotta talk to him about. Involves smoke."

END

The initial seeds for this story were planted a few days before the end of 2016, though I didn't know it yet. At some point the next year, I'd written enough one-shots to realize, yeah, I've gotta do my take on the how-they-get-together story eventually. Come 2018, a few more breadcrumbs, but the time didn't feel right. 2019, Tyler Childers' "House Fire" comes out, and voila, I knew what the title was going to be. Then the first actual pen-to-paper moment came either that year or in 2020? I dunno, kinda got tough to retain your sense of time around then. Wonder why!

ANYWAY, that's a whole lot of words to say that this one's been a while in the making. And that's all I'll say about it, because I don't like talking about my own writing very much! It makes me feel bad feel! Sorry for saying words!

The song I envision Nick playing for Judy during their dance is a tune called "Heavenly Day" by Patty Griffin, one of my favorite Americana love songs. Go listen! Patty deserves your streams! Or download it like Nick, I guess.

If you're reading this, thanks! Mighty nice of you.

Now let's see if I can finish the four incomplete Zootopia fics I have before the sequel comes out. Lol. Lmao.

I like their new hats hbu