"—so there I was, standing in the middle of the street with a porcupine on one side and a panicked badger on the other. And guess what? The porcupine decides now's the time to shoot out his quills like he's in some kind of action movie. The badger? Screams, runs straight into me, and next thing I know, I'm lying on the ground, covered in quills."
Finnick smirked and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah, that's all very entertaining, Nick, but I gotta ask—" He pointed at the bigger fox with his clawed finger, his grin widening. "Is it true what they say?"
Nick raised a brow. "Is what true?"
Finnick gave him a knowing look. "You really tying the knot with a rabbit?"
Nick chuckled, shaking his head. "She has a name, you know ?"
Finnick held up his paws in surrender. "No disrespect, man, just trying to wrap my head around it. It's a lot to take in. One moment, you're my partner in crime—the sneakiest fox I know. The next? You're signing up for the force. And now you're married to a cop? And a bunny no less?" He scoffed. "Didn't see that coming."
Nick smirked. "We're not married yet."
"Yeah, yeah, she's still got time to run away." Finnick leaned back with a toothy grin.
Nick rolled his eyes. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"
"Hey, I'd love it if you stayed sane. But whatever. Your life." Finnick shrugged, then added, "Still, never figured you'd be the one settling down."
Nick took a sip of water, letting the words roll around in his head. Settling down. Funny. If you had asked him a year and a half ago where he saw himself, it certainly wouldn't have been here. Wearing a badge, planning a future, thinking about…
The benefits, he reminded himself. "The job has its perks. Steady paycheck, health insurance."
Finnick scoffed. "Listen to you. You're starting to sound kinda like your old man."
Nick froze for half a second, but he covered it up with a smirk. "That low, huh?"
Finnick just laughed.
Nick laughed too, but the words had already taken root in his mind, twisting and growing into something deeper. His dad. It wasn't something he thought about often—not consciously, at least. But Finnick wasn't entirely wrong. His father had been a worrier, always thinking ahead, always planning for things that might never happen. And now? Now, Nick found himself doing the same thing.
He and Judy weren't even married yet, and already, he was worrying. Would they be able to afford a house? A nice one, with enough space, maybe a little yard. Zootopia real estate was a nightmare, but if they pooled their salaries… maybe.
And then there was the big question. The one Judy had asked him over coffee one lazy Sunday morning.
"Have you ever thought about having a family?"
He had nearly choked on his drink at the time, coughing while Judy patted his back with that amused little smile of hers. "What?" he had managed, once he could breathe again.
"I mean, a family. Kits." She stirred her coffee absentmindedly. "I was reading this article the other day about hybrid offspring. You know, how it's more common than mammals think? There've been cases of lagomorph-canine hybrids."
Nick had blinked at her. "You… read an article?"
Judy rolled her eyes. "Come on, slick, I'm serious. Have you ever thought about it?"
And that was the thing. He hadn't. Not really. But after that conversation, the thought had burrowed deep into his mind, refusing to leave.
What would it entail? Would their hypothetical kits look more like him or her? Would they have her ears? His tail? A mix of both? And even beyond that—schools. Jobs. Society. Would they be bullied? He'd seen how hybrids were treated, how some mammals whispered when they walked by. Could he put a kid through that?
Nick shook his head, snapping back to the present as a cheerful voice cut through his thoughts.
"Hey there, fellas! You ready to order?"
The otter waitress—Sam, according to her name tag—smiled brightly at them. She had a natural warmth about her, the kind that made customers feel at ease.
Finnick glanced at the menu for all of two seconds before tossing it onto the table. "Yeah, I'll take a non-alcoholic Zootopilsner . And same for the future suicide victim over here."
Sam blinked. "Uh… "
Nick sighed, shooting Finnick a look. "What my incredibly tactful friend means is that I just proposed to my girlfriend, and she said yes." He flashed her a lazy grin. "Truly appalling."
Sam's eyes widened before she burst into laughter. "Oh! I get it now! Wow, you've got quite the sense of humor." She shot Finnick an amused look. "Bit of a dark one, though."
Finnick smirked. "You have no idea."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, congrats to you, then! My cousin got married last year. It doesn't look like she's contemplating suicide."
Nick hummed. "Tell that to him."
She grinned. "I'll bet you two have known each other a long time, huh?"
"Too long," Finnick muttered.
Nick noticed something in the air—something subtle but unmistakable. The way Sam's eyes lingered on Finnick just a little longer than necessary. The small smirk tugging at her lips. Finnick, for all his sharp instincts, either didn't notice or wasn't acknowledging it.
Nick filed that information away for later. For now, he just leaned back and smirked. "Well, we'll take those beers, and let's throw in a plate of fries while we're at it."
"You got it." Sam gave them a wink before sauntering off.
Nick watched her go, then turned to Finnick with an exaggerated look of mock surprise. "Huh."
Finnick raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Nick's smirk widened. "Nothing. Just… interesting."
Finnick groaned. "Dude… don't even start ."
Sam finally slid into the seat across from Finnick and Nick, stretching her arms with a satisfied sigh. "Feels good to finally sit down after a shift," she admitted, taking a sip from the water glass she had brought over.
Nick smirked. "Careful, Finn might try to convince you that standing all day builds character."
Finnick scoffed. "Nah, that's just something old mammals say to make themselves feel better about lousy jobs."
They all chuckled, settling into the easy rhythm of conversation. It drifted from small talk about life in the city to favorite food spots, until something clicked in Sam's mind. She snapped her fingers and pointed at Nick.
"Wait a second, I knew you looked familiar! Officer Nick Wilde, right? The fox who helped Officer Hopps with that whole missing mammals case before you were even on the force?"
Nick leaned back, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Guilty as charged," he said smoothly.
Sam's eyes widened, and suddenly, she was bursting with questions. "That was such a huge deal! I mean, it was all over the news! You were just some random guy at the time, and now you're out there catching bad guys every day? That's insane!"
Finnick chuckled, shaking his head. "You might wanna let him breathe, girl. He's got a big enough head as it is."
Sam turned to Finnick with a grin. "Oh, how I envy you having such a famous friend."
Finnick snorted. "Try insuffarable. The only difference is now he gets paid to be a pain in the ass."
Nick smirked. "It's true, I just have a bigger audience now."
Sam laughed, shaking her head before turning back to Nick. "So, what was it like, working with Officer Hopps? She must be something else if she managed to turn a hustler into a cop."
Nick's expression softened slightly. "She's... persistent. The kind of mammal who gets an idea in her head and won't let go, no matter how impossible it seems. Doesn't back down from anything. Even when everyone tells her she should."
Sam leaned in, fascinated. "And she dragged you into it?"
Nick chuckled. "Dragged, shoved, guilt-tripped—pick your method. But I guess I needed it."
Finnick rolled his eyes. "You were always too comfortable, man. Someone had to kick your tail into gear."
Nick shot him a look. "Oh, so now you're on her side?"
Finnick shrugged. "I ain't sayin' I approve of you turnin' into a cop, but I gotta respect that rabbit for actually pulling it off. You were dead set on coasting forever."
Sam grinned. "She must be something special, huh?"
Nick swirled his drink, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he glanced at Sam and smirked. "Let's just say she's got a way of keeping me on my toes."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I see how it is. So, is she single, or..."
Finnick snickered as Nick shook his head, clearly amused. "That, my dear waitress, is classified information."
Sam laughed, but Nick could tell she wasn't entirely fooled. She had that sharp, perceptive look that reminded him of someone else. He decided to change the subject before she pried too much more.
"Anyway," Nick said, "we were just talking about music before you sat down. You got any thoughts on jazz and electro swing?"
Sam tilted her head. "Oh, those are your styles? Nice. Electro swing has a great energy to it. And jazz? Classic. I respect that."
Finnick groaned. "Jazz is fine, I guess, but you can't tell me that electro swing isn't just a bastardized version of it. Jazz is supposed to be smooth., gentle. Electro Swing is anything but."
Nick feigned offense. "Hey now, just because a song has a polished sound doesn't mean it has no soul."
Sam grinned. "That's what I was trying to tell you about Gazelle earlier."
Finnick threw his hands up. "Oh, come on."
Nick chuckled as the two of them launched back into their playful debate. He sat back, watching them go back and forth, their banter light and easy. Finnick, who was usually guarded with strangers, was clearly enjoying himself, and Sam was giving as good as she got.
Nick sipped his drink, a small, satisfied smile on his face.
Nick smirked slightly. Yeah. He hadn't seen Finnick this relaxed in a long time.
And he had a feeling he knew why.
The night air was crisp when they finally stepped outside. The streets had quieted down, the neon lights of the city buzzing softly in the distance. Nick stretched, letting out a content sigh. "Well, that was a solid way to spend an evening," he mused, rolling his shoulders. "But I think it's about time I call it a night."
Sam yawned, stretching her arms. "Yeah, me too. Been a long day." She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen a few times. "Gonna call a taxi."
Nick raised a brow. "Taxis at this hour? Yeesh. You're gonna be paying through the snout."
Sam sighed. "Tell me about it. Prices have gone insane lately."
Finnick, who had been quiet for a moment, shifted on his feet. He wasn't sure what came over him, but before he could second-guess himself, the words left his mouth.
"I could, uh… give you a ride."
Both Nick and Sam turned to look at him. Finnick immediately felt heat creeping up his face. Why did he just say that? It wasn't like he owed her anything. He barely knew her.
Sam tilted her head slightly. "You sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you or anything."
Finnick rubbed the back of his neck. "It's fine. You said taxis are overpriced, right? I got wheels. Might as well make use of 'em."
Nick fought back a grin, watching the way Finnick shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. Oh, this was too good. Finnick wasn't exactly the type to offer rides to mammals he had just met. At least, not without some grumbling first. But here he was, acting uncharacteristically… accommodating.
Sam considered for a moment before nodding. "Alright. That's really nice of you, Finn. Thanks."
She then smirked. "And, you know, even if something were to happen to me, almost everyone in that restaurant saw me hanging out with you guys all night. If I go missing, you'll be suspect number one."
Finnick let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, and with my size, you really think I'd be able to drag you anywhere?" He gestured at himself. "I'm, what? A third your weight? You could probably throw me over your shoulder if you wanted to."
Sam giggled. "True, true."
Nick finally let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he headed toward his own car. "Well, you kids have fun. Try not to get into too much trouble." He gave Finnick one last look, amused at the situation, before adding, "Drive safe, Dad."
Finnick groaned. "Shove it, Wilde."
Nick only smirked before disappearing into his car.
Finnick turned back to Sam. "Alright, my van's this way."
They walked up to Finnick's vehicle, and the second Sam laid eyes on it, she let out a giggle.
"Wow. That's… quite the artistic statement," she mused, taking in the elaborate spray-painted design on the side of the van. A muscular fox was holding a swooning vixen, the whole thing looking like a scene straight out of a fantasy novel.
Finnick crossed his arms. "Hey, don't judge."
Sam grinned. "Lemme guess. This was supposed to be you, right?"
Finnick huffed. "I was nineteen when I did that. Me and Nick thought it was the peak of cool back in the day."
Sam smirked. "So this was the dream? Buff fox, sweeping some vixen off her feet?"
Finnick shrugged, a little embarrassed. "At the time, yeah. But, y'know, nostalgia and all that. I left it."
She grinned. "I respect the commitment."
He opened the door for her. "Yeah, yeah. Just get in."
As soon as she slid into the seat, Sam wrinkled her nose slightly. "You know… it kinda smells like cheap cigarettes in here."
Finnick sighed, starting up the engine. "Yeah, well… I smoke sometimes. Helps with the nerves."
Sam frowned slightly, glancing at him. "Didn't peg you as a smoker."
Finnick smirked, eyes on the road. "And what does that mean?"
"I dunno," Sam said, tapping her fingers on her knee. "You seem too… cool for that."
Finnick let out a short laugh. "Right. Real cool."
She glanced at him, then said more seriously, "You know, that stuff really messes you up long-term."
Finnick shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Not like I chain-smoke or anything. Just now and then."
Sam was quiet for a moment before she asked, "Would you quit if someone asked you to?"
Finnick flicked his ears. "Depends."
Sam turned in her seat, fully facing him. "What if I asked you to?"
Finnick kept his eyes on the road, feeling an odd warmth in his chest. He had known this girl for a few hours, and she was already concerned about his health? He wasn't used to that.
He cleared his throat. "Guess I wouldn't have much of a choice, would I?"
Sam smiled. "Good answer."
She leaned back. "My mom got my dad to quit, you know."
Finnick raised a brow. "Yeah? How?"
"She nagged him every single day until he finally caved," Sam said, laughing. "At first, he was all 'it's my life, I'll do what I want,' but after months of her hiding his packs, throwing them out, and making him feel guilty, he finally quit cold turkey."
Finnick smirked. "She sounds terrifying."
Sam grinned. "She's just very persistent."
He chuckled. "Remind me not to get on her bad side."
They drove in silence for about a minute.
"So, you live with your folks?" Finnick asked after a beat.
Sam exhaled. "Yeah. Would love to get my own place, but with modern house prices?" She let out a humorless laugh. "I'd need a loan that'd haunt me for the next twenty years."
Finnick nodded knowingly. "Yeah. No kidding."
Sam turned to him. "And what about you? You got a place?"
Finnick hesitated for a second before sighing. "Sometimes I sleep in the van."
Sam's brows furrowed slightly. "Seriously?"
Finnick shrugged. "Yeah, but usually, Nick's mom lets me crash at her place."
Sam blinked. "Wait. Nick's mom?"
Finnick smirked. "Yep. Been like that since we were kids. She's kinda the closest thing I got to a mom."
Sam was quiet for a second before she grinned. "So wait, since you live with his mom… Is that why he called you dad earlier?"
Finnick barked out a laugh, genuinely caught off guard. It was a real, full laugh—not just the small chuckles he usually gave. " The cat is out of the bag it seems."
Sam grinned. "It has a nice ring to it. Finnick Wilde."
Finnick groaned, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."
She just smirked. "Hey, just putting it out there."
The van rumbled softly as Finnick pulled up to the curb near Sam's house. The neighborhood was quiet, the streetlights casting a warm glow over the neatly trimmed lawns and the two-story homes lined up like something out of a picture book.
Finnick whistled low under his breath. "Man… nice place."
Sam chuckled, though there was a hint of embarrassment in it. "Yeah, I guess it is." She unbuckled her seatbelt but made no move to open the door just yet. Instead, she drummed her fingers against her knee, her eyes flicking toward Finnick before quickly looking away.
Finnick, naturally observant, noticed immediately. "Somethin' wrong?"
Sam let out a breath that was almost a laugh but mostly just awkward hesitation. "No, uh… no, not really." She finally turned to him, but the confidence she had earlier in their conversation seemed to waver slightly. "I just… well… I kinda have an extra ticket to Gazelle's concert tomorrow, and I was thinking, um…"
Finnick raised a brow, watching as she rubbed the back of her neck. She was fidgeting, which was honestly kind of adorable. "You were thinking…?"
Sam sighed dramatically, clearly frustrated with herself. "Ugh. Okay, I was gonna go with my friend, but as you rember, she canceled last minute, and now I just have this extra ticket, and I thought, hey, maybe I could ask Finnick if he wanted to go, but then I figured you probably hate pop music, and it's kinda dumb to invite someone to something they wouldn't enjoy, and—"
Finnick snorted, unable to stop the smirk that spread across his face. "Sam."
She stopped rambling instantly, blinking at him.
He chuckled. "You're really bad at this, huh?"
Sam groaned, covering her face with her hands for a second. "You have no idea how much I'm regretting this right now."
Finnick tilted his head. "What, invitin' me?"
She peeked at him between her fingers before sighing. "No, just… the way I asked. I swear I'm not usually this awkward."
Finnick smirked. "Kinda cute, actually."
Sam froze for half a second before quickly recovering. "Anyway—" she said, clearing her throat. "—if you don't wanna go, that's fine! I just figured I'd, y'know… offer."
Finnick leaned back in his seat, pretending to think it over. He did hate pop music. That wasn't a lie.
But, for some reason, the idea of spending more time with her didn't seem like the worst thing in the world.
He let a small, amused smile tug at his lips. "Eh. Why not?"
Sam blinked. "Wait, really?"
Finnick shrugged. "Sure. Could be fun."
Sam stared at him for a second before shaking her head with a small laugh. "Huh. Didn't think you'd actually say yes."
Finnick smirked. "What, you think I got nothin' better to do?"
Sam grinned. "Well, do you?"
Finnick clicked his tongue. "...That's not the point."
She laughed, then gave him a teasing nudge before grabbing her bag. "Alright, I'll text you the details tomorrow."
Finnick watched as she stepped out of the van, heading toward her front porch. The second she reached the door, it opened, and two older otters—clearly her parents—greeted her warmly. The older female otter had the same eye color as Sam, and Finnick watched as she immediately pulled her daughter into a hug.
Something warm stirred in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was, but he didn't hate it.
For the first time in a long while, he was actually looking forward to tomorrow.