"Settle down, settle down, shut your mouths!" Chief Bogo shouted, slamming his clipboard on the podium. His grimace deepened. "That means trunks as well, Francine," he growled at the back of the room. The elephant huffed and rolled her eyes, but curled up her trunk and fell quiet.

"As you know," his voice boomed through the bullpen, "things have been quiet around here. The crime rate," he paused with a hint of pride, "is at a record low. But!" he narrowed his eyes at his officers. "That does not mean we can fall asleep on the job!" Clawhauser shrunk into his chair. Only a few weeks ago, he'd fallen into a donut-induced coma behind the front desk in the middle of the working day, prompting officer Wilde to make what he referred to as "artistic improvements" to the cheetah's face with a laundry marker. Bogo chewed the receptionist out every time they crossed paths that week (laundry marker, turns out, does not wash out of fur easily), although most of the force was pretty sure that Bogo secretly found it hilarious.

Bogo's gaze dropped to his notes, briefly skimming from line to line before looking up. "Officers McHorn, Wafford, Trunkabee…" Nick tuned out as the chief rattled names off, his mind wandering off to witty remarks he could toss at his coworkers. Joanne, look who finally made it into work! I was half convinced you'd gone into hibernation. Looking a little droopy there, officer Wolfy. Full moon last night?

Some members of the force thought Nick's side comments were endearing. Some found them infuriating, and let him know. He knew he should probably let up, but what's a fox to do? Even after leaving behind his criminal past, slick and sly were still Nick Wilde's calling cards, not to mention sarcasm. After only a month with the police, he'd come up with nicknames for every single one of his coworkers, and only partially because he'd forgotten half of their real names. Most of them were quintessentially Nick: Officer Chompers, the SWAT commando lion, Fearsome Franklin, the meek rodent down in records by the boiler…

Carrots. He chuckled to himself.

Judy was, as always, in the front row, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed atop a stack of academy textbooks so she could see over the table. He couldn't see her face, so he wasn't sure whether she was trying to put on her stoic 'serious police business' expression or if she'd cracked into that overeager, hopelessly infectious Judy grin. A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth just at the thought of it. He couldn't help it. Cheese and crackers, Wilde. Smiling at the thought of police work. I've gone softer than a freshly conditioned chihuahua. If Finnick was here, he'd probably break my legs, and snap off my…

"Nick!" Judy's harsh whisper jerked Nick out of his thoughts, only to realize they were the only two officers left in the room. Save for Bogo, who was staring at him and breathing extremely loudly through his nose.

Bogo crossed his arms. "Are we listening, officer Wilde?"

Nick sat up, straightening his aviators and going deadpan. "Roger that, chief. I'm all ears." He smirked. "Well, I mean, not all ears. That's sort of officer Hopps' thing." He wasn't looking but he could practically feel the weight of Judy's big violet eyes rolling. "Let's go. Hit me. What's the 411."

Bogo regarded the fox for a long second before shaking his head in disapproval but continuing. "The 411, officer Wilde, is a case of seal smuggling in the Tundratown district."

Judy's hand shot up. "What are they smuggling?"

"Er," Bogo paused, donning his glasses and squinting at his notes. "Bootleg CDs." Who still listens to CDs? Nick wondered. "Anyway! I want you and Hopps down there this afternoon. We have a contact who claims to have some information on the perps. He's agreed to a meet tomorrow at Arendale Plaza. It's the only lead we've got, so don't bungle it." With that, Bogo turned on his hooves and strode out the door.

Judy spun around, leaning over the back of her chair. "Finally!" Her ears quivered with excitement, and her paws were balled up into tight fists. "We haven't been assigned together since the Flash case!" she exploded. "First I got stuck with Wafford and Sampson, and they were alright, but then McRoary, you know, it's always 'my way or the highway' with him, I mean just because he's an apex predator you know he thinks he's all that but not uh, the greatest smelling mammal in the savannah, that one," she finished out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled. "This is gonna be great!" Just like old times!"

"That's right, Carrots." Nick purred behind a smooth smile and reflective lenses. "We're gettin' the band back together." Nick wasn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeve like certain bunnies, but he had to admit to himself he was pretty thrilled too. Outside of work, the pair spent every other day together doing this and that: watching this film and that one at the Zootropolis cinema; catching reruns of Pretty Little Ligers on a tiny TV in Judy's apartment; lying in the park under the shade of a sprawling sycamore on a golden afternoon, Judy chattering about something and Nick content to let her do so and only occasionally nod off. Stuff like that.

But professionally, the two led pretty separate lives. Judy was a proven veteran and, despite her protesting, more or less the public face of the force. This meant that she found herself behind a gaggle of microphones answering questions with more questions ("Do I enjoy doing this? No, Bogo. No, I do not. Do I think you should stick your head in a bucket of ice? Why yes, yes I do.") more often than she liked. Nick, on the other hand, was still relatively novice, although the chief did grudgingly recognize that his background and skills were a valuable asset. At times.

The two ambled out of the bullpen into the atrium, bantering easily. "Carrots, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a perfectly capable driver."

"Nick, you leveled half of vole village!"

"That was one time!"

As they walked towards the lobby exit, Nick's ears twitched and picked up the sound of stifled giggles coming from the welcome desk. He glanced over to see what new app was tickling Clawhauser. To his surprise, the cheetah's phone was nowhere to be seen. Odd. Nick ran through a mental checklist: no fresh batch of donuts, no Gazelle single dropped last night (Judy would already have played it for him a hundred times), and Nick certainly hadn't picked up any whispers of Clawhauser lining up any hot dates. No, strangely enough, Clawhauser was staring straight at… him. And Judy. And laughing into a paw.

Whah? Nick was momentarily flustered. Is there a 'kick me' sign on my back or something? His claws scraped around on his back but didn't reveal anything other than a need to wash that particular shirt. He patted down the fur on his head. No cowlick or anything… what's the big deal?

Judy looked him up and down, bewildered by his frenzied activity. "Uh… what's the big deal?" She giggled. "See, Nick, it's the perp you're supposed to pat down, not yourself."

Nick let out an exasperated breath, half at the situation and half at Judy's awful attempt at a jab. "Comic gold, Carrots." He sauntered over to reception and laid his arms on the counter. "Hey, big Ben! Mind letting me in on the joke?" He leaned in, glancing around in mock suspicion. "I promise I won't tell anyone," he whispered. A peek downwards revealed the workstation of a consummate professional; the keyboard was barely visible underneath a sea of sprinkles and a syrupy film of old cola. Nick had no idea how the computer could possibly still work. It probably didn't.

"Oh Nick!" Clawhauser bubbled. "No jokes, no jokes. I'm just real happy is all." He lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper. "It does this ol' heart of mine a heaping pile of good to see you two on a case together."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Yeah… you always get this jazzed up about a couple pals cracking a case together?"

Clawhauser just tilted back in his chair with a cherubic grin. "Oh, of course Nick. Just a couple of friends." With another fit of giggles, he returned to his computer, pretending unconvincingly to be busy, each keystroke noisily crunching a clump of sprinkles.

Nick looked at Clawhauser, then at the keyboard, then back at Clawhauser, then shrugged. Well, nobody ever accused Clawhauser of being the straightest spine on the hedgehog, Nick mused as he turned and strolled back to Judy, who was waiting by the exit. She shot him a quizzical look. "What was that about?"

Nick walked through the door without breaking stride, but paused to hold it open for his partner. "Beats me, Carrots. Beats me."

"Oh, just look at those two," Clawhauser gushed to himself as soon as the door swept shut behind them, fishing into his drawers for his phone and cueing up the latest Catty Perry track. He put his feet up on the counter. "So adorable. Still putting up an act, like it's not already in plain sight."

A/N: Big thank-you to TheRealMcbasilrocks for his feedback and help as a beta, to Disney for bringing us these characters, and to YOU for checking out the story! I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Cover credit to Don Romley, check out their art on Tumblr!