Hello! Tis I! The author currently writing a platonic mess of a story known as Taxonomic Rank! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, don't fret! Not many do. It's a blip of a little story in a hugely growing fandom. But if you wish to know just click on my name and look for that... Platonic romance at its messiest. If that's your thing, it's there for your viewing pleasure.

And due to popular demand (and some unpopular demand as well) I have finally done what I thought never to be possible.

I have begun writing romance.

For a couple I don't particularly ship. But... can? On a rainy day, at least. I really have no idea.

It'll be out of order with no real drive behind it- not as much a whole story as just a ramble of the most odd and scattered of kinds. But for now, I suppose, it'll do. Seeing as I'm terrible at writing romance. But this is what everyone asked for. So if it's terrible, just know I'm not to blame. Aren't excuses fun!

A Prompt given to me by a Tumblr User that I posted there a few days ago on my blog (btw follow me! Humanity in a Handbag! TO THE GUEST WHO ASKED- THIS ISNT STOLEN! THIS IS MY WRITING! JUST POSTED THERE FIRST! WITH ALL MY OTHER STORIES! But follow me on Tumblr because I'm a delight and sometimes post stories there first! :D): "things you said under the stars and in the grass"

It's a shorter one but they'll range in size!

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS MY FRIENDS FAULT. SHE GOT ME INTO ROMANCE. AND IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. (gets off the ladder... grumble grumble grumble)

Enjoy!

o0o

"When love is not madness it is not love."

~Pedro Calderón de la Barca

o0o

Bunny Burrow wasn't really a place that Nick Wilde frequented by any means. Foxes and rabbits weren't known for getting along, and no matter how much time had changed them, tolerance was an age old mystery that no one had even begun to crack. History was a subject that surpassed time, and it was nearly impossible to find someone who hadn't at least picked up the book.

It bothered him. But he did his best not to show it.

Which was exceedingly difficult when a certain rabbit approached him at his desk where he'd been filling out paperwork (or playing phone games, but really, what was the difference) and spun him about in his wheely chair before declaring, "You're coming home with me."

He blinked at her, once, twice, green eyes wide and questioning. He swallows back a lump in his throat that always seems to appear when she's this close and manages a meager, "… What…?"

"You," she pointed at him before pointing towards herself, "are coming home with me."

"Oh am I?" It didn't take him long to gather his wits, and soon enough his grin is back. He wonders if it shows in his eyes. "And why's that?"

"Because my moms birthday is next week and my entire family is showing up. And if I go alone they're going to ask me about marriage and kids and why I'm not seeing another rabbit."

"Isn't that supposed to happen."

"Yes," she replied loftily. "But I don't want it to."

"… because…"

"Because, dumb fox," she slugged him on the arm, "I'm with you. And based on our agreement of the romantic kind, you're meant to be suffering with me."

He actually lets out a guffaw at that one, snickering when her nose crinkles. "I don't think I signed anything like that, Carrots. And I don't suffer for people. I make them suffer. That's the conman's creed."

"Actually, you did. As soon as you were dumb enough to ask me out."

"I never asked you out," he tells her in a matter of fact way. A wolf at the desk a little ways off turns his ear at that, listening in. Nick doesn't bother lowering his voice. If they want a scoop, they can have one. "You asked me out."

"No. I didn't."

"Yes. You did. Now leave. I have very important paperwork to get back to."

"We both know that's not true."

"I can't hear you over my responsibilities!" Nick sings back, twisting in his chair to go back to what he was doing before. He clicks a few buttons on his phone. Level 53 is unlocked with a chime.

He knows that she'll ask again. And watching her glare from the corner of his eye when he hands his reports into Clawhauser, he knows its just a matter of time. Judy's never done things by halves, and she never lets a dead thing lie. He's always liked that about her.

"I remember what happened," she tells him the next day when she gets into the car. He's leaning onto the middle console, his elbow digging into a cupholder, her ice coffee offered out in his hand. She takes it, reaching for the straw until it's folded in her teeth. Takes a sip. Grimaces. "There's not enough-" Like a card trick, he's flicking his fingers and a packet of sugar is a willing sacrifice. "Thanks."

"No problem. Now, what were you saying?"

"What was I saying, what?" She uses her straw to stir, concentrating on the ice clattering about inside. The sugar floats aimlessly to the bottom before being disrupted again like the most caffeinated of snow globes.

"You remember what happened."

"Oh. Right. I do." She takes another sip, and though she's doing her best to look angry at him he can see the way her jaw twitches in something that wants to be a smile. "I kissed you. I got drunk and I kissed you."

"You did," he says. "And then you threw up on my feet."

"To be fair, you deserved it." One of her ears had fallen to her shoulder and she flipped it off with a twist of her head. "By the way, I told my mom you were coming. She said she'll make you a blueberry pie."

"I'm not going, Carrots."

"You are," she says, finally breaking out a smile, and he could have sworn that if the sun hadn't been hiding behind the buildings, it'd have been jealous of the competition. "And you know you are."

"You're challenging a hustler to his own game, sweetheart. You're gonna lose." He leans the rest of the way over to flick her nose. She sneezes. Glares again.

"No I won't. Jerk." She splashes a bit of condensation at him from where its collected on her paw from the plastic cup. "Now drive. We'll be late for work."

She was right, of course. He ends up going to the party. Then again, they both knew he would.

They leave a little later than they'd meant to (he'd slept in, her shower hadn't been running hot, and then she'd forgotten the wine for her mother which prompted a very interesting trip to a liquor store where drunken escapades were remembered fondly and he'd dragged her into a corner behind a stack of chardonnay boxes for a brief but glorious make out session to instill "nostalgia"). The trains were finicky on weekends, and so they'd driven in. Which might have also been a mistake, because Zootopia traffic was apparently a friendly, complimentary preparation for apocalyptic futures that the men on corners were always going on about.

They get stuck in a sinful amount of traffic and only fight three times. The first two for stupid reasons she couldn't even remember. The second one she remembered very clearly when upon receiving a few remarks by a nearby prejudice driver with opinions about rabbits and foxes and their relations, Nick had decided to retaliate by making direct eye contact before leaning over and giving her ear a bite. She really hoped that it had been worth the amount of yelling she'd done at him afterwords, which had been enough to send him into a temporary pouting silence.

She'd never thought to bring snacks, so they end up rummaging through his glove compartment before finding a stash of stale granola bars and spent the rest of the time gnawing through them while singing along to pop songs the radio felt the need to repeat. He had a horrible voice and hers is worse, and it isn't long before the cars next to them roll down their windows to either shout or beg them to stop.

They just sang louder.

All in all, it had been a standard trip.

They make it at high noon when the sun is positioned strategically enough to not hurt his sensitive eyes and the sunglasses he'd brought just in case hang unneeded on a noose near the soldiers rank of buttons of one of his less gaudy Hawaiian shirts. He has his bag in one hand, a paper one with three wine bottles in the other.

"I'm glad you came, by the way," Judy reaches up to fix the knot of his tie, tightening it into place. "I mean, not that I thought you wouldn't. I'm just glad."

"You'd miss me too much. Admit it."

She doesn't have time to craft an answer. Not when there's the sound of a knob being turned. "Oh Judy you're home!" Bonnie is the one to open the door wearing a yellow apron and a grin. Music and laughter pours out into the space beyond and Nick's ears tuck back at the noise. "We're so happy you could come, sweetheart."

"I wouldn't miss it, mom. Who's here?"

"Well, your brothers and sisters are just about dying to see you. And a few of your cousins. Uncles. Aunts."

"So… half of the city?" Judy elbows Nick for that one. Her mother ignores it.

"Uncle Terry's been asking, by the way. Your father told me to warn you that he's got a few… questions."

"Oh god." she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Is he trying to set me up again. I told him last time that I already have someone."

"Aw," Nick coos. "Carrots! You absolute Hallmark, you!"

"Don't push your luck, Wilde."

"Not just Terry, hon. All of them are." Bonnie turns her eyes to the figure behind her daughter and the edges of her eyes crinkle into cellophane. Nick has to hold down a breath because he's still growing accustomed to warmth, and no matter how many times he sees the fire he's sure that the fear of getting burned will never really leave. She moves forward, arms already out, and he bends as much at the waist as much as the bags allow, making it easier for her. She pulls him down farther anyway. He used to find nuzzling a hilarious circumstance of being a rabbit. Now he's fairly sure he knows why they do it. "Nick, dear, so good to see you again."

"Likewise, ma'am. And happy birthday!"

"You're too sweet. Thank you. We're so happy you're here. Stu and I, I mean. Oh and the children have been ecstatic. You might have to brace yourself when you come through."

Nick's smile is nearly cavity inducing. His first visit to the Burrows had been a strange one. Filled with awkward tension from parents not sure how to react and kids who hadn't ever been close enough to their predator to see every strand of fur in its fluffy tail.

A fluffy tail they'd soon attacked with a curious enthusiasm. Everything had run fairly smoothly once the parents had realized, around the fourth time he'd "accidentally" dropped his tail on a shrieking bunnies head, that he wasn't out to eat them and that, all in all, he was a decent fellow.

The kids, after giving his tail another few tugs before dragging him off for blueberry picking, had agreed.

"Anyway," Bonnie continued, leaning away from the fox enough to look up at him, still holding onto his arms, "It really is good you're here. Poor Judy's been practically gutted at every family meeting. Might be good to have a little proof at her side." She moves back, releasing him. He misses the warmth for just a moment, but the Hopps family never seems to let anyone be without for long. Maybe its a bunny thing. Or maybe he just got lucky and fell into the right hearth. Judy's paw is in his, slipping their fingers together without much thought at all, and he gives it a squeeze.

"They're gonna try to get me to give random rabbits my number," she grumbles, leaning against Nick's side. "Remember last time? I was getting poetry and guitar solos on my voicemail for weeks."

"Just humor them, carrot-cake." Bonnie wipes her hands on her apron, beating out some spare flour. "You have your Nick here."

"He's not my Nick." Nick reaches over and tweaks her nose.

"You're my Judy."

"Oh be quiet."

"You know you love me!"

"Depends. How willing would you be to bite off some of my relatives hands if they start asking stupid questions?"

"Not gonna happen, darlin'."

"Then no. I don't know."

"Yes you do."

Bonnie just watches their exchange with a roll of her eyes, staring at a particularly glorious patch of sky with a sigh lingering at the corner of her lips. "Thank you for your restraint, Nick dear. It's appreciated. Now both of you, come in. And please try to keep my daughter from doing anything to her family. We can't have a repeat of Thanksgiving '08."

"What happened Thanksgiving of '08?" He tilts his head to the rabbit at his side, his ears drooping with gravity.

She shrugs, looking at anything but him before giving a small pebble by her foot a vengeful kick. "It was their own fault."

"Of course it was, sweetheart. Nick-?"

"I'll keep her on a short leash, Ma'am."

"… Jerk," he hears Judy mumble, and he leans over to kiss one of her velvety ears.

They end up staying together through the entire thing. And she had been right. The questions ranged from personal to down their throat. His tail might have become permanently bristled from the amount of distrustful looks they sent his way, and he was sure the muscles around his ears were beginning to tire from being pinned back for so long, but she was adamant about who she was with and made it clear that no amount of passive aggressive comments spoken around carrot martinis were going to change the way she felt anytime soon.

Nick had to admit, for a bunny who hardly knew how to handle herself around anyone, she'd grown into someone who was suddenly more than subpar at it.

"So," one of her many uncles glares at Nick, feet twitching on the floor as if he was getting ready to run from danger, "this is the fox."

"Yup." Judy swirls her glass around, watching the legs of wine drip down. "This is him. The fox."

"I go by Nick most of the time, though," Nick, the fox, chimes in.

Uncle Whats-His-Face looks like he'd rather just call him any other demeaning name (as if Nick hadn't heard them all) and huffs, puffing out already puffy cheeks. "So, all the eligible bunnies in the city weren't enough? Or are there none."

Nick's never been much for emotion, and they both know it. Never let them see that they get to you. So when he does his best to smile between a quick and smooth "she's just got great taste in animals, that's all," they both know he's not fairing too well beneath.

Uncle Who's'it doesn't notice. Or, more likely, doesn't care. "Did you do something to threaten her? Or is this some sort of a bet with your friends. Go for the easy prey, huh?" It's not an uncommon question. They've heard it before. But the family aspect of it stings. And from behind her, the rabbit could just see Nick's ears flickering back, his attention going into his own wine glass, sharp teeth clamping down on his tongue.

He might have agreed not to bite off hands, and Judy's leash is still a short one, but she has wiggle room and she uses it.

And it's moments in those pockets of wiggle room that Nick remembers just why he fell in love with Judy.

Moments where she gives his hand a squeeze, offers up a smile more powerful than a tranq gun and chirps, with enough artificial sugar to induce a coma, "Nope! I work a really high stress job. Needed an outlet. And it just so happens that Nick here's the best for a roll in the sheets."

The Uncle turns on his heel with a choke and Nick's laughing so hard he has to drag her outside just to lean against the side of the house through his tears before kissing her senseless.

"I can't believe you said that," he murmured between pecks and nips at her neck, voice almost lost in her fur.

She just gave his large ear a pinch. "He was annoying me. It got him to leave."

"Do you really think I'm the best? Because I really think our practice has been paying off lately."

When she laughs it matches the wind chimes that hang from outside their porch. He's always loved her laugh. Large and bright and unfiltered. "You're the best," she promised. "Might have used it to exorcise evil relatives, but I meant it."

She gets an extra nip at the shoulder for that one.

Nick had always liked the Hopps'. They were forward thinkers. Not about just new farming techniques and updated pluming methods, but about him as well. He'd seen too many movies where protective fathers and mothers had protested vehemently about long term boyfriends being close to their baby girls and he had expected them to be the same.

It never really was.

"If you need more covers, just let us know," Bonnie told Judy and Nick over her hand of cards before they'd headed upstairs. The party was over and all the kids (and the plus one) had helped clean up. The house smelled vaguely like carrots and alcohol and the warmth from the oven still lingered.

Stu called out go fish before slapping a few cards on the table. "Oh, an' Nick, the sink in Judes' room works, but the hot water is a finicky thing. Just give it a minute."

"Appreciated, sir. And happy birthday again, ma'am."

"Night mom! Night dad!"

They talk for some time, do their best to entertain siblings who pop in and out to jump on the bed and ask Nick question after awkward question (so when I'm an aunt will there be funnies or boxes!). He throws a few of them over his shoulder (it's easy to play the persona of the big bad hungry fox, and he abuses this right- not that Judy ever cares to tell him how much she loves to watch) and totes them off to their own rooms.

By the time everything is settled, so is everyone in the house.

He's in the bathroom, washing the taste of wine from his mouth, when he hears her snoring. She's asleep before he even gets to bed. Not that he does get there. And an hour later, after a spare floorboard squeaks somewhere far off, she wakes up alone. The house is dark and she has trouble seeing. But he wouldn't have, and when she does find him, standing by a window in the kitchen over the sink, it's in the pitch. Moonlight is flooding in through the slats in the curtains and gives the entire place the feel of a prisoner behind bars that follow along like smog.

Her arms have always been short, and he's always been larger than her, but she still manages to wrap them around his waist, pressing the side of her head against the rivulets of his spine.

"You weren't in bed."

"Sorry…" he doesn't sound sorry. Just far off and distant. She gives him a squeeze.

"S'okay. Are you?"

"Am I what."

"Okay." He nods. "I don't believe you. But that's fine." She moves away, grabbing a cup from where it's drying on the rack, filling it with water. It's pressed into his palm. "The family really messed with you, huh?"

He doesn't drink it, but he moves the mug in circles, passing it back and forth slowly from paw to paw. "They don't trust me."

"You're right."

"They think I'm out to hurt you, or something."

"They do."

"Two of them had fox repellent."

"Four, actually. Five if you count my great aunt. But she can't move that much. Wouldn't have done her anything." He hums. Jaw twitching. She smiles before taking the glass from his hand before replacing it with her own. "Come on."

"Where'we going?"

"Just come on."

She brings him to the middle of their blueberry field. The land smells like the coffee mulch, sweet crushed flowers and new wind. They find a patch that isn't too badly covered in crushed berries, sitting down back to back. Her head leans to look up and the top of her crown bumps his spine. He looks up too. The stars are out. And without light pollution the place reeks of constellations and nebula's.

"You know, I left this place to go to a city. But… I kind of miss it sometimes. I mean, it took me a while to figure out that they're both terrible in some ways. Great in others. Really the same. But… I miss it."

"I can see why. You have a midnight snack out your back door." He popped a few of the fruit into his open maw.

She wants to tell him about what else there is to like. The sweeping forests. The brooks a mile past the hills. The expanses of rocky land where the fireflies flock two months out of the year. "I'm really glad you came," she says instead.

"You keep saying that, Carrots."

"And I'll keep meaning it."

"Huh. Whod'a'thunk I'd be having a sentimental discussion with Officer Toot-Toot. I mean… I wouldn't have a while ago."

"Well, I hadn't thought I'd be toting around your fuzzy tail either, but here we are."

He laughs before reaching behind him to clasp her hands in his. "I love you," he says honestly.

She presses her heels into the ground, pushing herself back to sidle closer. His tail flickers back, forth, back, forth, back and forth before winding around her in the chilly evening. Above them the stars glimmer, watching over with a curious eye ready to catch gossip in lightning bug jars.

"I love you, too." She says. And then, "There's an old elm a few yards away. You wanna go make out behind it?"

He's up in a flash, dragging her behind him, their laughter catching on the breeze and echoing out loud enough for even the great city, just visible above the line of apple orchards, to hear.

Well! That's it! The first of many romantic messes to come!

Tell me how I did and what you might want to see (no promises) later on. I'm not much of a romance person when it comes to these two but... I can see the appeal. And yeah, they are kind of cute together I guess.

Thank you for reading, drop me a review, and don't forget -my lovely and talented people- to write write write!

~Gal