It was morning. Another one. He wasn't sure, but he thought it was a Tuesday. The date had a 2 in it somewhere. He was pretty sure it did, anyway. Bah! Details and unimportant ones at that, until coffee happened. The important details of the morning were that it was a work day, he had first shift, it was his turn to get coffee and there was a special guest arriving at the precinct, so he had to be on time. On time meant 15 minutes early and he was well ahead of that. He was nothing if not punctual.

There were many things that Nick Wilde was not. Tolerant of mornings, was one. 20 years dancing on the razor's edge of the law and making his own hours, coupled with his very nocturnal vulpine nature made for slow waking, especially in cold weather. That said, he was still up and moving, if grudgingly, at 5:15am every day.

Nick Wilde was not unused to stares. For his entire life, mammals had peered, gawked or glared. As a kit, the looks were heavy with pity, or disgust. They became distrustful and calculating as he grew older, eventually turning fearful, as he grew into his adulthood and the confidence that came with it. Now, the stares were largely the same, but there were smatterings of respect and occasionally good will sprinkled through the gazes of the onlookers. He even caught a little awe in the eyes of kits and cubs, once in a while. The Nighthowler case, his uniform and his excellent service record had earned him that. To be frank, he cared little for the opinion of the common mammal. There had only ever been four mammals whose opinions held any weight with him: his deceased mother, the Chief (out of necessity), Mr. Big, (because he wanted to avoid a career as a fox-cicle), and his partner's. Her opinion was worth worlds to him.

She had changed him from a petty criminal to an upstanding citizen and part-savior of the city, or so their collective friends, coworkers, the media, and her parents, thought. It wasn't a change and both he and she (and his mother, as she had embarrassed him with) knew it. All she had done was bring out what had been there and buried for so many years. That truth apparently made a lousy news story, though. Nick shuddered at the mere memory of the press after the Bellweather arrest. The reporters had been like hyena cubs with squeaky teething ring.

Nick Wilde was certainly not stupid. He was a fox. He had to be smart. Ignoring the stereotypes associated with his species, his species dictated that he was smart. He had to be. Nick was intelligent, well read, diversely skilled, good with his hands, quick witted (as anyone who'd spoken with him could attest) and observant. Even before his life on the dubious side of the law began, he'd had these skills well honed. He'd needed them just to survive being a fox.

Another thing Nick Wilde was not: ignorant of himself. "Never let them see they get to you"; his motto. Easy to say, hard to pull off. It required self-awareness, life experience, and the ability to not lie to yourself. He'd heard what he was so many times since that heartbreaking night when he was nine. He'd had 23 years of losses, gains, triumphs, failings, moments of brilliance and more instances of mind-jarring idiocy than he was comfortable admitting. He'd been through enough to know who he was. Nick knew what he was and how other mammals saw him. He knew they weren't the same thing. He knew his conscience and capabilities very clearly: what he could and couldn't do, what he would and wouldn't do. He had his personal code and followed it. That didn't mean he was the most "moral" or "ethical", or even the most "honest" of mammals; by common standards, but he made his way and took care of his own.

Nick Wilde was not a fool. Foolish at times, yes, but never a fool. "Seriously", he mused to himself. "Who isn't?" He knew he wasn't immune to irrational moments. He kept a firm hand on himself (in several ways, he chuckled) and tried to avoid situations that could only end badly for him.

What it boiled down to was one very simple thing. He was experienced. He was a 34 year old todd, born and raised in the biggest city in Mammalia. After a youth largely on the streets and twenty-odd years skirting the law, the mob and the public, he'd danced around them all, managing to come out in one piece and financially ahead. His private holdings attested to that. Holdings neatly hidden and (after his contributions to the Nighthowler case) entirely his tax free, courtesy of a very grateful mayor who signed the papers granting him clemency.

Nick Wilde was intelligent, self-aware, capable, and confident. All very attractive characteristics in a male, which leads to another area of experience: females.

Nick mused on that thought for a moment, as he waited for his rather massive order at the local coffee shop. He'd managed his morning jog, shower and self-assembly for the day (a Monday, he'd finally figured out) in good time and meandered his way to his local hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, The Bark & Bite Beanery. It was a tiny place that he'd gone to for years and loved dearly. The delicious aromas that he brought into the precinct each day got enough attention that Bark & Bite, or The B&B, quickly became a favorite of Precinct 1. It was friendly to all species, close to just about everything and run by Miranda, a large female hyena and her significantly-smaller partner, a wombat named Jerry. Nick was curious about the specifics of their "partnership", purely as a former entrepreneurial business-mammal. Knowing how a good partnership functioned was part of daily life for him. Especially, interspecies partnerships. Those were of particular interest to him.

Shaking his mind out of that distracting rut, he turned his attention out of his own head, where Judy claimed he spent too much time as it was.

Looking at the order sheet he grimaced slightly. His turn to bring the coffee meant 9 cups of varying sizes, on a normal day. Today it was ten because he lost a bet with Delgato. The furry prick had won on a technicality, but it was still a win. Plus he was accumulating brownie points with a certain cheetah, so a bribe for everyone's favorite gossip and information broker was due at the front desk. Therefore he needed three large lattes for Higgins, Fangmeyer and McHorn, an extra-large light and sweet for Francine, Bogo's breakfast-abomination bucket of iced wheatgrass, lemongrass and mint, two medium cappuccinos (one with a second shot and cinnamon for the other) for the Lupine contingent, The Clawhauser Special as it'd come to be known (a vat of hummingbird food with a caffeine chaser), Judy's small raspberry-melon spice latte, his own medium coffee with three shots and Delgato's catmint double espresso. He was glad everyone had texted their orders to him last night, because he'd never have remembered it otherwise, not this early.

He watched as the coyote on the register helped her obviously new coworker, a sweet little elk doe, with the order. He was the only mammal in the shop this early, but he knew the morning rush was coming. They knew it too, as they scampered around, pulling shots, frothing milk and loading the ZPD cart they kept especially for the morning order. Whoever's turn it was to bring in the coffee order the next day had to drop it off the evening before, at shift end and Nick was oh so grateful he had it today. Coffees for three pachyderms, two big cats, the wolves, a water buffalo, a cheetah who could eat like a pachyderm, an itty bitty bunny drink and his own was too much for him to manage without it. He'd have a second cardio workout for the day by the time he made it to the station.

As the baristas plied their trade, Nick enjoyed the show. They were both younger than him, friendly, obviously morning mammals and cute enough catch the eye. The fact that the newbie needed some help and the coyote was an old hand at the job made for a charming display of camaraderie and added visual appeal to his morning. They'd conscientiously made his coffee first, so his brain now was beginning to function at near-normal speeds. He sipped while they worked and by the time the order was ready, he was mostly-done his cup, well-warmed from the hot liquid and flirting a little bit with the young ladies. They laughed at his jokes and he left them a nice tip. As he pulled out the door with cart on tow, the elk doe trotted up with a refill for him, on the house. He gratefully accepted and sent her a wink in thanks. Her blush was nice little lift to his morning.

Females…

Nick appreciated females and they appreciated him, but he was a fox. That comes with some issues. More on his end than theirs, but that's what it was. Contrary to popular opinion, foxes were rather picky when it came to dating.

Back in the quadrupedal days, vulpines mated for life. That particular trait of the species had diminished. It was far from a biological imperative, but it did remain as a cultural characteristic. In their younger years, foxes were free and often eager to date, play the field and explore their preferences, like any other species.

However, that tended to die out fairly quickly. By their mid-20's most vulpines were either looking for a long-term committed relationship that ended at an altar (or the courthouse), in one already, or very comfortable in their single lifestyle and unlikely to change it. That isn't to say that breakups, divorces, and later-life commitments weren't possible. They were, but were fairly uncommon. The vulpine reputation for home wrecking, man-whoring and general promiscuity was largely undeserved. The already poor reputation of the species was only made worse by a few outstanding exceptions to the rule. Statically, they were no worse than any other species. Of course, that stereotype had been useful in his days street-side, both in his professional capacity and for pleasure. He'd enjoyed the challenge of talking his way into a lady's bedroom, whether he used the bed or not.

Nick had reveled in his days in the dating pool, but he hadn't spent much time in it. In his line of work he had a small catch twenty two. He could date nice vixens, but either they didn't want to date a criminal and ran when they found out, or he didn't want to drag them into his life. He could date a vixen from his side of town, but trust was a major issue there. The few times he'd attempted it, he'd ended up poorer and dumped, or ended it himself because he got too paranoid to do anything else. The only other option was what he called "single-use relationships". They had their appeal initially, but he quickly decided they weren't for him. There was no satisfaction in something so devoid of emotional connection. Finnick thought that was hilarious when Nick explained it to him.

So, dating hadn't been a part of his life for a long time. He'd had the art of the hustle to practice and perfect, people to meet, money to make and plenty to keep him occupied without involving any romantic complications. He enjoyed females, aesthetically. He was, however, a fan of the "look but don't touch" rule. He found vixens a delight to gaze upon. They were pretty pieces of art that he could admire, perhaps chat up, but they stayed on the gallery wall. He had hoped for a time to find the masterpiece that he'd want to take home, but that had become a fantasy, bordering on a pipe dream many years ago. For a long time he'd been content to just enjoy the view and occasionally do a little sport flirting.

Then, some years ago, a surprising thing happened. Surprising to him, anyway. He'd been loafing around at a little bistro in the Rainforest District, enjoying a sandwich and coffee after a particularly satisfying hustle, when a young tigress walked in. She was fit, healthy and well dressed in a blouse and skirt combo that screamed office worker. Normally, Nick would have just dismissed her as another would-be mark and left it at that. He'd never cared about females other than vixens as anything else, but this time something struck him. Much to his surprise, he found her very appealing. Before he knew it, he was actually checking her out.

The pattern on her skirt complimented her stripes. Her blouse was plain, but fit her fur tones and was very flattering. Her watch and earrings were tasteful and fetching. The ensemble fit her build, brought out her femininity and made her eyes stand out. She was lovely and she frankly looked damn good. Attractive, even. Nick was momentarily stunned as he admitted that he'd thought a female outside his own species attractive. She wasn't even in his family of species. He'd seen a few canids that had been worth a second look, but never a feline. While he processed this minor mental bombshell, the object of his attention caught sight of him staring. He was mortified that he'd been caught and awaited the torrent of abuse that could only come his way for being a fox and blatantly ogling.

Only it didn't come. When their eyes locked, he saw her understand what was happening. Obviously, he was staring like a kit at the pretty girl at school. How could she miss it? She looked away, collected her order from the cashier, winked at Nick with a smile and slipped out the door, umbrella in hand. It took his several minutes to get what was left of his brain working, again. When it did, what had just happened registered and his body reacted. His cheeks turned red, his heart rate tripled and he'd dashed out of the bistro under the sternly disapproving gaze of the owner, trying very hard to keep his lower body out of sight. He'd sprinted the opposite direction to where the tigress had gone and ran until he found Finnick, who laughed until he was physically unable to move.

When the diminutive menace had finally regained the ability to draw breath without convulsing with laughter, all he said was, "Your go out for lunch and come back with cat scratch fever!", And then collapsed into hysterics again. When he managed to calm down he was slightly more helpful. "Man, you like what you like. I don't care. That's your business. Just figure it out quick, huh? If I gotta play wingman at a Milk 'n' Nip Bar, I need to know so I can get my game right."

Despite the urge to douse the little grief-monger with cold water, Nick appreciated his friend's perspective. He was supportive, even if he'd found the realization hilarious, and he was helping in his own brusque way. Nick took his advice. Several afternoons were spent mammal-watching, which wasn't unusual, really. The big difference was the intent behind it. He wasn't just looking for marks and honing his mammal reading skills, he was looking at what was there and (to his brief shock) he liked what he saw. He found that the art metaphor he'd held for so long regarding vixens, applied to females in general. He saw a lot that he liked in a lot of places he didn't expect. Felid, canid, mustelid, even ursine females had a lot of appeal to him. Broadening his field of appreciation was massively eye opening for the little red fox. Suddenly, there was a lot more to enjoy in the city he'd thought he'd known so well.

That was when two other bombshells hit. Within moments of each other, he caught himself appreciating a Muntjack doe in a pencil skirt and what he thought was a nice pair of lupine buns in a pair of really figure hugging jeans, until said attractive wolf turned around looking for his girlfriend. His. Girlfriend.

Finnick had howled for hours. Nick regretted mentioning it at all.

Shaking off that equal-parts embarrassing and amusing memory, Nick guided his cart and its precious cargo into the lobby of ZPD Precinct One and to his first stop on the morning coffee run. He was tired from the cart pushing workout, but he the end was in sight and the reason he was reminiscing was on the horizon. His smile only grew at the thought.

While Nick muscled the cart of caffeinated life juice across the lobby, Clawhauser was inhaling a bowl of Lucky Chomps and wiggling his way through an impromptu dance routine to one of Gazelle's albums. Nick found Clawhauser to be very mysterious at times. He danced like that with a bowl of cereal and never spilled a drop. He danced like that all the time and never lost weight. He ate more sugar than the rest of the precinct combined daily and hadn't died. It was baffling. He'd asked a couple of the veteran officers about it, but they just shook him off. Apparently, they just took it at face value. Either they were used to it, or didn't want to think too hard about it.

"Hey, Claws! Claws? BEN! Oh, for…"

Clawhauser was so deep in his Gazelle trance that he'd tuned out everything around him. Nick grabbed a sheet from the note pad on the desk, crumpled it into a ball and lobbed it up to bop the distracted cheetah on the nose.

Clawhauser jumped a bit at the sudden impact. "Oh! Nick! I didn't see you there."

"Hard to do with your eyes closed, buddy. I've got your usual, here. " As Nick lifted the near-vat of super sugary coffee up to the desktop. Clawhauser quirked an eyebrow and smirked at the little jab.

"Ooh! Thank you! It smells like heaven!"

"It smells like instant cavities, big guy. I don't know how you do it."

"Neither do I, but I love it and I make it work." Clawhauser took a long sip and sighed in obvious pleasure. "To what do I owe this delightful treat? Need a little intel on everyone's favorite bunny? The mighty Clawhauser knows all."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no. It's just coffee for a friend, but if it has to be something, call it building credit," Nick sighed.

It was no secret that the lovable receptionist was desperately in love with three things: Gazelle, sugary treats and playing matchmaker, in that order. His duties as desk sergeant put him in the perfect position to collect gossip on everyone and everything. He used that information to nudge burgeoning romances where he could and he oh so desperately wanted Nick and Judy to be together. He tried to get under Nick's skin at least once a week about it. Nick had no idea if he bothered Judy about it too, but she never mentioned it and he left it alone. Clawhauser could also be bribed into parting with some of his vast store of gossip for a price measured in donuts or concert tickets. He did a brisk trade around romantic holidays.

"Hrmmm… You sure? I'm sure I could help you get your hands on some honey bunny buns."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll pass. You know we don't have that kind of relationship. And don't let her ever hear you say "honey bunny buns". She'd skin us both. See ya, Buddy!" They both chuckled as Nick struggled off with the cart, Clawhauser, slurping down a distressingly large measure of super sugary liquid.

Nick was almost to the elevators, when he heard Clawhauser shout, "Oh! Nick!"

"Yeah?"

"Francine is up in her cubicle, but everyone else should be in the bullpen. The delegation from the ZPA will be here in an hour and Bogo wanted a word beforehand."

"Perfect. Thanks, Bud!"

This simplified things significantly. Francine was indeed at her cubicle and was very happy to get her morning libation. From there, Nick piloted the now-lighter cart back to the elevators and, hence, to the door of the bullpen. Wolford had the door open and waiting for him when he arrived and greedily collected his drink, as Nick rolled past. The walk up the aisle got easier with every officer passed, until he passed Higgins at the front. The Chief's stayed on the cart until he personally came to collect it, so there it stayed, in the corner. All the coffees delivered, he parked the cart in the corner, collected his own and Carrots' drinks, checked the time and headed out to the lobby to wait for Judy. She was already in the precinct, of course, but she was in her morning paperwork frenzy. He'd learned to stay out of her way when she got like that very early on.

Instead, he sat and sipped his drink. A glance at his phone told him he had almost 40 minutes before Bogo wanted to meet. On time meant 15 minutes early and Judy always added 15, which meant she would be wrapping up and headed his way for her morning hug and ten minutes of morning banter in, oh…

9…

8…

7…

Cups down…

5…

Turn towards the frantic pattering of bunny feet…

3…

Arms out and brace…

1…

"Nick!" This was the best part of his morning.

Impact. A beautiful ball of grey fur, energy, and enthusiasm slammed into his chest and clung there.

Beaming up at him, Judy chirped, "Morning, Partner! Ready for another day?", as he returned the hug.

"Sure am, Carrots." He replied, as she slid back to her feet and he tousled her ears.

This was all part of their morning routine. He brought coffee. She brought pastries, but left them at the reception desk until after their morning hug. She would swat his paw, scolding him for touching her ears. He would laugh and she'd punch him. Then, both of them would roll their eyes and smirk as Clawhauser's morning squeal would reach their ears. Judy's was often less exasperated than Nick's, but they knew he meant no harm. Then, she would collect their breakfast and they would take a few minutes to nibble baked goods and banter.

It was a simple pleasure and small, but it meant more to him than he'd ever admit out loud.

While she chattered about trouble with paperwork, office gossip and her parents' MuzzleTime from last night (apparently, there were more family weddings coming up), Nick leaned back and just basked in her gloriously sunny presence, like a lizard on a rock.

Nick had many secrets, but only two big ones. One he had to work especially hard to conceal was how much he liked affection. By nature, he was extremely affectionate. As a kit, he'd never gotten enough. Apparently, it was a family trait from his mother's side. However, many years of estrangement from his family and keeping bad company had deadened his inherent need for affection and physical contact. Criminals weren't big on hugs and it did nothing for a criminal reputation.

That had changed quite a bit, once the little grey ball of glee had exploded into his life. She was his polar opposite in so many ways, a perfect counterbalance and compliment as a partner and naturally affectionate in a way he was no longer comfortable with, but found he wanted badly. She had worn down his resistance slowly. Now, he found himself hugging back without hesitation, looking forward to it daily and seeking it out when he needed it. Casual touches, leans and half-hugs were now part of their daily lives together. He loved every moment, but he had to keep it controlled.

Nick's attention slipped fully back to Judy as her enthusiasm reached critical mass about something. He knew that tone and pitch of her voice was reserved for especially good news. "I can't believe that Jacob and Ian are finally out of the closet and getting hitched! We've all known for ages, but it such a thrill to see them…." So, one of her brothers who was in the closet, wasn't anymore. "It's about time, Carrots. I've met the buck once and it was as obvious as your little cotton tail that he was gay."

Judy immediately shifted her tail out of his line of sight with a scowl that didn't hide her smile. Her punch was not so half-hearted as it impacted his bicep. "Eyes front, Wilde."

"No promises.", he as he sipped his coffee, earning him another light punch.

Then, she was off about the wedding delays for her sister Felicity Nick could only smile.

The reason for that was his second secret. As he sat and chattered with his partner, his calm, cool relaxed expression was in place, as ever. His outside was a picture of serene contentment and saucy attitude. It was a finely crafted mask to conceal what was inside. Clawhauser would be thrilled if Nick's mask ever slipped, because all he'd find is validation.

Nick Wilde was many things. He was observant, self-aware and experienced. He was also not a fool. All of these character traits led him to an inevitable conclusion. Nick Wilde was in love with his partner. Hopelessly. Had been for a good long while. He knew it and he wasn't fool enough to deny it to himself either. It was as plain as the red in his fur.

He also knew it was not a possibility. Most of the reasons Clawhauser would dismiss with a wave of a paw and a breezy laugh, but Nick was not so easily mollified. He knew from hard experience that relationships were not like they were in children's' movies and love does not simply conquer all. Any relationship he'd have with Judy would be uphill all the way. Interspecies, pred-prey, coworkers, partners, public servants, public figures…. So many issues… And worth every drop of sweat, but all of it predicated on a single assumption: that she was interested. That was an assumption he was unprepared to make.

He knew she'd dated before. They'd had a night just before he left for the academy where they'd made it a competition who could tell the worse dating horror story from their pasts. He'd won with his Finnick-Tequila-raccoon ex-girlfriend story, but it barely beat out her ex-girlfriend-serving-her-at-the-restaurant-on-a-date story. As fun as that had been, it made clear that Judy had only dated lagomorphs in Bunnyburrow, and that pattern hadn't changed. She'd had a few dates since he'd known her. Some were meetings by chance. Others were arranged by her always-interested-in-her-daughter's-love-life mother. Either way, all were rabbits of some variety. Perhaps, not enough to be definitive, but a hell of trend.

Judy's voice revved back into that particular vocal range that meant they were late, meaning they were 29.8 minutes early, instead of 30 minutes. This was a perfect moment to ruffle her fur.

She was hopping in place and dragging on his arm, so he allowed her to drag him onto his feet and towards the door. Her enthusiasm was extra high today because there was special training and a VIM coming in today from the Academy. Of course she'd be thrilled.

He put on his favorite mope-face and complained, "But, Carrots, it's still early. What's the rush?"

Judy pipped straight back, "It's professional courtesy to be 15 minutes early."

"And the other 14 minutes and 38 seconds? Are what? Bonus?"

"Oh, stop being difficult and get in here," she grumped, as she held the door open.

"That's not possible, sweetheart, and you know it. Look! There's hardly anyone in there!"

"Damn it, Nick! Just. Get. In…. Blast!" he'd completely stopped just in the door frame. The few officers in the bullpen had turned to watch the morning floor show. Nick smiled and saluted Grizzoli with his coffee cup, while Judy struggled to move him and maintain her professional dignity. It was a losing battle. Grizzoli saluted back and rolled his eyes, but didn't stop watching. Every one of them knew this was part of their dynamic and all in good fun. Unfortunately, no one knew how excited Judy was that day, so what happened next was totally unexpected.

Judy was incensed at his intentional unhelpfulness and finally gave in to his obstinacy.

"Why are you being such a pain in the tail? "

He turned and bent down just to her eye level. "It's part of my charm."

Pinching the bridge of her muzzle, all she could do was sigh. "Could you and your charm, please, get out of the doorway and to our seat?"

"Sure thing, Fluff! All you had to do was ask nicely."

"Just move!" And that was when it happened. Her eyes were still closed and she swatted, hard, at where she thought his shoulder was. Unfortunately, He had straightened up and turned around to jauntily make his way to their chair. That put the path of her palm strike in line with, not his shoulder, but his posterior. The resultant smack and yelp caused the populace of the room, the officers waiting outside the bullpen, Clawhauser, Judy and Nick himself to all stop dead.

Nick's mind went into overdrive. He had to play it off and draw attention away from the blush that flooded his ears. He couldn't be given away like this, so when in doubt, deflect. "My, my, Officer Hopps…. If you like it rough; I don't mind, but ask a lady, first."

At that line, Clawhauser's third bowl of cereal hit the lobby floor and there was pandemonium in the bullpen. The cheering, hooting and catcalls were deafening. Judy's ears were scarlet. They flopped behind her head in embarrassment and she buried her face in her paws. Nick internally cringed. He loathed embarrassing her like this and he knew he would pay for this later. He'd make it up to her and already had a few reserve ideas for just such a situation. That didn't make seeing her wilt any less painful.

Nick reached out to her, hoping to guide her to their chair, when her eyes slipped over her paws and he knew fear. There was mirth in her eyes, so he knew he wasn't about to die, but there was fury there too. Bunny fury he knew all too well. The kind that left bruises.

Turning tail, he sprinted through the bullpen, wide eyed and grinning in maniacal anticipation. "Feet up! Coming through! Gangway!" Some of the larger officers obliged and moved their feet. Others just laughed as they watched a furious bunny run down her prey. A five minute chase through the legs of tables, chairs and laughing colleagues found Nick captured and laughing as he fended off a hail of rabbit punches. The ones that he managed to block would leave bruises on his arms. The ones that he didn't would leave bruises too. He deserved it and she struggled to restrain her giggles as she pummeled him.

The bludgeoning continued until Nick managed to nudge her off balance with a foot sweep and she overbalanced into his arms. He flipped her around and pinned her arms, before grunting out, "Ok, Carrots, enough. I'm sorry. Dinner's on me Wednesday at Full Moon Cafe, and I get your coffee the rest of the week." She struggled again, trying to get leeway to hit him again. "They're doing a Very Berry Special this week. A different flavored berry latte every day, all week." She settled a little and he relaxed his grip, fractionally. "And if you stop the beatings, I'll take you to B&B for a Carrot Honey Milt Blitz after work, today."

"You think that's enough to make me stop? Just really tasty treats I can't resist?"

She obviously was sold, but needed one last little push to give in. He breathed, "I'll throw in a foot rub after our next foot patrol…" into her ear, so only they could hear it.

And she was sold. He could tell by her shuddering in his arms. Her feet always hurt after a full day. Be it a regular patrol, piloting the joke-mobile, or any other duty, legwork was the mainstay. By days end, everyone's favorite rabbit officer was always foot sore and a foot rub was often the difference between ache-y crabby bun and cuddly flirty bun. It was one of her favorite things and a well-kept secret between the two.

"Tonight, Bottle Brush Butt. That's happening tonight." She whispered back.

"First you smack it, now you're talking about it. Do you have a butt fixation today, or something?", he muttered.

"One more joke and its fists of doom, round 2."

"Understood, Officer Cottontail.", He smirked.

Wolford leaned down with an urgent, "If you two are done whispering sweet nothings, Chief's on his way."

Never ones to argue with a Wolf's sense of smell, the two jumped apart and hastened to their places for the morning briefing. Nick gave his petite partner a paw up into their shared chair and took her hand up in turn. This was the quickest way for the two to get seated and served as a small treat for Nick. He got a lovely view of her honey buns on her way up, followed by (as childish as it sounds) a chance to hold her paw and she returned the favor. Occasionally, he let his thumb roll across the back of her paw as he let go. He couldn't help himself. It was the most he was ever going to get and while he was fine with that (he kept trying to convince himself) he wasn't going to pass on the little things.

All this happened under the amused and exasperated gazes of their coworkers, who shook their heads and turned back to the conversations and phone-surfing that The Nick & Judy Show had interrupted.

Nick sat and thought, while Judy did her usual fist-bump routine with McHorn. Another little quirk that she had made a part of her daily routine and, in turn had made her part of the team. She was so adorable, even when she was hamming it up to get a grumpy rhino to crack a smile. Nick couldn't help but admire her. She'd gone from a naive sucker in a bowler hat to someone he couldn't imagine life without.

She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Nick smiled as he thought about how good he had it. A good friend, the perfect partner, actual coworkers, a career, steady income and self-respect were all his. All because of her. Judy gave him a reason to be the scout he'd always wanted to be. He was turning into such a rom-com cliché, it was farcical. The soft-boiled criminal turned cop was going gooey over the sweet, bubbly little bunny that he'd unwillingly befriended and elected to follow. All it took was her big, lovely eyes, looking up at him, for him to crack like a plumber's ass.

He was a hot mess over her and only getting worse with every thought that passed through his fuzzy mind.

That was why he refused to let himself entertain the idea of her interest. He was slipping already and he couldn't afford to slip any further. Life was good. Damn good. The best it had ever been and she was the cornerstone of it all. He was not about to rock the boat and risk ruining what he had just because he couldn't get his emotions back in the damn box.

The social fallout awaiting them if they did get involved was a concern, and he doubted severely that she felt anything but platonic love at most. She was so sweet to everyone. Even the damn criminals liked her. The only thing he got that no one else did was time with her at work and a little of her personal time, when he could squeeze into her schedule. He had to hold on to that. He had to anchor himself to the fact that he was her friend and partner and nothing else. As long as that was a fact, he had a chance to keep it together. Once he was friend-zoned he was in familiar territory. He'd been there before. He just had to put himself there without her noticing him putting himself there.

He blinked as he realized how utterly insane he sounded. He was making excuses for things that didn't even exist and planning on friend-zoning himself when he wasn't even in the running. He needed professional help.

Fortunately, his self-stressing delusional reverie was interrupted by the Chief lumbering into the bullpen, to the usual cacophony.

"Alright, quiet. Enough!" Bogo's trademark bellow silenced the room and be began his usual drone through announcements he didn't care about.

Nick was about to make his usual crack about Chief Buffalo Butt's lack of enthusiasm, when he heard Judy gasp. Thinking he'd missed something important, Nick looked to her to see what was going on, but she wasn't looking at the Chief. She was looking at the chief's thigh level and off to his side. Following her line of sight, Nick found the obvious focus of his partner's rapt attention.

It was a rabbit. It was an obvious he, with light grey fur, unmistakable black stripes across his ears and face and a reputation that every mammal alive knew. It was a reputation that, coupled with his partner's imminent fangirling, made a lead weight fall into his stomach. Standing next to his boss was Jack Savage; government agent, celebrated veteran law enforcement officer, decorated hero, paragon of rabbit-hood, idol to all members of the Lapidae family, and threat to female virtue everywhere.

"As you are all aware, our precinct has the honor of being the focal point for a special training enterprise over the next 18 months. The express focus of this training is curbing the recent increase in smuggling activity in the city and, eventually, stamping it out entirely. We have with us today; an agent that needs no introduction; as his record speaks for itself. Special Agent Jack Savage has been seconded to the ZPA for the term of the training in order to bring us up to speed, precinct by precinct, and will be leading our training for the next month. His expertise and experience in unearthing and ending smuggling operations will be an invaluable asset in combating these criminal cells. I trust you will show him the warm welcome and respect that a mammal of his caliber deserves. Agent Savage, if you would like to say a few words?"

The black striped buck moved to the podium with a composure that bespoke great prowess and long experience. His brief address to the universally ram-rod straight and riveted audience was delivered with an aplomb and gravitas that was impossible to deny, let alone ignore. He had the room eating out of his hand within a few syllables. His charisma was awe inspiring. Nick was pole-axed. He heard not a single word the rabbit spoke. The last he heard was the gentle intake of breath Judy had taken and the look of adoration on her face when she saw Jack standing by Chief Bogo's hip.

Dread settled into Nick's bones as he felt more than saw Judy leave their seat at high speed. Jack had finished his speech and officers were coming forward to welcome him. As her form receded in the direction of the only other rabbit in the room, a sick nauseous feeling filled him. He slid off his seat, as if on autopilot, and followed.