This story is dedicated to hyenainasportsbra over on Tumblr! ^^
Please enjoy these three vignettes of the objectively best ship in Zootopia.

"You'll be sick."

Lawrence doesn't break his stride, hoping to drag his new partner along by sheer force of will. They're still within schedule and budget for this supply run, and he intends to keep it that way. Stay professional.

But the idiot doesn't budge.

Lawrence stops himself, mentally and physically, with a sigh. That's unfair. The kid is... different, certainly. Different from the rest of the pack, and very different from himself. They're almost opposites. The icy realist, struggling to establish himself as leadership material, saddled with the 'outside-the-box thinker' as his partner. Possibly as some kind of punishment.

But what he lacks in focus, Geralt – or 'Gary', as he likes to be known – makes up for in warmth. He's unfailingly friendly, even in the face of increasing hostility. He's owed the same in return... for the sake of pack cohesion, if nothing else. So Lawrence takes a deep breath and returns to where the white wolf stands, transfixed.

The ice-cream is monstrous.

Three exemplars of decadence sit behind the glass, in vivid primary colours – sugary goliaths of blue, red and yellow. Gary is almost pressed against the shop window, brown eyes wide.

"Just look at them..." he breathes. "And for fifteen dollars?! That's such a good deal! It'd be stupid not to buy one!"

Lawrence is perfectly aware of what would and would not be stupid in this situation, but bites back the acid on his tongue.

Instead, he points out the obvious. "They're almost as large as you are."

"Yeah!"

"...You can't eat one."

"Sure I can!" says Gary. "You can do anything if you believe in yourself!"

Lawrence wonders, not for the first time, how exactly Gary made it this far in life.

His voice is clipped. Running out of patience. "Drop it. You're not getting one. Let's go."

"Awh! But..."

"I said," snarls Lawrence, "the answer is n-"

The last word dies in his throat when Gary looks at him.

Their eyes meet, and Lawrence is suddenly overwhelmed with detail. He knew Gary's eyes were brown, but he hadn't realized they were this brown. Rich and dark, like the brand of chocolate Lawrence always lingers over but never lets himself buy. Because it's not professional. Because it would violate his diet.

Because every single thing has to fit into the plan, doesn't it?

Lawrence realizes, too late, that he's staring. Two wolves on a public street, wordlessly gaping at each other. He recovers with an awkward flinch, pulling his coat to be a little tighter.

Gary, unaware of his dark powers, doesn't relent. "Are you sure we can't get one?"

Lawrence's brain has hit Reset. Unbidden, a new thought fills the gap.

"We could -"

The rest of the sentence fails to appear.

He tries again. "...We could break it into parts. Ration it out over more than one sitting. Heck, share it with the pack when we return. Some of them might want a taste."

"Sounds good!" Gary's brightened again. He shines in the afternoon light. "I guess I hadn't thought of that." He smiles. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"I... uh..." Lawrence isn't used to compliments. Not ones these genuine. "...Thanks."

The bell tinkles as they push open the door.

"This whole shop is too expensive."

The days of strict supply runs are long gone. They've been 'Gary and Larry' for a while now; a passing joke that eventually replaced his real name. He doesn't mind. He has to admit it's got a good ring to it.

They've been spending more and more of their free time together. Their undeniable synergy at work naturally bled into their personal lives. Lawrence used to spend his days off alone. Now Larry consciously chooses to do things like, for instance, follow Gary though one of Savannah Central's glittering malls. It's fun. If they take ample breaks.

The day had gone well so far, and – with Gary's encouragement – Larry had even bought himself a new scarf. (Clearance sale.) But now he's on edge.

Why are they in a jewellery store?

Around Gary, mysteries don't last long. "Relax! I just want to look at all the sparkly rocks. We don't have to buy anything."

Larry refrains from pointing out they didn't 'have to buy anything' at any of the shops they've visited today, at half of which Gary bought at least one thing.

Instead, he glances around, shoulders tight. The store is sleek black, every display meticulous and costly. The reindeer cashier is watching them with no small amount of suspicion.

Larry has always been frugal by nature. Every purchase calculated for maximum utility. His scarf is a prime example. For only a few dollars, he got something which is warm, stylish, matches his favourite coat, and made Gary grin ear to pointed ear. Excellent value for money.

Jewellery is horrendously wasteful. Such high prices for something that serves no practical purpose. Larry can't understand it.

But Gary, as ever, sees things differently. He wanders through the displays, equally enraptured by each one. Larry hangs behind, enjoying the view. Watching Gary has become his favourite pastime.

He watches the white wolf bounce from rings to earrings to noserings ("Wow! Wouldn't they be really sore?"), quietly confident Gary really is just window-shopping this time. Just a few minutes here, then they'll leave.

Or not.

There's a display at the back, small and humble, that makes Gary stop. Fully stop. His tail freezes and he just stands there, staring down. It's not the raw excitement from the fancier displays. It's something else.

Larry stifles a sigh. He's walking over before Gary turns to beckon him closer. He looks over Gary's shoulder, and he stops too.

An expensive but beautiful set of matching pendants. One silver, one gold. Both half-moons.

"They're so nice..." Gary's voice is practically a whine. "And look, you can even get them engraved!"

"Yeah," says Larry, at something of a loss.

"Wouldn't that be great?" Gary drags his eyes away from the pendants to read the inset detailing the engraving service. "It's by the letter, so it'd be cheap to do something short... heck, we could just do first initials! A 'G' and an 'L'! Right?"

"We... could," says Larry dubiously. "If we were buying them. I'm not sure."

"Awh..." Gary's still looking at the pendants. "I think it'd be a really cool thing to share. Something to show how close we are. Are you sure you don't want them?"

He turns from the display and those eyes, those damn brown eyes, meet Larry's.

In them, Larry suddenly sees the future.

He sees what this set of jewellery could mean. How a day spent wandering through a shopping mall might be remembered. Every memento – their receipts, his new scarf, the photo Gary took of a malfunctioning water fountain – cherished as the beginning of something more. Two precious half-moons. Matching.

And he sees Gary completely oblivious to that. He's just living in the moment. And that makes it all the sweeter.

Larry feels his anxiety melt. It must show on his face, because Gary pulls back too. He stops begging, perking an ear for whatever Larry says next.

"Tell you what..." Larry gives him a gentle smile. "The point is to share them, right? So how about we get them engraved, but you take the one with 'L' and I'll take the one with 'G'. Sound good?"

"Ooh!" Gary perks up, his tail wagging behind him. "That's such a cool idea! I never would've thought of that!"

Larry manages a grin he hopes doesn't look too nervous. "It's what I'm here for."

The cashier becomes a lot more friendly the second Gary takes out his wallet. Larry is shrewd as ever, managing to negotiate a payment plan they can actually afford. The pendants will be ready by the end of the week.

Not long after, they call it a day.

"I'm home!"

Larry's holding grocery bags with both hands, so he whacks the door closed with his hip. The apartment is small, but it's theirs, and that makes it cosy. He moves to the kitchen, calling down the hall.

"Picked up some salmon on sale, and I think it'd make a good dinner for tonight." He files away food with typical efficiency. "It doesn't have a very long date on it, so we should eat it soon. If you want something else, though, I'm open to suggestions."

Gary doesn't reply.

Larry feels a sharp pang of concern – silence from Gary is never good. He's not done putting away the groceries, but they can wait. Everything can wait. He strides for the living room.

Gary's on the sofa, his eyes are open, he's breathing. The worst of Larry's anxieties crawl back, slowly. But when he sees the expression on his husband's face, he knows he's needed.

"Gary?"

"Oh!" Gary starts, finally looking up. "Sorry. I didn't... I was spaced out."

"That's okay." Larry sits down next to him, comfortably close. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Just... uh..."

Larry had been so focused on Gary's face he hadn't noticed the pamphlet in his paws. Gary offers it as explanation. Larry takes it, reading the front, and his heart twists.

PUPLIFT – Is Adoption Right For You?

"Oh, Gary..." he murmurs.

"I..." Gary swallows, collecting himself. "A lady handed this to me on the street and I just smiled and took it, you know what I'm like, I don't think about stuff..."

"It's why we have a bin just for paper," says Larry with a slight smile.

"Yeah," says Gary, trying and failing to return it. "So... I didn't read it until I came home, and some of the statistics are just – they're – do you know how many puppies don't have parents? It's so many!"

"I know the raw numbers are scary," begins Larry, "but it's just a small percent of all the wolves in the–"

"But there are so many wolves! So a small percent is actually a lot!" Gary's bottom lip is trembling. "And it's – they're doing their best, y'know, to give these kids a good life, but it's not the same as having a home and a bedroom and parents, someone who can really look after you, y'know? And I – we could – it's just, like –"

"Shhh..." Larry draws closer, taking Gary in a half-embrace – one hand on his shoulder, the other on his arm. "Slow down. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Gary doesn't reply with words. He just brings out The Eyes.

He's serious this time. Full intensity. But years of use have dulled their impact. Larry knows how to resist them now.

Just about.

Taking a breath, he chooses his next words carefully. "...Gary. Adoption is a big, big commitment. The paperwork alone is massive – for good reason. They don't hand out children to just anybody, right?"

"Right," mumbles Gary. "But... we could..."

"We could," concedes Larry, "if we had enough money. We're doing okay, just the two of us, on a pretty scant budget. Raising kids is costly, Gary. Hugely costly. We'd need to completely re-evaluate our financials. We'd definitely need more stable careers. And that doesn't happen overnight."

"Right..." Gary's ears are low. He thinks this is an argument. One he's lost.

Then Larry reaches out. He takes Gary's paw in both of his, one finger brushing against the wedding ring. When he speaks, his voice is soft.

"But... I'm open to the idea. Not immediately. This is not a decision to rush into. But I could definitely... I'd like to..." When his eyes meet Gary's, words fail him. But silence succeeds. "...Yeah."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Gary tries to say something, but all that comes out is a soft whine. Larry understands.

He pulls his husband into a warm hug. He's not usually the one to initiate physical contact, but over the years, he's gotten a lot more comfortable with it. With himself. He brings Gary in, running a soothing hand down his head.

The gentle pressure of Gary's body against his chest reminds him of the half-moon under his shirt. Daily wear makes it second nature. But it's still there.

There's blissful quiet for a few moments, the wolves huddled against one another. Then Gary speaks.

"Sorry..."

Larry blinks. "For what?"

"I'm always... making you do stuff." Gary absently wipes at his eyes, and Larry holds him a little tighter. He doesn't cry, though, merely sniffles. "Stuff you don't want to do."

"...I wouldn't say that."

Gary looks up at him with those soft brown eyes. Larry smiles. He knows what to say; after all, he thinks these thoughts on a daily basis.

"I need you, sweetheart. You know me. I'm... slow. Resistant to change. I need to be nudged in the right direction sometimes. And nobody does that better than you."

Gary doesn't reply. He just closes his eyes slowly, resting himself against his husband. He's still tense, but Larry knows he'll his old self by dinner. He always bounces back. Yet another reason Larry cherishes him.

The wolf lets out a soft sigh, nuzzling his head against Gary's. In the silence, nothing needs to be said.

All they need is each other.