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"Nick," says Judy for the fifth time in the past hour. "We don't have to do this."
"No, I want to," he insists, but Judy can barely hear him because his voice is muffled by the blanket he's drawn over his face.
They're parked on the couch in their shared living room, which is a pretty common occurrence these days. There's a quarter of a pizza cooling in the box on the coffee table, and they were cuddling until everything went down.
The raccoon on the screen accidentally knocks over a can, which clanks to the ground, and the air fills with ominous growls from the monsters that were shown to be nearby before a dramatic musical sting makes them both jump. Nick honest-to-God yelps.
"Nicholas," Judy says in exasperation.
It was his idea to watch a horror movie. It's October, and Halloween is creeping up, and he said that 'tis the season, Carrots. We gotta get in the mood. Judy had protested a little, not because she dislikes horror movies (she actually enjoys them; the adrenaline is fun) but because Nick finds them terrifying. The last time they watched one together he didn't sleep through the night for a week and kept waking her up to ask if she thought someone was breaking in. She had since vetoed every proposed horror movie... until now, when he begged and pleaded.
She glances over at Nick, frowning. He has his blanket hauled over his muzzle and up to his eyes, which are wide as they peek over the hem. His ears are pinned back against his head and his fur is bristling. His tail is curled around her, and every time there's a jumpscare it tightens just a little more. Nicholas Wilde, brought low by some special effects and a soundtrack. It would be kind of funny if it weren't so ridiculous.
"I'm fine," he insists. He doesn't look at her, engrossed in what's happening on the screen. "It's just scary."
"I know," she says, sighing. "So why don't we turn it off and watch something different?"
"Because it's spooky seeEASON!" Nick jumps a foot in the air as a monster barrels towards the raccoon, accompanied by loud droning sounds for ambiance. The sound design is incredible, Judy has to admit, but she's less inclined to be generous about it when Nick is trembling beside her.
"You have nothing to prove to me," Judy says, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to be brave. We can--"
"If you tell me we can turn it off again, Judy, I'm going to scream," Nick says.
"You're going to scream anyway," she retorts.
"Yeah, because that's what this is about. It's about being scared."
"I'm not scared," Judy points out.
"Yeah, because you're a freak of nature," Nick says, shoulders hitched all the way up to his ears, which keep flicking back and forth depending on what's happening in the movie. "Monsters that will kill you if you make a sound? That's terrifying, Carrots."
"It's a scary idea, but it's not real."
"The movie makes it real for a little while."
"Why are you like this?"
She wants to be fondly exasperated, but she's just exasperated. Nick's constant fidgeting (and jumping, and screeching, and cowering) is wearing her patience thin. Every time he whimpers or turns his face away she has the strongest urge to do something, to stop him from being scared. And every time she tries to do that, he shuts her down. The monster roars, and Nick gasps, and Judy groans despite herself.
At the sound Nick's eyes unglue from the TV screen and flick to her.
"Carrots," he says, and he reaches for the remote immediately. The apartment goes quiet and the image on the screen freezes. Judy, who was staring determinedly in front of her, is treated to the sight of Nick leaning in... and in... and in, until he's filling up her vision. He cocks his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't--what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Turn your stupid movie back on."
"Ha! Try again." His voice is gentle but firm, and he's looking at her with so much care that it makes her feel itchy. She sighs.
"I just... I don't like seeing you unhappy, that's all."
"What?" He looks genuinely mystified, which frustrates her even further. "I'm on the couch with my best friend watching a great movie. I'm happier than I ever thought I'd be, Carrots."
"You're scared," she says, and her voice breaks and something snaps into focus behind Nick's eyes.
"Oh," he says. She sniffles and is immediately gathered into Nick's arms, tucked close to his body. He rests his chin on the top of her head and she finds, like she always does, that it's impossible to be angry or upset when wrapped in his embrace. She inhales the scent of the cologne she bought him last year and heaves a sigh.
"I don't like it when you're scared," she mumbles into his chest. Her throat is tight and there's a tear sliding down her cheek, which is embarrassing, but Nick is nuzzling into her and tracing gentle patterns on her back so she can survive it. In fact, if she weren't feeling vaguely nauseous over the whole situation, this would be a butterfly-inducing swoop of sensation, like it always is when Nick hugs her. "It's... I don't like it."
"What's so bad about it?" he asks her. She flinches at the question even though she knows it's not meant as a jab or a passive aggressive insinuation that she should be stronger, get over herself. "I'm assuming you know I'm not really scared. Or--I am, because those monsters are scary even if they're just on the screen, but it's... it's fun scared. Y'know."
"I know," she says hoarsely. Whatever was threatening to rise out of her stomach and choke her is settling back down at the reminder that he's having fun. This is fun for him. Sitting here, shaking like a leaf, eyes wide with terror, heart rate elevating by the second... "I just don't like it. I don't like seeing you worried."
"Oh," he says again, and he sounds surprised. "Uh... sorry."
She snorts and pushes herself off his chest.
"Don't be sorry," she says, and they're way too close together. His eyes are so bright and he looks so concerned and her heart skips a beat. She crawls out of his lap and hugs her knees to put some distance between them. "It's not your fault."
"Clearly it is," he says, like it's simple, like he's not surprised that it's his fault. Something aches behind Judy's breastbone. "I wouldn't have suggested this if I knew--"
"Then I should have told you," Judy snaps. She's angry and she doesn't know why. Nick's ears flick back towards his skull, and Judy can feel her own drooping. It's so... "I'm sorry," she says this time. "I don't know why--" She chokes on the words, and when she speaks again her voice breaks. "Why I'm like this."
Nick is tense now, shoulders tighter than they were when he was jumping at every noise from the screen. His arms keep twitching toward her before returning to his sides. Whatever it is behind Judy's breastbone aches more.
"It's dumb, isn't it?" she asks, feeling (not for the first time) like she's a lot more trouble than she's worth.
"What is?" Nick asks. He's staring at her, totally lost, and it makes Judy smile just a little.
"Me," she says, and when Nick starts to protest she rests a hand against his muzzle to silence him. He blinks at her over her own fingers, eyes wide. She wishes she could press a kiss to the lips resting against her palm. "I just... I take things too seriously. I know I do. I'm not fun, not like you."
"Hey," Nick says. His breath is hot against her hand, sending tingles all the way up her wrist and arm. She hastily removes the offending paw from his mouth, both so that she can remember how to breathe and so he can speak. "You're not dumb. And you're crazy fun."
"You're biased," says Judy, smiling reluctantly. He shrugs.
"Yeah, but it's still true. Just because I get a front-row seat to how great you are doesn't mean you're less great."
Judy is tired of crying, but a fresh crop of tears spring to her eyes. She reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt but Nick wordlessly offers his tie. She laughs even as she dabs tears away.
"I'm not as good as you think I am," she whispers. He's so serious, looking at her without an ounce of mockery. It's strange and it makes Judy's palms sweat and she is suddenly, intimately aware of the space between them or the lack thereof.
"You're better," he tells her, holding her gaze, hunched forward so she has better access to his tie. She wants to kiss him. She desperately wants to kiss him.
"Whatever," she says, and lets go of the tie. He settles backward, careful of her space, something close to disappointment flickering across his face. She grabs for the remote, unable to keep her eyes locked on his. When she hands it to him their fingers brush. "You can press play."
Nick laughs out loud, but it's not as full of joy as his laughs usually are. He sets the remote on the back of the couch and leans in again. Judy's breath catches in her throat.
"Nice try, Fluff," he says, and she's not used to seeing him like this. He never rejects an out of a difficult conversation. You're worth it to him, Judy, she thinks, and that makes her want to cry and squeeze him with all her might and tell him all the things she's been feeling. "What makes you feel like you can't relax if I'm not okay?"
"This isn't therapy," Judy grumbles. "I get plenty of that at the office."
She does. Bogo makes her go talk to Dr. Fuzzby biweekly. It's one-on-one, which is a small mercy, but Judy still hates it. The sessions often help, which make her hate them even more.
"I'm not trying to therapize you," Nick says, and then scrunches up his nose. "Is that a word? Therapize? Therapy? Perform therapy on?"
"Please stop."
"Point is, I just want us to communicate. And if there's something I've done that makes you think--"
"You haven't done anything," snaps Judy. "I just don't like it when you're freaked out. Okay?"
"Okay," Nick says. His voice is soothing, like it is when they're trying to talk down some ticked-off mammal that's causing a disturbance. Judy resents it greatly. "That's okay. I just think there might be something deeper, because you're kinda pale, Carrots."
"Because you're scared!"
The outburst catches both of them off guard. Nick's hands stop their oscillating between his side of the couch and hers and freeze between them. Judy stares at his fingertips like they hold the answers to the universe because she isn't brave enough to look at his face. Who knows what expression he might be wearing? She doesn't really want to know.
"Judy," Nick begins, and the fact that he's using her given name makes her bark out a laugh that is more like a sob. "Okay," he mutters, and for the second time today she is scooped into his arms. "Tell me if I need to let go," he says. His voice is so gentle and his touch is so soft and it's unbearable that he's comforting her when he's the one that was...
"Don't let go," she whispers miserably, and Nick tightens his hold. "I--" There are tears threatening her again. This is so stupid. She sucks a breath in, lets it out slowly, trying to remember the breathing exercises Dr. Fuzzby taught them. "You're always scared because of me," she mumbles, pressing her face into his chest so her words are muffled by his fur. Nick, who was petting her back again, stills. She squeezes her eyes shut and wishes they could start this night over, wishes she could be normal.
"Someone has to be," Nick jokes, trying valiantly to break the tension that settled over the room the second she said it.
"That's the thing," she says, and he's not letting her go so she's not moving from his lap or his arms. "You don't--you're always taking care of me. Always."
"I don't think--"
"I'm reckless, and I know I am, and we're figuring out--but I just--you--"
"Breathe," Nick tells her. He's smoothing his hand along her back again, the other one secured around her waist. She takes an exaggerated breath in and lets an exaggerated breath out. "Great," he says, and he sounds so out of his depth that it would make her laugh if she weren't so embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," she says, blinking back another round of tears. Cheese and crackers. "You were having a good evening and I ruined it--"
"My evening is only as good as yours, Carrots," he says gently. So gentle, always, and the words leave her heart stuttering. "I don't want to be okay if you're not."
And that's... probably something he should discuss with a therapy animal, but she doesn't bother mentioning it, not after freaking out over...
"I just don't like it when you're scared," Judy says. Probably superfluous, at this point, but she presses on, trying to finish the thought. "It makes me think of all the... I don't know. It feels like, here's something I can fix this time. And you won't let me fix it. Not that--ugh--"
"I get it," Nick says softly, interrupting her spiral. She nods gratefully.
"So, I don't know. Watching you trembling on the couch--"
"I am not trembling!" Nick splutters indignantly.
"Quaking, then."
"That's worse!"
"I don't like it," Judy says, and she's grinning despite herself. She pulls back to look at him, brave enough now. His eyes and face are warm despite his offense, and she brings her hands up to cup his muzzle. This is new, she hasn't done this before, but it feels right. He lets her, doesn't say anything, just looks at her solemnly. "I can't help feeling like I have to... I don't know. Take care of you."
"I'm okay, Judy," he tells her, lips moving against her palms. He doesn't try to shove her off and he's using her real name again, which means he's taking her seriously, which makes her feel squirmy. He doesn't seem uncomfortable, though, just focused. She's unworthy, Judy thinks, to be the sole person in the world that gets to experience this Nicholas Wilde, the one that cares so much it hurts him, the one that would turn himself inside out if he thought it would make her feel better. "You don't have to do anything."
"What if I want to?"
Her stomach is performing acrobatics. There's something she does want to do, something she's wanted to do for a long time, and her hands cupping his cheeks offer her the perfect opportunity. It is maybe a little stupid to do this when emotions are flying, but--
"Then you should," Nick says. Her hands are still on him, still moving with his words. "I just want you to be happy, Judy."
And that does it, and she knows this will make her happy, and she leans in and kisses him. He wheezes a sound like she just punched him in the stomach and then his hands are pulling her closer, closer, claws sending shivers down her spine as they slide up her back to cradle the back of her head. It's better than she thought it would be, which is saying a lot because Judy has put a lot of thought into kissing Nick. She just didn't know that he'd melt under her touch, sighing happily into her mouth, tail flicking up and around her waist, holding her as close as possible.
She kisses him until she's out of breath and then she kisses him just a little bit longer, unwilling to pull away. When she does, he chases her lips. And then when she presses a hand to his chest to pry them apart he actually whines. She pants a laugh, breathless and elated, reaching for his hands and threading her fingers through his to keep them connected.
"Judy," he says, and it's her name but he's not scared or worried or upset. He's just desperate, totally invested in her, and she doesn't know why she waited this long to do that.
"Nick," she returns, and her face cracks open into a smile. He mirrors it and it's like sunshine, like a buttercup, like being cold and sliding under warm covers.
"What was..." Nick looks dazed, a little disoriented, and it makes her surge forward and kiss him again. He gasps, so responsive to her touch, and she resists the urge to deepen it again. "What was that? Carrots, what was that?"
"Just a thing," Judy says. Her smile keeps growing--what if it swallows her whole face? But she can't be bothered to worry about that when Nick is beaming at her, reeling from her touch, shining like a supernova. "Just something I wanted to do."
"Okay," he says. He's breathless and delighted, not an ounce of anxiety left in him.
"Okay," Judy echoes. "I think I'm ready to watch you quiver--"
"Oh?" Nick's brows are practically on top of his head, but his lips are parted and he looks both intrigued and excited by the implications of her words. "Miss Hopps, you really shouldn't--"
"In fear," Judy continues, narrowing her eyes even as her stomach jumps at the idea of... that. "I'm ready to watch you quiver with fear as we finish this stupid movie."
"It's not stupid," Nick returns automatically. "It's actually incredibly well crafted, and my entirely reasonable fear response is proof that--"
"Shut up and snuggle me," says Judy, and Nick obliges.
"We really should revisit that quiver conversation later, though," he murmurs in her ear as she presses play, and this time Judy is the one that shivers.
"We will," she promises, and he tightens his grip on her.
"Great," he says. "And I think--shit!"
He buries his face in the nape of her neck to hide from the carnage taking place onscreen, and Judy rolls her eyes, patting the arm wrapped around her midsection.
"Don't worry," she tells him. "I'll protect you from the monsters."
"Yeah," he says. "I know."
And that's enough to keep her warm and glowing through anything.