Archive of Our Own

"Nick, you're my boyfriend."

"What?"

Nick prides himself on his ability to switch gears quickly. Or, hell, even keep several of them running at the same time. But to have his best friend leap onto his lap in public, when he did not come to this cafe with her and he was actually starting to get into the thriller he's reading, is discombobulating. 

He probably looks ridiculous, wide-eyed, ears pinned back, but who can blame him? Judy is sitting in his lap, arms around his neck, face devastatingly close to his. He can smell the hot cocoa on her breath, and it makes him wish he could lean in and taste. 

"You're my boyfriend," she says, and her voice is low and frenzied. "Please. I'll owe you a thousand favors, just--"

"Judy?" There's a hare standing a few feet from their table, looking confused and a little hurt. "Is that you?"

Judy turns and her eyes widen dramatically. 

"Stan!"

Her voice is shrill and lacks even an ounce of sincerity. She slides off Nick's lap and shares the world's most awkward hug/handshake. Nick's thumb is still holding his place in the latest John Grizzham novel, and he's barely keeping up with what he's seeing. 

"What are you doing here?" Stan asks. There's slight animosity in his voice, and Nick can tell it's directed at him, especially when his eyes flick up and then immediately dart back to Judy when Stan realizes Nick is watching.

"Oh, just grabbing a cup of coffee with my boyfriend," she says, and skips backwards to take Nick's paw. It's awkward with him sitting down so he sets his book on the table, taking the hit of losing his spot, and stands up to wrap an arm around her shoulders. 

"Nick Wilde," he says, extending a hand plastering on his most charming smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," says Stan. He doesn't take Nick's hand. Judy bristles under his arm and Nick tries not to smile wider. "I notice there's just one cup there, though."

"Oh, you know Jude," Nick says, stealing her father's nickname like he's always wanted to and never been guaranteed immunity, "she's a sharer."

Stan's eyes widen and Nick does smile wider.  

"Right," he says, and he sounds intimidated. Good. "Well, how you been, Judy?"

"Oh, good," Judy says. She leans into Nick, wrapping both her arms around his waist. It's not like they never hug, but Nick has to fight to keep from reacting to the touch. "We're actually looking for an apartment! Have you heard of anything?"

"No," says Stan, tone making it clear that he wouldn't tell them if he had. "Glad to hear you've been doing well, Judy."

He uses her name too much, and he keeps looking at her chest. Nick yawns exaggeratedly, just to give Stan a peek at his teeth. The tactic is effective, because Stan gulps. 

"Think I'll go somewhere else for lunch," he says. "This place is busy."

"Sure is," Nick agrees. "Hopping, really."

Judy lets him go and elbows him subtly in the gut, and while Nick is trying not to oomph about it Stan and Judy exchange their for-real goodbyes, and then Stan is gone, leaving Nick standing next to Judy by the table he picked specifically to encourage solitude.

"Well," Nick says. "That was fun."

Judy drops into the chair across from his, letting her face drop to the table. Her ears splay across it, narrowly missing his americano. Nick chuckles and takes his seat again, propping his chin on his hand. 

"So," he says. "Who exactly was this Stan?"

"An ex," Judy says, voice muffled by the hardwood. She raises her head, and she looks like she's run a marathon. 

(Actually, she looks worse than if she'd run a marathon. When she ran one for a fundraiser she looked fairly chipper as she crossed the finish line. Nick was faring less well, and as a matter of fact his vision was blurring. The only reason he knows she looked fine is because Grizzoli took a photo of the precinct's smallest officer beaming and shooting a thumbs up at the camera with her medal clutched in her other hand. Nick himself is puking in the background.)

Nick whistles. 

"How'd he ever land you?" he asks. "You're so amazing, and he's... bland."

"And speciesist," Judy says, and her eyes are full of guilt. "I'm so sorry he was rude to you like that."

"He's not worth the energy," says Nick, and he means it. "But why the desperation to avoid him? And to, uh..." He clears his throat. "To be partnered up?" He raises his eyebrows meaningfully and Judy, to his delight, is blushing.

"Stan is the worst," Judy says, and Nick is surprised to hear her say it. Judy typically has trouble passing judgment on mammals. She's kind and loves to see the best in people, to give them opportunities to better themselves. Nick is living proof of that. "He was always talking about marriage and kits and personal duty." She makes a face, and Nick has a strange surge of anger at the thought of Judy in a relationship with someone that wouldn't stand behind her in all of her choices. 

"God, Carrots," he says, mildly horrified. "And you went out with him for more than one date?"

"Well, he didn't make all that clear from the jump," she says, and narrows her eyes to discourage him from making a pun about rabbits and jumping. He picks up his coffee cup to encourage himself to be extra good. "Plus, the sex was amazing."

Nick snorts americano out his nose, spraying the table and John Grizzham's work. Judy fusses and grabs some napkins from the dispenser, cleaning up his mess, and Nick coughs, trying to clear his throat and gather his wits at the same time.

"Well," he says, and his voice is raspy. "That's good, I guess."

Judy looks like Christmas has come early.

"Nick," she says, beaming, "does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?"

"No!" he says, but his tone is hushed and he can't help looking around at the other patrons of the coffee shop. He came here to be alone, dammit, and now he's talking with Judy about... "Just, keep it down. We're in public."

"I can't believe it," Judy says. She's smiling in a kind of awed amazement. "There was something that would shut you up all this time."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nick says. "I make you blush all the time."

"Yeah, but those are innuendos," Judy says, waving a hand. "Suggestion, dirty jokes. Bringing it up directly makes you flustered."

"It doesn't!" he insists, and she points at him, actually points at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that was rude?" He bats her paw away. 

"You don't want to talk about sex," she says, and she sounds truly amazed. Nick ahems one last time, clearing his throat of any coffee remnants. 

"No," he says truthfully, "I don't."

"Why not?" she asks, and she looks genuinely bewildered. 

Nick could just lay it all out there. Confess the feelings he's been having, the confusion that goes along with them. Tell her that sometimes he thinks about her when he's lying in bed, that the way she smiles at him over the rim of her coffee mug in the bullpen makes his heart skip a beat, that he can't stop watching her and he'd never want to.

"I just--it's different for foxes," he says, and he knows that he's a coward but it's not like he's lying. "Culturally. It's..." He shrugs, and he can feel himself blushing which is not what he wanted out of this encounter. "I don't know. It's kind of a big deal."

"Oh!" Judy looks fascinated, and a little contrite. "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't--"

"But it doesn't mean we're opposed to more casual stuff every so often," he says, leaning back in his chair. The itch of laying something bare to her never wears off. He plasters suave confidence on his face to ease it. "Like casual blowjobs, you know, or--"

"Nicholas." She's groaning, face on the table again, and Nick lifts one ear to slide his novel out from underneath. 

"You're fine, Fluff," he says, and his chest is tight with... something. Something he's been trying to keep tucked away for a long time. "Now, do you want a coffee, or did you just come here to jump in my lap?" She rolls her eyes, and it makes him breathe easier, the return to normalcy. He flicks the pages, trying to find his spot. "Because, like, that's fine and I totally get it, but you should really buy me a muffin first."

"I hate you," Judy gripes, but she looks relieved and... and something else. Something that makes Nick's heart jump before he can think about it, something that chugs through him and leaves hope in its wake. Stop that! he scolds himself. 

"This is pretty good, by the way," he says, brandishing the book at Judy. He's always trying to get her to read more (she prefers TV) and he's found that detective-y thrillers are the way to her heart. In terms of books. "I think you'd like it. There's a rabbit helping him out with the case."

"Can I see?" 

She holds her hand out for the book. This time he rips off the corner of a napkin to mark his place, and then he hands it to her before standing up and stretching. His spine crackles and he sighs in satisfaction. She watches with poorly disguised disgust. 

"I'm going to get another drink," he says. "Want anything?"

"If they have carrot muffins, I'll take one," she says, engrossed in the synopsis on the back cover. Nick wants to make a quip about muffins and laps, and barring that he wants to make one about bunnies and carrots, but he doesn't. He just slinks towards the counter with the uncomfortable feeling that he's learned something about himself today that he'd rather not know. 

*

He almost forgets about Stan. It was just a blip, after all, on the radar of his Saturday, even if it sparked some uncomfortable epiphanies. But, fortunately, he's been able to cram those realizations down into the depths of himself, and things between him and Judy have been bright and happy as always. 

Like today, on a rare day off, when they decided to get up early and hit the farmer's market that happens in the town square sometimes. Or, well, Judy decided to do that, and bothered him about it until he agreed to go with her. They're strolling through the vendors, and Judy is stopping every two seconds to sniff a plant or chat with someone behind a table. Much as he wishes he was still in bed, he has to admit that this is kind of nice. 

He's sniffing the air and determining that he's going to pull Judy towards the berries he smells when he freezes. Stan is here, watching him and Judy, eyes narrowed. There are bags of produce hanging over his arms, and no one standing beside him. Nick is viciously glad for a second and then guilty about it. Poor Stan. Probably trying to just make the most of a lonely morning, or--

He heads towards them, and Nick does something impulsively that he instantly wishes he could take back. He presses a kiss to the top of Judy's head and takes her hand, threading their fingers together. 

She jumps at the contact, understandably, and looks at him with stunned and slightly affronted eyes. 

"What--"

"Stan's here," he murmurs into her ear, smiling like he's telling her something sweet. She glances around, subtle as a brick wall, and Nick inwardly sighs to himself. His bunny is never going to be an undercover cop, that's for sure. 

Or--not his bunny. His friend. His Judy. No, no, that's worse. His--

"Hey."

Stan is blocking their path, juggling his many bags, gaze locked in on their joined hands. Nick has to fight the temptation to lift Judy's paw to his mouth and press a kiss to it. Then he's thinking about what it would feel like to be that comfortable with her, that able to express easy affection, and he's so distracted by this that he almost misses the panic and irritation in Judy's voice when she says, 

"Hi, Stan."

"Nice morning," says Stan. Judy feels... anxious beside Nick in a way she rarely does, and he decides that as the fake boyfriend he's allowed to step in. 

"Sure is," he agrees, rubbing his thumb over the back of Judy's paw. She relaxes--just a little, but enough--and he feels like he's glowing. "What are the chances we'd bump into you here?"

"Pretty good, actually," Stan says, voice harsh. Boy, Nick can't say anything without pissing this guy off. Well, fair enough. If someone else were all over Judy he would also be pretty antagonistic. Which... dammit. "I work for one of the vendors."

"Oh, cool!" says Judy, perking up. She sounds actually interested. "Which one?"

"Doormouse farms," Stan says. He gestures towards one of the tables, where several mice are scurrying--is that speciesist, to call it scurrying?--around, busily guiding their employees, who are mostly lapine, on where to set things. "It's a good part time gig."

"I bet," says Judy, and she sounds actually interested. Her love for plants and farming is endlessly endearing to Nick, if a little stereotypical. Not that he'd ever say that. 

"Yeah," says Stan. "Well, I'd better go. Got to get these across town before they start to wilt."

"Sure," says Nick. Stan jerks, like he'd forgotten Nick was there, which is unfairly irritating. Nick is here, okay? Nick is with Judy, even if it's just platonically, and he doesn't like getting--

"See ya," says Stan, and he's gone. Come to think of it, he's kind of a scurrier, which can't be speciesist because--

"You okay?"

Judy is looking up at him, brow furrowed. He clears his throat and lets go of her hand, shoving both of his in his pockets. 

"Yeah," he says. "Are you?"

"Definitely," she says. "Weird to see him twice in one week, though."

"Very," Nick agrees. "Sorry about--" He pulls one hand out of his pocket to waggle it at her, and licks his lips subconsciously at the memory of pressing them against her soft warm head. "Seemed like a good idea to keep the ruse going so you didn't get lectured about, you know, marriage and stuff."

"Thank you," she says, and it's dripping with sincerity. "I know it's... uncomfortable, or whatever, but I really appreciate it. He's so--" She growls, and it's so cute that Nick forgets to be contrite about grabbing her hand without consent. "Like, it's my life! If you don't like what I'm doing with it, stop talking to me!"

"Absolutely," he agrees easily. They're nearing the end of the aisle of tables, and she hasn't stopped to speak to even one of the vendors. "He's a total jerk."

"He is!" she snaps, and then seems to realize they're emerging from the market onto the sidewalk. "Whoa. That was smaller than I was expecting."

"Well, you missed half of it because you were distracted by an asshole," Nick reasons. "Wanna go back and catch up?"

"Nah," she says, and looks at him like she's thinking about something. "I kind of want another one of those carrot muffins. From that spot where Stan first showed up. Remember?"

Nick does. He doesn't think he could forget. He's pretty sure that encounter is seared into his neural pathways and will never be erased, even if his memory goes in his old age.

"Yeah," he says. "That good, huh?" She scrunches her nose in confusion and he realizes how that could be confusing. "The muffin," he clarifies. "They make them good there?"

"The best," she says, and he shrugs, weirdly pleased that she likes his go-to coffee place. 

"Well," he says, "I'll have to try it."

*

It's almost like a cosmic joke, the way they keep running into Stan. Then again, it's been kind of fun. 

The first time after the farmer's market, when they're grocery shopping for their movie night and Stan is in the frozen foods aisle, Judy's the one to take Nick's hand. It makes him all warm when he thinks about it. She didn't even have to look at him. She knew where his paw would be and she took it without hesitation. Sometimes, when he's having trouble sleeping, he thinks about that. Nothing--nothing inappropriate, just the fact that she knew exactly where he'd be, that she trusted him enough to take his paw without an ounce of hesitation. It makes him all warm and fuzzy inside. 

The next time, on the train when Stan takes the seat across from them, it's kind of a joint effort; Judy glances at him, he glances at her, and she leans into him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and tries not to think about how easily she fits there, how right it feels to hold onto her. 

But the glow that seems to follow Stan encounters wears off the second that Stan corners Nick alone. 

Nick is in his spot in the corner, reading another novel (Margaret Atwoodchuck, this time) and sipping another americano, when a hare slips into the seat across from him. He's so surprised that he freezes with his cup of coffee halfway to his mouth. 

"Hey," says Stan, which seems to be Stan's favoured greeting. Personally, Nick likes to spruce up his salutations so as not to be a boring asshat, but that's just him.

"Hi," says Nick, sliding his carrot bookmark (Judy bought it for him as a joke) into the novel and setting it down. "Nice to see ya, buddy."

He bares his teeth in a smile and Stan's arms cross defensively at the sarcasm.

"Likewise," he says. His arms uncross as he reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a book of his own. Nonfiction, Nick notes, about the architecture of Zootopia. Unbearable. "Mind if I join you?"

Nick does mind, actually, but he just shakes his head and says, "be my guest."

"Thanks," says Stan, in a tone that makes it clear he was going to sit here no matter what. Nick has to fight to keep the fur on the back of his neck from standing up. 

"Hey, no problem," he says. "Any friend of Judy's is a friend of mine."

Invoking Judy makes something darken in Stan's eyes. He sets the book down and leans forward, and Nick wonders idly what Stan would do if Nick properly snarled at him. He won't, of course--he really does like the coffee here, and the staff is surprisingly cool about a fox just chilling in a dark corner for hours at a time--but he thinks about it. 

"About that," says Stan. Nick doesn't bristle. He keeps a calm facade. It is very difficult. "You don't have to pretend with me, okay? I know Judy's just pretending to date you to keep me from trying to rekindle a relationship. You don't have to keep up the ridiculous charade." It feels like a slap in the face, but Nick is practiced in keeping his reactions under wraps. Thank God. 

"Interesting theory," he says, and reaches for his americano. It's cold, but it gives him something to do with his hands. "What makes you say that?"

"Come on," says Stan, and he looks so patronizing and indulgent that Nick does bristle a little. "What bunny is gonna date a fox?" Well, Stan has a point there. "Even Judy, with all her... ideas."

"Yeah, about that," Nick says, and he doesn't bother trying to hide his irritation. "You clearly have totally different value systems, so why are you still trying to hang around her? She's not changing for you, man."

"You don't know that," says Stan, and Nick snorts. 

"Actually, I do," he says. "Judy is the strongest-willed person I know, and I know everyone."

Or, at least, he used to. Stan surveys him with something akin to shrewd perception, which makes Nick feel nervous. 

"And why would that be, I wonder?" he says. "She might not date me because I'm too traditional, but Judy is a cop. She's not going to date a criminal."

"Reformed criminal," says Nick, "and I don't remember signing up for a dick measuring contest." Which, he thinks smugly, I would definitely win. Just in terms of biology.

"This isn't about that," says Stan uncomfortably, making it clear that it very much is about that. "I just want you to know that you have no chance in hell."

"And you think I need you to tell me that?" Nick asks, losing his patience. "I'm well aware, Stanley. But unlike some people, I don't need the promise of good sex and fucking marriage to hang out with my best friend. I like her just the way she is, and I like our friendship just the way it is. So it would actually be great if you would leave her alone and let us do our thing without performing the ridiculous charade." 

He lets himself fall back against the backrest of his seat, glowering at Stan. All his cards are on the table, at least about this thing. And he doesn't like it, but it's worth it for the crestfallen look on Judy's ex's face. 

"I--" Stan is speechless, which is kind of nice, honestly. Nick nods. 

"Yeah," he says. He pushes his chair back from the table with a scraping sound and grabs his book, tossing some cash onto the table to cover his drink. "See you around, Stan."

*

Nick heads for home with a heavy feeling in his stomach. It's not the americano and no breakfast, although that's probably not helping. It's... Stan was right. And he's known that, okay, he's known that he and Judy are never gonna... But it's different to have it pointed out. Deliberately. By someone that, if he doesn't know Judy well, still knows her. 

He trudges up the stairs, wishing he could go back to bed and start the day over. Well, at least he can go back to bed. He rounds the corner to his door and--

"Carrots?"

Judy is sitting in front of his door, looking at her phone, and she jumps when she hears his voice. 

"Nick!"

She scrambles to her feet and stands in front of him, looking nervous. That makes Nick nervous. What could Judy have to be anxious about?

"What's up?" he asks, fighting with the lock on his door like he always does. He jiggles it around until it starts to turn, and then he swings the door open. He stands back to let her go inside first, and she doesn't look at him as she passes, which is weird. Something dark and foreboding tickles at the base of his spine. 

"Connor was there," she says, spinning around to face him. Nick prides himself on being able to switch gears quickly, but he didn't even know this gear was a thing. He stares at her open-mouthed for a second, book in one hand and keys in the other, door still standing open behind him. 

"Who's Connor? And he was where?" he asks, setting his gear down and closing the door. He knows who Connor is, and he's pretty sure he knows where Connor was, but he needs to buy himself time to try to--he didn't think he was ever going to have to have this conversation, really, and so he's never prepared for it. 

"You know who Connor is," Judy says, but she tells him anyway. "Wolford. From work."

"Oh, yeah," says Nick, grinning at her. "Officer Dum-Dum."

"You need to stop calling him that," Judy says, but she's relaxed infinitismally and it makes him relax just a little more. 

"He needs to stop being an idiot," says Nick, for no other reason than a fervent desire to avoid this conversation. Officer Wolford is nice enough. He even made an effort to include Nick in after-work drinks with everyone, which he definitely didn't have to do and for which Nick is very much grateful. 

"Nick," Judy sighs, but it's less reproachful and more concerned. "He told me what you said to Stan. At the coffee shop, if you insist on pretending that you didn't know."

"Oh," says Nick. He knew it was coming but he still feels small and horrible. "Well, maybe his hearing is going--"

"He's a wolf," says Judy, and she's shifting towards reproachful. And exasperated. Nick can feel his ears slinking back. "We both know what you said, and we both know that you're panicking."

"Can you blame me?" Nick mumbles, and Judy steps forward so that he can't avoid her gaze. 

"Yes," she says, and she sounds like her voice is breaking. That surprises Nick, and he meets her eyes for real. They're brimming with tears, and he pins his ears back. He doesn't know what to--she's crying, and she's his only real friend and if he doesn't have her-- "You don't trust me," she says. Her ears are droopy and she looks devastated and Nick is only just realizing that she's upset about--

"Of course I trust you!" he's feeling a little dizzy so he can be forgiven for grabbing her shoulders. "Carrots, I trust you with my life."

"Not with your feelings, though," she says, blinking up at him. His heart squeezes into a fist. 

"Those... those are pretty fragile," he says, trying to joke. She doesn't laugh, so he sobers. "They are. You know they are, Judy. You know how much it would..." He can't look at her. "I trust you. I don't trust myself, though."

"Don't trust yourself to what?" Judy demands. Her eyes are still watery but she looks a little more sturdy now that he's talking. 

"To... to be good to you," says Nick. It's uncomfortable, laying this all bare for Judy. He doesn't like it. But she deserves the truth and he presses on. "I want to be. I want to be good for you. I'd do anything for you, Judy. But... I don't know. What's that saying? You can't teach an old fox new tricks?"

"It's about a dog," says Judy. "And you're not that old."

"Tell that to my back," says Nick, stretching it. There's a series of pops to illustrate his point. Judy shakes her head. 

"I wish you'd just told me," she says. "I love you, too, you know."

Sometimes, when Nick has done just a little too much physical activity, the world rings around him. His vision goes prickly with black spots, and if he's lucky he just kind of sways a little. If he's unlucky he passes out. That's kind of how he's feeling right now.

"I know," he says automatically. His head is spinning, and he decides that he can afford to just ask. "Uh, like, as a friend, but--"

"I love you like more than that," Judy says, and she sounds exasperated and fond. It makes Nick melt. "You idiot."

She reaches up and grabs his face. Nick looks at her. Their noses are almost touching. Her mouth is twitching into a smile, and it looks like the sky opening and angels descending. 

"Me, too," he murmurs. She kisses him. 

*

They go for a walk when things start to get heated, at Judy's insistence.

"I'm not rushing this," she says as he holds the door open for her. Again. He's much more happy about it this time, and she kisses his cheek as she walks past. 

"I don't think I'd mind," Nick says, licking his lips, trying to get his heart rate under control. She doesn't blush like he's expecting. She beams at him, happy and gorgeous, and he gives up on controlling his heart. 

"I know you wouldn't," she says, "you pervert."

"Hey!" he protests, following her down the stairs, because yeah he might have feelings about her body but they are sacred. "Too far!"

"Oh, sorry," she says, and casts him a glance over her shoulder that takes his breath away. He almost trips on the stairs. "I'm not the one that has been watching my butt for, like, years."

"I don't--" He clears his throat. She's throwing a little extra sway into her hips, and he wrenches his gaze away and towards the steps so he doesn't trip. "I don't mean to."

She laughs, bright and loud, and he finds himself smiling without really meaning to. She does that to him, and he's the luckiest fox in the world, and she takes his paw like she did that day at the supermarket; easily. 

"It's okay," she says. "I don't mind."

"How'd I get so lucky?" he murmurs. He only half-meant to say it out loud; she has enough to hold over his head without him spilling some of his sappy thoughts into the air between them. 

"Dunno," she says. "Good thing you did, though, right?"

He draws her paw to his mouth and presses a kiss to it, long, gentle, tender.

 "I love you," he says, and it's weird to say it out loud for the first time on a sidewalk with people passing them (and shooting strange looks) but it's also right. It feels so good to give voice to the feelings that have been trapped inside him like a stampede of butterflies, and it feels even better to watch Judy glow under them. 

"I know," she says, and he laughs, delighted. "I--" 

She trails off, looking at something in the distance. Nick looks up, too, and he can't help it. He starts laughing.

"It's not funny!" Judy says. 

"It's a little funny," Nick says. 

Walking towards them, coffee in hand, is Stan. Nick can tell the exact moment he spots them; his eyes widen and he looks... almost guilty, Nick might think, if Stan was the kind of person that could experience guilt. 

"Hi," says Stan. 

"Sup?" Nick pops the 'p.' Judy hasn't let go of his hand, and they've done this a thousand times, him and Judy talking to Stan as a unit. 

"Hello, Stanley," says Judy. Her tone is frosty, and both Nick and Stan look at her in surprise. 

"Is--" Stan looks at their paws, and then looks again. He looks at Nick, taking in the ruffled fur, the air of utter contentment. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is perfect," Judy says. "How are you?"

"I'm... having a weird day."

Nick can't help snorting at that. Judy's lips twitch. He squeezes her hand, and she leans into him. 

"Well, sorry to hear it," says Judy. "I hope things get better soon."

"Yeah," says Stan. He looks at their joined hands one more time. "I'm... happy for you, Judy."

"Thank you," she says, and then, "we have somewhere to be. C'mon, Slick."

Nick gladly allows himself to be tugged along, and he can't help taking one more peek behind them. Stan is watching them go, consternation and something approaching sadness in his eyes. Nick can't find it in himself to be too bad for the guy. 

"Hey, Carrots," he says. "You coulda gone easier. After all, he's the reason we--" But he can't say it out loud, he's finding. He doesn't have to, anyway. Judy smiles, a soft secret thing. 

"I know," she says. "But he also hurt you. Plus, he's speciesist."

"But the sex was good," Nick can't help saying. He's not jealous, not really. He mostly wants to bring up sex now that it's... well. 

"It was," Judy says, and she glances at him impishly. "Pretty sure we're gonna blow it out of the water, though."

"Really," Nick says. It's not a question so much as a gloat. He hasn't stopped smiling since Judy kissed him, he thinks, and the thought makes him smile wider. 

"Yeah," Judy says. "But later. Today is for chaste thoughts."

Nick throws his head back and groans. Judy's laughter is more than enough to tide him over.