Chapter Text
Within a month after first meeting, the Wilde family temporarily moved into the Hopps manor, allowing time for the families to get to know each other and work out every last detail of the engagement. They were to live there for the beginning of Judy’s life, and once Nick turned of age, he would be sent away to learn how to properly run a household, deal with foreign arrangements, and assume his role as a prominent member of the Zootopian government.
It all sounded terribly boring, except for the getting-to-leave-the-Hopps part, because for Nick, living in Bunnyburrow was absolutely the worst thing ever. Living with his future wife meant hours spent posing for portraits while Judy sucked on his paw or sunk her teeth (or, tooth, rather) into his arm. She would always fidget and cry whenever she was bored and the painter would blame Nick for startling her (but how was Nick supposed to know that she would be scared of a little growl?).
Or there were the dinner-dances, the dances, in which Nick had to wear itchy clothes and dance with a dumb bunny baby in his arms. And it wasn’t just the dancing — the food was just as bad. Carrot everything: steamed carrots, puréed carrots, carrot stew, carrot cake, carrot biscuits, carrot soup, carrot flambé, carrot pies, raw carrots…
Judy didn’t seem pleased with the menu either — at one of the more drawn-out dinner-dances, she’d flung a spoonful of mashed carrots right onto his muzzle. Much to the staff’s amusement. Judy had also found it hilarious, beaming at him as he wiped the orange goop off his muzzle in disgust.
“You’re gross!” Nick told her bluntly.
Judy just laughed.
But the dinners weren’t nearly as bad as his tutoring sessions, namely practicing etiquette. Nick would sit at a table in the study while he learned the difference between a cake fork and a salad fork, or how to properly sip tea. Tea was terrible, by the way, but that didn’t stop Nick’s tutor from making him drink it each lesson. The fox was caught feeding it to Judy once (which, in his defense, she seemed to like it) and consequently had to sit in the corner for the rest of the lesson.
Or Judy’s first birthday party, in which Nick met even more of her relatives. They came in herds from all over Zootopia; the line of carriages had gone through the whole front lawn and down the valley. It was awkward, having so many strangers gush over him while he tried to process the fact that in 17 years, he would be related to all these weirdos.
For a baby, Judy knew way too many people.
There’d been more dinner and more dancing with all of her family members, and afterwards, Judy got to blow out the candles on her birthday carrot cake (well, technically, Nick blew them out, since she was too much of a baby to do anything other than just stare at the candles’ flames blankly).
After cake, was presents, which was a whole ordeal in and of itself, the main event being that Judy received a new rattle and promptly threw it at Nick’s head. He was quickly learning that this bunny had a strange passion for chucking things at him.
Exactly what you wanted in someone you were forced to spend forever with.
Overall, Nick spent most of the first couple years at the Hopps manor being tutored, exploring the manor’s grounds, and sitting in the back of the room during fancy meetings about the status of Zootopia. He didn’t understand much, nor did he care. His father usually let him and Judy draw together while the adults discussed trade agreements and land divisions and other boring stuff.
Nick would lie on his stomach, doodling on a piece of parchment while Judy watched from where she sat beside him. He would eye her every now and then, pausing only to pass her his ink quill so she could try. She’d grab it from him and wave it excitedly, and for a moment Nick considered that maybe, just maybe, he could be friends with this dumb baby bunny.
Then Judy would smile, smack her paw right in the middle of his drawing, and leave a tiny, inky paw print right in the middle of his work.
“Hey!” Nick hissed, yanking the quill from her, “You ruined it!”
He waited for her reply, as if she’d speak up to defend herself, but of course, she didn’t. Judy only blinked at him innocently before she crawled over to him and started sucking on his ear. As if she had to prove to him that yes, she could be more annoying.
Nick wasn’t surprised.
The Hopps manor was quite an impressive estate. After all, it was built to accommodate a good hundred or so bunnies (though most of the older Hopps children had moved to manage their own households now). It had 4 floors, a sprawling lawn and garden, and numerous secret passageways that Nick still hadn’t fully discovered.
Which is why, out of this whole big giant house, Nick didn’t get why his bedroom just had to be right next to Judy’s. The wall that separated their rooms felt like it was thinner than any other wall in the house too. He could often hear the baby bunny fussing at night, keeping him awake more often than not. Normally, a member of the household staff would attend to her, but on one particularly stormy night, Judy kept crying and whining and squeaking and Nick just couldn’t take it anymore.
So, begrudgingly, he pulled himself out of bed and scampered over to Judy’s room. The rain was pitter-pattering against the roof as he tip-toed in quickly. If this bunny got him in trouble from sneaking out of his room at night….
…Well, he wouldn’t be surprised.
Judy was squirming in her crib when Nick leaned over the railing to peer down at her, his tiny muzzle slouched in an annoyed frown.“Hey!” He whispered, causing Judy to pause her sniffling and smile up at him excitedly, “Quiet! You’re being annoying!”
Judy whined in response and waved her arms out to him. Dumb bunny.
“Fine,” Nick muttered. He rolled his eyes and picked her up as carefully as he could, blushing slightly when she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contently.
“You’re such a dummy,” Nick mumbled as Judy wriggled her nose and made a happy little squeak, “Can’t you sleep normally like everyone else?”
She looked almost cute as she smiled at him, violet eyes half-closed as she started to drift off, little ears rested flat against her head, and for a moment, they actually got along.
Until she suddenly sunk her tooth into his shoulder, and the moment ended as quickly as it took Nick to growl, cause Judy to cry, and get in trouble with the nanny for sneaking out of his room to bother her.
He definitely wasn’t surprised.
Despite all of Nick and Judy’s shortcomings, not all of their times together were completely bad. There were times when they’d be drawing in the back of a meeting, and Judy would actually contribute to the drawing by drawing a scribble of a flower or bunny. Or when Judy accidentally knocked over Nick’s cup of tea, rendering it impossible for him to drink, much to the tutor’s annoyance and Nick’s glee.
Or that one evening, when Nick practiced reading by reading a nursery rhyme book to Judy. They were seated by the fireplace in the library, Judy curled up in his lap, and she actually went a whole hour without biting him. She wriggled excitedly at the bright illustrations, and smiled when Nick used different voices for each character.
He read to her until they both fell asleep, Judy’s head tucked into the crook of his neck and drool trailing onto his shirt; Nick’s muzzle rested on the top of her head with one hand hanging onto the book, and the other rested on her back.
The moments they got along?
Now that was a surprise.