Chapter Text
Judy brought it up two days after they got the invitation.
"I don't have anything to wear."
Nick gave her an ear from where he was rummaging in her fridge for something that he could eat chilled. Early summers in Savanna Central were warm.
"Wedding formal," he said, making a lofty pronouncement of the second word. "I believe you. Your dress blues are the neatest thing you own."
"You're one to talk," she muttered. "At least you settled on the grey shirts. We can all stand to look at you without squinting now."
"Oh, thanks. You know I made the green palm print work."
He handed Judy one of the weird cucumber ice things she liked and sat next to her on the couch.
"I'll have to rent something," she said as she nibbled. "There's a place down on fourth."
"A chain."
"Well, yeah. I mean, I could ask Fru Fru where to go, maybe."
"Have you never done the wedding thing at home? I'd think with all those siblings you'd have had practice."
"Bunnies are a bit different. The bride and groom go all out, but the rest of us are focused on emotional support." Judy shrugged. "We see enough weddings and anniversaries and funerals that we don't worry about fancy quite as much."
Nick sometimes forgot, in the wonderful whirlwind that was their relationship, what they knew of each other and what they didn't. Judy was a farm girl-turned-cop, with a no-nonsense attitude to match. He loved her for it, as fiercely as she could love him. But he still hadn't expected her to be missing this little part of independent adulthood.
But like she said, he was one to talk. He'd been grifting around until she sorted him out; had had as much use for formal wear as she did. Less, even. There were no weddings or anniversaries to mark.
But his experience could help here.
"I know a guy," he said, and watched for her reaction.
Judy eyed him. "With an extensive collection of spare dresses for female rabbits."
He couldn't help the smile. "He'd make those, yeah. He makes everything."
---
Carter Rhodes was one of the old guard in a small, small world of tailors. Big had put Stephane the Maitre d' onto him, and Stephane had put Nick onto him, the first time he'd had need of presentable clothing while they worked together, and Nick had realized at least one of Dad's old friends was still around.
It was a bit of a shock, the second first time, all those years ago. He'd just been a kit when his father ran his own alterations business. Rhodes had been in and out, as close to a brother as Nick's father had, and some things about him just hadn't changed in the intervening years.
The narrow store was still on the same corner, between two dark wainscoted walls, with worn green carpet and completely stuffed with suits and dresses on racks and mannequins, aimed mostly at mid-scale mammals on down. It smelled exactly the same, like rich fabric and elegant fragrance. Some of the help was new, but even the sign in the window was the same exact one Nick remembered from his childhood.
BIG OR SMALL, DOESN'T MATTER AT ALL
And Rhodes was right behind his desk as usual, sewing machine thrumming along beside him. The porcupine turned an amiable smile on them as Nick led Judy back into the store, but the surprise took its place.
"That's not little Nicholas Wilde."
Nick ducked his head in greeting. "Again, and all straightened out this time. Good to see you, Mr. Rhodes."
Rhodes leaned forward, both paws spread on the worn felt cut pad that made up most of the desk. "I think you ought to call me Carter by now, little Nick."
Nick smiled at the resigned fascination he could feel Judy giving off from here. "Right you are, sir. Carter."
"And you have me at a disadvantage, Miss..."
"Hopps," Judy said. "Judy Hopps. Good to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine," Carter said. "I always hoped someone would come along to get Nick in line."
Judy's ear rotated toward Nick, the way it did when she wasn't sure exactly how to play a situation. She put up with way more of his introducing her to old friends than he had any right to ask her to, and each one was another round of how much can I show this person? For what it was worth, Rhodes hadn't taken long to guess. Wouldn't have been fooled anyway.
And Rhodes - Carter - was as close to family as Nick was comfortable having. Nick reached for her shoulder, and in her surprise she actually looked up at him. It shifted to warmth quick enough.
"He doesn't make it easy," she said.
Carter came around down to them. "So what brings you back here?"
"We need your expert assistance," Nick said. "We've been invited to a wedding."
"Ha," Carter said. "Domestic pursuits for domestic times. And do you know what you'd like to wear? As a starting point."
Nick held a paw out to Judy, pads up.
"I've never had much occasion for it," she admitted.
"Tessa and I will get you sorted out, not to worry." Carter waved over at an otter who was folding shirts nearby, and turned to Nick.
"You know what you like, I expect."
"I'll find something."
"Oh, no." Judy's ears twitched. "Don't let him dress himself, that's a nightmare."
Carter burst out laughing. "No, I'm sure his tastes haven't improved much." He shooed Nick. "Go on."
---
For years, Nick Wilde had dressed in such a way it caused more sensitive mammals physical pain.
He usually told himself it was because he didn't have the means to do otherwise. Sometimes he remembered, though.
Mr. Wilde - his father - was a tailor. Or had been. Nick didn't know if he was even still alive, much less where he might be now or what he was doing. Nick had been well on his way to following in those pawprints, too, right up until he'd disappeared, right when he'd needed him most.
Nick had lost the taste for nice fabrics, for complementary patterns. It had ceased to matter, just as his father had ceased to exist in his life. Dressing to kill became secondary to dressing to survive.
But as Nick walked through the familiar racks, it all started to come back. Not all of it was good, of course, but enough of it was different now. For new reasons. Some of this he could still pull off.
---
Judy stood in the raised center of the little private fitting room, in beams of natural light as Carter opened the last of the blinds. She looked up from a pile of colorful dresses as Nick entered.
"What did you find?" he asked.
"They gave me-" her paws waved at the collection. "A lot. I don't know where to start."
"I'll help."
"Right." She cocked an eyebrow at the clothes in his arms. "At least you skipped the floral patterns. No jacket?"
Nick heard Carter's knowing chuckle as the porcupine made his way past them to the door. "Haven't seen little Nick in a jacket for a while. He swore them off a long time ago."
The door shut them in.
Nick smiled at her expression. "My dad was a tailor. He knew Rhodes. Carter."
"Oh." Judy's ears dropped, and there was a sudden sadness to her that Nick always hated feeling partly responsible for. "Good memories? Or bad?"
"Plenty of both." Nick joined her on the little platform, where a range of mirrors sent their reflections looking back at them. He squeezed her shoulder again. "So which one do you like?"
She held up something in flowing blue, with thin straps for her shoulders, and regarded it like she couldn't tell which way was up.
---
They changed behind the screens and Nick was the first one out. He fiddled with the rolled cuffs and nearly missed it when Judy emerged.
She was staring at him, adjustments to her own dazzling dress forgotten.
"You've been holding out on me," she accused. "This entire time."
White shirt, white pants, dirty brown vest, neat burgundy tie: it was the most he was really comfortable with anymore. "Maybe a little."
"You knew better. I knew you dressed like that to get a rise out of people."
She was so cute - yes, cute - when she was angry, and trying not to look like she was taking him in. Nick winked.
"It got your attention, didn't it?"
"Nick, you're really handsome."
He felt his ears heat and his tail curl around one of his legs. "And you're pretty."
She looked down at herself to hide an uncertain smile. "I don't know where my paws go. And I worry I'd get cold."
"You could add a shawl or something. Francine's not going to care."
"Yes she is. She made it all stuffy and formal." Judy was turning in circles. "I don't get it. It's nice and everything, but what if I have to run?"
"Farm girl." Nick nosed at one of her ears as it went by.
"There's nothing wrong with my fashion sense tending toward serviceable."
"Hey, I'm not arguing." Nick smiled down at her. "I mean, I happen to love you in plaid and jeans more than any fox should, but there's a time and place-" he indicated her dress - "to look jaw-dropping, too."
She finally blushed, and Nick's grin widened.
---
But she didn't like it enough. Or the next one, or the next one, or the one in green or the one in pink plaid or the one that made her 'look like a secretary.'
Nick offered advice and guidance where he could, and left her to it otherwise. It was not how a lifetime of songs and films and overheard bar chatter suggested a shopping trip with one's girlfriend should go. But Judy was special. They were special. They talked about everything.
Plus - and he wasn't sure she noticed this part yet - as time went on and the pile of possibilities shrank and shrank, something was changing in her. Her ears were higher. She was focused and curious. Her scent had sharpened, just subtly. Each shimmering example looked better than the last, and not because they were more beautiful or more intricate or better at all.
It didn't matter what Judy wore. Somewhere in there, she'd found the confidence to make anything look perfect. Nick had started to run out of words and trusted his ears and tail to do the talking.
Eventually, there was one left. Judy eyed it.
""Try it," Nick said.
"There's not much to it," she said. "I'm not the one supposed to be attracting attention, remember? It's for Francine." She held it up. "This looks like a 'look at me' dress."
"Just try it, sweetheart. Worst case, we'll get Francine to kick us out and all this will be moot. We can go sit in my apartment in scrubs, the way you wanted."
Judy rolled her eyes and disappeared behind the partition again to change.
Nick didn't mind that, the possibility of attending a wedding with Judy wearing something that made him more interested in her than what they were there to do. He saw how she was looking at him, too. And they were going to attract no small share of jokes and questions anyway, regardless of what they wore. They were a real couple now, and a lot of the world was starting to catch on. At a friend's wedding, in the company of friends, he was okay with that.
Judy reappeared, and his eyes widened.
He was very okay with that.
The only word he had for it was flame. Sure, he was getting poetic, but that was because his barriers were down. She'd been doing that recently, pulling dormant stuff like visiting Carter back to the surface, giving him the interest and the renewed courage to try old things again.
Nick was glad he'd done it.
Judy's last dress was a single seamless piece from top to bottom, grading from red-orange at her shoulders down to a dusky smoke at her feet. A slash came up nearly to her hip, making the whole thing shift like liquid as she moved.
But it was her expression that sealed it. The light in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Nick felt the stupid grin crawling along his face.
"You like it?" She asked.
"You," he said, "are stunning."
Her ears rotated toward him and flushed.
"I'm serious, Carrots." Nick gave up and moved closer to take her paw, and place his free one on her hip. He guided her gaze to the array of mirrors so she could see herself. "And I think you like it, too."
"I do." Judy chewed her lip. "It's so flowy. But it's long."
"Carter will make it fit you like it's not even there."
"I hope so. Francine's going to make us dance, and I'd trip all over this otherwise."
"You would not." He raised her paw and pulled her to the center of the platform. "Here."
She looked up at him, surprised and a little tense, what with one more thing on top of the afternoon, on top of what Nick was fairly certain was something she really hadn't tried before.
But that confidence was still there, and as they started it warmed and shifted again and he gripped her just a bit tighter, because he could see she felt it. She'd mastered even this already, as only she could.
Nick dipped his muzzle to the base of one of her ears and held it there.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"I told you."
They swayed slow, him holding her in careful paws and her trying not to step on his. She kept frowning down at them, as if uncertain of how to follow his lead.
"Nick."
"You're doing fine, sweetheart. Step, step, step."
She pulled him to a halt, and looked like she was suppressing amusement.
"You don't know how to dance."
He smiled at her. "Not at all."
This time the laugh did bubble out of her. She reached up and hooked him by the tie, so he had to stoop down to her level, and now the fire in her eyes made the dress around her shoulders pale into insignificance.
"Okay, fox," she said. Her fierce little kiss stole his breath. "My turn."