Work Text:
Sometime in the middle of downtown Zootopia...
"Hey, that place looks promising," Benjamin Clawhauser remarked, pointing out a paw to a gigantic edifice of concrete and steel, "I think I remember reading about it somewhere. Maybe in 'The Daily Sycophant'? " He gave a friendly glance over to Nick Wilde as the fox stepped right behind him. Both of them had just finished a long Friday shift at the Zootopia Police Department and could use a relaxing night of drinking.
"Oh, yeah, 'The Citadel', well," Nick murmured, his mouth awkwardly held open as he scratched against his chest, "the restaurant looks as sweet on the inside as it does on the outside. Bartenders with the fanciest suits that money can buy... but I just would rather head somewhere else."
"So," Benjamin whispered while his eyes scanned the stark black and red colors across the building's entrance, "I take it there's a story there."
Three nights ago...
"Do you realize what just happened?" Finnick asked, leaning over the table and bracing a paw against the edge of his chair.
"What is what now?" Nick glanced at the small fox for a moment before looking back over at Judy Hopps. The rabbit wiggled her tail in such a perfect way as she clutched a tray of three drinks from a counter. As she made her way to their table, Nick gazed at how her pretty sundress swayed with each and every step.
Smooth classical music by the likes of Baach and Bearlioz played over the scene. The posh feel of the restaurant had impressed all three of them; so many well-dressed mammals enjoying their meals as elegant artwork stretched across the walls beside them. Yet it ended up meaning less and less to Nick as time went on, his mind focusing on giving both him and his girlfriend enough liquid courage for their plans after eating. Finnick played his third-wheel role with a smattering of grumpiness as usual— it didn't seem to matter since he jumped at the opportunity for a free dinner every time.
"Do the words proportionate size ring a bell, Nick?"
"Come again?" He shifted about in his seat a bit— eyes on Finnick.
"Look, I'm really only drinking tonight to keep up my Cal Ripken Jr. style attendance record, believe it or not. With her, well, she basically just inhaled those wine coolers." Finnick shoved a few potato skins into his mouth before going on. "I don't think you understand that she's beyond a lightweight. I'm a lightweight. She's like a featherweight. A table-spoon-weight. A tea-spoon-weight." He narrowed his eyes. "You get me?"
"You of all mammals should understand that, well," Nick replied, stabbing a fork into the last bits of his soy steak, "that's kind of the point."
"My point is that there's loosening someone up, on the one paw, and then there's—"
A crashing noise sounded off in the middle of the restaurant. Judy stepped back and tried to balance her tray above her head as she leaned against the wall. A short, stocky wolf reached over and gripped the tray. The rabbit brushed the dirt off of her leg and froze as a group of other wolves popped up around her. They made for the broken flowerpots on the floor— producing a couple of small baggies, sweeping pottery around, and so on.
"I'm really mess about the sorry, wolves," Judy muttered, rubbing a paw against her ears.
Nick groaned.
"You think she was in a talkative, un-sexy mood before?" Finnick gobbled up the rest of the side dish. "Just wait until she sits back down and starts again now the booze has really hit her." He reached for a pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
"Hi, back!" Judy called out, hopping onto the chair beside the foxes, "I cleared up the little mix-up with our drinks, but I bonked some of those indoor shrubberies on the way over. Oh, well, a waiter over should be again soon."
"It's fine," Nick replied. His emotions felt like a toxic stew bubbling over as he poked at the last of his meal.
"Finnick, hey," Judy remarked, pressing a paw against the little fox's shoulder as he stared blankly back at her, "I didn't know you still smoked."
"Quitting was the best day of my life," he replied, "and I felt so happy. I wanted to feel that glad again, so, why not? I started again. That way, I'm experiencing the joys of quitting all I want. I started and quit three times this week so far."
Judy grabbed Finnick's shoulder and threw her head to the side. She let out a twisted torrent of chuckles sounding like a clogged garbage disposal. Nick sat up a bit straighter in his seat, taking in a deep breath. He locked eyes with Finnick. The smaller fox shrugged.
"Oh, gosh, now that I'm back here," Judy went on, shoving her spoon into a bunch of chopped up carrots, "keep going! Tell me more of that t-shirt hustling story!"
The foxes paused as a waiter appeared at the side of the table. Judy made an idle wave as the fancy-dressed wolf placed out three skinny glasses and jogged away. Nick watched with dismay, sweat starting to slip onto his cheeks, as Judy gulped down half the drink in a split-second. Finnick, for his part, did the same; it hit Nick like a punch to the stomach to realize that he had to watch out for the little fox's drunken antics too.
"Well, like I said before," Finnick said, "it was Bobby's idea to make a bunch of those super cheap prints. It cost only a few cents per item, but the mark-up is crazy if you have the right thing. Bobby's boyfriend that hung out in the so-called 'gayborhood', a place that the badger himself wouldn't be caught dead stepping into, always claimed to have invented that old saw 'It's Not Gay If It's Prey'."
"Not exactly a slogan that you'd want to take credit for," Nick remarked, finishing up his steak, "but even if the LGBT activist types have never liked it— it gets the Ls, Gs, and Bs lucky."
"We made a bunch of those shirts and hung around various gyms, nightclubs, bars, and the like to peddle them," Finnick went on, "and plenty of quick bucks came in, but competition came fast." He lit up his cigarette and took a long drag. "We had 'street cred' for being Bs ourselves, I guess, but money talks. So, Nick here gets the bright idea to cook up even more sleazy sayings to get an edge. And, oh wow, you wouldn't believe some of the crap that he and Bobby tried."
The color drained from Nick's face. He glanced over at Judy, seeing her hanging intensely on every word, before awkwardly pushing his plate away from him. "Hey, we don't have to go into—"
"Picture this!" Finnick put on a devious grin as he gestured up in the air. "A bunch of muscular otter boys, flexing with paws held out high, and these words: 'I'd Rather Be In A Cuddle Pile'."
Judy spouted out another batch of loud, obnoxious laughter. Nick froze. He saw out of the corner of his eye a pair of short antelope staring vacantly over at their table.
"Oh, but that's not the best part! Not even the half of it!" Finnick took another drag and pressed his body against the table. "Other sequels were even more direct— just imagine: 'It's Not Gay If It's Just A Big Clit'." Judy trembled, eyes closed, as Finnick went on. "A big bear in a tight shirt with an arrow pointing straight down... saying 'Big Clit'!"
Judy trembled as she almost foamed at the mouth, chuckling over and over again, and she immediately downed the rest of her drink. Nick shoved his chair backwards a bit. He tried not to bite his lip— thinking to his horror about how slurred both Judy and Finnick's voices had already gotten. The antelope at the other table frowned as they whispered to each other.
"It goes on and on!" Finnick pointed over at the other fox and grinned from cheek to cheek. "It's not gay if he's in a dress! Not gay if he's got make-up on! Not gay if he's talking about you making him pregnant!" Both Finnick and Judy seemed to be losing it. "Tall tigers wearing 'Predator In The Streets— Princess In The Sheets'!"
"Princess!" Judy repeated, tapping her empty glass upon the table.
"For God's sake, it's not that funny," Nick mouthed. His mind raced as he watched Judy thoughtlessly reaching for his own wine cooler. The rabbit clutched the glass close like some kind of valuable treasure.
"Bobby's biggest thing was using the whole letter 'i' thing, you know?" Finnick continued. "It's not a 'b-o-y'. It's a 'b-o-i'. And those guys have a 'p-u-s-s-i'." The small fox joined in the rabbit's giggling as he sounded out the words. "You know what the kicker is? What Nick and Bobby called the whole ongoing scam— it's seriously—"
"Please... don't," Nick remarked, putting a paw upon Judy's shoulder and trying to shift his chair closer.
"They called it 'fagsploitation'!"
Judy let out a gasp. The foxes nearly slipped out of their seats; she knocked over her glass onto her plate. The rabbit then closed her eyes, threw her body forwards, and opened her mouth wide.
"They c-called it that!" Judy cried out. She pounded her paws against the wood. Laugh after laugh came so fast that she hardly looked able to breathe. Tears dripped onto her cheeks. "They s-seriously— they j-just—"
A sudden sound from behind the three of them caused all three mammals to stop. "Excuse me," interjected a burly wolf with a jaw looking as if it had been carved into stone, "I regret to inform you that we've gotten complaints from the other tables about the noise. Concerns were expressed about offensive language as well."
"I'm sorry," Nick began, thinking about how the waiter appeared so strong that he could iron a shirt on his belly, "it's—"
"I'm done blabbing for now, geez!" Finnick groused, closing his eyes as he waved in the air. He slid his package of cigarette across the table in front of him. "What I really need is another one of these."
"Oh, h-hey, let me!" Judy drunkenly exclaimed. She reached out for Finnick's lighter and seized the tip of the package. "N-no problem. I've seen mammals time this all of the do."
"Madam," the waiter said, hovering his paws a few inches from the rabbit's shoulder, "you appear to be lighting the—"
"Carrots, that's the filter, that's not—"
"Oopsie!" Judy called out. She tossed the cigarette and lighter between her paws. The open flame landed right in the middle of the plate of olive oil.
The foxes hopped out of their chairs; the waiter shouted out something behind him. Fire rippled across the oil over to the pile of paper covered bread— piece after piece erupting into flames. Judy had leaped into the air right onto the wall; she tightly clutched the edge of nearby painting.
"I'm fix to going this!" Judy called out. Fire spread all over the table. A bunch of napkins lit up in a cloud of smoke as the wolf dashed over to the corner of the restaurant. "I've g-got it— I'll— whoa!"
The painting fell right off the wall onto the flames. Judy tumbled onto the ground, trying and failing to stand up yet again. For a split-second, it looked as if the canvas had flattened the fire into nothing. Both foxes stood in shock, eyes wide open.
The painting... burst into flames itself.
Three nights later...
"Oh, there's not really a story there or anything," Nick said, coughing into his paw, "I just aren't in the mood for fine dining. You know?" He walked down the street for a bit. "What about that trashy little diner from last week?"
"Works for me," Clawhauser replied.