Working case after case with yourself again, Nick felt neglected. You two were partners—you were supposed to work together. But you and that smart little brain of yours, the one that loved overworking itself, never seemed to realize it. He got it—but not really.

“Bunny,” Nick grumbled.

But you didn’t hear him, of course. Not over your endless rambling about investigations, leads, interrogations, and next steps. When did he ever get to pitch his thoughts? Never.

Sometimes it felt like he was just the extra guy in a one-man team.

Sometimes he got so frustrated he wondered why he tried at all.

But none of that was worth risking the best thing that had ever happened to him.

So, when you showed up at his trashed apartment for god knows what, he didn’t question it. He just tugged you closer.

“Slow down, Hopscotch, ‘kay?” he sighed, his hand rising to gently rub your floppy ears.

Your foot thumped against the cement floor, instinctive and uncontrollable. A grin tugged at his mouth.

Dumb bunny—always slipping into your instincts the second you didn’t mean to.