Chapter Text
Shadow could see his breath fogging before him when he arrived at the front door of a gray brick building. The dark sky, still full of white specks, hung above him. The vacant parking lot was quiet, and nothing but a dull orange streetlight illuminated the lock on the door. He pulled out a set of jangling keys from his jacket pocket and flipped through them. Selecting one, he inserted the end into the lock. With a twist and a push, the door woke into motion. Once inside the small dim-lit coffee shop, he locked the door behind him and stuffed the keys into his pocket once more.
Shadow always arrived an hour before his opening shift. He liked time to himself, in the peace and quiet, before a difficult day. He knew the morning rush would be dreadful—like always—and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
He went behind the counter, stopping before the grinder. Below it, he pulled out a drawer, grabbing a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a measuring spoon. He scooped out four tablespoons and dropped them into the grinder. Tilting his head back, he tossed a few beans into his mouth, crunching on them as he closed the bag and stowed it away with the spoon. He covered his ears and elbowed the button that sent the grinder into motion. The monstrous noise was always too loud this early in the morning.
He turned off the machine and placed the grounds in a small filter which he sat in a pour-over cone above his own cup—a black mug with a red emblem on the front. He poured in steaming water and waited as the coffee seeped into the mug. A terrene aroma expanded through every inch of the shop. One of his favorite smells. His shoulders loosened, relaxing the muscles in his body. His eyes fell shut as he listened to the quiet drips of his brewing coffee.
After a short while, he cleaned up the area and removed his mug, taking it around the counter to a table beside a window. He sat down, holding the hot mug between his palms, and staring out at the empty dismal streets. There wasn’t a soul around. Peaceful… just how he liked it. He rose the cup to his lips, and took a sip of the warm brew.
With his coffee completed, he glanced at the clock on the wall, 4:00 a.m. Time to get started. He walked to the back, where a small set of lockers stood. He opened the one assigned to him, and took out his uniform—apron and visor—and shoved away his jacket. He tied on the apron and slapped on the visor, then grabbed a few small buckets and filled them with sanitizer water. He brought them to the front, flicking on the two espresso machines as he walked past them. They whirred and puffed into life. He set down the buckets in their respective positions and walked to the ovens, switching them on and allowing them to preheat.
Next, he went to brew a batch of iced coffee, but he found a note over the machine.
It read: “Left over Iced coffee in the fridge.”
Beside the poorly written message, was a little doodle of a question mark over a figure labeled, “Shadow,” and an arrow pointing to a square with a line—the fridge—beside him.
Sonic.
He always drew little things, or faces on every note he made—even on customers’ cups. It was easy to tell who closed yesterday. Shadow rolled his eyes, and continued his work.
Coffees, check
Iced teas, check.
Ovens, check.
Pastries, check.
Stocking, check.
Front door unlocked, check.
Within a few seconds, two of Shadow’s co-workers entered the shop in jackets and gloves—luckily, they were on time today. He nodded toward them, and after they returned from their lockers, now in uniform, he instructed where they were stationed. One was sent to take care of food and customers while the other was on drinks with Shadow—each of them assumed an espresso machine.
The rush came, like every morning. Coffee after coffee, latte after latte, an endless cycle.
Shadow finished up a caramel macchiato—pouring espresso shots over the vanilla and milk, then adding caramel drizzle on top—and walked to the open counter. He glanced at the name written on the cup and called out, “Jeremy!”
Whenever an order was taken, they were to write the customer’s name on the cup, along with the type of drink and any specifications to it. Then, they were left on the counter where Shadow, or whoever was making drinks that day, could make and deliver them.
Jeremy came to the counter, grabbed the coffee with a smile, but threw Shadow a strange look just before he exited the shop.
Not many customers liked when Shadow handed out their coffee. He wasn’t the social type. He called the name and when they came to receive it, he nodded and walked away before they had a chance to say something. No smile, no “have a great day” crap.
If anything, he lost a few customers because of it. But he specialized in preparing every drink to perfection, unlike Sonic who goofed off too much and typically forgot the order’s instructions—extra inclusions, substitution of milk, toppings, or whatever else the customers could think to change on them. Although, Sonic was a natural at making connections. He believed it drove business and made the environment fun. He always hit it off with customers, striking conversations, learning names, and cracking jokes with them—which was less peaceful and opposite of the way Shadow liked it.
After steaming a pitcher of milk, Shadow removed it from the wand and meticulously poured it into a blue mug—someone’s personal cup—containing espresso and mocha sauce, creating a leaf in the foam on top. He picked up the mug containing his delicate handiwork, ready to hand it to the customer when a hand slapped down on his shoulder, and he heard that annoying voice, “Hey Shads! Did you miss me?”
The latte-art rocked in the mug. Frustrated, Shadow turned to face Sonic who was in his visor and apron—at least he was in proper uniform—and snapped back. “No! And I nearly dropped this mocha because of you!”
“Whoops.” Sonic put up his hands in defense. “Won’t happen again!”
Shadow rolled his eyes, “That’s what you said the last ten times.” Shadow walked to the open counter and called a name. He handed the drink over and stepped away without a word. He passed Sonic’s obnoxious smile and resumed his pace, working on the next drink.
Sonic’s voice came yet again, “Hey, you gotta lighten up!”
Shadow whipped his head, looking over Sonic’s carefree posture and empty hands. “Get to work!” he growled.
Sonic gave him a thumbs up and winked, “You got it!”
Shadow poured steaming milk into a cup, finishing a caramel latte. Naturally, Sonic seized it, handing it out to the customer with a smile and the words, “Have a fantastic day, Sammy!” He assumed the espresso machine to his right, relieving the co-worker that was with Shadow through the early morning.
Shadow greatly appreciated when Sonic handled the social interaction part for him; he was the only co-worker who ever did. Not that he would ever tell Sonic that, but he presumed Sonic already knew.
They assumed their own routine, Shadow placed his finished drinks on the counter beside him, and when Sonic had the time, grabbed the drinks and handed them out. They were quite fast with this arrangement. Shadow was faster at making quality drinks while Sonic was faster at running his mouth, occasionally making a few drinks at the same time.
When the rush died down and customers spanned out, Sonic, while making a drink, began rambling to Shadow since there were less customers who could listen to him. “Hey, for breakfast this morning, Tails and I went to the new place down the street and ate an endless stack of pancakes. It was crazy! You should’ve seen him trying to stuff his face.” Sonic laughed. “What did you eat for breakfast?”
Shadow placed another finished beverage on the counter without looking at Sonic. “Coffee.”
Sonic gasped dramatically, and set down a cup of espresso and pitcher of steaming water, emptying his hands. His head whipped to Shadow who remained focused on drink making. “That’s it?”
Shadow grumbled, “Don’t act so surprised.”
Sonic placed a hand on his hip, “No wonder you’re so grumpy in the mornings.”
“That’s just how I always am.” Shadow spat. “Finish that Americano!”
Sonic ignored the instruction, leaving the cup and pitcher sitting on the counter. “Can’t argue with that. But breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Sonic jogged in place. “It helps you function in the morning.”
Shadow scoffed, “Well, coffee is how I function. Deal with it.”
“Okay, okay. But isn’t there something you like to eat with your coffee? Like a donut? Even just sometimes?”
Shadow finally stopped, his left hand holding a cup of espresso and vanilla while the other held a hot pitcher, and thought for a second. “Tiramisu.”
Sonic rolled his eyes, “Of course. What better to go with your coffee, than a coffee flavored dessert.” He shook his head with a smile, “I should’ve known.”
Shadow resumed his pace. “Now get back to work. That Americano won’t make itself.”
An hour later, with the second rush of the day just starting up, the end of Shadow’s shift had finally arrived. Another co-worker came in to relieve his spot at the espresso machine. He glanced to Sonic, and found him busy chatting with a customer. Shadow shrugged, heading to the back. He removed his visor and apron, and exchanged them for his jacket. He slung it over his arms and shoulders and closed his locker.
Sonic shot out from around the corner, laying eyes on Shadow. He shouted playfully, “Hey! You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?
Shadow zipped up his jacket. “Why are you back here? You have customers to attend to.”
Sonic batted a hand. “Don’t worry.” He pointed a thumb at himself, “I’m fast.”
“Yeah, but you make mistakes.”
“Ouch.” Sonic shrugged, “But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
With great anticipation, Sonic stood in Shadow’s path with that obnoxious smile of his. Shadow sighed of defeat. “Bye, Sonic.”
Sonic’s expression brightened as he hopped on the balls of his feet, “That’s more like it!” He raced off.
Shadow shook his head, and made his way past the counter and for the front door when Sonic’s voice came from behind, “Goodbye Shadow! See you tomorrow!”
The next dreadful morning, Shadow returned to the dark and vacant coffee shop—still an hour early. He locked the door behind him, brewed a coffee, and… passed something out of the ordinary on the table beside the one he routinely sat at. A small container and fork sat on the table with a note atop it.
The note read: “This can go with your coffee, since you don’t ever eat anything.” At the bottom corner of the note, a winky face was drawn.
Sonic.
Well, the table Sonic picked was close enough to his default spot. Shadow sat down with his coffee, and popped open the container to find a neatly placed square of tiramisu. Shadow chuckled to himself. That crazy hedgehog. He picked up the fork, pressing through the soft layers of his breakfast and looking out at the still roads and warm streetlights. He took a bite of the soft dessert.
Today… won’t be so bad.