Chapter Text
Working night shifts came with patterns. Same delivery trucks at the same hours, same regulars with the same orders, and the same hum of the espresso machine when the café got too quiet.
Nick liked the predictability. It made the hours pass faster.
Pawffee Express wasn’t glamorous, but it paid on time and didn’t ask questions. That was more than he could say for most places he’d worked at before.
It was a quarter till midnight when the bell above the door chimed again.
Nick didn’t look up right away. He was wiping down the counter, slow and methodical, letting the rag drag longer than necessary. The crowd usually shifted by this hour, more of the regular night types—like a raccoon tapping idly on his phone, or a honey badger nursing a coffee like it was noon. Most customers this late either hovered awkwardly or already knew what they wanted.
He glanced up. A rabbit stood just inside the doorway, ears slightly drooped, backpack hanging low on her shoulders. Her sweatshirt swallowed her frame. Her eyes were tired in a way Nick recognized immediately. Clearly overworked.
He straightened, resting his forearms on the counter. “Welcome to Pawffee Express,” he said, voice even. “What can I get you?”
She startled a little. Quickly, she pulled herself together. “Uh…” she cleared her throat. “Cappuccino, please. Oat milk.”
Her voice was steady, but everything else about her said she was running on fumes.
Nick rang it up without comment. He’d learned a long time ago not to point things out unless he had a reason to. “Name?” he asked without looking at her.
She didn’t respond. He glanced up, brow lifting. She was staring off into nothing, preoccupied.
“Your name?” he repeated, louder this time.
Her ears snapped upright. She looked at him with wide eyes, like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Sorry, what was that?”
She’s tired tired, huh.
“Five dollars,” he deadpanned.
She fumbled with her bag, unzipping it to grab her wallet. A small container of carrots slipped free, hitting the floor with a soft thud.
“Oh—” She bent to retrieve it, and another item fell out after. Something smaller and heavier struck the tile with a sharper clack and rolled just far enough for Nick to read the label before she scooped it up.
Fox repellent.
“I’m so sorry about that,” she said quickly, shoving it back into her bag as she paid.
Nick handed her the receipt, pretending he hadn’t noticed. She thanked him and took the table closest to the entrance, directly across from the counter.
From the corner of his eye, he watched her unload her bag. Laptop, papers, index cards, highlighters, and a book so thick it looked painful to even look at. He watched for a second too long, fingers stilling on the counter before he caught himself and turned back to the machine.
When he set the mug at the end of the counter, he glanced over again. She was already buried in her work, shoulders hunched, ears angled forward.
“Cappuccino,” Nick called. She looked up in acknowledgment, then hopped off her chair to retrieve it.
Students staying this late weren’t unusual. They all shared that dreadful burnt-out, threadbare energy that clung to the café at night. This rabbit wasn’t special.
“Ahh, that was a good nap,” Nick’s coworker sighed as the storage room door swung open. Catty, a cheetah, stretched, cracking her neck as she wandered behind the counter. “I swear, I blinked and passed out,” she yawned. “Anything exciting while I was gone?”
Nick shrugged, already wiping the steam wand. “Same old.”
She leaned over the counter, her eyes flicking briefly to the rabbit near the entrance. “Ooh, another student. We’re basically a shelter for these poor souls.”
He hummed noncommittally, glancing over despite himself. The rabbit had barely touched her drink. She was scribbling furiously, brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
When the clock ticked past midnight, Nick made another round of cleaning. Only a handful of customers remained including the rabbit, who hadn’t moved an inch.
Is she planning to stay here all night?
He wiped down the counter once more and checked the clock. 12:35 a.m.
He considered saying something. Anything. Would you like to order again? You doing okay over there? Are you still even conscious?
Instead, he turned back to the sink and rinsed out the rag.
If she stayed, she stayed. It wasn’t his job to make people leave.
The next night’s shift unfolded the same way as always. Familiar faces, a few new ones. Nick was surprisingly good at remembering customers, even after only a month and a half on the job.
He was finishing a drink for a regular, back turned to the door, when the bell chimed softly.
“Welcome to Pawffee Express! What can I get you?” Catty chirped. Her energy didn’t match the hour, but Nick stopped questioning it. At least her customer service was good.
“Hi,” the customer said. “Cappuccino, please. Oat milk.”
Nick’s tail gave a small, unconscious flick. He turned just in time to set the drink on the counter, and there she was. The same rabbit from the night before.
“Sure thing! Anything else?” Catty asked.
The rabbit glanced at the pastry case, brows knitting as she weighed her options, and for a moment Nick could see the exhaustion under her focus.
“Would you like to try our carrot cake?” Nick offered.
Both Catty and the rabbit turned toward him. The rabbit’s ears perked slightly, and she nodded with a faint smile. “Yeah. I’ll take that too. Thanks.”
She paid and took the same table as last night. As Nick pulled the espresso shot, Catty leaned closer. “Carrot cake? Is it because she’s a bunny?”
He raised a brow. “Hey, she dropped a pack of carrots last night, okay. Just thought she might want to try it.”
Catty scoffed. “Who even remembers what customers drop?”
Nick only shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his mouth as he carried the drink and plate over.
“Cappuccino and carrot cake.”
The rabbit looked up, her thick book, notes, and highlighters already spread across the table. Like before, she didn’t touch either right away. She flipped a page, carefully highlighting a passage while silently mouthing the words.
As the night went on, the bell chimed less and less. One by one, customers left, leaving the space quieter with only the hum of the fridge remaining, jazz playing softly, and her.
Nick glanced at the clock. She was still reading. Has she even absorbed anything she’s looked at for the past hour?
He wiped the sink. Then wiped it again. When he looked back, the mug was empty. The plate clean. Apparently, she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. He scrolled through his phone to pass the time. Every so often, Catty’s cackle drifted from the storage room. Probably watching something stupid again. The soft sound of pages turning caught his attention more than once.
At around one a.m., he glanced at the clock again just as the rabbit finally closed her book and rubbed her eyes with a sigh. For a moment, he thought she might pack up. Instead, she pulled her backpack closer and opened a different notebook.
He exhaled quietly through his nose. These students were relentless. Still, he found himself wondering if she’d be back again tomorrow.