Another aggravating day working your shitty job down that shitty little coffee shop down in Sahara Square. You huff, and sigh to yourself as yet another day rolls by where literally nothing interesting happens. Customer is a dick because he's late for work or some shit and takes it out on the cashier, repeat a few dozen times until you can leave.

It's the Zootopian dream isn't it? You can be anything you want, after all. Not your choice to work there, but it's better than being out on the streets trying to hustle people out of small change. Slightly.

"At least this is steady." You say to yourself, already making excuses as to why you're stuck there. 'Course it isn't ideal. I mean, you're alive aren't you? You've got a little apartment to yourself. A shitty, one bedroom apartment.

All this you're thinking in the mere few second as you lock up the store for the night. You turn, and are greeted with a sight that you've grown accustomed to since you started working these hours. A street with dwindling amount of citizens. And the sun is just about to start going over the horizon, though there's still plenty of light to go around. Of course, no streets will ever be fully empty in Zootopia. City that never sleeps, and all that. Mostly due to the bats that live around here, but yknow.

You stuff your hand into a pocket, and fish around for your phone. Pulling it out, you press the little button which causes it to light up your face and chest as you look into the screen. 6:07PM. You had no real reason to check the time, of course. At this point it's just compulsion. It'd be weirder not to every now and then.

You get ready to return the phone to its resting place and make your way back to your apartment when a ringing sound suddenly snaps you back to focus. The bright blue screen had changed, and the phone was vibrating. Someone was calling.

It was Nick.

You hadn't spoken to Nick in a couple weeks. He was an old friend of yours, a friend that you'd met quite a few years ago now. What, 18, 19 years maybe? Can't remember exactly, but you suppose that that's how all long term relationships get after a while. Not boring, but... Boring, actually. Complacent, maybe?

But yes, Nick was calling. You tap the 'answer' icon and raise the phone to meet your ear. His voice sounded distant and low quality because, yknow, phones, but it was good to hear from him again.

"Hey Nick. How you been man?"

"Oooh, yknow how it is. I'm- I'm hanging in there, and all that. Just got me a pretty good haul. I started working with Finnick- you remember him don't you? He has this great new setup, he has the whole thing planned out. Pawpsicles, melting stuff, dressing him up as a baby, my three favorite things."

You always liked the way Nick spoke. Every time he'd open his mouth, what would come out would always be fluid, charming, clever. You thought for the longest time that he'd had to have preplanned all the interactions he has, somehow. But no, not really. That's just the way he is. The only major thing you didn't like about him, is his career choice.

"Oh yeah dude? Sounds like, uh.. A great.. Thing."

"Oh for sure it is man! But, hey, I know how you feel about all that stuff, so I'm not gonna bother you with the finer things life. I was just calling up to ask, if your weren't busy with your square job that is, if you'd wanna go out and get a drink later?"

You smirked. You couldn't remember the last time you two went to a bar and had a few together. Actually, you pretty much can't remember any of the times you two went to a bar and had a few together. Most likely to due all the said drinking.

Lemme tell ya, not sure if it's a fox thing or not, but when Nick goes out for a drink, he doesn't wanna stop himself until he's certain he's gonna have a hard time walking home. The countless memories of the times you two stumbled, shoulder to shoulder, back to his place, trying desperately to not pass out and eat the pavement, were all coming back to you.

All the times you ended up crashing on his couch.

Shit, when was the last time you did that? Must've been a couple years ago, at least. Nowadays, you're both adults and stuff, guys don't really, yknow, spend the night at each others houses anymore.

You tried not to sound too excited.

"Sure thing dude, wanna just meet me there, or what's up?"

"You know it my friend. 6:45 sound good? Out of all the things we'll forget in our time, you'd never forget our favorite watering hole would you?"

Everything he said was rhetorical, of course. Of course you'd be there at 6:45, and of course you'd never forget the Brewster.

You couldn't help but beaming a full smile at this point as you drifted slowly down the sidewalk. By now you were pretty close to your apartment. However, you knew that if you took a left at this intersection, it'd be headed straight to you and Nick's old stomping grounds.

The old, little bar on the street corner didn't look like much these days. Truth be told, it never looked like much of anything, least of all inviting. A small, square, concrete looking building. One small window, and that's right next to the door. The plain, wooden door that sat right under the only other landmark on the gray slate- the neon purple glowing sign that proudly presented the name 'The Rooster Brewster'. It even seemed like it was actually working now, one of the surely many new additions this establishment would hold since the last time you've been there.

It was just like you remembered. Brown. Pretty much everything was brown. The few booths were brown, the tables were brown. The floors and walls were oddly enough- brown. The bottles behind the counter were many, varying, interesting shades of brown, hell, a couple might've even been clear with a brown liquid inside! The cushions on the seat were a dark, depressing green, though, which certainly added that real Brewster flare that you and Nick loved in days since passed.

You don't really remember why this became 'your place' back in the day. Thinking back on then, a lot of the things you two did back then seemed completely illogical compared to what you'd do now. Like, for example, loving this place so much. Though, even now, you couldn't help but feeling a bit nostalgic seeing how little has changed from the fond memories.

Your eyes scanned the room. Two dudes, two rhinos, rather, sitting at one of the booths conversing quietly. Three girls, squirrels they looked like, were conversing not so quietly at one of the tables nearer to the door. None of them were particular lookers to you, but a couple of friends laughing and having a good time was a sight for sore eyes, if nothing else. Your eyes flicked up to the bar, and you saw old Crookshank still wiping down the counter. He looked a little older, a little more shriveled, but he's been working here as long as you've been coming, and a lot longer than that. Surprisingly enough, he was a chicken. Sorry, a ~rooster~. He used to be real anal about that.

You glanced a bit to the right of him and saw what you were looking for- Nick. Sat at the bar, assuming the 'disinterested' position as he seemed to drone on to the barman, who was only partially listening. You stride on up right beside him, nobody in the bar even turning to see who it was that came in.

You plonked yourself down in the seat to the right, next to Nick. The old, rickety barstool squeaked a little as you swiveled into it. The sudden loud sound alerted Nick to come out of his conversational trance, and he swiftly flicked his eyes to meet yours, seeing you for the first time in weeks, maybe even months. Crookshank took this time to tactically move himself to a different section of the bar now that Nick was taking a breather.

Yes, the barrage was turned to you. When you came in, he was slouched, back towards the door. He didn't look, sad, per say. Just tired after a long day of, presumably, 'work'. Though, the second your eyes met, and you saw the green circling his pupils, he lit up like a candle. Ears suddenly perked, eyes widened, happy to see you. Even now, after all these years, he seemed so full of energy at the prospect of another night washed away with a friend.

"Anon!" He says, drawing your name out ever so slightly as a greeting. "Fashionably early as always. Though, you'd have to wake up pretty early at night to get one over on a fox."

He smirks his usual satisfied grin, and extends his arms out a bit to either side, facing you. You are now sitting maybe a foot away from him.

Oh shit.

Was he going for a hug? Or, maybe he was just gesturing towards you in that non-specific way people do. It's not exactly uncommon for Nick to occasionally do things like that, but you wouldn't call him a 'touchy feely' kind of fox. Usually he does all the emotional stuff starts AFTER you start drinking.

But, here he was? You think it over in your head. 'If I'm misinterpreting this it'll be super awkward, but if I'm not, and he is going for it and I don't return, I'll feel like a huge dick.' Could you say no to those eyes?

Fuck it, goin for it.

...

It was super awkward. You leaned in, and wrapped your arms around him. It wasn't something you did much anymore. Almost as soon as you did it, you realized it was a mistake when he didn't return it at first. You could feel the hesitation in him, and felt the hot blush immediately flowering into your cheeks. You were about to pull away and try to salvage the situation, maybe pretend you fell or something, when he seemed to shrug, and gingerly return it. His lasted for maybe 2 seconds before he let you go, signaling you to do the same.

You leaned back, and you were staring at each other again. The embarrassment of the atrocity of a social faux pas you just committed would surely never be forgiven, you should just kill your-

His confused, quizzical look faded almost instantly. The corner of his mouth turned upwards, and he was once again beaming his trademark confident Nick Wilde smirk.

"Geez anon, you just sat down. Usually you wait till AFTER you start drinking to get all emotional on me."

Your mind scrambled like a rabid dog, reaching for dear life for the nearest witty line you could throw back at him. Against Nick, it was a race that you always lost. Taking the 0.0002 seconds of your silence as a victory, he continued to tease you in that oh so smug way he always does.

"Didn't even say 'Hi' either before jumping all over me. You always were bad at breaking the ice.. Can't blame you though, I mean, look at me."

'Thank fuck' you thought. You were glad he was playing it off with his usual humor. It could've turned very awkward very fast. You always feel the need to never mess things up like that, especially not around him. Maybe it's because of how charming he is. He never stumbles on his words, never misreads a gesture like you just did. Now was your chance to redeem yourself. Get back at him with something really clever.

You open your mouth, fully intent on sending all that smugness right back at him.

Except you draw a blank.

You sit, poised to react to what he said with a witty response that never came. Mouth clearly ready to spring open and retort, and you're drawing a damn blank. After another second of last ditch brainstorming leads to nothing you simply try to smile and respond with the simplest and most effective response you could muster.