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It’s not every day that Brewster gets a chance to serve Rover, but when he does, it’s usually because the cat had dropped back into Morinomachi for a few days and would request a cup of coffee to-go before getting back on the train early in the morning. Today is one of those days, and despite not being a regular, Brewster somehow is able to remember his order. Rover prefers Blue Mountain beans with a little bit of milk and sugar. It fits his almost nomadic lifestyle; always alert, but never a fanatic.
Brewster finishes preparing it now, giving it a quick stir to mix the ingredients before handing it over. Rover accepts it and, for his part, enthusiastically inhales the aroma before reaching for a lid to put on the cup.
“Mmm… smells as good as always,” Rover says with a closed eyes and a big smile. “I’m glad that, in the time I’ve known you, you haven’t moved your business somewhere else.”
I’m glad to be here, too, Brewster thinks, as he cleans the milk steamer. And I’m glad you keep coming to visit, though I can’t understand why you keep moving around.
It’s a particular trait of his, to think up replies and then say them in his head instead of out loud. He isn’t sure when he started doing it, but it feels like it’s been a part of his personality for as long as he’s been alive. He doesn’t mind being such a quiet person, but he does regret that it’s been the cause of quiet a few conflicts between people he’s considered a friend. Thankfully, none of the residents of Morinomachi seem to mind.
“If I may, why do you choose to work in such a small village?” Rover asks. “You’re coffee’s good. Like, really good. You could make a lot of money in a more popular town.”
It’s a normal question, but it leaves a bad taste in Brewster’s ears. He tries to keep his face impassive. That may be so, but I like this town. Besides…
“Coo… Blathers asked me.”
“Huh, really? Well, that makes sense. To me, no museum’s complete without a good cafe,” Rover states with a playful shrug. “Though, you and Blathers must have been pretty close if it meant you’d move all the way here at his request!”
Brewster gives him a smile at that. We were really close. And still are.
Rover pauses, then gives him a sly look. “That gleam in your eye… it’s telling me there’s a good story just itching to be told. I’d be very interested to hear it…”
Yet straight after he says that, he stands up from his seat at the barstool. “…But I don’t want to miss my train. I’ll ask you when we next meet, yeah?”
He straightens his bag and takes another sip of his coffee. “Be seeing ya, Brewster! Oh, and tell Blathers I’m sorry I had to miss his big day, and give him my congratulations. Or condolences, if it somehow turns out bad.”
Brewster bids him goodbye and safe travels, then takes a breath when the cafe’s door closes with the chime of the bell. He’s glad he didn’t have to share how he and Blathers got to know each other right there and then. It’s a long story, and though Rover and the residents of Morinomachi already know that he and Blathers are a couple, he isn’t quite sure he’s ready to spill all the details.
Still, to think that one of my regulars would end up becoming so important to me.
Before the museum, Brewster owned and operated a traditional coffee house in Fowntown, living and working in the university district on the western side of the city. The majority of the locals were either students or alumni and Brewster, wanting to accommodate these customers, had the place stay open later than cafe hours usually go. He hoped that students working on assignments late in the evening could find refuge there. Such a schedule also happened to attract more nocturnal folks. Blathers was among them.
When they first met, Blathers was nearing the end of his Master’s degree in Paleontology. It was during the winter semester, and he was knee-deep into preparing his thesis so that he could get into the university’s doctorate program and earn a PhD.
Of course, Brewster had no way of knowing that. He only knew that Blathers ordered a pure black coffee, and that he was very bad at hiding how stressed he was.
The first time Blathers came in, he had accepted his drink with a, "Thank you for being open this late, by the way! Without you, if I tried to find a place to work at this hour, I probably would've had to go to a bar! And I don't think alcohol would help me with my work, wot wot."
He also thanked him the second time he visited, that time with a, "I've visited many cafes while working on this assignment, but yours is definitely the best for us students. And your coffee is simply phenomenal, hoot!"
The third time, Blathers had stayed later than usual. Later than any of the other customers did. Brewster had to go to his table and tell him that the place would be closing in 15 minutes.
"Hoot, is that so? Alright, I'll wrap up soon... though I might purchase another cup to-go, if that's alright?"
"...That's alright, coo..."
Though he found, as he bussed down the other tables for the day, that he couldn't help but worry about his new regular. It was unusual for him to be so concerned over a customer, but the background noise of Blathers typing a few more sentences on his keyboard and organizing his books and notes was persistent in the emptiness of the cafe, and the knowledge that Blathers had always stayed late was indisputable, and somehow, Brewster knew that something was wrong.
And he tended to keep to himself, Brewster has always kept to himself, even around people he knew well, but this seed of a concern had planted itself deeply and firmly into his mind, and he felt it important to ask as he was making Blather's final cup for the night: "...How's your work going?"
"Hm? Oh, well, it's going alright!" Blathers seemed surprised, but he wasn't necessarily hesitant to talk to the barista. In fact, he dived right into the conversation, explaining his situation thoroughly and without restrain. He talked about his soon-to-be Master’s degree, his hopes to be a doctor of paleontology one day, his studies about lifeforms past and present and his thesis about a specific kind.
"It's about the behaviors of prehistoric aquatic mammals! Or, well, their presumed behavior, since there's no way to know for sure... It's all quite stressful, honestly."
Brewster looked up from his task to glance at him, hoping Blathers would take it as an invitation to keep going. He did.
"I mean, I suppose theses have to be stressful for everyone! But it feels like no matter how much I write, nothing ends up completed at the end of the day." Blathers sighed. "I have all the research I need, I just can't seem to put them all together. It's frustrating, wot?"
Brewster nodded a bit, though he couldn't help but feel he was really out of his depth by starting this conversation. He liked to think he was smart (you kind of have to be if you want to run a coffee shop by yourself), but he was nowhere near intelligent enough to write a damn thesis. Here Blathers was, studying animals and plants and even bones, while all Brewster's ever seemed to know is coffee. What could he say to such a grievance? What could his experience with brewing do in this conversation?
...Could the two activities be similar?
Brewster thought about it. People who don't make their own coffee often think that all you have to do is pour hot water over coffee grounds, and to their credit that is the bulk of it. But for professionals, you also have to think about where and how the beans were harvested, the type of roast and the size of the grind, the brewing time and the extraction of flavors through temperature. Perhaps there's more to a thesis, too?
"...There's nothing more bitter or tragic than a rushed cup of coffee."
He was unsure if such a simple answer was the right one, but he had said it and Blathers took the time to consider it all the same. "That's... a good point, hoot," he remarked after a moment, and whether he actually meant it or was being polite, Brewster would not know.
He poured the drink in a to-go cup and put a lid on it. ”Enjoy..." he said as he handed the drink over. Then, "...Hope your work goes smoothly."
Blathers blinked at him, then smiled with what seemed to be a much more relaxed air, and something inside of Brewster gently realized that his comment has not only taken root, but even had the potential to grow into a good friendship.
"I'm sure it will, hoot!”
You wouldn’t think it just by looking at him, but Tom Nook is one of those people that doesn’t need a cup of coffee to start the day. He instead visits him when he goes on lunch break. He prefers Kilimanjaro beans with just a bit of sugar and lots of milk. It fits his work ethic; fruitful with what works and careful with what’s not.
“Hey, does Blathers seem like he’s in a bad mood lately?” Tom Nook asks him after the first few sips. “You know how he usually seems quite at ease, even if he’s fast asleep at his post. But lately, he’s been exuding a more anxious air. He even closed the museum yesterday! Is he worried about something?”
He is, Brewster recalls, He told me all about it. Although his studies have been slow due to his job, he’s been working on finally completing his doctorate. His presentation was yesterday, and he’s getting the results later today. It’s really weighing on his mind. “You should ask him about it, coo…”
“Yes yes, that would be the good thing to do,” the tanuki responds. “And I would, it’s just. Well.”
Tom Nook takes a sip of his coffee and adjusts himself in his seat, searching for the right words. Brewster waits, patiently.
“Whenever I talk to Blathers,” he admits, “the conversation always ends up going on much longer than I anticipate. Yes, he always has so much to say.”
It’s not the first time Brewster’s heard Tom Nook aired a grievance about another villager like this, and he doubts it’ll be the last. That’s the kind of tanuki he is; when something or someone bothers him, he lets that bother be known. Brewster himself has been on the receiving end of the line, with Tom Nook mistaking his quiet nature for a lack of interest in what he’s saying, and now Brewster always makes a point of showing his attentiveness in conversations with the other by maintaining eye contact and nodding his head along, even if his beak remains closed.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, really!” He insists. “But between working at my job and taking care of Timmy and Tommy, I don’t really have the time to spare.”
It’s probably because he finds it strange that he would choose to complain to him of all people, but Brewster finds himself unsure what to do in this situation. Blathers is a grown owl who can, and has, stood up for himself and his behavior, but that knowledge does little to calm the instinctive desire to defend him from working its way into his chest. So, he finds a middle ground. A statement or suggestion of sorts that dismisses no one.
“Timmy and Tommy… I’m sure they’d understand.”
Tom Nook takes this consideration with a thoughtful hum. “Now that you mention it, they have matured a lot this past year... Yes yes, I’ll look into it and see if they’d be okay with more time on their own. If it means I get to spend time with friends and they get to feel more independent, I’d say that’s a good deal!”
The rest of Tom Nook’s lunch is spent with much lighter topics of conversation, and he leaves the moment he finishes his meal. Brewster gets to work cleaning his cup immediately.
The time to spare, huh?
This, unfortunately, isn’t the first time he’s heard someone talk about Blathers in a bad light. The owl’s tendency to… well, blather, has oftentimes lead others to find him hard to talk to.
Brewster never has, though. Why would he, with all that Blathers has done for him?
It turned out that Brewster’s attempt at giving advice to his new college student friend ended up being exactly what the latter needed.
“You managed to teach me that the mind, and this thesis, are complex like coffee!” Blathers had told him. “And just like coffee is more meticulous to prepare than others often assume, there is more to a thesis than gathering research and formatting it, wot wot? …Don’t look so surprised, of course I, too, know the difficulties of making coffee! Paleontology includes the studies of plants, didn’t I tell you? See, my classmate and friend had once written an essay on the flora that we harvest to eat, and she asked me to help proofread it…”
Winter melted away, and spring took its place. Blathers continued to show up to the shop, and their friendship, now that it had planted its roots, continued to grow. Writing the thesis was definitely still a lot of work, but Brewster could tell the sheer weight of it all didn’t bother Blathers as much as it used to.
“…Once I’m done with that, I’ll finally be fleshing out my presentation to be more than a skeleton. And hopefully I’ll have the time to make it look pretty, as well!” Indeed it was that Blathers, pressed as he may be, could definitely see a clear path forward. Brewster was certain of that. “Hoot, while I’m on the topic of public speaking, let me also say that I really appreciate you listening to all I have to say. I know I tend to talk a lot, so thank you for your patience!”
“Coo… thank you for understanding my quietness.”
Spring weather crested and waned, and the heat of summer began trickling in. Their friendship had spread it’s leaves, and when Blathers came in one day and ordered a little bit of milk with his coffee, Brewster knew he had gotten his Master’s before he had even told him. It wasn’t graduation day quite yet, but they still had a mini-celebration in the walls of that coffee shop.
“It’s good to finally get this done," Blathers stated, somehow with both the tiredness of a job complete and a renewed vigor, “but the real work starts here! While classes are out for summer, I’ll be doing some volunteer work so I'm qualified for a curator’s license as soon as autumn starts. Have you ever been to the Farway Museum? That’s where I’ll be working, for a little over a month. The schedule means I won’t be coming here as much, unfortunately, but I’ll visit when I can!”
The full heat of summer crashed in, and Blathers was swept up in his work.
Shortly after, a chain coffee shop opened up just a block away from Brewster’s place.
When they next met, Blathers was quick to express his vicarious anger. “The nerve of those guys! They already have so much, how greedy do they need to be to take even more? And to draw attention away from the locals, too?”
Now, owning a small business in such a big city wasn’t easy. Brewster had found a way to make ends meet, but his earnings were varied between different months, and it wasn't uncommon to find himself living paycheck to paycheck. He didn’t mind not sitting in the lap of luxury, but having an unsteady income was difficult enough as it is. Having a well-known brand suddenly provide competition was enough to really put a stress on Brewster.
And that’s exactly what it did. Shortly after their opening, he started getting less and less customers, his short and sweet menu beginning to appear unappetizing in the face of the familiarity that chain stores provide. Brewster tried to stay calm and seem unbothered, even as he lost his regulars to the competition’s wide arrangement of flavors, from caramel to strawberry. But as autumn came and went and the end of the year approached, he looked at the decline of his income and realized that he soon wouldn’t have the money to support this lifestyle.
Blathers was heartbroken upon hearing him say that. “I’m so, so sorry, Brewster. Truly. …What’s going to happen, then?”
That’s a good question.
Ideally, he would move his business somewhere else and continue brewing, but to do so would cost a lot of Bells that he no longer has. The safer option would be to turn in his apron and find work somewhere else, and that’s probably what Brewster would end up doing. He explained just that, even as Blathers’s frown deepened.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“…Just knowing you care is enough.”
It didn’t feel like enough, but as Brewster got closer to the final day, he found himself doubting that anything could be in this scenario. It’s not the most beautiful dream or ambition, but he truly believed that making coffee is what he was made for, and he didn’t know if he would ever fully move in from it. But at least he got to brew for a good portion of his life, and the down payment he received for the space that was about to be leased out should be enough to keep him afloat until he found another job, and when you live in such a big city, sometimes ‘being afloat' is all you can ask for. Brewster may not be willing to leave the coffee shop, but he was ready to.
And then Blathers stormed in the day before closing.
“Brewster!” He shouted. “I know a place where you can keep the shop open!”
Brewster never thought he’d be thankful that the shop was empty during open hours, but between his loud voice and his heavy panting (let me get him a glass of water, did he run all the way here or something?), he was starting to think otherwise. Blathers didn't seem to care about his appearance, though.
“Brewster, hoot, listen to this!” He exclaimed. “My professor, she knows I got my curator's license and has asked me if I would take up a post in a museum on the countryside. The town’s called Morinomachi, just south of Boondox, have you heard of it?”
Brewster shook his head, though the name Boondox does ring a bell of a few customers talking about their struggles with their local town debt. Morinomachi must be pretty small, too. But what I’m more curious about is, “What about your doctorate, coo?”
“That? Well, since I accepted her request, my studies will have to be put on hold until I find a way to work and do classes at the same time,” he said. Then, on seeing Brewster’s furrowed brow, interjected with a, “But indeed, I’m more than happy to find that way! I really loved my volunteer museum work and will undoubtedly love working at this post as well, hoot hoot. And either way, that’s not why I came here!”
Blathers rapidly turned his head from side to side, as if to shake off raindrops from his crest. “That museum in Morinomachi, they have a cafe and are looking for a barista to work for them as well! Since you’re struggling here, I told them about you, and guess what? They’d be willing to interview you and possibly hire you!”
Blathers looks at him, eyes bright and smile seminal, as if his words were as light as a feather, and Brewster returns the gaze with a feeling he had trouble pinpointing, but identified as some parts shock, some parts uncertainty, and a small amount of sheer relief.
There’s a chance I don’t have to quit brewing…?
The flora connecting them was expanding, practically flourishing. Brewster could feel, in the depths of his body, it’s roots drink up the nutrients in the rich soil, the leaves soak up the sun, and the sprouting of buds at the end of it’s stems. And at the same time he could feel the relationship they had change into something else, Or, no, perhaps it has already changed long before and is only now awakening. Yawning and stretching it’s limbs beyond the feelings of a simple friendship, it reaches now for the territory of deep connection and true union, with reverence and nervousness and a heavy longing to touch it with it’s own hands breaking through.
Those buds were quickly blooming now, one after another, colorful and aromatic. Brewster had come to a realization, one that burst forth in his heart and spread to his head, then his stomach, then his limbs. He had fallen in love a long time ago.
“This is, of course, if you’re also willing and don’t mind making the trek to the countryside,” Blathers continued to speak, obscured from the other’s sudden revelation. “And if, or more likely, when you get the job, I think it would be better to fully move into Morinomachi and live there, as I will be. I know moving a place of residence is a lot different than moving a business, wot wot, but it would mean you don’t have to pay the city’s high rent prices. …Again, this is all up to you, I just—”
Brewster can’t think of a time where he’d interrupted someone before, but he raises a hand to cut the other off now, willing it to not shake as much as it was when it was below the counter. He rarely makes decisions at the spur of the moment, but he is glad to make this one here and now, a joy that doubles when Blathers visibly lights up at his words.
“I’d love to.”
On other days, they end up seeing each other in the small hours of the morning. For Blathers, getting caffeine in his system at that time means it’s that little bit easier for him to keep himself awake until noon. And for the both of them, well, it’s a time they can spend just between themselves since no one comes to the museum at 3 in the morning. But today, Blathers finds out whether or not his PhD has been accepted and if he is finally done with his college studies, and for that reason he comes in a quarter past 6 in the evening.
He must’ve just woken up and gotten the email, Brewster thinks, trying not to dwell on the giddy feeling of I’m the first one he’s telling this news to. Instead, he just waits patiently as Blathers enters the room and stands at the counter.
A pause passes between them. The door closes behind Blathers on it’s own, the chime of it’s bell ringing lone in the quietness.
And then Blathers breaks out into one of the biggest smiles he’s ever seen. “Doctor Blathers… Doctor Blathers! Can you believe it?”
Brewster can’t help matching the smile, even as he gets to preparing his regular order. “Congratulations, coo.” I’m so proud of you.
“Hoot hoot! It’s been a long journey, but I’m so glad to finally be done!” Blathers exclaimed with a big sigh at the end of the sentence, plopping himself onto a barstool with a swing in his legs. “I still have to write to my sister, but I really needed to say it and celebrate it with my voice. And who better to do that with than you?”
Well, there goes that attempt of quelling the giddiness. I’d celebrate with you even if I wasn’t the first person you told, or if I was the last person you told. I’d celebrate with you even if your PhD wasn’t approved, just so you know I know how much work has gone into this.
Sometime during their first year working at the museum, Blathers’s regular order had changed again. He now orders a cortada, made with house blend coffee beans and equal parts milk, no sugar. It matches his personality: simple yet truthful in it's flavor and always a welcome warmth.
Brewster handed over that cortada now, to Blathers’s soft thanks. “And, dare I say, what better to do this over with than coffee? Though I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that, wot? Ah, to think, I’m finally clear to identify fossils on my own! No more need to bother with the folks at Farway Museum anymore! And we really would have been bothering them, now that we know just how many of the things are located in Morinomachi. Actually, do you know? Did I tell you about that?”
“…I don’t think so, though I’m not surprised.”
“Oh dear, I thought I did, I’m sorry!”
And skies above, Brewster reckons with himself even as Brewster explains the whole situation to him, how could Tom Nook, how could anyone, dislike talking to you?
To think, Blathers has not only thrown his whole heart and soul into such an enormous and fascinating line of work, but has ended up so enamored with it that he wants to share all of his learnings with the people he knows. Sure, others may find it overwhelming or even undesirable, but he couldn’t. Not when Blathers has let him share his own learnings in his own field, in the language of quiet actions, and never asking him to speak more just as Brewster never asks him to speak less.
After all, what is a relationship if not people sharing themselves with one another?