Finn looked up to thank him and found their faces about two inches apart. River's eyes were this incredible green up close, like deep water with sunlight filtering through, and suddenly Finn couldn't remember how breathing worked.
“Hi,” he said stupidly.
“Hi,” River replied, voice gone soft and rough at the same time.
Neither moved for what felt like an hour but was probably three seconds. Finn could feel River's heartbeat against his chest, could smell salt water and sunscreen and something warm that was just River. The moment stretched between them, full of possibility and something that felt way too big for a guy who'd known the other guy for less than a week.
River's grip shifted slightly, hands moving from Finn's shoulders to his waist, and Finn felt electricity shoot through his nervous system. The tide pool exploration suddenly felt like the least important thing in the universe compared to the way River was looking at him.
“Uh,” Finn said eloquently.
“Right,” River said, but he didn't step away immediately. His hands lingered at Finn's waist for another heartbeat before he helped him stand properly. “Coffee? I make terrible coffee, but I've got a really good view.”
“I'd love terrible coffee,” Finn said, meaning it more than he'd meant anything in recent memory.
River's cottage was exactly what Finn would have imagined if he'd been asked to picture where a marine biologist shouldlive. All weathered wood and windows facing the ocean, with the lighthouse rotating overhead like a lazy ceiling fan. Books everywhere, scientific equipment, underwater cameras, charts and maps covering most wall space.
But walking into it felt like coming home after a long trip, which was ridiculous because he'd never been here before.
“Make yourself at home,” River said, heading toward the kitchen. “Fair warning—I wasn't lying about the terrible coffee.”
Finn wandered to the ocean-facing windows. The view was incredible—the research site they'd just explored spread out below, the lighthouse beam beginning its evening rotation, endless Atlantic horizon that seemed to call to something deep in his chest.
But more than the view, standing there felt right. Like this was his spot. Like he'd stood here before, watching the lighthouse beam sweep across water while coffee brewed and River moved around behind him with comfortable domestic sounds.
“Hey, can you grab the sugar?” River called. “It's in the cabinet above the?—”
“Got it,” Finn called back, already moving toward the kitchen before his conscious mind registered the request. His hands reached for the correct cabinet without hesitation, found mugs and sugar with automatic knowledge, even grabbed spoons from a drawer his fingers located without looking.
River appeared in the doorway with a confused expression, holding coffee beans. “How did you know where everything was?”
Finn froze with the sugar container halfway to the counter. Shit. “Uh... lucky guess? Most people keep sugar near the coffee maker?”
“I keep it there because I'm the only one who uses it. But you went straight to it.” River wasn't accusatory, just puzzled. “Andyou grabbed two mugs like you knew I'd want coffee too. Plus spoons from a drawer you couldn't see from the living room.”
“Maybe I'm just really good at reading kitchen organization?” Finn tried for casual, but his voice came out slightly strangled.
River studied his face for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe you're just naturally intuitive. I like that in a person.”
The coffee was actually pretty good despite River's protests. They settled on the couch together, close enough that Finn could see the gold flecks in River's eyes and catch the faint scent of salt water that seemed permanently embedded in his skin.
“So,” River said, curling one leg under himself, “tell me something embarrassing about yourself. Something that'll make me feel better about almost dropping you into a tide pool.”
Finn laughed. “You didn't almost drop me. You saved me from my own clumsiness and probably a very cold surprise.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, embarrassing. When I was twelve, I got so absorbed in reading during a family barbecue that I walked straight into the pool. Fully clothed. Book and all.”
“No way.”
“Completely ruined a first-edition copy of 'Treasure Island.' My dad was furious, but my mom just bought me a waterproof book light for my birthday.” Finn's chest tightened at the memory of his mother's patient smile. “She said if I was going to read everywhere, I needed to be prepared for everything.”
River's expression softened with recognition and sympathy. “She sounds like she really got you.”
“Yeah, she did.” Finn looked out at the ocean to give himself a moment. “She used to say that people who love books love stories, and people who love stories understand that the world is bigger and more mysterious than it appears. I think she would have liked you.”
“Why's that?”
“Because you see stories everywhere too. In tide pools, in ecosystem relationships, in the way creatures adapt and survive.” Finn met River's eyes, seeing understanding there that made his chest warm. “You just tell them with science instead of words.”
River was quiet for a moment, something shifting in his expression. Then he launched into an enthusiastic story about accidentally short-circuiting a community center while giving a presentation on sea cucumber reproduction, gesturing so wildly he nearly spilled his coffee.
