Summary: Finn evolves gills, sex is had, and there is some talking.
Notes: So this is from Finn’s POV right after the fade to black at the end of S2E7. It’s pretty much 80% smut, followed by 20% of ‘we actually totally need to talk about our shit too.’
Warnings: Smut and language, seriously. Also, it’s crazy long. Like 7k words long and desperately in need of editing but I just don’t have it in me to read it one more time.
When they used to kiss before—before things went to shit, before they fell apart, before, before, before—sometimes Finn used to think if he only did it enough, maybe he could take a little bit of Rae with him. Not just the taste of her in his mouth or the smell of her that had seeped into his skin and his clothes (though hours later when he leaned into the collar of his shirt and smelled her there with him it always warmed a smile so wide it made his cheeks ache), but the very intangible part of her.
Finn reckoned there were very few parts of himself that he could call completely his own. His love of music: that had started from his father, a seed that sprouted and grew, coiling itself tightly around him until it was like it had never not been there to begin with. From his nan, he got his fierce urge of protectiveness, or at least that was what his dad had said a few days after she’d passed when Finn had been floundering inside himself. ‘She’s always gonna’ be with us,’ he’d said. ‘’Cause I see her when I see you ‘round your best mates.’ From Archie, well, they’d known each other so long, sometimes Finn thought he’d be a walking, talking, half of a person without Archie in his life with only half of a joke, half of a story to tell.
And from his mum… Finn knew he got his slow to warm side from her. She’d been so slow to warm, he wondered if she’d ever thawed at all, if her heart had been just made of solid ice and that was what had made it so easy for her to go like she hadn’t had a life with a husband and a son. When he’d left for Leeds, Finn had hoped that he, too, had been made of ice just like her. Maybe it would be one good thing she’d left for him—a gift he needed when trying to start over in a new life, a gift he would need to try to forget about Rae.
It hadn’t worked out that way though, and the distance had only ripped a chasm so deep he didn’t know if it could ever be filled at first. And when he kissed Rae now—after, after, after, after Leeds, after he came back—he didn’t just hope that maybe a little piece of her intangible self would stay with him when their lips parted, he knew she was already there. She’d been the strength he’d needed to come home, the steadiness to his hands that wanted to shake when he traced his fingertip along the shell of her ear a moment ago, the courage he’d found when he’d had to admit to his father that he’d been wrong, so wrong, to leave college after all.
Somewhere between the memories of the time his father had taught him how to change a record needle and the first few bar chords Archie had tried to teach him on guitar, Rae Earl had nestled herself in and found a home inside his heart. He once heard someone say that when you held a shell to your ear and thought you heard the waves of the ocean, you were just hearing your own blood pulsing and echoing back at you. It sounded like bollocks, but he imagined if it wasn’t, then when he held a shell to his ear now he wouldn’t just hear the flow of blood, but a whisper of Rae’s voice: ‘You’re strong, you can be strong,’ back at him from the place inside himself that the bit of her lingered.
do you ever just wonder if there’s someone who secretly thinks about you and wants to talk to you but doesn’t know how
“I want love…the kind they write books about, but my fear of rejection refuses to make it possible.”
On the Plus Side. Tabatha Vargo