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Over the course of his first white Christmas, and since moving up north to the city, Finn has learned a few important life lessons.
The very first lesson he learned was that although freshly fallen snow seemed heaven-sent, the magic only lasted for the first few hours or so. Snow meant cold, which meant frozen, up until the point it came into contact with something warm, such as a human, who in his delight over seeing snowfall for the first time, may or may not have flopped face first into a pile of the stuff, soaking him and his clothes through completely as it melted.
Hypothetically, of course.
And when this hypothetical person had to walk to work, shivering and wet from head to toe, dodging icy patches and dirty slush, snow seemed to be pretty damn awful, if Finn did say so himself. Leaving the coffeeshop after work taught him his second lesson—catching snowflakes on your tongue wasn't nearly as rewarding as it seemed in the movies. For one, the darn things were so tiny when snowfall was light that it was a pain in the ass to get them in his mouth in the first place. And then all they did was melt instantly! Not to mention having to field the laughing looks from northerners who had lived with snow their entire lives.
By the time Finn is well on his way home from work, he’s had enough of snow, of winter, and of anything to do with the cold at all. On the corner of Cherry and 49th Street, he hops up and down, trying to keep his blood pumping as the rush hour traffic rolls through the crosswalk, sluggish tires on black slush. Hands jammed into his pockets (of course he forgot gloves), Finn thinks longingly of his heater and slippers, toasty warm and waiting for him back in his apartment. He leans against a sign pole, accidentally pressing his cheek to the frosted metal.
With a yip of surprise, Finn jumps away from the pole, the cold startling him. Left on the pole is the imprint of his cheek, having melted off some of the ice. Giving in to the urge that plagues anyone with a sense of immaturity, Finn draws a smiley face on the pole, ice crusting around his finger like a mini snowball. Remembering how dissatisfying his snowflake-tasting had gone, an idea forms at the edges of Finn’s mind.
Some old proverb about curiosity and cats meeting an unfortunate end crosses his mind as well, but Finn pays it no mind, choosing instead to learn Lesson #3 the hard way as Finn licks the sign pole. It’s…unpleasant, really; cold and metallic and doesn’t taste much like what Finn imagines snow would taste like. The crosswalk light finally changes, and it’s when Finn attempts to pull away that he figures out very quickly why no one licks anything cold.
He immediately tries to play it cool. Pulling his hoodie up over his head and leaning casually against the sign pole, Finn attempts to put on an air of intending to just stand there looking like an idiot. He checks his watch, as if he was waiting on someone and they were very, very late. Staying calm, it turns out, is somewhat difficult when he’s on the cusp of falling into full-blown panic.
“Are you alright?”
Had he the ability to move from his position, Finn would have jumped a foot. As it stands, he can only flinch violently and wince when the movement tugs painfully on his tongue. The voice is behind him, female, and genuinely concerned.
It’s cool, Finn. Play it cool. “’M fine,” Finn says in his best my-tongue-is-safely-in-my-mouth-where-it-belongs voice. A little shaky, but still convincing, if he does say so himself.
“Your tongue is frozen to the pole,” the stranger says flatly.
“I’ss not,” Finn protests, an edge of desperation in his voice. Go away, go away, go awaaaayyy…
“It so is,” she argues.
Groaning, Finn gives up the façade, turning to face her. “Well, you’re not egthactly helping,” he grumbles, then realizes the gravity of the situation.
Girl is cute. Kind of mean? But super cute. Bundled up in a tan peacoat and a bright red scarf that brings out the rosy, wind burned color in her cheeks. She has one eyebrow raised in what must be incredulity that Finn has gotten himself in such a ridiculous situation.
Finn is just having a really, really bad day.
“Do you need help?” She asks, as if it isn’t obvious Finn is in dire need of assistance.
“No, no.” Finn waves a hand. “I’ve go’ it.” Like hell he’s going to embarrass himself further in front of Frighteningly Pretty Stranger.
“You need help,” she argues.
“Nuh-uh,” Finn argues back. “To’ally under cont’ol.”
“So if I just walk away—” she uses her coffee cup to gesture, “—you will totally, absolutely be able to get out of this predicament on your own.”
“Yes?” Finn squeaks.
The stranger rolls her eyes, but there’s begrudging fondness in them. “Okay, macho man, I understand you want to be all tough, but lucky for you, I don’t really care about your delicate masculinity. Move over.”
Finn makes as much room for her as he can with his tongue glued to the sign pole, and watches with increasing levels of panic as she tips her steaming hot coffee out of the cup and onto his trapped tongue.
“Jesus!” Finn yelps, jumping away from the pole as soon as the coffee frees his tongue from its frozen prison. “That’s hot!”
Pretty (And Definitely Mean) Stranger smiles and crosses her arms, quirking her eyebrow knowingly this time. “But it beats being stuck to a pole, doesn’t it?”
Finn offers her a glare that only makes her laugh. And a laugh like that makes it impossible for Finn to be mad at her in any way. Besides, she did save him. “Thank you,” he says, scuffing his feet. Suddenly this is all really embarrassing. “I probably…couldn’t…have escaped on my own.”
She socks him gently in the shoulder. “Not a problem. But for future reference, you probably could have gotten away just by breathing heavily on the metal until it heated up.” Her eyes twinkle. “You know. When you inevitably end up in a similar situation.”
Finn clutches at his chest dramatically, looking wounded. “How dare you assume my intellect is so slight that I would allow myself to lick a frozen pole again! Next time, it’ll be an icicle.”
She laughs again and Finn is struck by the thought that he would really, really like to do whatever it takes to get her laughing. They fall into silence a moment later, and he thinks it might be goodbye, when she says, “Let me buy you a coffee, Popsicle Tongue. I know a place just up the street that’s great.”
Just up the street… “It wouldn’t happen to be called Jakku, would it?” He asks.
“How’d you know?” She gapes.
Finn wiggles his eyebrows. “I work there. Thanks for the compliment; I think our coffee’s pretty fantastic, too.” He hesitates, smiling sadly. “And….thank you for the offer, but I actually need to get home.”
She purses her lips, thoughtful, then pulls off her scarf and loops in around Finn’s neck, tucking it into his jacket so no air gets in. It’s so soft. So warm. “What’s this all about?” Finn asks, just as soft.
“Hold onto it for me,” the stranger says. “You need it more than I do.”
Finn is dumbfounded. “But how will I get it back to you?”
“I frequent your coffee shop all the time,” she points out. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me.”
“Can I at least get a name from our best customer?” Finn grins, pulling the scarf around him tighter.
“Rey,” she replies, returning the grin. “I’ll be seeing you…”
“Finn,” he supplies.
“Finn,” Rey tests his name out. “I’ll see you around, Finn.”
I hope I will, Finn thinks as she turns to leave, drawing her coat around her. I really hope I will.