Work Text:
River was sprawled on their stomach on the floor, legs bent at the knees and feet lazily kicking back and forth in the air. Their fingertips were stained faintly with blue and green, remnants of the earlier painting session that now lay drying on the easel by the window. A gentle breeze filtered through the screen, ruffling their messy brown hair. Isaac was sitting nearby on the couch, flipping through a book he wasn’t really reading. He’d been caught more than once watching them instead, tracing the curve of River’s jaw with his eyes, the way the light caught on their tattoos, the relaxed way they existed when they weren’t teaching or defending their need for nuance.
River had been quiet for the last few minutes, clearly stewing on something. That usually meant one of two things: either they were about to say something insightful and philosophical… or something that made Isaac question everything he thought he knew about conversation.
They looked up suddenly, resting their chin on their paint-splattered hand.
"Hey, Isaac?"
He hummed, eyes still on the book, but his attention already shifting toward them.
"If I was a worm… would you still like me?"
Isaac blinked. Slowly lowered the book.
"I’m sorry. What?"
River tilted their head, entirely unbothered by how ridiculous the question might’ve sounded. "A worm. You know, a slimy, wiggly, no arms, no voice. Just a worm. Would you still like me?"
Isaac stared.
River’s expression didn’t change.
He blinked again. “Are you—what kind of worm are we talking about here?”
River’s mouth twitched. “A regular earthworm. Not the sandworm from Dune. Though honestly, that would be cooler.”
Isaac set the book down. “So, you want to know if I would still like you if you turned into a slimy, dirt-eating, blind, voiceless tube?”
“Basically.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Isaac laughed, that low, amused huff that River liked best. He ran a hand through his slight curls, sitting forward on the couch to rest his elbows on his knees. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’ve had three cups of coffee and very little adult interaction this weekend,” River said cheerfully. “Answer the question, Lahey.”
Isaac gave them a long look. “Alright. Fine.” He shifted, clearly thinking it through more than the question deserved. “Do I know you’re you? Like, are you just a worm I find in the driveway or are you a worm with…like River brain?”
River’s smiled. “Yes! I’m a worm, but I still have my mind. Just… no mouth. Or arms. Or legs. Or way to communicate.”
“So, you’re you, but not physically you.”
“Exactly.”
Isaac stood, walking over and crouching beside them on the floor, his expression thoughtful.
“Well. I couldn’t exactly take you out for coffee or talk about your weird art theories if you were a worm.”
“You could bring me in your pocket,” River offered. “Feed me compost. Let me watch Netflix with you from a jar.”
Isaac smirked. “You think I’m carrying a worm around in my pocket like some kind of emotionally bonded Disney princess?”
River wiggled their eyebrows. “You already let me live rent-free in your head. A jar isn’t much different.”
That pulled a real laugh out of him. Isaac ducked his head a little, his smile softening as he reached out, idly brushing a bit of dry paint off River’s temple with his thumb.
“I think,” he said slowly, “if you turned into a worm… and I knew it was you… yeah. I’d still like you.”
River grinned.
“I’d keep you in a nice terrarium. Name it something classy. Probably let you listen to jazz on Sunday mornings. Maybe even find you a worm companion so you don’t get bored of me.”
River burst out laughing, burying their face in their arms. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You started it!” Isaac protested. Then, after a beat, quieter: “But I would. Like you. Even if you were… well, a worm.”
River peeked up at him, smile lopsided. “That’s either very sweet or very disturbing.”
Isaac shrugged. “Probably both. But hey, this is Beacon Hills. Stranger things have happened.”
There was a comfortable silence between them, one River didn’t feel the need to fill. It was one of the things they liked best about Isaac, he didn’t mind the quiet. Didn’t try to dissect or fix them. He just… stayed. And for someone like River, who lived between the lines of a lot of definitions, that meant something.
Isaac reached for their hand, the one not totally covered in paint. “So, what brought this on? Existential worm crisis?”
River smirked. “A kid in my second-period class asked me today. Then he told me worms are the ultimate gender-neutral creature and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Isaac snorted. “You would take that to heart.”
“Wormcore is valid,” River said proudly.
Isaac kissed their knuckles, paint and all. “Well, valid or not, you’re not turning into a worm on my watch.”
“Deal. But if I ever do… promise me you’ll give me a name like Sir Wiggles.”
Isaac groaned.
River just laughed.