Work Text:
The greenhouse always smelled like rain, even on the hottest days. Isaac had never figured out why. Maybe it was the damp soil, the hanging misters, or the hundreds of green leaves quietly breathing around him. Whatever it was, the scent settled something inside him. It reminded him that living things didn't have to shout to survive.
He carefully loosened the roots of a young lavender plant before nestling it into a larger clay pot.
"You talk to them."
Isaac glanced over his shoulder, smiling before he even saw who it was.
River stood barefoot in the doorway, jeans rolled halfway to their calves, the bottoms already damp from wandering along the creek that cut behind Deaton's clinic. Their long hair was still wet, tiny droplets sliding onto the wooden floor.
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I'm explaining what I'm doing."
River wandered over, trailing the familiar scent of fresh water and salt that never quite left them. It was strange, considering they couldn't shift into their selkie form. Born half-selkie. Couldn't shift, but still an affinity for water.
River leaned against the workbench."So... what are you telling this one?"
Isaac looked down at the lavender. "...That it has more room now."
River's lips twitched. "And?"
"...That it'll probably bloom better if it stops trying to strangle its own roots."
They laughed softly. "See? You're encouraging it."
Isaac rolled his eyes. "I am not."
"You are."
"I'm gardening."
River reached over, brushing a thumb across one of the fuzzy leaves. "I like that you care."
Isaac's ears turned faintly pink. "It's just... plants respond to stress."
"So do people."
Isaac paused. "...Yeah."
Silence settled comfortably between them.
Outside, the afternoon sun reflected off the slow-moving river until the light danced across the greenhouse ceiling.
River noticed first."I'm going down there."
Isaac didn't even look up. "I know."
"You coming?"
He glanced toward the unfinished trays of seedlings. "I should finish these."
River simply waited. Never pushing or guilting. Just waiting.
Isaac sighed dramatically. "...You're impossible."
River grinned. "So I've been told."
The river wasn't deep this time of year. It wound lazily through the preserve, clear enough that smooth stones were visible beneath the surface.
The second River stepped into the water, their shoulders visibly relaxed. Isaac watched it happen every single time. It wasn't magic, not exactly, but it was close.
River closed their eyes. The current curled around their ankles as though greeting an old friend. "I missed this."
"You were here yesterday."
"I know."
"And the day before."
"I know."
Isaac laughed. River looked over. "You don't understand."
"Then explain."
River crouched, trailing their fingers through the current. "I don't become something else."
Isaac sat beside them on the bank.
"But...the water still knows me."
Isaac frowned slightly. "What does that mean?"
River smiled without looking up. "I don't know how to explain it."
Their fingers drifted through the water. "When I touch a river... I know where it's been."
Isaac blinked. "What?"
"I can't tell you names." River watched tiny minnows dart between rocks. "But I can feel things. Cold mountain streams, old forests, heavy rain, or the ocean waiting at the end."
Isaac stared. "...Seriously?"
River nodded. "It isn't words. It's... feelings, like the current carries memories."
Isaac looked at the water differently after that. He'd always seen rivers as movement. River saw them as stories.
"You know," River said eventually, "plants are kind of like rivers."
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
"They're always moving. Rooted, but they still move." River gestured toward the trees lining the banks. "They follow the sun, grow, communicate underground, drink, and they change."
Isaac considered that. "...I guess.
River smiled, "You understand them, the same way I understand water."
Isaac looked across the river. "So...you think plants talk."
River smirked. "I think they listen."
Isaac laughed quietly. "I walked right into that."
"You did."
He reached over and intertwined their fingers. River's hand was cool from the river. Isaac's was warm from hours spent with soil under his nails.
Opposites,.yet somehow exactly right.
They sat together without speaking as dragonflies skimmed across the surface and willow branches swayed overhead. Isaac rested his head lightly against River's shoulder. "I think..."
"Hm?"
"I like your river."
River smiled. "I like your plants."
Isaac looked around at the ferns, wildflowers, reeds, and moss thriving along the banks. "...Maybe they're the same thing."
River squeezed his hand. "They've always belonged together."
Just like they did.