On the morning on their fourth day of a two-week long honey moon, Finnick and Annie lay in each other's arms, just as they fell asleep the night before. The newlywed couple is entangled in a mess of their own limbs, and the bed sheets are strewn up in the mess; it's cozy, though, so they don't mind. Not one bit.
When Annie's heavy eye lids finally open after a full eight hours of sleep, she blinks a few times and looks around, finding Finnick gazing at her lovingly. "Morning, love. Sleep well?" he asks in his scruffy voice, his fingertips grazing over her hip, and he presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
She nods, a lazy smile creeping onto her face. "Never better," she replies in a slightly hoarse voice. After clearing her throat, she pulls herself away from Finnick and reaches her arms above her head to stretch out her body, only to gasp and curl back up when she feels an annoying yet acceptable soreness.
Finnick's arms go around her almost instantly, his large hands moving to stroke her back. He understands. He feels it, too.
Annie sighs and lets her eyes close. She wishes they could just stay in bed all day and just relax. Truth is, Finnick felt the same way.
She doesn't realize she'd been talking aloud until Finnick answers her.
"Your wish is my command," he whispers, kissing her forehead, her cheek, and every other part of her face. "But, you have to say the magic words," he says in a serious voice.
Annie somehow refrains from laughing, deciding to play along with him. "Yeah? And what are those?"
"Well, love, those are for me to know, and for you to find out." A sardonic smirk finds its place on Finnick's face.
She looks at him determinedly, knowing she can get the answers out of him one way or another. "Well," she says in an awfully playful voice. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way."
After a half an hour or so of careful convincing, and possibly a bit of gentle foreplay, Annie coaxes the three magic words out of his big, snarky mouth.
Finnick's.
Big.
Pickle.