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Finn first noticed it the day he was cleared to leave the infirmary after that nasty accident he suffered on the football pitch. Dr. Kalonia had told him to take it easy as the stitches on his back would dissolve eventually, but still could pop open if he did too much strenuous activity.
Rey, who had come to the infirmary to assist him home, had promised the doctor on Finn’s behalf that she would see to it that “her amazing cuppycake” wouldn’t take too much on too quickly.
Finn had wondered at the small smile that had passed between the two women at Rey’s words, but he’d been slightly out of it and chalked it up to too little sleep – the mattresses on the infirmary were the shape, color and thickness of a graham cracker – and the haze of the painkillers he’d been given ever since the accident.
But now he was completely unmedicated and confused as all hell about what on earth he’d just heard Rey say to the young woman with whom they had crossed paths on their way to the library.
“Uh, Rey?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you just introduce me to that girl as ‘your sweet Babboo?’”
Rey laughed and shook her head.
“That girl is Karé, Finn. Karé Kun. I know you were still in hospital when she came back from semester abroad, but Jess will not be happy if you aren’t able to remember her girlfriend’s name the next time you see her.”
“Right. Karé. Sorry. Hey that kind of rhymes.”
Finn almost laughed at the “Really?” look that Rey shot at him. Still …
“But, um, I really did hear you say to Karé, ‘This is Finn, my sweet Babboo,’ didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” Rey glanced at him, her eyes curious. “That’s how it’s pronounced, isn’t it? Long ‘o,’ accent on the second syllable?”
“Uh …” Finn could find very little response to that, and it was almost a relief when they arrived at the library and he had good excuse to keep quiet.
Finn had nearly forgotten about “Babboogate” when it happened again. Sort of. This time, he and Rey were grabbing some much needed caffeine before their afternoon classes. The First Order Coffeehouse was the closest to the building where they had Dr. Kanata’s advanced metaphysics course, and though Finn had always steered clear of the dark, stark, modern café, but Rey persuaded him to give it a try, as they had a espresso drink called the Finalizer that needed to be sipped to be believed.
They were just settling down into armchairs that vaguely reminded Finn of something you would see on the set of a science-fiction movie, when the tall, blonde barista who had taken their order came to deliver their drinks personally. Finn glanced up at the woman, who was giving him a rather thorough look of interest.
“Who might this fine man be?” Her eyes slid over to Rey. “And why haven’t you brought him in before now, Rey?”
“Oh, this is Finn, my hunka-hunka burning love,” said Rey, sounding a bit testy. “Finn, this is Phasma. She co-manages this place. And we’ve not been in before because your boss’s boyfriend is an asshole.”
Phasma looked slightly disappointed, but she shrugged. “They both are, so they kind of deserve each other. Nice meeting you, Finn.”
Finn stared at Rey as Phasma moved away.
Rey, who had been thoroughly enjoying her espresso, finally noticed Finn’s gaze and lifted a brow.
“What? You don’t like it?”
“Uh?” Finn wasn’t sure if she were talking about the name and he wasn’t even sure how to answer that if she were.
“I mean, it is pretty strong, but believe me, once Dr. Kanata starts in on that section about cosmonogy, you’ll be glad of the boost.”
“Oh, you’re talking about the coffee. Um, it’s fine.”
He took a hasty sip and just avoided scalding his tongue.
“It’s just … ah … what you said to that woman just now …”
“Phasma?”
“Right. Phasma. What you said to her was kinda …” His mind groped for words. “… Unexpected?”
“What? About her boss’s boyfriend being an asshole? It’s true.”
“Um, okay, but I wasn’t talking about that.” Finn paused. “You told her I was, uh, your 'hunka-hunka burning love.'”
Rey looked at him expectantly. “Right. And?”
“And …” Finn was confused for a moment. “And, I mean … me? You were talking about me?”
Rey laughed that infectious laugh of hers, the one that Finn found so freaking endearing, the one that turned her eyes into glimmers of gold in her beautiful face.
“Finn, of course I was talking about you! Who else would I have been talking about?” Her expression changed into one of concern. “Are you feeling okay?”
Finn wasn’t sure just how to answer that, so he concentrated on his drink, and tried not to gag on the inky black, viscous liquid. Rocket fuel probably would have been tastier.
Finn went about in something of a daze in the next few weeks, as he and Rey spent time together he became re-acclimated to campus life. Each time they ran into a friend of his, he introduced Rey simply as “Rey.” But whenever they came across an acquaintance or friend of Rey’s, he was never just “Finn.” He was “Finn, my cuddlebunny.” Or, “Finn, my snugglywuggly.” Or, “Finn, my jellybae.”
And so on …
Each time, Finn was left with his jaw hanging in the wind, while the person to whom he was being introduced barely batted an eye, only expressing pleasure at “finally” meeting him, and that was that. No one else expressed surprise, derision, confusion or anything else about the names, and Rey, for her part, tossed them out like Frisbees, sounding completely serious as she did so.
The afternoon that Finn stopped by Rey’s dorm room to see if she wanted to study for Dr. Kanata’s midterm with him, and he was presented by her to a distinguished-looking man with greying blond hair and a beard as “Finn, my incredible snoochie boochie,” Finn knew that he had to take matters into his own hands about the name business, especially when it was revealed that the distinguished-looking man was her father and especially especially when Mr. Skywalker gave him a broad wink and told the both of them to “be good” as he took his leave.
“Rey, um, I’m kinda confused.”
“Don’t worry. He’s always like that.”
“No, I mean …” Finn took a long, deep breath. “Why do you keep introducing me to people using so many different … nicknames?”
Rey looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Cutie Patootie. Honeybear. Sexylips. And that German word I can barely pronounce …”
“Knutschkugel,” said Rey, unblinking. “It means … well, literally, it means ‘smooch ball,’ but I guess you can translate it to ‘kissy face.’”
“Right. But … I don’t understand. Why are you calling me all these things? Aren’t we … friends?”
“Finn, of course we’re friends!” Rey looked astonished.
“Then couldn’t you just say, ‘This is my friend, Finn?’”
“I tried that once,” said Rey. “The night you were first taken to hospital and I got back here late when Dr. Kalonia kicked me out. You know that girl down the hall who always gives you the once-over?”
“What girl? I never noticed any other girl here except you.”
Rey looked pleased. “Her name is Hanne. Anyway, I was coming back to my room and she asked me why I was out so late. I said my friend Finn had a serious accident and that he was taken to hospital. And she said, ‘Finn? The hot guy that visits you sometimes? He’s your friend?’ And then she asked me if she could have your number!”
Finn digested that in silence. “Why would she do that? She and I haven’t even spoken to each other that I can remember. I mean, you and I are together all the time.”
“I know! I wanted to kick her, but I just told her that I wasn’t Twitter, and that was that, but I was so pissed off that she had the nerve to even ask! I talked to Jess about it, and she said that maybe when I called you my friend, Hanne figured I had friendzoned you.”
“Friendzoned?” Finn laughed. “That’s not even a real thing, though.”
“I know that, but it’s the only thing that made sense. Somehow calling you my friend – even though that’s what you are – to some people means I couldn’t possibly be interested in you romantically. As if you can’t fall in love with someone who is your friend first? Or that I should call you something else to indicate that I might actually be interested in you?”
“Huh. That’s weird anyone would think that,” said Finn. “They must not watch a lot of modern romcoms. Or any sitcoms. Or read a lot classic literature. Or aren’t Harry Potter fans …”
“I guess not. But I wanted to test the theory. So I decided to stop calling you my friend and use … other words … to see what would happen.”
“We are friends …” Finn looked in her eyes. “But I was going to ask you out after the game. Your cousin slicing my back open sort of wrecked that plan.”
Rey’s face clouded. “I kicked his ass afterwards, you know.”
“I heard. I wish I could’ve seen it.” Finn grinned. “Of all the times to lose consciousness …”
“It was on the university's Campus Stories for awhile,” she said. “I’m sure somebody has it up on their Instagram by now. But that’s why my dad came to visit. He wants me and Ben to make up, but screw that! He was cheating. There’s no way those were regulation cleats! He’s a complete asshole, just like I told Phasma.”
“Phasma? That blonde from the coffee place? Wait, is he the asshole dating her boss …? Is her boss that grad student from Arkanis State? Red hair, always on the sidelines looking constipated?”
“Yeah. Hux. Phasma was right. They really do deserve each other.”
Rey suddenly looked sharply at Finn. “Hold it … you were going to ask me out after the game? Really?”
“Really.” Finn’s face was warm. “I mean, it’s all I could think about ever since you told me you didn’t leave a cute boyfriend back in Jakku Crossing.”
Rey was blushing, too. “Oh, Finn …”
“So, all those names were to let me know that you were into me?”
“No, it was to let other people know I was into you, since apparently the word ‘friend’ seems to confuse some of them.” Rey lowered her eyes. “I didn’t think I was being really subtle around you about my feelings.”
Hearing this, Finn was torn between wanting to pump his fist in the air and wanting to just roll around forever in the feeling of euphoria that was surrounding him.
“I guess I thought maybe you might feel about me the way I feel about you,” Finn said with a smile fit to split his face. “But I guess I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“Well, I officially give you permission to get your hopes up.” Rey’s eyes glittered. “Among other things …”
Finn frowned in confusion, and then her meaning hit him. He half-laughed, half-choked in surprise, laughing harder at her waggling eyebrows.
“Rey!”
“I think I’d much prefer being called ‘Sugar Lips,’” she smirked, pulling him close.
Many, many minutes later, Finn had to admit that the nickname was fitting.