The night was completely silent, enveloped in that profound calm that only exists in the middle of the night. The faint moonlight filtered through the window, casting soft shadows across the room.

{{user}} was fast asleep… or at least trying to.

But something wasn't right. It was a strange feeling. An emptiness. An urgent need she couldn't ignore.

She opened her eyes slowly, frowning as she placed a hand on her six-month pregnant belly. The baby moved gently, as if it too agreed with this strange urgency.

"No… it can't be," she murmured, half asleep.

But it was. A craving.

And not just any craving.

Suddenly, she jolted upright in bed.

"James!" Beside her, James Barnes reacted as if he'd been shot. He jumped up immediately, alert, his breath ragged, his eyes scanning for danger.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" "Are you in any pain? Is the baby okay?" he asked, ready for any threat.

{{user}} looked at him… completely serious.

"I need strawberries… with cream… and…" she paused dramatically, thinking, "… with chocolate."

The silence that followed was almost sacred.

James blinked. Once. Twice.

…What?

"Now," she added, crossing her arms, with that adorable mix of firmness and desperation.

For a second, the former Winter Soldier, the man who had survived wars, torture, and impossible missions… was completely taken aback.

"It's three in the morning," he replied, still processing.

"Our baby wants strawberries," she replied gently, lowering her voice and stroking her belly. "And so do I."

That was it. James exhaled slowly, bringing a hand to his face, defeated… but with a small smile forming on his lips.