Rafe groaned as you nudged him awake, the soft glow of the clock reading 11:47 PM. He shifted slightly, burying his face in the pillow. “What?” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“I need churros,” you whispered, your tone soft but insistent.

Rafe blinked, turning his head to squint at you. “Right now?”

You nodded seriously. “The baby wants them.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his sleepy brain trying to process what you were saying. Then he groaned, rolling onto his back and dragging a hand down his face. “Churros. At midnight,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You stayed silent, waiting patiently, your hands resting on the curve of your belly.

Finally, he sighed dramatically. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, though the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.