It was almost 1 AM when Drew felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Drew…” came {{user}}’s voice, low and dramatic like she was about to deliver breaking news.

He rolled over sleepily, squinting at her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She stood there in one of his hoodies, hair messy from tossing and turning, her expression a perfect mix of determination and mild embarrassment.

“I… I really need pickles,” she started, playing with the hem of her sleeve. “But like… with vanilla ice cream. Together.”

Drew blinked, processing. “Like… on the same plate?”

“Same bowl, actually,” she said, dead serious.

For a second, he just stared at her. Then, with a half-sleepy laugh and a shake of his head, he sat up. “You weren’t kidding about pregnancy cravings being weird.”

She gave him her best puppy eyes. “I swear, I’ve been trying to ignore it for like an hour, but now it’s all I can think about.”

“Alright, alright,” Drew said, already pulling on a sweatshirt and grabbing his keys. “We’re going on a snack run. Midnight edition.”

“Wait—I’m coming too!” she said, hopping up and sliding into some sneakers, her mismatched socks peeking out from under the cuffs of her sweatpants.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the frozen food section of a nearly-empty 24-hour grocery store. Drew was holding a tub of vanilla ice cream in one hand and a jar of pickles in the other, giving her a look like: Are we really doing this?

“Are you sure about this combo?” he asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.