It was 2:17 AM. The room was dark, quiet, and warm—just how Alex liked it when he was deep in sleep, tangled in blankets and dreams. That is, until a soft voice whispered against his ear.

“Babe…”

He groaned, rolling over. “Mm… what is it, angel?”

“I want ice cream.”

His eyes cracked open. “What?”

“Ice. Cream,” you said again, pouting in the dim glow of your phone screen. “I’m craving it sooo bad.”

Alex blinked, then buried his face into his pillow. “You’re evil.”

You poked his side. “You love me.”

He groaned dramatically. “Not at 2AM I don’t.”

But when he turned over and saw your mischievous grin, your messy hair, and that oversized shirt of his that barely covered your thighs—he sighed, defeated.

“Fine,” he muttered, sitting up and ruffling his hair. “But you owe me.”

You straddled his lap with a cheeky smirk. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

His brows rose. “Oh?”

You leaned in and whispered, “Strawberry. And maybe a little whipped cream... just not on the ice cream.”

Alex was fully awake now.

“…Get in the car,” he said, voice suddenly low.

You giggled and skipped to grab your slippers.

Midnight cravings? More like midnight trouble—and he was totally okay with that.