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I'm hungry.
It's 2:40 a.m.
And I'm hungry.
In the seventh month of my pregnancy, this predicament isn't foreign. Waking up in the middle of the night, I mean.
I look over to Dean and he's out like a light; mouth all open to let out snores. I scoot over to his side so I'm spooning him (me being the big spoon hahaha) and get as close to his ear as I can before my belly gets in the way.
"Deanie."
Not even a twitch.
"Dean." Just a little bit louder.
And again, nothing.
"Dean!"
Dean winces and stuffs his face into the pillow. "What?!" His yell muffled from the pillow.
"Go make me food," I say simply.
He tries to look back at me but it's hard since I'm latched onto his back. "Are you serious? Go make your own food."
I scoff and push at his shoulder. "Umm, I'm currently in the middle of creating a human being. What the hell are you offering to this world right now, Dean?"
He rolls his eyes, and murmurs something I can't hear. "What do you want?"
A smile spreads across my face when he finally sees things my way.
"A sandwich. I'll text you what should be in it before you get to the kitchen," I say.
He lets out an annoyed breath. "You kind of have to let me go so I can make your sandwich."
Oh, right. I back up and slide back to my side. Dean takes the time out to stretch before leaving to go make my sandwich. I text him, 'Love you'.
And he texts back, 'You better'.
I smile and start texting him what I want. 'Ciabatta bread, turkey, avocado spread, and lettuce'.
He texts back in less than a minute, 'We're out of turkey. I'm getting you chicken'.
'Dude I just saw turkey yesterday afternoon. Check,' I text.
'I did check, Tambryn. We're out. I already laid the chicken down. Deal with it'.
No he didn't. 'Dean if I have to come down there and find that turkey, I will hurt you'.
About a minute later I get a FaceTime call from Dean. I accept to see Dean's tired face. "I'm going to show you the fridge and you tell me if you see it, okay?" He asks.
"Okay."
Dean switches to the back camera and the inside of the fridge is on screen. "Where did you see it last?" He asks.
I scan the fridge from my phone. "Uhh in that drawer under the soup."
He opens it and there's nothing in there but a jar of black olives. "Oh, look. It's the resting place of Tambryn Maverick's ego," he mumbles.
I roll my eyes. "Shut up, Dean. And hurry up with my sandwich. What's taking you so long?" I hang up, but not before I hear Dean's exasperated sigh.
A few minutes later, Dean's shuffling into the room with my sandwich on a plate. "Thank you, my love," I say cheerily.
"You're welcome, my love," he says before plopping onto his side of the bed.
I take a bite of the chicken sandwich and it's amazing. I slap him on the ass and say, "My bitch can cook!"
"You like it?" His head pops up with interest.
"Mmhhm. Tastes better than the turkey."
"So I went through all of that for no reason?"
I shake my head. "Oh, no not for nothing. I got my sandwich and that was the objective the whole time."
Dean grunts, laying his head back on a pillow. "Spoiled girl." And with his eyes closed, digs in his pocket to take out two cookies wrapped in a paper towel. He knows that I like something sweet with my meals.
I giggle and take the cookies. He's awesome.