Chapter Text
Summary:
Orm has a late-night craving for mango sticky rice—but not just any mango sticky rice. Only the one from a street vendor across the city will do. Using their unborn child as an excuse, she convinces a very tired but very in love Lingling to drive her there at 10 PM.
It was a typical evening in their quiet home. Orm and Lingling had just finished a long day of work and were lounging on the couch, the warm glow of the lamp casting soft shadows across the room.
Lingling had her nose buried in a novel—one she’d been meaning to finish for weeks—while Orm was flipping through her phone, scrolling absentmindedly, occasionally glancing up to glance at Lingling.
It was one of those nights when everything felt calm, yet Orm couldn’t shake the growing, inexplicable feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t hunger exactly, but more of an insistent craving that seemed to come out of nowhere. She glanced over at Lingling, who was so engrossed in her book that she didn’t even seem to notice when Orm let out a small, exaggerated sigh.
With a frown, Orm shifted, stretching her legs out and leaning back on the couch. She rolled her eyes at herself before pulling out her phone and staring at it for a few moments, as if something was supposed to come to her. And then— bam —it hit her.
The craving.
She could almost taste it already—the sweet, creamy coconut milk, the soft, warm rice, the perfectly ripe mango sliced just so.
Orm’s eyes widened slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It wasn’t just any craving. No, it was specific.
She glanced at Lingling again, who was still blissfully unaware of her growing desperation.
Orm knew Lingling was already used to her being a little… dramatic . But this craving? It felt like a matter of life and death. Or at least, a matter of extreme discomfort.
She tried to ignore it. She really did. But the craving clawed at her brain until she couldn't take it anymore.
She put her phone down and leaned toward her wife.
“ Baby ,” she whined, dragging out the syllable as she shifted closer to her wife.
Lingling hummed, eyes still on the page.
Orm pressed a dramatic hand to her stomach. “If I don’t eat mango sticky rice in the next ten minutes, I will literally die.”
That got Lingling’s attention— barely . She flicked her eyes up, unimpressed. “You had some two hours ago.”
Orm gasped, appalled. “That was the past. This is now. I’m starving.”
Lingling raised an eyebrow, the same subtle way she always did when she was half-amused, half-patient with Orm. She had the perfect balance of being calm and steady when Orm’s dramatics were at their peak.
Lingling sighed again, this time louder, and reluctantly placed the book down on the coffee table. She gave Orm a look—an indulgent, exasperated one. “You’re unbelievable.”
Orm gave a dramatic little huff, clutching her stomach as though she were on the verge of passing out from hunger. “ Please . I’m dying here.”
Lingling stared at her for a moment, her gaze softening when Orm pouted a little more. She closed her eyes as if summoning the patience of a saint and muttered under her breath, “You’re lucky I love you.”
It wasn’t much, but Orm’s face brightened immediately. “Thank you!” she said, bouncing in her seat.
Lingling stood up without another word and headed toward the kitchen. Orm could hear her opening cabinets and rummaging around.
Orm grinned, victorious.
A few minutes later, Lingling returned, holding a small plate of mango sticky rice, the coconut milk just slightly glistening in the dim light.
Orm blinked at it, then frowned. “No.”
Lingling stared at her, looking completely unfazed. “No?”
Orm pushed the plate away slightly, leaning back against the couch with an exaggerated groan. “No. This isn’t the one I want.”
Lingling froze for a second, processing the words. “…You—” She inhaled sharply, then exhaled, visibly reigning herself in. “Okay. What do you want?”
Orm dramatically placed a hand on her stomach, her tone turning mock-serious. “The one from that street vendor we went to at midnight last week.”
Lingling blinked. “What?”
Orm nodded, her expression completely deadpan. “The one from the street vendor. You know, the one with the giant signs and the huge crowds of people. It’s calling me. The mango sticky rice there is different . It’s... special .”
Lingling looked at her. Then at the clock on the wall.
“It’s 10 PM.”
Orm nodded solemnly. “And?”
“And the vendor is across the city.”
Orm held her belly protectively. “Your child wants them.”
Lingling raised an eyebrow. “ Really .”
“Yes,” Orm nodded seriously. “And I can’t deny our baby their cravings, right?”
Lingling closed her eyes, lips pressing together. Orm knew that expression. It was the I’m reminding myself I love you face.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine.”
Orm beamed. “Really?”
Lingling straightened up, trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Let’s go. You’re impossible.”
Orm stood up and grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “Thank you! I swear, I’ll never doubt you again.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in the car, heading toward the vendor Orm had fallen in love with the week before. It was a short drive, and the familiar neon signs came into view as they neared the street. Orm sat in the passenger seat, practically bouncing with excitement, while Lingling steered the car with a smile that Orm, of course, didn’t see.
“I swear, you’re more excited about mango sticky rice than anything else in your life.”
Orm shot her a look. “I’m pregnant, baby. Everything is more exciting.”
Lingling chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”