A/N: So I'll admit I read the prompt a bit too quickly and had a very different drabble written before realizing my error! ;)
Imagine your OTP having a pantry raid
"Robert, could you please stop whispering? You're making me quite nervous."
"Cora, I am trying not to wake the staff!" He replied in an exasperated whisper.
The two had made it all the way down the main staircase, across the main hall, through the servants' door and then down toward the kitchen. And now they stood, nearly at their destination. It had been a remarkable feat, getting so far without anyone waking. Cora, at nine months pregnant and at a clear disadvantage for walking quietly, had to make several stops along the way. But on this particular evening it was not one of her cravings that had her and her husband sneaking down to the kitchen like two thieves in the night.
Oh no, on this particular evening it was Robert whose insistent pleas had drawn them out of bed. It was just before Christmas, the house cool from dropping temperatures but warm with life and excitement, and he'd sat patiently in their bedroom all evening, the smell of fresh gingerbread wafting all the way upstairs from the kitchen. Cook often made a batch in the evening to lighten her workload come morning, and on this cold, snowy evening it was an incredibly enticing aroma.
He'd made it to nearly two o'clock in the morning before giving in to a rather loud grumble of his stomach and tapping his wife on the shoulder. He knew it was a risk, for Cora was not easily woken nor was she very pleasant upon waking as of late.
But he could not go down on his own, much to her annoyance. Soon after reaching her eighth month of pregnancy, Robert decided that the best way to keep watch over her and the baby was to simply keep her with him at all times. It was winter, and so it had been easy at the start, since he did not have to venture out much. But Cora's gratefulness for his attention soon turned to a slight annoyance at his constant presence. Only just that morning she had shouted at him to get out of the washroom so she could bathe in peace. But she could not stay annoyed for very long; he looked rather like an excited child, always coming to her with ideas for the nursery, baby names (he liked Robert for a boy, naturally, and Josephine for a girl), and various questions about her health and comfort as well.
And so she had followed him down to the kitchen with only a brief scolding, knowing full well how much he wanted a biscuit and further, how much he did not want to leave her alone even for a second. She looked on with tender affection as he poured them both a glass of milk and set out a heaping plate of the fresh gingerbread biscuits. They spent the next hour indulging their cravings, Cora munching happily as Robert patted her stomach every so often and spoke directly to the bump itself—promising it that he would make sure there were plenty of biscuits for baby's first Christmas the next year.