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Ian didn’t mind grocery shopping, it was just one of those things that you had to do. At least if you wanted to eat anyway. What he hated was going shopping with Mickey. It was like taking a child to – well, to the grocery store.
He would pack so many unnecessary things into the cart and even then he would still smuggle things under his coat or into his pockets. One time they got home and he had pulled a giant fucking Toblerone from his pocket and Ian couldn’t even remember seeing a Toblerone at the store.
Ian tried to get out to the store before Mickey could tag along, but sometimes the shorter boy just had nothing better to do than to come with him.
Today was one of those days.
Ian pushed the cart along, grabbing the things they needed, while Mickey was off on the far corner doing god-knows-what.
Yev was sitting in the front, kicking his legs and waving his arms about. They were on a budget as usual, which is probably why Mickey felt the need to smuggle foot-long chocolate bars out in his coat.
He came back around the corner and tossed three bags of chips and a bottle of cola to which Ian stopped and gave him a look.
“You realise if we get that we can't afford baby food,” he said and Mickey just looked up.
“He’s got milk, he’ll be fine,” he said and Ian shook his head.
“You realise he’s not a newborn anymore, he needs to eat,” he said.
“Thought Svetlana was still feedin’ him,” he said.
“She is, but he needs food, put the chips back.”
“No.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“What you got left to get?” he asked.
“A couple of things,” Ian said.
“I fuckin’ hate shopping,” Mickey grumbled and Ian just smiled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him in to plant a lingering kiss on his cheek.
“You are possibly the most frustrating person to go shopping with,” he said and Mcieky waved him away.
“Whatever, I’ll go fill up on some baby food then,” he said, breaking free of Ian’s grip despite Ian trying to hold him back.
“No Mick, don’t ―” he sighed loudly and looked down at Yev in the cart. “Your daddy is a criminal.”
Yev blinked up at him, fingers wrapped around a snickers bar and Ian raised an eyebrow. When had he taken that?
He chuckled, laughed in fact with a grin that spread from ear to ear.
“Oh my god you’re a baby criminal too, aren’t you? Just like your dad, I am not looking forward to when you can walk too, I’ll be taking candy out of both of your pockets,” he said.
When they got home Mickey pulled at least eight jars of baby food out of his pockets and Ian put his head in his hands because he could just see him with his son in a few years, teaching him the best ways to steal and get it past the store attendant.
God, what has he gotten himself into?