Work Text:
“Amelie Suzanne Zimmermann! You put your brother down this instant!” Jack, hearing his husband’s shout from three aisles over, grabbed the first bag of coffee he saw and started dodging carts to get back to his family. When he reached them, Eric was struggling to get their wobbly shopping cart over to the side while glaring at their children, who were, in fact, stacked one on top of the other, little one straining for a box of Fruit Loops.
“Amelie, what did Dad just say?” he demanded, arms crossed over his chest.
“But Papa-” she started to protest.
“No buts. What did Dad say?”
“To put Ricky down, but-”
“Amelie…” Jack never ceased to be amazed how the same look that intimidated enormous professional athletes left his six year old unfazed.
“Fine.” She deflated, but did put her brother back on the ground. “We were just trying to help with the groceries.”
“That was a very nice thought, but you need to be safe, and you need to listen when Dad and I tell you ‘no’.” She looked down at her shoes. Jack picked up Ricky and balanced him on his hip, taking Amelie’s hand and leading her back to where Eric was waiting with one hand on his hip and the other hand holding a box of granola bars. “Do you two have something you’d like to say to your father?”
“Sorry, Dad,” both children say, and Eric relaxes, smiling at them.
“Thank you for apologizing,” he tells the kids, bending to kiss Amelie on the top of her head before taking Ricky from Jack and giving him a quick squeeze and a kiss, plopping him back in the cart seat. Eric takes Amelie to go pick out a cereal that’s at least half healthy, and Jack follows behind with the shopping cart. They only make it a couple of aisles before Ricky gets restless and starts kicking his legs against the cart to make a racket. A tiny sneaker connects with Jack’s quad with surprising force, and he sucks in a breath at the sharp pain.
“Ricky, please don’t kick,” Jack says sternly. Ricky’s feet still for a moment, and Jack starts pushing the cart again. In the next aisle, he starts up again. Jack catches his feet and holds them still, looking his son in the eyes and saying “Ricky. We don’t kick people. You need to sit still for a few more minutes. We’re almost done,” he all but pleads. Eric and Amelie return with armloads of pasta and a bag of flour.
“You alright there, baby?” Eric asks, frowning at Jack’s harried expression. Jack relaxes at the sight of his warm eyes.
“Ousais,” he replies, reaching out to rub his thumb over the buzzed side of Eric’s head. Eric catches Jack’s hand as it’s pulling away and tangles their fingers.
“Rethinking your ‘family errand day’ idea?” Jack looks from his husband to their kids, where Amelie seems to be running a rescue mission to get Ricky out of the cart.
“Amelie!” they call after her, and she freezes at the sound of both her parents’ voices, letting her brother go and feigning innocence. Jack pulls Eric back towards the shopping cart, hands clasped between them. Eric nods at the kids, raising an eyebrow at Jack, who laughs at him.
“I still maintain that this is a good idea.”