Five Reasons Ike Did Not Come Home With All The Groceries.

Fandom: FE9/10

Pairing: Ike/Soren

Rating: PG-13 def.

summary: Ike fails at grocery shopping. Modern au, Ike/Soren.

A/N: From the meme currently going on in my journal. r-amythest requested this one


Soren's handwriting was clear and concise and there was always the threat of Soren unleashing wrath worse than a thousand PMSing housewives, but he ran into Ranulf halfway through.

Ike figured one little drink wouldn't hurt, and Boyd was there too. The game was on and one thing led to another – the next thing he knew it was 12PM and he was still a bit drunk, and he hadn't gotten a single thing done. The only thing he returned with was an empty hot wing chicken tub, and a smudge of lipstick on his sleeve. (He had no idea where that came from, though there is a vague memory of bumping into Aimee and shaking her off, citing that he was taken.)

Needless to say, Ike slept on the couch that night.

And for the rest of the week.


The next time Ike was far more careful. A week of arctic chill from Soren was enough to make him refuse drinks, food or any other distraction at least until he was finished with his task.

Unfortunately, while he was checking the list in the parking lot, an errant gust blew away the scrap of paper.

Try as he might, Ike couldn't remember everything. He came with about a fraction of the list, and what he did get was either the wrong size or the wrong brand.

When he returned, Soren could only stare blankly at him.

Ike shrugged.

"The wind blew it away," he said.

Soren rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I guess I'll have to do it next time," Soren muttered.


Honestly, at this rate Ike thought that Soren was about ready to staple the list to his arm. Ranulf was having ball with how 'whipped' Ike was, he gleefully insinuated that it was Soren's 'time of the month' every chance he got. Ike wasn't laughing, because honestly, sometimes he wonders.


Perhaps tired of his patent forgetfulness, Soren came along this time. He held the list this time, and checked off each part, watching Ike carefully to make sure no mistakes slipped by.

It's weird just how couple-y they feel walking down the aisles together. Soren doesn't even have to ask, Ike automatically gets the cans off of the higher shelves or lifts the heavy bag of rice. They don't speak much, it's just comforting silence. Ike basks in it, enjoys the peace, the calm and the feeling of Soren being this close.

Soren's hair was swept up in a messy ponytail and checked off the list three times before he was satisfied with the results.

"We're done," he said absently.

Ike nodded and they headed for the checkout. Soren cringed over the finances while Ike was distracted by inane and confusing magazine headlines. (He never thought he'd see "Alien Baby Found!" and "Alien Star Khristie Bankley's New Baby Pics!" in the same place at once.)

When it was over they loaded the car until he was sure it was resting lower on the wheels than before. Soren always buys in bulk and can stretch a penny farther than anyone he's ever met. It's like magic, and sometimes Ike just sits back and is dually impressed by Soren's formidable managing and scrimping skills.

Ike would've loaded it all himself, but Soren insisted on helping, at least a little. When they're done fitting in all the produce, Ike drives the long way home. Even if Soren disapproved of using the extra gas, Ike didn't want the day to be over yet. Like a teenage with a date, he bargained for just a few more minutes of time alone, together, traveling.

When they get home he kissed Soren before the doorstep and Soren looked quizzically up at him.

"No reason," Ike said.


Ike didn't remember them because they never made it there. In fact, they never even made it out of the kitchen. Soren was talking about cooking a meat dish and Ike couldn't resist one impulsive, thankful kiss. One kiss lead to two, which lead to three, which lead to pushing Soren against the nearest flat surface and forgetting everything but the space of their bodies. They kissed against counter tops and cupboards, ripping at whatever clothing got in their way. Ike will never look at cooking oil the same way again.

When they had finished, (breathless, and drowsy, their skin overheated and still prickling from the aftershocks) both stumbled over to the couch and slept curled up in each other. By the time they woke, the grocery was closed, and all was open was the Wal-Mart across town. Neither felt like driving that far or moving from the warmth of their entangled bodies.

Tomorrow, Ike thought, because there'd always be tomorrow with Soren and shared grocery trips and comfortable silence between the two of them. He wouldn't want to spend his life any other way.