Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I think the cameras are everywhere!" he leans in and murmurs, as if the cameras could capture his voice. 

Kaiser sags against the trolley handle, shrugging, "It's up to you."

Of course it's up to him. Because this vain lion will never be against any crazy ideas. Not even the most screwy ones. 

But it was tempting. And to be honest, at the highest level it could.

"I've never tried it before." He said amidst the crunching of the caramel popcorns in his mouth.

"What?" Kaiser's blue eyes drifted toward him. In the dark, with occasional flashes from the TV screen, they had already gleamed like those of cats. Yet, with curiosity, they seemed to be times and times brighter.

He jutted his chin toward the scene — the heroine was pushing a trolley while her three-year-old kid was sitting meekly in the child seat, scanning the shelves with wonder, "That child seat. I've never sat in one."

At the moment, he did not know Kaiser hadn't, either. So he explained, with a regrettable sort of way, "When I was little, little enough to sit there, I was too sensitive."

And yet, Kaiser listened to him, attentively.

"I couldn't really put up with public spaces." He shook his head, "Too crowded, you know." 

Kaiser held out the chocolate popcorns from his bowl. So he opened his mouth to receive them, and allowed himself to talk while chewing, "I enjoyed being at home. Or at the playing ground in our neighborhood. Rarely anyone frequented it." 

He swallowed. "Then I grew older. And I was finally able to visit supermarkets. But by then I was too big for those seats." He sighed and smiled, "That's all."

Then they both moved their focus back to the movie. Never has he thought Kaiser would remember some wish so trivial and childish like that.

Only now does Isagi realize, he does.

"So?" Kaiser waves his hand before his eyes, bringing him back. 

This trolley also has a child seat. But ...

"What makes you think I can sit in that?" Isagi laughs. 

"Did I tell you to take the child seat?" Kaiser narrows his eyes, pretending to sift through his memory (which hasn't passed for barely five minutes). 

Humh. 

He didn't. 

Then ... 

Isagi's jaw nearly drop, his eyes bugging out, taking his whispery voice again, "You mean the ... the trolley itself?"

Offering no spoken answer, Kaiser nods once, with a reliability Isagi doesn't know from where it originates.

Thus, he turns on his heel, mindlessly glancing at the boring healthy cereals neatly arranged on those shelves, "It will break."

He is a grown up adult. Of that he is certain. No longer a baby who needs to be pampered. So, no. 

But he couldn't, and will never, be certain about how patient and, perhaps, stubborn Kaiser is. 

Or about how much Kaiser adores him.

"Do you know who your boyfriend is?" He calls after Isagi. 

Isagi snorts, "Oh, just get straight to the point."

"Kay. As you wish." Then all of a sudden he races forward and squeezes the brake, halting with a screech by Isagi's side. The corner of his lips curls into his trademark smirk, "In case you break it, I have more than enough money to compensate them."

Just like that, Isagi drops his final reason. What's more? He totally ignores the biggest risk as well — not the compensation, but the chance of someone stumbles upon them and spreads it online. But ... whatever. He's content. Very much, indeed. Even though it seems when he's with Kaiser, he's a bit too carefree. 

"Ready?" Kaiser asks with an exciting tone. 

"Uhm." He nods, sharply and expectantly. Of course, with a lovely smile. 

"Threeeeee!" Kaiser speaks into his ear. 

"Twoooooo!" This time, Isagi joins him. 

"One!!!" 

And under Kaiser's push, the trolley slides away, as smoothly as if it's on an F1 circuit. 

That day, they return home with many more bags of sweets, packs of chips, and bottles of ketchup than usual. 

Why?

Because it's simply so much fun for Isagi to sit like a king and point all over here and there and catch those treats from his boyfriend.