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The best part of Cody’s week is going to the grocery store. For most people, it’s a chore, but for Cody? It’s the one time he’s guaranteed to be left alone by his brothers.
First thing in the morning? Somebody’s jumping directly on top of him. Middle of the work day? Someone’s texting him that someone else totally threw up at school and they need him to come pick them all up, because this absolutely means they all have a stomach bug that they’re spreading to the whole school. Evening? Somebody’s gotta get dinner for all those kids. Even at night, his bedroom is a constant revolving door of “Cody, I can’t sleep”, “Cody, Boba’s being annoying”, “Cody, I just remembered I have a project due tomorrow that I haven’t started but need art supplies for.”
With his oldest brothers helping him, Cody just about has a handle on things day-to-day. He can delegate little mishaps or projects as they arise, trusting the other grown-up brothers to handle tasks he can’t get to himself. It’s tricky, of course- eight brothers ranging from seven to twenty-four is a lot for one twenty-eight-year-old to manage- but they make it work through sheer force of will and the power of spreadsheets.
It also helps that, six months after their parents died, Bly and Fox staged an intervention. Cody had been running himself absolutely ragged to keep up with all the kids he was now responsible for, and he desperately needed a regular break. The problem was, Cody felt guilty any time he was made to do something for just himself- he always had to be contributing to The Greater Good somehow. And so, the weekly “Nobody bother Cody” grocery store runs were born.
This is a time when Cody takes an hour away from the chaos of their house. He’s still helping the household, but he’s not interrupted every few seconds, there’s no one yelling for him, and he can hear his own thoughts. It’s a beautiful, precious time to himself.
This week, he’s actually feeling very grounded before he even gets to the store. He has his list, his pen and backup pen, his reusable bags, and his headphones. It’s been a good week, the kind where a few years ago he would’ve tried to convince Bly and Fox that he didn’t need a break after all. These days, he accepts his break without complaint, knowing that the consistent routine is part of what makes it all work.
Cody takes his sunglasses off as he enters the store and slips his headphones on, his soothing playlist at the ready. He notes the tightness of his sleeves as he moves his arms; it must have shrunk in the wash. It’s still a good shirt, loudly saying “Protect Trans Kids” in the trans flag colors. Graphic tees aren’t Cody’s usual style, but the message is important to him. Plus, it’s Pride Month, and he’s always ready to piss off some transphobes. He makes a mental note to pass this shirt onto one of his more noodle-armed brothers and get himself a new one.
Slinging his bags into the cart, he breathes deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth, centering himself. Finally, he begins his well-worn path through the store.
Almost immediately, he stops again to avoid hitting another person’s cart. His deep breaths get a little more forceful for a moment as he reins in the irritation at improper cart traffic etiquette, but when he looks up his breaths stop altogether.
The cart he nearly rammed belongs to a man with soft-looking ginger hair, a softer beard to match, and an outfit most commonly seen on the dark academia thirst traps Cody definitely doesn’t watch online.
The long, dark brown pants, burnt orange sweater, and tan overcoat are jarring to see in real life, in this grocery store, in the middle of a brutal summer heat wave. That’s absolutely the reason Cody is stopped in his tracks and staring. It’s certainly not because this man is everything Cody dreams of, not at all.
Ohhh, who is he kidding? It’s Pride Month, of course that’s the reason.
Cody spares a moment to be glad this is his brotherless adventure, or the peanut gallery would have already gotten him banned from his favorite grocery store. And then he’s stunned again when the man speaks with a voice like a sip of warmed apple cider.
“Oh, pardon me! Sorry about that,” the man says. His accent is like a crisp fall breeze.
Cody’s always been more of a summer person, but he finds he’s suddenly quite fond of autumn.
He clears his throat gently. “No worries, it happens.”
And just like that, the man is gone, off to the other side of the store. Cody watches him turn away, noticing a pin on the man’s satchel. It’s the same design as his shirt, with pink, blue, and white “Protect Trans Kids” lettering on a black background.
Cody watches until the man turns down an aisle. He exhales heavily. He checks his watch. He sighs through his nose. Finally, with a shake of his head, he reorients himself, then heads for the laundry supplies.
As he makes his way through the store, Cody finds himself the smallest bit agitated. He turns every corner wondering if he’ll see the man again, and if the man really smells like cinnamon and warmth or if he’d just made it up in his head. Somewhere along the way and without conscious thought, he’s switched his playlist from softly stimulating classical music to some pop playlist that can only be described as “full of yearning”.
About halfway through his list, Cody spots a flash of copper hair out of the corner of his eye. By the time he looks, the color is gone. Cody has a moment of indecision. If his brothers were here, they’d never let him live this down- but that’s the whole point. His brothers aren’t here.
He turns his cart around and heads towards where he’d seen the copper. He sees that soft hair again just as the man reaches another corner, and the game is on.
Cody picks up his pace, weaving through the other shoppers, around displays and shelves, chasing after this man he hasn’t even properly met.
At last, Cody ends up in the same aisle as him. Now that he’s here, though, he’s not… quite sure what his plan was.
The man must have caught a glimpse of movement, as he turns away from the shelves of pasta and notices Cody. He shoots a polite smile towards Cody, then returns to the pasta.
Cody is very glad he’s far enough away that there’s no way the man heard the little wounded noise he just made. If that’s what the man’s polite smile looks like, Cody’s not sure he’ll be able to handle a real grin. But by god, he wants to find out.
He realizes he’s been staring at the man too long when they make eye contact again. This time, the man frowns. Cody hastily nods a greeting, then all but runs back out of the aisle.
Smooth, Fett, he thinks to himself. What normal behavior.
Cody forces himself to return to his list. He has a process, and he will follow it. Never mind that he feels like he’s in the second half of the phrase “No plan survives first contact with the enemy”, he will continue his shopping trip as normal.
He almost convinces himself of that, too.
By the time he’s nearly at the checkout lanes, Cody’s thoughts are consumed by this stranger. By now, however, he has an idea.
It’s simple, really; he’s spotted some lovely rainbow flower bouquets for sale. He’s always trying to make sure his brothers have a sense of healthy masculinity, that they can appreciate beautiful things whether they’re “supposed to” or not. If his plan falls through, he’ll just brighten up their kitchen for a few days. Plus, it’s Pride- it’s only fitting to have some rainbow decor in the house.
Cody peruses the display of flowers for a few minutes, then makes his selection. It’s not what he’d typically go for- they’re plain daisies that have clearly been artificially dyed, and he’d usually rather get a few smaller bouquets of plants with natural coloring to build into a proper bouquet at home, but he doesn’t have that luxury right now.
Decision made, Cody brings his cart through the checkout lane, keeping an eye out for copper hair.
He slowly makes it through the line, moseys through scanning and bagging all his groceries, pays, and is just about to give up when he finally appears.
The other man only has a few items in his cart, so it doesn’t take him long to check out. Meanwhile, Cody finishes putting his full bags into his cart just in time to walk out the door a step behind him.
Heart pounding, Cody calls out, “Excuse me, sir?”
The man takes a few more steps, then stops abruptly and glances behind him. His confused gaze meets Cody’s and relaxes a touch.
“Sorry, are you talking to me?” he asks. He pulls his cart to the side, making space for the other shoppers.
Cody nods and joins him. “Yes, I am. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Cody, and,” he reaches into his cart, pulls out the bouquet, and holds it out, “these are for you.”
To his delight, the man’s face immediately flushes red and he looks away bashfully.
“Oh, I- Thank you,” he says. He carefully takes the flowers and brings them to his nose, looking up at Cody as he breathes in.
The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity, and Cody feels himself start to sweat. “I’d also like to assure you that under normal circumstances, I’m the type to get a man proper flowers. Whatever kind he likes, neatly arranged by hand, not just the standard store-stock. In this case, I felt the message needed to be extra clear.” He clears his throat and wills himself not to fidget. “I’d like to take you on a date.”
The man beams at him from behind the flowers. “I’m Obi-Wan, and I’d like that, too.”