A/N You know, I had a really long author's note written for you guys about this novel (I wrote it at the beginning of March before I even finished the book) but now as my journey with these two comes to an end (for now?) I came back and deleted it. Michael and Ian are not my typical couple, I don't think, and I felt like I had to apologize for that for some reason, or people wouldn't stick with it, but now that I have finished this book, I realized just how much I fucking love these two. Writing this book has been a journey and a treat, and I can just hope readers get a fraction of the enjoyment it has given me. This couple is special to me, and this family is special to me, and I'm not ready to say goodbye to either one of them just yet.
P.S THIS IS NOT THR SAME IAN FROM OLAL AND YCC. I just liked the name

For many people, shopping in grocery stores was a regular part of life, done just often enough that it was a non-event. It only took a handful of visits for a person to grasp the layout of their local grocery store, which was something the Bradford triplets had not yet accomplished- it was their first trip, after all- and they were therefore lost within the organic cereal aisle, the oldest and most capable of the three of them holding the list of items they were expected to gather. Daniel, the youngest, had been assigned the duty of pushing the cart, which he seemed less than happy about, but Michael figured that would have happened no matter what, and he didn't really have time to deal with it on top of assuring that the unnecessarily items Joe would contribute to their collection of food ever couple of minutes made their way back on the shelves.

"I still don't understand why Shelly couldn't just work overtime and come pick this stuff up later," Joe was saying as he pretended to read the back of a cereal box before throwing it in the cart, even though they had never eaten cereal for breakfast in their life. With a heavy sigh to convey his exacerbation, Michael returned the box to its original space on the shelf.

"Shelly's already working over time in order to finish the cleaning as well as the cooking," Michael pointed out, glancing at the list one last time before beginning to move down the aisle. Daniel followed slowly with the cart, not seeming to be listening to the conversation at all.

"Well, why couldn't we just hire someone else," Joe grumbled, following behind them slowly. "This is ridiculous. We've been here for like an hour". While this was true, Michael didn't think Joe necessarily had the right to complain, since they would have been done by now if it weren't for his lack of cooperation. "Why is it talking them so long to hire someone new in the first place? Marvin retired like a week ago".

It was getting increasingly rare for Michael to agree with the things Joe said, but he had actually found himself thinking similar things over the past few days. Their long time cook, Marvin, had informed their parents months ago that he would be retiring at the beginning of May, which happened to be nearly a week ago. Instead of preparing for the date, they had done nothing, meaning they had to make last minute arrangements for the time between Marvin leaving and them finding someone new.

These last minute arrangements consisted of their maid, Shelly, taking over in the kitchen, and the triplets navigating the grocery store with a list of the things she needed. Usually when his parents requested him to do such things, which wasn't even that often, he would do so without much complaint, reminding himself that it was the least he could do after they provided him with a life of constant luxury, free of any financial stress, but his final exams for school began in two short days, and he was missing his afternoon class to be there. This was something that his father would surely disapprove of if he had known, but it had been their mother who had assigned them with the task, and she had left before Michael could try to explain to her why he would rather go that evening despite the fact that they needed artichokes in time for dinner. She probably wouldn't have believed him if he said he wanted to go to class anyways.

His parents weren't used to educational success being a force driving their children, so they didn't recognize it when they saw it in Michael– if they even saw anything, that is, since both of them were often far to busy to consider what was going on with their children. School had come easy to all their boys, not because they were exceptionally smart, but because they had the fear of all of their teachers, instilled by their father in one way or another.

In high school, it had been harder for Michael to avoid. All teachers had the same mentality: if I fail a Bradford student, they will be angry and their father will remove me from my teaching position. There was no way for Michael to get around that, despite how many times he told his teachers he wouldn't be the one to complain to his father for giving him the grade he deserved, not the one he bought.

In college, the professors way of thinking was more complex than that, and therefore Michael had been able to find a loop hole in order to persuade them to see it his way. The thought process seemed to be: I can't fail a Bradford because the administration will be concerned about Mr. Bradford withdrawing the donations, but a simple conversation with the administrative staff and his professors had shut that kind of thinking down in regards to him. His brothers on the other hand still got the straight A treatment without having to do any real work, but Michael worked for all of his grades and was proud of the fact that his GPA remained just as high as his brothers.

If wanted to see similar results after the end of the current semester- which he very much did- he didn't have the time to take off of class and studying to spend over an hour shopping with his unmotivated siblings.

Of course, taking study breaks was important for him to avoid insanity, but he already had arranged for a stress relief session with his current fling— for lack of a better term— later that night, but judging on how little he had been able to accomplish in the time he got to study before being sent off to the store, and the fact that he was missing the review day for one of his business courses, Michael feared he would now need to cancel.

"There's only a few things left. We need to find the aisle with olive oil," Michael instructed, pausing in the intersection between aisles and scanning for any sort of sign to point them in the correct direction.

A noise of great exasperation left Joe, as if he was the one being most inconvenienced by the situation. "This place is hell. How do Pierce and Garett come here every week?"

"They don't come here," Michael answered, moving in the direction of the Oils aisle. It was right between Pasta and Spices, two aisles they had already stopped in, and Michael silently wondered if anyone else had ever sucked at grocery shopping this badly before. "They shop at the cheap grocery store because they're not particular. Also, they've been doing it ever since Pierce graduated so they're probably better at it".

Out of the seven Bradford sons, six of them had gone to university in the same area they had grown up in, and four of them had lived at home while doing so. Their father encouraged all of them to, saying that living with him– their "mentor", he called himself– would benefit them greatly in their business futures. Regarding the triplets, only Joe had taken this offer seriously, excited for the opportunity, while Daniel had stayed because it was easier than moving, and Michael had stayed because his brothers did.

He couldn't care less about his father's teachings, didn't see the days the older man invited them to his office as an opportunity but an inconvenience, one he skipped as often as possible with a polite decline and a disappointed look from Joe. It was yet another point of contention between them, perhaps the one that flustered Joe the most since he couldn't seem to wrap his head around Michael's logic.

How could he understand, Michael speculated. Joe was someone who was certain that he himself was on the right path, his belief supported by his upbringing and access to their fathers self-appointed mentoring; two things Michael shared with him. He couldn't understand why Michael could so easily dismiss these things in his dream to become a teacher, perplexed as to why someone would willingly choose happiness over the guarantee of success. If he didn't understand now, Michael figured he never would, and it forever remain a divide in their increasingly tense relationship.

The thought made Michael sigh, and he turned his head just enough to glance his brothers out of the corner of his eye. He felt a divide growing between him and both of them. It had been going on for years, he imagined, ever since he had realized the difference in their sexualities, but recently he had felt the strain affecting their everyday relationship, and he didn't know how to stop it or even slow the progression. The closer they got to being actual adults who fended for themselves, the more pressure Michael felt to reveal who he truly was to them, and the more difficult he became.

He lead his brothers down the correct aisle, eyes searching for any kind of olive oil since the list wasn't very specific. Behind him, Joe made a really high whining noise before asking, "What the hell is avocado oil used for?" Clearly he wasn't asking for the sake of getting an answer, since there was no reason for any of them to know the answer to that question.

"Olive oil, olive oil, olive oil," Michael repeated, taking a step further into the aisle when his eyes failed to find any. To his right, Daniel moved, abandoning the cart for a moment in order to grab a tinted green bottle from the shelf, holding it out with the label tuned in Michael's direction. "Uh, yeah, that works. Thanks". As it was deposited in the cart, Michael wondered why he was so surprised. Sometimes, he forgot that Daniel didn't go out of his way to bother him like Joe did, that he could actually be helpful when their third wasn't distracting him in his boredom.

"What's next then?" Daniel asked, propping his elbows on the carts handle and leaning forward to look down at what they had so far. His eyebrows drew together. "The list said to get chips? Mom never lets us get chips".

"Joe," Michael groaned, taking the bag in question out of the cart. "Put these back".

"Nooo," Joe protested. "I actually want those, I swear".

Briefly, Michael considered it, since it would be easy enough to sneak the chips into the house in one of the bags and he wouldn't actually mind having something to easily snack on besides the cucumber sandwiches and hors d'oeuvres his mother request to be prepared for them, but their father had given them the credit card specifically used for shopping and he expected to receive a receipt upon their return. "We can't get them," Michael decided, putting the chips on a random shelf, feeling a little guilty for doing so but also knowing they would be there far longer if they had to find where Joe had gotten them from in the first place. "But we can stop at a gas station or something on the way home and pick some up". When he looked back up at his brothers it became clear that neither of them were listening to him anymore, both turned away from him towards something at the end of the aisle that they were obscuring from his view. "What guys?"

He moved to stand beside Joe in order to get a better view, and then barley resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Girls," Joe whispered, as if they were something mystical and not half the population.

"Yes," Michael confirmed dryly, noticing a quick flash of blue as Joe spared him a look out of the corner of his eye. "I can see that". There were four of them at the end of the aisle, pretending not to be aware of the triplets eyes on them despite the fact that they all seemed incapable of not glancing in their direction every couple of seconds and flushing an even darker shade of pink.

Even thought Michael had no interest, he allowed himself time to take each of them in with his eyes one at a time, wondering exactly what it was that five out of his seven brothers found so appealing. Sure they were pretty and often nice to look at, but they just seemed so soft, he thought, too soft, soft in a way that men were not. It probably wouldn't be that bad, touching a woman, but Michael had long since confirmed he preferred the rasp of another mans voice in his ear over the pleased whine of a woman.

Clearly, Joe wasn't thinking anything along the same lines as him. "Girls are wonderful," his brother was saying, voice soft with bliss. "What did we do to deserve them?"

"You've done literally nothing," Michael contributed while Daniel just hummed thoughtfully.

"The dark haired one is hot," Daniel supplied after a pause, words not nearly poetic as Joe's. Intrigued, Michael looked back, taking note of the girl with the long dark hair and brown eyes.

The one that looks kind of like Daisy, Michael thought, but he didn't dare vocalize it, knowing it wouldn't go over well with either of his brothers.

"Lets go talk to them," Joe suggested abruptly, so sure that they would agree that he was already moving forwards. Quickly, with a frantic shake of his head, Michael reached forward and grabbed his brother's arm, halting his movements. Both of them looked at him, Daniel with his eyebrows raised and Joe with an expression Michael found hard to read. "You don't have to come".

"You cannot meet girls in the oil section of the grocery store," Michael protested. Immediately, Joe's eyes lit up in amusement.

"That's how a quality porno would start," he claimed proudly, and Michael just shook his head at the ridiculousness– because, really? Quality. He grimaced in disgust at the mention of his brothers hobbies. "Michael, why do you even care? You can keep shopping if you want. No judgment for choosing food of girls. It's your life".

"You're supposed to be helping me," Michael reminded, and Joe's eyes rolled as he pulled his arm free from Michael's grasp. "A minute ago you were complaining about how you didn't want to be here any longer. I don't want to be here any longer. We don't have time for you to embarrass yourself". A soft laugh was breathed from Daniel's lips at the insult, and Joe's eyes darkened with irritation. While it was true that Joe was shit at talking to women, he liked to pretend otherwise, though in his credit, sometimes, if they thought he was cute enough, so did they.

"You'll finish faster on your own anyways," he said, and it was apparently his final argument in the matter because he turned away then and walked down the aisle towards the four women. Michael's gaze slipped over to Daniel, who met his eyes for a long moment before shrugging and following Joe.

While the behavior was frustrating, it was far from surprising, and Michael allowed himself a single moment of disappointment, exhaling heavily in exacerbation, before he took a hold of the cart and wheeled it in the opposite direction, glancing down at the list to see what he was supposed to find next. Brisket.

What the hell is brisket? He wondered, slowing to a rolling stop at the end of the aisle so he didn't hit anyone with the cart. Where would one find brisket? Where would one find an employee who could point him in the direction of brisket? So far, when they hadn't been able able to recognize what was on their list, they had wandered through the aisles until they happened upon it, collecting other things on the way. It wasn't an effective system– it was probably a big reason as to why the trip was taking so long– but Michael had no other grocery shopping techniques, so he turned the cart down the next aisle with purpose.

He didn't find brisket, or anything else on the shopping list for that matter. What he found was far better than that, and most definitely far more dangerous to him: an man with the power to distract him.

It was a different sort of attractive than what Michael was used to, the subtly of it slightly refreshing. He looked ordinary, with brown hair on the lighter side and brown eyes on the darker. His facial features were all ordinary as well, nothing out of place but nothing also spectacular. There was nothing about him that particularly stood out in any way, and yet Micahael felt that he couldn't keep his eyes to himself, couldn't bare to glance away from the rare sort of beauty that came from being so normal that it was irregular. Something within him stirred, his chest beginning to ache in an unfamiliar way that he categorized as a mix of anxiety and giddiness. What is going on?"

Michael wondered if this is how his brothers felt an aisle over as they spoke to those girls, if their hearts were beating just as fast as his, if their throats were dry and their palms damp.

My brothers are an aisle over, Michael reminded himself, blinking and forcing his eyes away from them man, pushing the cart forwards when it occurred to him that he had stopped. This is dangerous. Still, he found himself indulging the desire to look, eyes exploring with an interest even he couldn't understand as he told himself it was okay. His brothers were an aisle over. They can't see me. The man wasn't even paying attention, focused very intently on the box of pasta he was holding. It's fine as long as he doesn't notice.

But then he did, gaze lifting slowly from the box in front of him before he turned his head slightly to meet Michael's eyes, probably feeling the intensity of his blue gaze. He recalled something his (somewhat of a) friend Tyler– his secret brother and law, but just his older brother's boyfriend as far as the rest of his family, excluding the youngest brother, Kalen, was concerned– had said to him and his brothers. "With those eyes I can practically feel your gaze. It's kind of creepy".

Thankfully, the man wasn't looking at him like he was creepy; he was looking at him with something like concern, eyebrows drawing together slightly. "Can I help you?" he inquired softly, and his voice did something to Michael, something that made breathing difficult. Michael felt his eyes grow larger in surprise, and the man looked taken aback. "Are you alright?"

"I'm..." Michael trailed off. Okay? Was he really though? Flabberghasted? For sure, but that certainly wasn't the right thing to say. Distracted? Entranced? Speechless? "...Michael," he finished after a long pause, suddenly finding his voice. This clearly was not the kind of answer the man was looking for, and Michael had known that before he even spoke, but he was stupid. I should have said stupid. A complete fucking mornon, actually.

This didn't bode well for exam week.

"Oh?" the man voiced then, amusement evident in his voice. Something about his tone told Michael he was being teased, but he didn't know what he was supposed to say in response. Helpless, he blinked, gaze sliding away in a way he knew came off as awkward. "Do you need help with something Michael or would you just like me to leave you to your staring?"

His face felt incredibly hot and he looked down at his own hands as he curled them tightly around the handle of the cart, knuckles turning white as he wrinkled the shopping list in the process. "I'm sorry," he apologized, and then made a face at how weak his voice came out. He couldn't really describe what was happening, couldn't understand where his usual confidence had gone when he clearly needed it. Typically when he talked to men he always had the upper hand, was always the one causing the flush to rise across cheeks. This wasn't him. With a deep breath, he forced his gaze upwards, meeting brown eyes alight with enjoyment. "I usually don't do that".

"Gape openly at men in grocery stores?" the brunette asked. Michael wondered if there was a way to deny that was what he was doing, to convince this unknown man that he was just a straight guy taking friendly platonic interest in another. Before he could think of something else stupid to say, the man spoke again, sounding less amused but incredibly genuine. "Once upon a time I think I would be uncomfortable, but honestly I'm pretty flattered at the moment".

Oh. The statement made Michael feel sad, but at the same time it made him feel even more attraction towards him. There was something intriguing about a beautiful person being unaware of the effect they had, something that drew Michael in and made him want to show them they were special. It prompted his response of, "you should. I meant it as a compliment".

Surprise shown on the other man's features, and then he laughed lightly. Just like that, everything about his face that had been ordinary wasn't anymore, and Michael's breath caught in his throat, struck by the sight of perfection right before him. "And suddenly you're smooth!" he exclaimed. "Wow. I don't think I've ever been hit on in a grocery store before".

Michael felt himself relax at the other man's playfulness, an easy smile settling onto his lips. "I don't think I've ever found someone in a grocery store worth hitting on". He paused and then added. "I've never actually been in a grocery store before today though, so maybe that's why".

"You've never been in a grocery store before?" he asked, eyebrows drawing together. Michael wondered if this was his way to avoid the flirting directed his way. "How do you eat?"

"Um-" Michael didn't really want to tell the pretty boy in the grocery store that he'd never gone shopping before because his family was rich and he still lived at home with his a parents where someone else did the cooking for him. Luckily, the brunette drew a conclusion for himself before Michael could answer.

"Oh! You're in college still? You live on campus then?"

"Sure," Michael agreed slowly, and the other man's eyebrows raised. "I mean... how do you figure that?"

He shrugged, slim shoulders rising beneath his t-shirt. "Well, when I was in college, I didn't live on campus, but the students who did typically ate on campus as well so they didn't need to make their own food".

This made sense, and it would save him from having to explain his less than desirable living situation, so he lied and said, "yeah, I live on campus". Then, because he had been surprised by some of what the man had said, he asked, "You're not in college anymore?" Now that Michael thought about it, the guy seemed to be around his age. If he had to guess, he would assume he was a little younger, actually, certainly not old enough to have graduated already. "You don't seem like you would be older than me".

"Maybe I'm not," he responded, shrugging his shoulders. "What year are you?" Michael admitted to being a Junior. "Ahh, then I probably am, actually. I finished at the end of last semester. I turned twenty two just a little bit ago".

"Oh". Michael smiled. So he was older, but not by much. In his experience in the past, he had discovered that people didn't submit as easily to him when the age gap was too large in the wrong direction.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Oh. You graduated early?" Michael held out his grocery list towards him "So you're smart then. Maybe you can help me find these last few things so I can get the hell out of here".

Chuckling lightly, he moved forward to take the grocery list from Michael's hand, drawing attention to his long, slender fingers. "Just what my degree prepared me for," he joked, and Michael joined in his little laugh, eyes returning to appreciate the man's face as his warm brown eyes skimmed the list. "You know, I'm not actually familiar with this store yet since I've only lived in the area for the last couple of weeks-"

"Hey," Michael interrupted. "You never told me your name". There was a pause, and then brown eyes lifted to meet his own, and Michael swallowed heavily, pressing his lips together tightly as he fought to keep his gaze away from his mouth. They were standing kind of close together- not close enough that it was particularly unusual, but close enough that Michel could pick up the calming scent of mint and fresh linen.

"You never asked for it," the brunette said softly, lips pulling up in the corners. Michael wondered if this guy was interested in him, or if he simply enjoyed flustering him. Or maybe he didn't even realize the effect he was having, Michael considered lastly.

"Technically you didn't ask for mine and I still gave it to you," Michael pointed out. There was a laugh, and then a smooth hand was outstretched towards him. At the same time, he smiled, showing a full mouth of straight dazzling teeth, and Michael just looked down at him and blinked in surprise because what the hell is happening in my chest?

"I'm Ian".

Ian, Michael thought, reaching his hand out and slipping it against the other man's soft palm. Ian. His name is Ian.

"Ian," Michael repeated, voice very soft over the two syllabals. "I never met someone named Ian before".

"Really?" Ian asked, freeing his hand and once more looking at the shopping list. "It's actually quite common". It was silent then, because Ian was reading and Michael didn't know what to say. "I actually know where to find the rest of this stuff". Something in his voice was odd, and he raised his head to look into Michael's cart, eyebrows furrowing together in what looked like perplexion. "Um, can I ask what you're making? This doesn't really seem like the type of shopping list someone your age would use".

"It's not actually mine," Michael admitted. "It's for a... dinner someone else is making".

"That's good. I was going to point out that you had very femenine handwriting". Not lifting his gaze, Ian dropped the box of pasta he was still holding into the basket he had resting at the bend of his elbow. "Come on, follow me". Michael obeyed, almost breathing out a sigh in relief when Ian lead him in the opposite direction of his brothers, pausing briefly to give Michael time to turn the cart around and follow.

For a minute they walked in silence, the air between them filled with the sounds of other people, the atmosphere quite comfortable, but Michael wasn't content. Here was this boy— this somehow ordinarily perfect man with pretty hands, wonderful teeth and warm eyes— that Michael has only known for a matter of minutes, and would probably only know for a number of minutes more, but had managed to catch his attention in a way no one else ever had before. He wanted to learn everything he possibly could within that time, before it was too late.

"So, you said you just moved here?" Michael prompted, pressing the cart forward a little more to fall into step with the older man. From the corner of his eye, he peered down at him, seemingly unable to stop looking. There was just something new to appreciate with each glance; the shape of his lips, the very soft way he breathed, the look in his eyes that indicated he was deep in thought, his incredibly long eyelashes and the way he walked. Everything, Michael thought, I want to know everything.

It kind of scared him, if he was being honest. Rarely ever did Michael's interest in a person go beyond physical. Quite often he'd find himself lusting after a person, but he never desired to know what was going on in their mind, to hear about what was going on with them beyond the moment. It had only happened once before, years ago when he had first met James Anders, and that had ended up with the younger boy dating his youngest brother. Since then, Michael hadn't dared to show this level of interest, and he couldn't even identify what made this time different.

"Yep," Ian said in response to his question, the word crisp and short on his tongue. Dismissive, Michael noted, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. How was he to learn about this man if he wasn't willing to tell him?

"Did you grow up close?" He continued, eyes now completely focused on Ian's face with great interest. The brunette's face didn't change any at the question, as if he had been expecting it.

"Nowhere near close," was his vague answer, and Michael felt the corners of his lips pull down. Beside him, Ian tensed suddenly, and then reached out a hand quickly to grasp the edge of the cart, causing it to lerch to a stop. "Careful," he breathed, and Michael looked forward to the woman he had almost run into.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, face warming once again, this time his embarrassment accompanied by the sharp sting of guilt. It was a very Bradford thing to do, to simply walk without looking and expect others to move out of his way. He spent much of his time trying to avoid such negative Bradford things.

The woman dismissed his apology with a quick wave of her hand and the assurance that she alright before turning away and continuing her hunt.

"Wow," Ian voiced once she was out of hearing distance, and Michael swung his gaze down to his right to look at him. He then thought about how he kinda liked the slight height distance between them, liked the way Ian looked with his head tilted back to look up at him. "I'm beginning to believe that you've never actually been in a grocery store before".

"Why would I even lie about that?" Michael began pushing the cart forward again as Ian resumed his pace, keeping his eyes forward this time to avoid any casualties. "You know, I'm not usually this absent-minded. I think my brain is probably fried from studying for exams".

Ian smiled fondly, gesturing to the left with his hand. "Turn here," he instructed, and Michael did, watching where he went carefully. "Exam week coming up, huh? That's something I don't miss". They moved into the refrigerator section and Michael felt the hairs on his arms raise at the cold. "College is great though, don't wish it away". Something in his voice sounded incredibly sad, but when Michael shot him a quick look out of the correr of his eye he found no signs of distress on the older man's face.

The conversation had the potential to end then, but Michael pressed it, wanting to hear that voice for a little bit longer. "So, how'd you decide to leave home after school?" he asked, actually curious of the answer since he himself often considered leaving Illinois and going somewhere new. It was a dream, he knew, something he could never actually do since his life was currently not his own but his father's.

"It wasn't really that hard," Ian claimed, eyes skimming over the fridges, looking for something. Figuring he should probably help– Ian was looking for him after all– Michael turned his head in that direction as well. "When I moved back home after college my parents were overbearing and there were too many... highschool memories everywhere. It made me feel like I had accomplished nothing over the last four years, so I left". Ian slowed to a stop and Michael copied him, turing his face away from the meat coolers to look at the other man with eyebrows raised in question. The look on Ian's face was unreadable to him as he asked, "Are you thinking of moving home after college or do you want to go somewhere different?"

Adverting his eyes, Michael thought about a lot of things. He thought about how he already lived at home and had lied, and he thought about his brothers and if he would ever really be able to live away from them, and lastly he thought about his father. Sometimes, Michael feared that he would never be able to talk to that man, to tell him the things that he needed to.

Dad, I'm double majoring in Business and French Education but I really don't care for the Business part.

Dad, I feel like I should leave after I graduate to get away from you and your business.

I feel like I could maybe be happy some place else, but please let me take Dan and Joe with me.

I don't like girls how you want me to.

I'm afraid you're going to hate me.

"It's more complicated than that," Michael answered after a long pause, fighting to hide the anxiety he felt from showing on his face.

"Of course it is," Ian supplied simply, and Michael turned his face down to look at him. Ian was still looking back at him, brown eyes studying him closely as if he was watching for something. "Everything is more complicated than the hypothetical. I didn't ask if you were going to, I asked if you wanted to".

That's not simple either, he thought, but instead of voicing this he shrugged nonchalantly and said, "yeah, I guess. My family is kind of frustrating, and there's a lot of us so it's difficult to get away from. It might be nice to go somewhere that none of them are and find out who I am without them, but at the same time I don't think I'd be able to go without two of my brothers". A look of surprise passed over Ian's face at this, but Michael continued talking without bothering to speculate. He didn't know him well enough to truly understand what Ian got out of his words. "A lot of the time I feel that my family's influence negatively impacts me. Sometimes I make bad decisions or do things that don't really seem like me, or at least not the version of myself I'm trying to be, but the one I've been trying my entire life to avoid, and I feel like those things would happen less if I was somewhere my father was not". Frowning, Michael passed a hand through his dark hair. "I guess that probably doesn't make much sense out of context. Sorry".

There was a tick silence for a moment as Ian just continued to stare at him, and Michael wondered if it was because he had just shared so much about himself after Ian had been so reserved in answering his questions. "Where would you go?" the brown eyed asked eventually, expression of slight astonishment not changing. The confusion must have shown of Michael's face because Ian finally broke eye contact to let out a little laugh. "If you were going to move when you're done with school. Where would you want to go?"

Finding the answer to that question was simple. Over the years, Michael had traveled many places with his family. He'd been to New York and Peru and Venezuela and Korea, had seen the pyramids and the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China. With his father's wealth, he had been able to go to countless countries, experience countless things, taste countless foods, but there was only one place he had ever been that felt right. "I'd go to France," Michael admitted without pause, thinking of his trip years ago with his family. They had been horrible– his older brother Pierce specifically if he recalled correctly– but the place had been right.

Ian had probably had been expecting him to say something within The United States because his entire face changed, eyebrows shooting up and mouth becoming a straight line. It made Michael chuckle a little as he brought his attention back to the coolers. "Hey!" he said happily, leaving his place by the cart and moving forward. "Brisket!" Apparently, Brisket was a cut off beef. "I would have been wandering around forever".

"Uh, yeah, no problem," Ian managed, voice very small. As he turned to put the meat in the cart, he caught sight of Ian's face and paused. The man was looking down slightly, gaze unfocused, eyebrows slightly furrowed as if something was confusing him.

"Are you alright?" Michael inquired, moving back to stand behind the cart, closing some of the distance between him and the other man. Slowly, brown eyes raised to look up at Michael, his lips slightly parted as he breathed out a shallow breath of air. "Ian?"

"I need to go," Ian said, voice very soft. The hand that was clutching Michael's list reached out towards him, holding out the wrinkled paper. "The eggs are about five coolers down, and the crackers are in the aisle at the very end. You shouldn't have a problem finding either of them".

"Oh". Michael took the list from him, mentlly crossing the two items off since Daniel had taken the pen with him to talk to the girls. "That's fine. Thanks for the help". Nodding absently, Ian turned, switching his red basket to his other elbow. He was going to walk away. He's walking away. "Wait!"

There was a brief second in which Michael feared he was going to be ignored, or maybe Ian hadn't heard him– he seemed pretty absent for some reason– but then he was facing him, eyebrows arched high in inquiry. "Yeah?" he questioned.

Nervously, Michael swallowed. "I... Could I get your phone number?"

"What?" Ian asked loudly, eyes widening in disbelief. Michael felt a similar emotion, horrified that his mouth had worked faster than his brain.

That's a terrible idea. Dangerous. What if he's straight? What if he actually gives it to me? What if my brother's come by and see him giving it to me? What if he wants a relationship? I don't do relationships. He has to say no.

Suddenly, Ian began to laugh. It was a full sound that carried nicely, and Michael found himself warming to the man even more. He wanted to hear it again sometime.

Please say yes.

"No," Ian answered finally, voice still sweet with laughter as he abruptly crushed Michael's hopes. "You can't have my number, but I assure you, it's nothing personal". As he spoke, he backed away from him. The movement was almost cautious, but he had a smile on his face as he did it. "There is probably some point in time, past or future, I don't know, in which the answer to that question would have been yes, but now is not that time".

He didn't understand, but he wasn't going to press. Bradford's didn't take no for an answer. Michael was trying to be less Bradford.

"I'll see you around, Michael," Ian voiced, beginning to turn. "Or maybe not, since you don't go grocery shopping often". With that, he was gone, turning down the closest aisle, leaving Michael's line of sight. A heavy sigh left him then, betraying his hidden disappointment, but it didn't matter who heard or knew. No one was paying attention to him anymore.

He wondered if he would ever see Ian again. As he began pushing the cart in the direction of Ian's instructions, he thought probably not.

It saddened him.

A/N I really enjoyed this as a first chapter. It was super fun to write, and I really enjoy all of my characters in this one (please do not hate Joe. He is very delicate. He's an idiot but most 21 year old boys are. I love him very much).

Thank you guys for reading! You continue to amaze me every day with your interest in my work, but I hope to keep putting out stuff for you all that you enjoy.

<3 Ivy