The grocery store trip was supposed to be quick. In and out. Simple.

It was not simple.

Atsumu was pushing the cart with your newborn strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, swaying dramatically with every step like he was soothing a storm rather than a six-pound infant. “He’s startin’ to fuss,” he whispered, eyes darting around in panic. “Why’s he fussin’? I gave ‘im the pacifier!”

You barely spared him a glance, scanning the shelves for diapers. “Maybe because you keep jostling him like you’re dodging a defender.”

“I’m tryin’ to make it fun for ‘im!” Atsumu exclaimed, bouncing slightly. The baby let out a tiny whimper that had him freezing in place. “Shit.”

An old lady shot him a judgmental look. He cleared his throat. “Uh—shoot.”

Meanwhile, you were engaged in your own battle, glaring at the empty spot where your preferred brand of diapers should’ve been.

Of course. Of course they’re out.