Aiden woke the next morning with the heavy realization that his fridge was nearly empty. Between the stress, late nights, and his unexpected house guest, he'd gone through most of his food without noticing. When he opened the refrigerator, all that greeted him was a lonely apple, half a bottle of milk, and something that might once have been cheese.
He sighed and shut the door. "Okay. Grocery run it is."
From the living room came a faint rustle of fabric. Kaelan was seated in his usual armchair, back straight, posture regal, as though the chair itself were a throne. He turned his head slightly, golden eyes narrowing in question.
"Out of food," Aiden said. "We're going into town."
Kaelan blinked once. "We?"
Aiden hesitated. "Yeah. You might as well come. If we're going to live together, you'll need to… learn things. Blend in a little."
That earned him a soft, humorless chuckle. "You assume I care to blend in, human."
"Aiden."
Kaelan tilted his head, as if the name were an oddity to him. "Aiden," he repeated, slow and deliberate. "Very well. But I see no need to hide my presence. The world once bowed before me."
"Well," Aiden said carefully, "if you start demanding that at the market, we'll both end up in trouble."
---
Finding clothes for Kaelan turned out to be a nightmare.
Aiden dug through his closet, trying to find anything that wouldn't make the naga prince look like an escaped museum exhibit. Kaelan's usual robe was stunning — black and gold silk, embroidered in a pattern that shimmered like sunlight on scales — but it also screamed I'm not from this century.
Eventually, Aiden found a pair of dark jeans, a white shirt, and a simple jacket. Kaelan regarded them like they were an insult.
"These are… human garments," Kaelan said slowly, turning the jeans over in his hands. "Crude. Unworthy of—"
"Yeah, yeah," Aiden interrupted. "Royal standards, ancient bloodlines, I get it. But unless you want people staring at you like you're from a movie set, put them on."
Kaelan gave him a long, unimpressed look. "You speak boldly for someone who owes me his life."
Aiden sighed. "You're welcome for the hospitality."
It took ten minutes — and three increasingly frustrated attempts — for Kaelan to figure out how to wear jeans. The shirt strained across his broad shoulders, the jacket barely fit, and his long dark hair flowed freely down his back.
Aiden winced. "Okay, so… we might need to tie that up."
"Touch my hair and I shall remove your hand," Kaelan said mildly.
"Right," Aiden muttered, hands up in surrender. "Forget I said anything."
---
The drive into the village was… tense. Kaelan sat in the passenger seat like a king forced into exile, glaring at the seatbelt as though it were a personal insult. Every time Aiden hit a bump, Kaelan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse in a language Aiden didn't recognize.
When they finally arrived at the small grocery store, Aiden parked the car and turned to him. "Okay, rule one: be polite. Say 'please' and 'thank you.' Don't—"
"Command the weak?" Kaelan interrupted, looking genuinely puzzled.
"—scare anyone," Aiden finished firmly. "We're just getting food."
The prince stepped out of the car with the kind of poise that made people stare immediately. Even in ill-fitting modern clothes, Kaelan moved like he owned the ground he walked on. His golden eyes caught the morning light, his hair gleamed dark and soft, and every elderly lady within a ten-foot radius turned to look.
Unfortunately, Kaelan noticed.
An elderly shopkeeper greeted them with a polite smile as they walked in. "Good morning, young man—"
Kaelan inclined his head with perfect, royal grace. "You may address me as 'Your Grace.'"
Aiden nearly choked. "Kaelan," he hissed under his breath, "we talked about this."
The woman blinked, confused. "I—sorry?"
Aiden laughed awkwardly. "He's joking! Terrible sense of humor. Long night. You know how it is."
Kaelan frowned faintly. "I do not jest."
"He's kidding," Aiden repeated quickly.
The rest of the trip was an exhausting exercise in damage control. Kaelan insisted on inspecting every piece of fruit, muttering about "how dull their colors have become." He demanded the freshest bread "as befits royalty." He spoke to strangers with an air of divine patience, as if indulging children who didn't know their place.
When an elderly man accidentally bumped into him, Kaelan straightened to his full height and said, "You would do well to watch where you step, mortal."
The man blinked up at him. "Excuse me?"
Aiden grabbed Kaelan by the sleeve before he could continue. "He's fine! He's—uh—new to town!"
Kaelan looked down at him, expression cool. "You apologize for others' disrespect far too often."
"And you don't apologize at all," Aiden muttered, dragging him toward the checkout counter.
---
By the time they returned to the car, Aiden felt like he'd run a marathon. He slumped against the seat, eyes half-lidded. "You almost got us banned from the only grocery store within ten miles."
Kaelan, unbothered, adjusted the sleeves of his too-tight jacket. "They should be honored by my presence. In my time, mortals would have built temples to see me walk among them."
"Well," Aiden said dryly, "now they just build supermarkets."
Kaelan gave him a sideways glance, faint amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "Your world has grown strange, Aiden of the Mortals. But… not entirely unpleasant."
Aiden glanced at him. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"
Kaelan's lips curved slightly. "Do not overreach."
Aiden laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Kaelan murmured, leaning back with an infuriatingly calm expression, "you continue to endure me."
Aiden sighed but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips as the car rumbled down the quiet road home — the ancient naga prince beside him, dressed like a reluctant model, arguing over fruit and respect, and somehow managing to look like he belonged nowhere and everywhere all at once.