((I don't own RENT. This is perhaps the random-est idea I ever got :P))

Tom Collins stared at the list in his hand, his eyes traveling between the paper and the tall aisles. He was almost wishing he was back at home…almost. Neither of them had expected to be bombarded by a sobbing Maureen at eleven o clock on a Sunday morning…though neither of them were surprised, either. And while he would have loved to stay home for two hours of crying and complaining about Joanne, he and Angel needed to eat that week. It was usually Angel's job to go and get the food, his to eat it, but it just so happened that she was the one on the couch, actually caring . He was the one simply leaning against the counter (having lost his place beside Angel on the couch), offering oh-so supporting words every so often, like, "Yeah", and "I agree". Maureen, he was sure, appreciated his help tons. He wasn't exactly going to be missed, and he needed to get out of the house. He nearly cheered when Angel pointed to the list, and only contained himself because he figured it wouldn't make his crying friend feel too great. It wasn't that he didn't care about her misery…he did. But one thing he'd learnt, in all his years of knowing Mo, was that her relationships didn't function without fights. She and Joanne would be back together by dinner.

Now, however…he couldn't help but wonder if karma had heard his thoughts, and decided to give him a good old bitch slap. Because, when he had pushed open the door, he had never, not once, imagined the store to be that big. It was pretty damn big for a convenience store… Or the list to be so long, not to mention unspecific. Milk, cereal, shaving cream…milk he could do, right? Milk was easy. Milk was milk.

Angel repeatedly scolded Collins for drinking right out of the carton, but he never stopped it. Now, however, he was scolding himself for never getting a good look at the milk he was chugging for once. Skim milk, partially skimmed milk, whole milk, 1 percent, 2 percent…

Alright Collins. Think about this logically, he told himself, looking at the cartons. One had a picture of a boy and his father for three dollars. The other was plain and was fifty cents. Done! But then, the almighty question; what type? His lover was constantly worrying about her weight…but if he got her the low fat stuff, would she take it the wrong way?

Skim milk? Oh, that's rich! You don't have the balls to come out and say exactly how you feel about my size?!

But on the other hand,

Whole milk? Do you never listen to me? Are you TRYING to make me fat?!

He was not going to let milk come in the way of his relationship, dammit! With a sigh, he put both the whole and the skim into the basket. She'd understand.

Or at least, he really really hoped she would.

Onto cereal. Angel liked Captain Crunch, right? He did. He put the sugary cereal into the basket, and made a note to pay more attention to what she ate in the morning. Chances were he was gonna get in trouble for getting the wrong type…his girl was amazing but very particular. But, fortunately, he didn't have too much fear when it came to the cereal, when she pointed out how much sugar was in it, he made some cheesy comment about how she was way sweeter than Captain Crunch. And she'd hit him for being cheesy then kiss his cheek and drop it. It was fine.

He made his way to the health section and tossed a pink can of shaving cream into the pile. He wasn't too familiar with shaving, having not shaved in awhile…but Angel liked pink. Even if it was the wrong one he could probably distract her by pointing out how pretty the color of the can would look in a skirt.

With a sigh, he looked at the list…but something caught his eye, first. Tampons. Oh, the privileges of being gay. He noticed one guy standing in front of the giant wall, cheeks turning red, looking like the products were going to jump out and eat him. Unlucky bastard. One of the many things he loved about Angel…not as though she didn't get the lovely mood swings, of course. He wouldn't be this worried about milk and cereal if she weren't a menstruating woman at heart.

The last few items weren't that hard. Bananas were bananas, rice was easy (he just got white—she could add beef to hers and he'd go without, thanks). He paid quickly, and took a step out with a long exhale. Well…that was it. He was done. He was never ever never going grocery shopping again…not unless he had some sort of Angel supervision.

"Got the stuff, babe!" Collins called through the small apartment, kicking his shoes off and tossing the plastic bag onto the table.

"Thank you honey! Guess what? Maureen and Joanne are back together again!" Angel let out a happy squeal as she came over to her lover, planting a kiss on his cheek. It was cute…she hadn't known Maureen nearly as long as he did and she still thought it was such and amazing thing when they got back together. She'd soon learn.

"That's great, Ang," he smiled at her, kissing her forehead. She grinned up at him, before bouncing off to look into the bag. He couldn't watch. With a hurried excuse, he ran off to grab some papers to grade.

He grabbed the stack and threw them on the small desk in their bedroom, pulling out his red pen.

A pause.

"Collins?"

"Yeah babe?"

Another pause.

"You got coffee, right?"