The Little Things Arc
Part Two: Shopping Lists
by D.C. Logan
Duo
Duo took small hesitant steps down the isle of the local market and came to an abrupt stop. He read over Heero's penciled list for the eighteenth time and compared it to the contents of the store's inventory with quick sideways glances. Heero's grocery list was a great deal like the man himself—neat rows of printed text with an almost mechanical precision to the shape of the letters—nothing crossed out, no erasure. The paper was crisp, unfolded, and had been left for him on the clear spot to the left of the sink, its edges aligned with the counter.
They'd agreed to try moving in together—so Duo had brought his things over last weekend. He'd also offered to do the shopping this week. But he hadn't realized how intimate an experience it would be—and how surprisingly difficult.
Eggs, 12, extra large, brown, yellow cardboard carton
Boned salmon, fresh, not more than half a kilo
Green squash, small, six, no marks or bruising
Grapes, red, seedless, very sweet
There had been more items on the list, all in Heero's tidy lettering. But only those four were giving him a headache. He'd found the eggs all right, but the carton color was blue. Did it really matter? He'd stood puzzled in front of the display for long minutes trying to reason out Heero's request. Damn. He wished idly that Heero had a friend or two he could call for advice, but the man didn't go out of his way to cultivate friendships. Hell, just how literal was he supposed to treat his shopping list anyway? Yeah, knowing Heero. Very.
The market was out of salmon, and there was no way he was going to substitute any other type of fish, so he was off the hook there.
Squash. Okay, how small was small? The only vegetable labeled as squash that happened to be green rivaled the egg cartons in size. Was that small for squash? It didn't seem right somehow. And the same apron-wearing guy that had been giving him evil looks as he tasted all the grape varieties (how else was he to know if they were sweet or not?) had disappeared once he'd finished with the fruit bins. Six of these monsters would require a hand truck to walk them safely back to Heero's apartment—oops, their apartment. He sighed deeply and walked down the vegetable bins yet again.
This was going to take some getting used to...
Heero (a few days later)
Heero paused, looking down at Duo's list. Three colors, pen, pencil; script, print, and scrawl. Some of the words were barely legible—was that tofu? or tuna? The paper was torn along one edge, had been folded unevenly at least twice, and had been left tacked crookedly to the front of the refrigerator with the ugly magnet shaped like a daisy. Duo must have brought that one; he didn't believe in cluttering his kitchen with magnets. Heh, it was a good thing Duo was such attractive clutter.
Soap. Okay, Duo what kind of soap? Dish soap, laundry soap, hand soap, shampoo? He slowed and stopped in front of a display of hand soap. Pine. Lemon. Rose (probably not). Unscented. He closed his eyes and tried to remember how Duo smelled straight from the shower. ...He smelled like...well...Duo. Hmmm. This was a tougher mission than he thought it would be.
He looked farther down the list to see if it improved any. It didn't. Fruit. Could he get any more specific? Apples? Oranges? Pears? Bananas? (he cracked a brief smile, remembering what Duo could do with a banana). Hell, this wasn't getting him anywhere.
Eggs. Well, that was easy, he could handle that one. Cereal, okay, corn flakes, and he remembered a variety of different brands in Duo's pantry, so he didn't seem to have a preference as to type. There was one word underlined three times, so it must be important, but no matter how much he squinted at the letters or rotated the page, he couldn't make it out. He thought briefly about calling Hilde or Quatre for advice, but dismissed the idea out of hand. He didn't like asking others for help, especially for something as personal as this. He'd get through this somehow.
He brought up his mental snapshot of Duo's apartment kitchen, cupboard by cupboard; but either his memory was faulty, or Duo's tastes had changed in the interim. Damn. He wandered off down the aisles of the market, pondering the simple and oh, so difficult list.
This was going to take some getting used to...
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