It was the second Thursday of the month, and just like every other second Thursday in the five years they had been married, the electrical ping-pong heard at the entrance of the local pharmacy signaled the entrance of two heads walking side by side—one blonde, one brunette.
It wasn't verbal when they decided to go on every second Thursday of each month—it started when they were just getting started, and one day Sam had come out of the bathroom sheepishly, saying, "Uh, can you…get me some, uh…" not even able to finish his embarrassed question before Kurt saw his roots and laughed in sympathetic assent. He needed moisturizer too, anyway, so they had just went together. Then they went out for lunch afterwards, and the whole thing just sort of became one of their regular quirks.
This time, they needed to stock up on Sam's color-treated shampoo. He had finally decided to let Kurt buy it for him—for him, mind you, as Sam would never be caught buying it for himself—in their first year of dating, after months of a persistent Kurt constantly fussing over his hair in the morning before class—"I just wish you'd let me do something to it!"—but now he couldn't live without it, especially since Kurt bought the salon brand.
They had walked together through the small aisles as always, picking up this and that. They spent a little extra time at the skin care aisle, as Kurt wanted to examine a new lotion by his favorite brand—"Why do you need a new lotion? Your face is already perfect!"—, but as soon as they made it to the hair product aisle, Sam wordlessly handed Kurt the small basket (he insists on carrying it for him otherwise) and headed over to the candy aisle, mumbling incoherently.
Kurt just chuckled and tossed the usual shampoo in the basket along with his own shampoo of the same brand, beside the mouthwash and new Faith Hill CD Sam had been pining for—"Since when do you like Faith Hill?" "Oh, you know…a while, I guess."—and strolled down the aisle a bit more, humming some tune he couldn't place the name of under his breath.
He had just made it to the magazine section, flipping through People, when he heard his name being called.
"Kurt, Kurt!"
"Sam?" he called back, looking up from the magazine and wildly around as he searched for his blonde other half.
"Kurt—there you are, Kurt!" the man in question suddenly emerged from a random aisle, grinning widely and holding some rolled up item in his hands. Kurt groaned inwardly when he saw that it was a comic book. An affectionate groan, of course—it was typical Sam.
"Okay so, Kurt—can we get this? It's a comic book, see Kurt? I've been reading this since, like, before we even met and it's like my childhood, Kurt, my childhood—it's like you and those Disney movies where they're all singing and stuff, Kurt—and I really, really want it, Kurt. Okay, I know I already have the Faith Hill CD, but I needed that, and I need this too! Don't look at me like that—I need this, Kurt! Please, Kurt, please can we get this? Kurt, please? Please?" Sam rambled, looking at Kurt with pleading eyes, clutching the comic book like dear life.
All Kurt could say was, "You look like a puppy when you stand like that."
Sam's eyes lit up at this—"Oh, there's a puppy in this one, too! I think so, at least…" he said, and promptly flipped through the pages of the comic book like a little kid on Christmas morning.
"I don't know, Sam. Maybe next time," Kurt sighed, smiling at Sam despite himself. "Besides, don't you already have every comic book known to man?"
"Yeah, but this is a special collector's edition! Collector's edition, Kurt!" Sam held the comic book up to Kurt's face, wide-eyed. "I'm a collector!" he practically screamed, pointing at himself excitedly.
"I don't know, Sam…"
"Kurt," Sam said, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "I will let you dress me for a whole day if you buy me this comic book," he begged, looking intently into his eyes.
Kurt bit his lip. It was a tempting offer. "I like the way you dress," he said anyway.
Sam raised his eyebrows at him, looking down at himself and then back at Kurt. He was wearing a plaid shirt with jeans frayed at the bottom, paired with workers' boots. In Kurt's opinion, he almost resembled a lumberjack. An incredibly sexy lumberjack, but still.
He also gave Sam an overview, looking back at him, his eyes pleading again. He sighed. "A week."
"Yes!" Sam whooped, grinning and wrapping his arms around Kurt, kissing him fast. "You're the best!" he almost howled in his euphoria, detaching one arm from Kurt to look at the comic book like the Avatar video game he had gotten for his birthday last year. This was saying something.
Kurt just laughed. "It's really hard to say no to you when you're adorable," he said, shaking his head.
"I thought that was all the time?" Sam snickered, elbowing Kurt with a smile.
"True."
They checked all the stuff out and packed up the car, heading out for lunch like always. They shared a salad as usual and picked off each other's entrees—Kurt's grilled turkey club and Sam's dinosaur chicken fingers (yes, dinosaur)—and now they were sharing their strawberry milkshake. Sam had been pretty self-conscious about his weight and fitness and all of that when they first started dating, but Kurt had slowly gotten himself to indulge a little. Now, Sam still ate healthy, but he didn't freak out whenever he had something sweet. Kurt liked watching him be happy and lenient about what he ate—now Sam could love himself just the way Kurt loved him.
When they were almost done, Sam wanted to show him all the "super cool amazing awesome epic" features of his new comic book, but he had supposedly put it in Kurt's bag.
Kurt rummaged through it but came up short. Phone, hand sanitizer, iPod, keys, wallet…but no comic book.
"Sam, where's—?" he began to ask, but he was stopped short by Sam's suddenly grave expression, taking the bag and shuffling through it desperately.
"Kurt! I thought you had it!" he gasped, practically shoving his head in the bag.
After a few minutes of passing the bag back and forth to see if they could find it, Sam almost hyperventilating, and Kurt trying to calm him down, they left the diner, with a depressed Sam in tow.
"…I know, honey, I'm sorry. Maybe we left it on the hood of the car when we drove off or at the cash register or something…" Kurt was saying, patting Sam on the shoulders as they reached the car, Kurt quickly unlocking it.
Sam just nodded and sniffed a little, wiping his nose as he opened the driver side of the car. It had been Sam's turn to drive to the pharmacy, and so Kurt's turn to drive to the diner, then Sam would drive home.
"I know, I just—that comic book totally made my life. I mean, besides meeting you and falling in love and all of that, but like—"
"Sam."
"It was a special collector's edition, you know? It would have made my collection complete. I have a ton of comic books. What if they put me in the book of world records for having the most?"
"Hey, Sam."
"I mean, I'd make sure you were in the picture too, because you did buy me the comic book that completed everything, and if they quoted me, I'd say that, and then I'd say 'Which makes sense, 'cause he completed me,' and it would have been really nice. But, I mean, that's ok. You still complete me and everything, but—"
"Sam!"
"What?"
Only then did the blonde look up and see Kurt standing outside the passenger side with the door opening, holding up a creased comic book by the edges. The comic book.
"You were sitting on it the ride up."
As Thursdays went, it was a typical one.