Disclaimer: I own nothing. No honestly…

Shop Til You Drop

"Remind me again why I have to do this?" Callen asked as he pushed the rickety trolley down the narrow isle of the supermarket.

"Because last time we sent Deeks and Kensi and they came back with trash and we grounded them." Sam answered with the impatience of a man who'd been asked the same question 8 times.

"Why couldn't Eric have come? Or Nell? They could have used the ATM hacking gizmo that they made out of the toaster and I-Pod."

"Eric would've found the nearest internet café and we wouldn't see him for 48 hours." Sam explained simply and accurately. The tech had been whining about the lack of internet for the last week.

"See – it would've been a good thing," Callen pointed out, almost cheerfully. "He's been driving me crazy."

"You're driving me crazy so can I pawn you off on some poor unsuspecting café owner?"

"I hate shopping," Callen said suddenly, as if it were a revelation.

"I wouldn't have guessed," Sam muttered darkly.

"No seriously, if it were a choice between the Amanian mob and the farmer's markets – I'd choose the mob."

Sam shook his head. "You have problems."

"So I've been told," Callen nodded nonchalantly and squinted down at the shopping list. "What does this say?" He held it out for Sam.

"Cheerios," Sam said after a brief glance.

"You understand that chicken scratch?"

The SEAL shrugged, "I can read your writing too."

Callen bristled at the implicit insult. "Even mine is legible compared to that."

"Is that so?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Callen nodded.

"Are you going to offer Kensi calligraphy classes then, seeing as your penmanship is superior?" Sam asked in an almost sardonic manner.

His partner's blue eyes narrowed, "I like my limbs attached thank you very much."

Sam chuckled, "I thought you would."

"What the hell is a star fruit?" Callen squinted at the shopping list, reading the neat print.

"It's a fruit," Sam explained. "Its insides are star-shaped. There's one right there," He picked up a small yellow skinned fruit and dropped it in the trolley. "It makes a nice tart – very tangy."

Callen gave him a sidelong look, "I'm astounded at the depths of your knowledge."

"Are you mocking me?" Sam glowered at his partner.

"Applauding your culinary talent," Callen replied evenly. Both of them knew it was friendly ribbing on his part. He looked back down at the shopping list. "Is that even a word?"

Sam snatched the list out of his hands, "Yes it's a word. Daikon is a type of radish. It's nice."

"Why do we need it?"

"Because we want to make a Chicken and Daikon Soup."

"What's wrong with American food? And who is we anyway?"

"Firstly, you need to eat healthier and less fatty foods and second, it's Nell and me," Sam shrugged, "We seem to be the only two capable of using the oven."

"I can use an oven," Callen retorted indignantly.

"Microwave ovens don't count G," Sam chided him.

"Why not?"

"A two year old can use them," Sam replied impatiently.

"Doesn't exclude it as an oven."

Sam sighed, "Why do I feel like I brought Deeks along."

"I'm insulted," Callen said, putting a hand to his chest.

"Good," Sam said, "Now get the rice and we can move to the next aisle."

Callen perused the shelves of different type of rice. "Which rice do you want? I'm asking because I assume a man of your delicate culinary understanding would have a preference."

"Shut up, G."

"It's a valid question."

"You're a valid question."

"That's real mature."

"Just pick the damned rice!" Sam's voice rose slightly as his patience expired.

"Alright, alright. Calm down," Callen grabbed two packets of jasmine rice and tossed them into the trolley. They walked silently to the next aisle. "What type of pasta do we want?"

"Penne," Sam picked it off the shelf. "Goes with everything and even Eric can't mess it up."

"In his defence, he thought the stove was off," Callen said.

"Well it wasn't and the pot was literally red hot. How do you miss that?"

"He was preoccupied," Callen shrugged.

"With what?"

"I don't know. Eric stuff. Anyway, what's next?" Callen changed the subject and tried to look at the shopping list in Sam's hand.

"Chocolate," Sam read the untidy scrawl. "And the next five things are chocolate."

"Let me guess – Kensi."

"Yep," Sam nodded.

They walked back to the confectionary aisle and Callen grabbed the chocolate he'd seen her eat like her life depended on it. "This one's her favourite, isn't it?"

"I don't know," He shrugged. "Chocolate is chocolate."

"Not to Kensi's it's not," Callen reminded him. "Where to now?"

Sam checked the list and his eyes widened, "Oh she didn't."

"She didn't what?" Callen snatched the list out of his partner's hands. He squinted, trying to read the handwriting. "T-A… How the hell are we supposed to get the right ones of those?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "Why are you asking me?"

"You seem to be the shopping expert!"

"Doesn't mean I know anything about that," Sam retorted.

"Okay, next time, one of the girls goes shopping," Callen decided, nodding to himself. They walked to the aisle and stopped at the shelves of colourful packets. "Now what?"

"You pick something," Sam hissed at him.

"Why me?"

"You're closer."

"She'll kill me if I get the wrong thing,"

"She'll probably kill you if you don't get anything."

Callen had to concede his point, "True." He reached out and grabbed a large pink pack of tampons and tossed it in the trolley as fast as humanly possible.

"Pink?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Is for girls and this is a girl thing," Callen frowned. "And I'll go get the car so I'll meet you out front."

"Why do I have to wait in line?" Sam complained.

Callen thought for a moment, "I'm the senior agent."

"I'm your partner," Sam stressed the word. "We're equals."

"But some are more equal than others," Callen quoted and pulled the car keys out of his pocket and started to walk away. "That's Animal Farm, by the way." He tossed over his shoulder and didn't look back.

Sam would swear that his shoulders shook with laughter as he walked away. "I am never shopping again," The SEAL swore and slowly made his way to the already long line. "Ever again."

A/N: Yeah, I don't really like how this turned out but I'll post it anyway because otherwise I don't know when there would be an update.