Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, awesome as that would be. That honor belongs to Jonathan Larson, may he rest in peace.

Summary: Just where do you find a ten gallon plastic pickle tub? Oneshot drabblefic, Angel/Collins fluffiness! Review pleeeeaaaase!

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in the RENT fandom, as well as my first ever fluffy drabble oneshot thing. This is a random question that came to mind once when listening to La Vie Boheme, when they mention Angel's pickle tub. Constructive criticism is welcome so I can write better stories, but flamers should go find something more productive to do than bother me. Just as a note, Angel will always be referred to as 'she' in my stories. Collins/Angel FOREVAH!


Angel Dumott Schunard, in her usual drumming getup of loose jeans, a white t-shirt, and raggedy old sneakers, sat on the edge of a bench just outside the subway station near her apartment building. Her drumsticks were a blur as they beat out a complicated rhythm on the ten-gallon plastic pickle tub held between her feet, as well as the armrest of the bench and the trash can next to it. One foot raised and dropped the upside-down pickle tub in a steady rhythm to carry under the more complicated beat of the drumsticks.

She stopped momentarily as a coin clattered onto the top of the pickle tub. Flashing a quick grin to the woman who'd tossed it there, she pocketed the quarter and resumed the drumming, eyes closed and head tilted back slightly. It was starting to get darker out, but Angel didn't notice.

One pocket was almost full of coins of all types; a total of almost five dollars. It was a good haul for a couple of hours drumming.

She gasped as a pair of strong arms suddenly encircled her from behind, tensing up in shock. A deep, familiar voice murmured very close to her ear, "Hello, love."

Angel freed one arm, reached back, and tweaked her lover's ear playfully. "Don't scare me like that!" she mock-scolded, biting back a grin. His arms loosened slightly as he protested, "But it's so cold out; it is the middle of March after all, and you're out here in just a t-shirt! It looked like you could use warming up."

She slipped easily out of his loosened grip, standing up and turning to face a grinning Collins, losing her battle against the grin spreading across her own face. Stepping around the bench, she gave him a quick, but warm hug, then stepped back to grab her makeshift drum from its spot on the ground.

Flipping the tub over, she stuck her drumsticks inside and tucked it under her left arm. Her free hand took hold of Collins' and they began to walk down the single block between the subway entrance and Angel's apartment, now home to Collins as well.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, a shiver suddenly ran up Angel's spine; it was cold! Before she said anything, Collins had taken off the leather coat she'd bought for him and wrapped it lovingly around her shoulders.

"Thanks, honey." she said cheerfully, smiling at him. He just smiled back and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer as they continued to amble down the street, Angel clutching the front of the coat closed with the hand not holding the pickle tub.

Once they'd reached the for once warm apartment, Angel slipped the coat off her shoulders and hung it on a hook set nearby just for this purpose, then plunked her pickle tub down next to the door with a thud. Collins had moved ahead into the tiny living room, flicking the lights on, then waiting for her in the doorway.

Angel sidled over to him, smiling up at her much taller lover; without her customary high heels, the difference in height was even more obvious than usual. He immediately pulled her into a tight hug, accompanied by a passionate kiss that Angel returned with pleasure. When their lips finally parted, Angel pushed lightly on Collins' chest. "Come on, honey, I gotta make dinner!"

He started to say something, but was interrupted by a surprisingly loud rumble from his stomach. He laughed and let go of his love, "Okay, Angelcake. Any way I can help?" Angel smiled as she always did at his nickname for her, and shook her head. "I'll take care of it, sweetie."

She walked off into the even smaller kitchen while Collins headed for the couch in the living room to wait. After a few minutes rummaging around, Angel decided on a frozen pizza, and, five minutes later, they were both seated at the two-person table, munching on slightly crunchy cheese pizza.

Out of nowhere, Collins suddenly asked, "Where'd you get it?" Angel blinked, swallowing the pizza in her mouth before answering, "The pizza? It was in the freezer." Her lover shook his head. "No, I mean your pickle tub. Where'd you get it? I've never seen a plastic pickle tub that big before."

Angel had to think for a moment, brow furrowed in thought, then clapped her hands. "Oh! Oh, I remember! I was walking down the street a couple years ago, and there must've been a fight or something going on in one of the apartments in the building I was passing, because there was shouting and screaming, and crashes and bangs and all sorts of noises. And then, out of nowhere, this giant plastic tub comes flying out the window!"

She waved her hands around, sparkly blue nail polish glittering. "It almost conked me on the head, but it missed, and I figured they didn't want it anymore if they threw it out the window."

She sat back in her chair and looked at Collins, mood changing from excited to curious. "Where did that question come from all of a sudden?" He shrugged and smiled. "I dunno. I've always wondered, just this was the first time I thought to ask."

Angel smiled and took the last bite of her pizza, then picked up her plate and set it in the sink with the others for some other time, Collins doing the same. "I guess it's just a special pickle tub, huh?" she remarked, giggling slightly. Angel gasped in surprise for the second time in less than an hour as her lover suddenly scooped her up in his arms. She could feel the vibration of his voice through his chest as he spoke, "I know of someone else who's very special." With that, he carried her off to the bedroom, not to emerge for the rest of the night.

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