Title: Shoes
Rating: K
Summary: He was always a master of understatement. (Post-ep for "Helping Hands")
Disclaimer: Don't own him- I mean, um, the show...
Author's Note: Sometimes plot bunnies must be followed. Sometimes, for the safety of humanity, they shouldn't. This is one that was probably better left alone. So, what's my excuse? The spineless shipper in me couldn't resist.
Alan Shore had never gotten a pedicure, but after the Chinese wall came down, he needed one. His feet had never been in such extraordinary pain.
He was exceptionally pleased with himself. He had been sure to wear nice shoes every day.
Every. Single. Day.
It had cost him an obscene amount of money, and a great deal of discomfort, but it was worth it.
He had watched, out of the corner of his eye, whenever they passed each other in the hall. He had always found an excuse to stop- checking his watch, throwing something away (he had thrown away a number of very important papers, but that had been worth it). She had indeed looked only at his shoes. She didn't speak to him. But when she looked at his shoes- oh! The expression on her face! Embarrassing, really, that he cared so much.
He had purchased a new pair every day. Prada, Armani, Yves St. Laurent, Gucci… He had been tempted to purchase a second pair from St. Laurent, they were awfully comfortable, but he thought such repetitiveness would have been akin to slacking on his part. That, and somehow, "Gucci" sounded like her. He would get her a pair, with ridiculously high heels. Eventually. When was her birthday?
He had promised to wear nice shoes, and he had.
And he thought that sore feet and odd looks in the salon (not, of course, thathe cared what anyone thought of him)were worth it.
After all, Melissa had a wonderful smile.
FIN
Oh, my God, what's that? Is it- can it be... A button just itching to be pressed? Why, yes. I do believe it is!