Chris / any or none

[ephemera-pop.livejournal.com]

How about something in which it is relevent that Chris can wear women's sized shoes?

Um - I should probably point out that I have foot squick, so no foot-fetish sex stuff please ...

Comments

[nopseud]

See, I bet you're scared right now. But I read the second part of the request, I promise!

***

The bitter smell of burnt plastic still hung in the air of the basement laundry room. At least, Chris thought, the dryer hadn't actually caught fire.

"It wasn't my fault," Chris said. "I just washed them and put them in to dry. That's all I did."

"Well, I guess maybe no one had cleaned out the lint trap for a while." His mom was holding Chris's wrecked pair of sneakers. She flexed the half-melted soles, like there was some way she could fix them for him. "Don't worry -- you needed a new pair anyway. I get paid next Friday."

"Mom." Chris was trying not to whine, but he could hear it creeping into his voice. "That's just no -- I needed them for gym class this week."

The gym class where if he hadn't been so embarrassed by how shitty his sneakers were in the first place, they wouldn't be trashed now. This was, like, pride coming before a fall. Or envy, or covetousness, or whichever sin it was meant you didn't want people pointing at you and laughing behind your back.

"You can wear mine," his mom said suddenly. "We're about the same size."

"Mom!" His voice cracked, and Chris cleared his throat. "They're ladies'!"

"Chris, they're sneakers, not ballet shoes. No one will notice -- no one will even be able to tell." His mom toed off her sneakers and handed them over. "Here, try them out."

Chris sat down on the laundry room floor and pulled on the shoes, yanking at the laces, half hoping they wouldn't fit. Not that he wanted to walk into gym class on Tuesday and have to say in front of everyone that he'd wrecked his only pair of sneakers and he wouldn't be getting any more until payday. But his mom was wrong. Someone would notice. Someone always did.

When he stood up, the sneakers were only a little bit tight, and he wiggled his toes and sighed.

"No good?" his mom asked, and Chris looked up quickly and forced a smile.

"They're great, mom. Perfect. Good idea -- thanks."

"It's just until next week," she said.

Unless some other crisis happened before then, something more important than shoes.

"I know, mom. It's cool, don't worry about it." Chris took the burned sneakers from her and tossed them in the trash -- over and done with, forgotten. He put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, I learned my lesson."

She patted his hand and smiled, and he could hear the relief in her voice. "And what lesson's that, then?"

"In future? I need to leave the laundry to you."

***

[ephemera-pop.livejournal.com]

*squeee*

Oh that's just absolutely perfectly the thing I didn't know I wanted, if that makes sense. It's just so *right*. Thank you!!

[vaudevilles.livejournal.com]

So totally lovely. And that last line just nails Chris' ability to laugh his way through the crap.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

That was so lovely.

Touching with that hint of aching.

[pensnest]

That captures so much - not just how tough Chris's life was, but also what a pest he must have been as a kid, and how loveable.