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Ficlet: "The Right Fit"

Title: The Right Fit
Word Count: 723
Fandom: Joan of Arcadia
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Gen - Joan, God
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Joan of Arcadia universe. Barbara Hall in all her genius get's that honor.
Summary:



The Right Fit


Joan mumbled under her breath as she fought with an armload of socks, trying to fit them on a peg in the display kiosk. "Work in a shoe store, he says." The little plastic hooks were slippery, so they kept falling off. Joan curled her lip and gritted her teeth. "Sometimes people need a little help finding the right fit, he says." She growled in frustration.

She was glad it was almost time for lunch. She was hungry, and she was looking forward to spending some time with Adam. He'd been working so much lately--she barely saw him.

She'd just gotten the last of the socks on the peg when four or five pairs from the back fell to the floor with a soft flump. She curled her lip and said, "Slippery little suckers," before sighing and putting them back, steadying them with her hand for a second before leaving the area quickly.

A customer walked up to her holding a pair of really expensive, spacey looking sneakers. He was a spoiled looking kid, probably twelve or thirteen, all elbows and knobby knees hidden under clothes that were much too baggy. She could hear the tinny thumping of a hip-hop bass as it came through the white iPod earbud chord draped around his neck.

"'Scuse me," he said. "Do you have these in a six?"

Joan smiled at him tightly. "Let me check." A quick trip to the back room, and she found the shoes. She brought them out to the kid, who was sitting down now. He hadn't taken his shoes off, and Joan rolled her eyes as she sat down on her little stool below him and set the box down. She hated this part.

She took off his shoe and held her breath as a fresh wave of Junior High Boy Feet Smell wafted under her nose, trying not to gag. This is pointless, she thought.

The kid looked down at her as she took off the next shoe. "Don't be so sure about that, Joan," he said.

Joan huffed and dropped his foot. "God. Your feet smell," she said matter-of-factly, looking up at him. "What? The Master of the Universe can't use some sort of foot power? I mean, really." She scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue.

"You're doing a good job here, Joan. You've done exactly as I asked. What's wrong with doing a good job?"

"Yes, but what is the point of this job? It's disgusting! Having to deal with people's smelly feet all day? What good does that do anybody?"

God put the shoes on his feet and said, "Did you know that the human foot is a highly specialized structure containing 26 relatively small bones, more than 150 ligaments and an intricate network of muscles, nerves and blood vessels?"

He tied the new shoes and stood up, testing his weight in the sneakers. "Pretty complicated. It's one of my better constructs, I think. Good support and foundation to keep my work functioning at its best is important. Here, you are helping people to do just that. That's nothing to turn your nose up at."

Joan rolled her eyes. "You're never going to tell me what you want, are you?"

God sat down and put the old shoes in the box. "I'll take them," He said, and he handed the box to Joan.

"God buys shoes," Joan said as she rang up the sale, and as she watched the kid leave the store wearing the new shoes, she could see Adam through the glass, talking to Ryan. Adam didn't notice when the kid walked by, and Ryan glared at him. Adam didn't notice that the kid stared right back. Adam only smiled when Ryan shook his hand and cuffed him on the arm and they parted ways.

Why couldn't Adam see that that guy was just... ooky? She shuddered at the thought of him. She really wished Adam would find another job. There had to be something out there that would be better, something that wasn't ooky, something that was.. a better fit. Joan let a small smile creep across her face as it hit her.

The door chime jingled when Adam came in. "Hey, Jane. Ready for lunch?"

Joan smiled brightly at him. "Yeah. I'm starving. Let's go."

*fin*
Tags: ficlet, gen, joan of arcadia
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