Long Forgotten Memories
By Lady Firniswin
Rating: K
Genre: Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Family
Characters: Shawn and Henry Spencer
Disclaimer: I don't own Shawn or Henry or any of the Psych characters or the show, for that matter.
A/N: Just a one-shot for ShawnLover. It was a quickie and there isn't anything real exciting about it. But I got the idea and I had to write it. BTW- just had to saw that I didn't even watch the season finale till last night and oh my goodness- lol. Reminded me of "Double Jeopardy"! Haha! Anyway, blessings and enjoy!
"Shawn, I want you straight on the couch, got it!"
Henry sighed as he let his son into the house, allowing him to go in first. Shawn hobbled in on his crutches, grunting as the movement stretched his still healing body.
Henry hadn't been sure this arrangement was the best idea. His son hadn't lived with him in quite some time and it wasn't the most comfortable thing for him as a father to watch the young man in so much pain.
It had been two weeks since they'd rescued the man and though the doctor had deemed him fit to go home, he was still mending and Henry wasn't sure he wanted to see him like this. It wasn't comfortable.
"Ok, sit your butt down. I'll make us some lunch."
"Got it." Shawn grunted, his voice still hoarse, limping to the couch. Once he reached it, Henry watched silently as he sat himself down, his face screwing up in pain. He moved his leg up so it could lay across the couch in a more comfortable fashion. All in all, Shawn seemed comfortable, but of course, there was some pain that Henry could only give so much medication for.
Leaving the boy to figure out the TV, Henry moved to the kitchen, not quite sure what to make his son. It'd been a while since Shawn had even been over for dinner and he had not the slightest idea of what to make a young man who'd just been kidnapped, shot a couple times, and made to wear a no-bark dog collar! It was a wonder his kid wasn't in a psychiatric ward.
"Shawn, I'm making soup, alright?"
"Yeah-" the young man coughed. "W-whatever, Dad."
It was plain to the ear that Shawn wasn't happy to be back in his father's house, no more happy than Henry was to have him there. Oh well, it didn't matter. Shawn would be here till he was well enough to care for himself, and in his current condition, that could be some time.
Henry could remember a time quite different from now. A time when Shawn had been so much younger, a time when they had been alone for the first time.
"Dad?" A young voice called from the front room and Henry turned, making his way to towards the young boy's cry. "Dad?! Mom?!"
Henry entered the room to see his son, laying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. His small forehead was beaded with sweat and his cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch.
The man brushed his finger's over the boy's head, sighing as he felt the heat there.
"Dad?" the boy cried again. "Mom?"
"Shhhh." Henry sat down on the edge of the couch, wrapping his strong arms around the child as best he could and holding his warm body close to his own. "Shhhh. I'm here. It's ok."
"Where's mom?"
Henry gulped down the hurt and licked his lips, leaning his head on top of Shawn's burning one.
"She's not here." his whisper was cold.
Shawn coughed hard, sending his small body rattling underneath all his blankets. Henry listened with pain in his heart as his only son whimpered.
"Dad, it hurts."
"I know. I know. Just stay awake for me, ok. I'll get you some soup."
The boy smiled and for the first time in a week, Henry could see Shawn beneath the fever and the sickness.
"I like your soup." he whispered softly, closing his eyes.
Henry laid him back gently, careful not to drop his frail, thin body.
Raising himself up, Henry went to grab the soup, but by the time he returned, the boy was sleeping peacefully. Not daring to wake him, Henry sat on the couch and ever so gently held his son's head on his lap, humming to him softly as the rain outside pelted the house.
As Henry entered the front room, he saw Shawn had fallen asleep. His head was lolled back and his mouth was open. His arm had fallen off the couch and the blanket he had found was sliding to the floor.
Carefully, Henry set the soup down and walked to the young man.
Gently, he moved the man's arm to his chest and made sure that the blanket covered him well enough.
Standing back, Henry smiled, reminded of those times long ago.
Sure, Shawn wasn't a kid anymore- well, actually- the verdict was still out on that, but he would always be Henry's son.
He wanted nothing more than to go to the kid and sit like he had all those years ago, with Shawn's head in his lap, stroking his coarse hair soothingly. But, he knew better. If he did that, he'd never hear the end of it.
Leaving the soup and a cup of water on the coffee table, he turned out every light except one and quietly made his way to the stairs. Before he went up to his room, he took another look at Shawn.
He was still sleeping, silent as he'd ever be, and drugged to the high heavens- who knew if he even knew where he was. But one thing was certain, Henry would make sure that- even when he couldn't stand the kid and his impulsive, idiotic, crazy behavior- he'd feel loved.
THE END