I don't own Psych
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"Now isn't the time for this Gus!"
"Oh? And when do you suggest the time would be Shawn? Fifty years from now when we're both stuck in an old age home and gumming our jell-o meals down?"
"That sounds like the perfect time to me."
"Shawn."
Shawn cringed inwardly at the menacing tone of his best friend's voice. Not only because of the venom that was directed towards him, but also because the sharp tone hitched above the safety of the whisper they'd decided was the only safe level for speaking.
"Gus, later."
He hissed back, his eyes watching as the door below them opened, their enemy entering the room.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
Shawn bit back a retort, knowing full well that when he was hanging from rafters feet above his opponent's head he shouldn't be picking arguments with his best friend. The two men held their breath as the balding man below them paced the length of the room twice before turning and exiting the way he came. The second the door closed, Gus' glare was turned back on the side of his head.
"Can we get down from the ceiling now?"
"Not yet."
Shawn's highly trained eye focused on the light coming from under the door frame. Based on the shadows someone was standing guard just outside the door.
"My arms hurt, I'm getting down."
"Gus!"
He almost lost his grip on the wood beam holding him up as Gus dropped down to the ground, his landing kicking up a bit of the sawdust left from the last garage carpentry session.
"Shawn, get down. Or I'm going to go and tell everyone where you are."
He stuck his tongue out in response as Gus picked up a two by four and started poking at his legs.
"You can't make me Gus!"
"I can too! Now get down!"
He lost the meager hold he had been maintaining with his feet once Gus got his weapon. He soon found himself dropping down into the lightly dust covered floor. Standing, he brushed himself off.
"Alright, you got me down."
He shied away from the hunk of wood as Gus brought it up to be used like a bat.
"Hey! Watch it!"
Reaching out Shawn was able to get a hold on the board. Although his grip was meager, he quickly tightened it as he and Gus began a game of Tug of War.
"Give me!"
"Le' go!"
The large hunk of wood was suddenly no longer in Shawn's grasp. He watched as the building material flew from his hands, his friend's hands and right through the garage window.
He dropped to his knees and rolled under the work bench in the amount of time it took for the man standing outside the door to whirl around and open the door into the garage. Gus wasn't as fast.
"Gus?"
"Mr. Spencer…"
Shawn could hear his father's footsteps as he moved into the garage towards Gus. There was a whiney creaking noise as his only means of escape sealed itself shut.
"Where's Shawn?"
"Under your work bench."
"Gus!"
He sighed, kicking the leg of the work bench in aggravation at the way his supposed "best" friend just sold him out.
He could hear his father circling around towards him and with another sigh of defeat he rolled out from under the table, slowly climbing back up to his feet in time to come face to face with his personal lecturer.
"What the hell did you do to that suit Shawn?"
He blinked as his father started beating the sawdust off his jacket. Did the man not hear the window break? He coughed as the flying dust found its way towards his nostrils and open mouth.
"I take all this time to put this thing together, and this is the thanks I get?"
He tried to still the batting hands of his father, but the man just swatted his hands out of the way. It was creepy the way he was trying to get ride of the dust. Shawn half expected him to lick his palm and start "bathing" him like an animal cub would be bathed by its mother.
Out of the corner of his eye Shawn watched Gus sneak towards the door. Traitor.
"There are people out there looking for you Shawn. People who are here to support you. And what are you doing? Playing with Gus in the garage as if you two were still seven years old."
Shawn's eyes widened as his father's lips parted. No! Not the- The thumb went in, thoroughly coated with his father's weakly fish scented saliva before popping back out. He ducked to the side, but his father's other hand was there to stop his movements. The side of his face was caught in the free hand, the tight grip holding it immobile.
His father's tongue stuck out of his mouth slightly, seemingly as a quick way to replenish the offending digit that was now making its way towards his cheek. Shawn was convinced he stuck it out after as a way to taunt him; and no amount of debating would ever convince him otherwise.
The slimy thumb finally found its mark high on Shawn's jaw line. He could hear Gus chortle as he snuck back to the party as his face was forced to make friends with his father's spit. He winced as rubbing on the side of his face moved up and down with enough velocity to part his check with more than half its skin cells.
"Dad!"
The protest fell on deaf ears as the man continued to rub vigorously.
"You wanted me to be a part of this didn't you? And the second I involve myself you're off hiding in my garage! I brought all these people together, all this food. I even hired that girl!"
The girl his father was referring to was not in fact a stripper, as any self respecting bachelor party would have involved, but a mime. Not even a good mime at that, unless instead of a box she was supposed to be trapped in a container with very jagged edges and moving parts.
He wasn't sure why his father had wanted to throw him a bachelor party, but he knew allowing it had been a mistake. The man hadn't even invited any of Shawn's friends besides Gus. Instead the place was filled with a bunch of his dad's cop buddies. He was going to have to talk to Gus about his real bachelor party after he got away.
He whimpered as his father's thumb returned to his mouth, rewetting itself for a second round of face abrasion.
"Dad! I'm not seven!"
The man did not relent from the attack on his face and Shawn was pretty sure that his cheek was rapidly matching the hue of anger spread across his father's face.
"If you aren't seven Shawn, then why are you rolling around in the garage and breaking windows like you used to do back in elementary school?"
"That was Gus!"
"Oh, sure it was."
The rubbing on his cheek finally stopped and his father grasped either side of his head in one hand. Shawn's line of sight was suddenly severally limited and he found himself locking eyes with his father.
"Kid, I know I've been telling you this practically since day one, but grow up." The change in Henry's tone made Shawn furrow his brow as his father went on. "You're getting married next week kid. This isn't something you can just up and run away from whenever it gets rough. This is a lifetime commitment…Maybe I didn't provide you with the best example…"
Shawn blinked; was his father about to cry? He started to open his mouth but instead of using it, his jaw suddenly became slack as his father brought their foreheads together in the most awkward "man hug" he had ever shared with the man.
"I don't want you to fail where I did."
Bringing his hands up to his father's shoulders he pulled their heads apart. Again he locked his gaze with his dad. There was a little extra moisture to the look of his father's eyes which caused Shawn to wonder about the strength of the damn. But realizing the concern imbedded in his father's statement, Shawn dropped his usually playful demeanor.
"I won't Dad."