Borrowing the truck, a psych fanfic

"Well, that's great but I really need to borrow the truck."

Henry wasn't convinced. "Why?"

"I need something to track down my pet kinkachu. It escaped the other day when we distraced by this parachuter in a banana suit. Come on, it's just a quikie," Shawn said, fast as he could.

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Your pet what?"

Shawn had already crossed half the distance to the pickup.

"Keys!" he called.

Henry glared, arms crossed, which was usually a bad, things-aren't-going-to-go-very-fast, sign.

"Why don't you just tell me why you need the truck," he asked.

Shawn threw his arms in the air; "Because it's more fun to say kinkachu!"

"Of course," Henry thought, turning and walking back towards the house. It was just Shawn. Being an idiot. No surprise there. Was a simple answer that hard?

That was when Shawn realized he still didn't have the keys.

"Hey!" he called, running to catch his father before Henry got to the house.

"Come on, come on, it's important," he said, catching his father and turning to face him. "I'll trade you for mowing the lawn Saturday."

Which was a better deal than Shawn normally proffered.

"What do you need it for," asked Henry with something along the air of a martyr.

Shawn was hopping back and forth from foot to foot.

"Okay," he said. "It's a case—it's Lassie's case and we've been expressly forbidden to interfere but I think we've got a lead but I need a ride downtown and our car is in the shop."

"Right," Henry thought. What was this? Boredom-induced case-stealing. Really?

Henry shrugged. "No can do," he answered, turning to open the door.

"What? Wait!"

Shawn barged through the door.

"Why not? You can save your aging self a lawn-job. And…"

"And what?" Henry cut him off. "And you need to steal Lassiter's case?"

"Which would be a problem, why?" Shawn asked, ancy.

Henry shrugged. "Get a job," he said, tromping off further into the house.

This was ridiculous and completely unfair.

"I'm doing a job—or would be if you'd just get the keys!" Shawn called irritated.

"You know what?" Henry asked, walking back in. "You wouldn't need to be case-stealing if you were on the force."

Shawn paused a minute, slightly stung. Right, great, bring that up. Not fair. I mean, sure it was what Henry'd wanted, expected. But it hadn't happened and maybe after six years he could just drop it.

Henry went on walking around and putting things up for no particular reason. Shawn never changed, same old irresponsible, irreverent, lazy, Shawn. If he wanted the cases so bad he could have just stuck with it, become a cop. Obviously he would be capable if he actually ever sat down to it. Which he wouldn't.

"Well, I'm not on the force. So I need the truck," Shawn decided on, lamely, uncomfortable with the quiet tension.

Henry, facing the opposite way, closed his eyes. No, nothing ever changed. And he always gave eventually. But he decided to skip over that thought.

"Mow the lawn and wash the truck when you get back," he said.

"Wha-that's extortion!" Shawn yelled.

Henry turned and crossed his arms.

"Deal or no deal," he said.

Hmm, stay hear and argue with this kind of oppressive atmosphere, or get on the case, maybe bump Lassie off, and hope his dad would forget his end of the deal before Saturday.

"Deal!" Shawn said.

"Great, I want that pickup shining like you've never seen it," Henry said, tossing Shawn the keys.

Shawn caught them, jumped, and ran for the door, mind already back on the case and racing.

"Great!" he called.

"Yeah," Henry thought. "Just great."

This is what happens when I listen to I Saw and I Am Who I Am five hundred times in one hour and had the Psych season finale air on Friday. It's blah random drabbling. But It Is What It Is.