I don't own Psych.
Total randomness because hey, it was Halloween. Why not?
This has hints(and by hints I mean giant ass sinkholes) of Shawn/Lassiter romance in the making.
… .. … … .. . .. … … .. …
"I can not thank you enough Mr. Spencer." An elderly woman smiled serenely at him, in a very creepy manner, her voice thick with an old accent. "You have done well by me."
"It's nothing." Shawn placed his hand to this temple, smiling.
She wrapped one boney, wrinkled arm around the young boy to her side. He was wide-eyed, sandy hair long but kept. The bangles on her wrist jangled as they struck against the necklace the boy wore. Gus shifted awkwardly, bowing his head every so slightly.
"It was our pleasure ma'am" He straightened. "But we should be going now."
"Of course."
"Call us again if you ever have need for the spirits." Shawn told her diplomatically, turning up the charm.
She offered her free hand, which he accepted to shake, but she didn't withdraw it afterwards. "You are an exceptional detective, for one who is not psychic."
Shawn jerked back, but the grip she had on his hand was firm. "What? Don't be silly I'm-"
"An exceptional grifter." She told him, smiling warmly still. "Except you do not use your skills to harm. Not all of the people in my profession are truly fortune tellers, Mr. Spencer. I recognize the skill set when I see it. I thank you all the same for finding my grandson."
Shawn flushed a little, but stopped straining to get away. "Uh…Your welcome."
"I would like to give you a gift, Mr. Spencer." She released his hand, placing both of them on her grandson's shoulders. "Would you accept it?"
"Oh we couldn't." Gus insisted quickly.
"I think we can." Shawn disagreed, tilting his head to the side.
"Uh…one moment." Gus told her, dragging on Shawn's shoulder to lead him off a distance. "No. Shawn. This lady is creepy."
"Oh come on Gus, don't be that thing stuck to the bottom of my shoe. She's a nice, old, slightly cooky lady. I'm sure she just wants to give us some cookies or something. You can't say no to grandma's cookies."
"You know that."
"So quit worrying."
Gus hummed and hawed a bit, scowling. "Fine."
They turned around in unison, smiling broadly at her. Shawn took a step closer. "We would be honored. But tell me, will there be cookies involved?"
She tittered softly at him. "No Mr. Spencer. There will be no cookies."
"Not even one?"
"No."
Shawn saw the glare Gus was giving him, but ignored it. "Well okay."
Her grandson extended his hands to Shawn who, hesitantly, reached back. The boy clasped his hands smiling up at him. Gus shuffled, scooting back with suspicion.
"You are not a psychic." She told him. "But I can give you one night."
"Wait, what?" Shawn frowned, glancing back at Gus. "What do you mean you can give me one night?"
"Tomorrow is the day the veil is lifted. For just tomorrow, until midnight, when the spirits return to their restful pattern, you will be as you claim. I give you the gift of sight Mr. Spencer, use it well." She remained sweet the entire time, her voice warm and hazy.
"What-" Shawn's voice choked out to a stop as a wave of vertigo washed over him.
He hit his knees woozily, staring into the surprisingly golden eyes of the little boy in front of him. Gus made an aborted motion forward, but wasn't entirely sure what to do to interfere. Shawn's vision swam and he looked beseechingly up at the old lady, trying to remember when either of them could have slipped him some drug. He came up completely short. The old lady took a step back, drawing her grandson with her and allowing Shawn to fall face first on the ground.
"Unf." He groaned, trying to push himself up.
Gus scurried forward, helping Shawn up and glaring at the old lady. "What did you just do?"
"He's been gifted with the sight." She told him. "Good bye."
She turned to leave and Gus made to stand. Shawn gripped his shoulder tightly, babbling incoherently about getting out of there and a hospital. Disgruntled, but concerned, he let her leave, getting Shawn to his car.
… .. .
"As far as I can tell, there is nothing wrong with him." The doctor told them seriously.
"Nothing?" Gus asked skeptically.
"Nothing." The doctor confirmed. "Well…you do have awful cholesterol. Seriously, what do you eat? Deep-fried butter?"
"I told you that was a bad idea Shawn."
"It is a staple of traditional fair food Gus. Like deep-fried Oreos, or Twinkies, or falafels."
Gus tilted his head to the side, making a whining sound in thought. "Fair enough."
"My point." The doctor interrupted. "Is that you appear to be fine. I couldn't find any drugs in your system, or any reason for you to be feeling woozy. You said you aren't still experiencing the symptoms?"
"Yeah." Shawn frowned, rubbing at his thighs nervously.
"Well, as far as I can tell, you'll be alright." The man shrugged.
Shawn was very silent as they left, rubbing his hands absentmindedly on his jeans. Gus kept glancing worriedly at him as they headed to the psych office. As far as days go, this was not one of their oddest. Shawn was not taking it well though. Shawn. Who usually rolled with everything with a goofy smile and managed to get on someone's nerves. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was eating Shawn.
"Do you want to go to the police department?"
"Maybe tomorrow." Shawn mumbled, staring out the window.
… .. .
Shawn growled, rubbing his temple when no one was looking. He couldn't seem to focus on the crime scene at all. Strange things kept drawing his attention all morning. He found himself staring at photos that had absolutely no relevance, chasing the neighbor's dog, and repeatedly walking into the low coffee table. About the fifth time he did it, he did knock something loose. It was a pouch of drugs. Suddenly police dogs were sniffing through the place and everyone was congratulating the spirits on leading him to the clue. His shin hurt.
He was standing outside of the house, glaring petulantly at the crime tape, which Lassiter had shoved him on the other side of. Gus was being allowed to wander around in the front lawn, but all because he had 'stolen' the neighbor's dog temporarily he had to stay outside. He would give it another minute before going back in.
To his side, a little girl with red pigtails came to stand, staring at the house. Shawn glanced down at her, immediately taking notice of the daisy patterned sundress and large white sunhat. She placed her hand on the hat, holding it in place as she tilted her head to look at him. She stared for a moment, brown eyes piercing, before ducking forward under the tape. Shawn yelped.
"Hey! You can't go in there!" He ducked after her as several people swiveled to look at him.
Hand still on her hat, she ran into the house. Shawn darted after her, reaching out to grab her wrist. He missed as she darted around the corner.
"Hey! Stop!" Shawn yelled, wondering distinctly why no one else was trying to stop her.
They were following him, so why didn't someone reach out and grab her? Gus was giving him the weirdest look. She rounded another corner and Shawn followed, slamming into Lassiter's chest. Lassiter snapped his hands up to grab Shawn's biceps, glaring at him.
"What the hell are you doing Spencer?"
"She…Why didn't you stop her?" Shawn almost snapped, wrenching himself free and looking for the little girl.
"Stop who Spencer?" Lassiter glanced back at the room behind him.
"The…girl…" Shawn frowned, walking into the very empty, only-one-way-out room. "What…"
"Shawn…" Juliet called from the door of the bedroom. "There's no girl. You've been running through the house screaming."
"There was…" Shawn trailed off, finally taking in the room.
It was a bed room, for a little girl. The bed had a pink canopy, white comforter and yellow sheets. The carpet was green, the walls a light blue. Representations of ladybugs, butterflies, caterpillars, and other such bugs littered the walls and furniture. The room looked immaculate.
No.
Not immaculate.
Shawn frowned. There was an odd drag in the carpet where something had been moved out through the door. One of the bugs wasn't properly oriented, the slightest hint of it being knocked out of place by the faded paint outlining where it should have been. He turned to the bed, and knelt down. Big brown eyes gazed up soulfully at him, something cradled to her chest. Shawn gulped, brow furrowing immediately as his heart stuck in his throat.
It couldn't be. Because he didn't believe in the supernatural and she…
"She was only ten." Shawn whispered, reaching his hand under the bed.
The girl handed her possession to him, smiling softly. He looked down at the picture frame in his hand, already knowing what he would see. It was cracked, pieces of glass falling out from the force of being knocked to the floor and kicked under the bed in the struggle. Big brown eyes stared up from under a white sunhat, one hand holding it on as the other twirled her new sundress. Her father, the man who's body they found, was in the background, waving to the picture taker.
"Shawn…" Gus frowned, looking at the picture over his friend's shoulder. "What…happened?"
"Her mother is the drug connection. They came in…he told her to hide in her room. He always knew she was in trouble…but not this." Shawn never lifted his eyes from the photo. "She heard the shot, but she didn't leave her room. She was sitting under her bed, holding this photo. They-" Shawn's voice cracked. "They came in here and tried to drag her out, the glass cracked in the struggle. They dragged her out of the room by her hair…Where ever they have her body…we should find it."
"Body?" Juliet asked softly. "She could still be alive Shawn."
"No…because I couldn't see her if she was." He handed the frame to Lassiter, who took it solemnly, and left the room.
Gus trailed behind hotly, dragging him off to the side to speak. "What just happened in there Shawn?"
"I…I think that woman yesterday was serious." Shawn admitted. "I think I'm psychic."
"Shawn, you…" Gus glanced hurriedly around, leaning closer and dropping his voice lower. "You aren't psychic. I don't know what happened back there, with the running around, but if this is some joke knock it off."
"I'm not joking."
"I'm worried, Shawn. First dizziness, then hallucinations? That woman may have drugged you and we have no way of knowing with what. Just because the doctor didn't find anything unusual doesn't mean there isn't something there." Gus watched as Shawn opened his mouth to respond and raised his hand to silence him. "Shawn. Don't argue. What would you think, if I came in here telling you I saw the ghost of a little girl who was killed in a drug smuggling issue?"
"That you were Whoopi Goldberg?" Shawn shrugged. "And somehow the fake powers you were claiming to have became very real."
"Shawn, tell me one thing you wouldn't know without being psychic." Gus demanded, arms folded over his chest.
"Dude. I can't do it on command. I'm not some trained porcupine." Shawn huffed. "I…fine. Let me try to read your mind."
"Nuh uh Shawn. You know me too well." Gus scowled. "Try that new guy, Reynolds."
"Seriously Gus." Shawn whined. "He probably doesn't want me touching him again. Not after the groping incident."
"Which one?"
"Okay you know that second time was completely on accident." Shawn hissed. "Not Reynolds."
"Well not Buzz either."
"Jules?"
"No Shawn."
"Lassie?"
"Why are you talking about me?" Lassiter asked, having come into ear shot.
Shawn and Gus promptly screamed. After a few seconds of silently staring at them, Lassiter made a face of disgust. Shawn and Gus exchanged glances, elbowing each other a few times and whispering in argument. Finally, they did rock paper scissors, with Shawn going to make some strange hand sign and having his hand slapped down.
Sighing, Shawn turned to Lassie and grinned. "Gus wants me to read your mind. I suspect he has no idea what to get you for your birthday. After all you threw that snow globe at me last year."
For a moment, Lassiter shuddered. "Keep your hands to yourself."
"But it would make finding the perfect snow globe-"
"I don't want a snow globe!" Lassiter snapped, earning a few small looks from surrounding officers.
Shawn chuckled and reached up to place his hand on Lassiter's head. He was just as surprised as the other two men as he, rather involuntarily and with an odd jerk, dragged his fingers through his hair, hand falling to the nape of his neck and gripping gently. Always a consummate professional, he didn't let his surprise show, even as he jerked Lassiter down towards him and smacked their foreheads together with a resounding thunk. He rather suspected Lassie was too surprised to stop him.
Shawn hummed like he hadn't just done that. "Think of what you want."
You. "Let go." Now.
Shawn furrowed his brow, which actually felt weird with his forehead pressed against the other man's. He wasn't sure, for a second, if he was imagining things. But…no, that had definitely happened. As for the meaning, it seemed rather obvious, if a bit jumbled. Shawn huffed, and immediately noticed the awkward way their breath was heating the air between them.
"Come on Lassie, throw me a bone here. I can't read your mind if I'm not touching you."
"That's the idea." Can't read minds. Lassiter growled ineffectually. Idiot.
"I'll have you know I'm not an idiot." Shawn insisted. "And don't be a doubter Lassie."
"You can't read minds." Never could. "You aren't fooling anyone." Would already know…
"What would I already know?" Shawn asked lightly.
Lassiter jerked back a second, growling. "You aren't funny Spencer."
Shawn tugged him back down, and was seriously beginning to suspect something other than surprise working in his favor here. "Fine. Fine. One last question. What do you think of me?" As soon as he asked it, he couldn't imagine wanting to know the answer.
Lassiter answered immediately. "You-weird "are" affection- a" so long "menace-stupid" "Spencer."
Shawn blinked rapidly. "Uh…I didn't quite catch that…"
"You are a menace Spencer." Lassiter said more slowly. I've have this weird affection so long…stupid.
Shawn gulped, yanking himself back like he'd just been burned, cheeks bright red. "Uh…right. S-sorry."
He scrambled out of the crime scene with Gus following close behind, leaving an annoyed and frustrated head detective and several curious officers behind. It wasn't until he was in the relative safety of the blueberry that he allowed himself to rest his face in his hands, taking deep, completely unhelpful breaths.
"What happen back there Shawn?"
"Lassiehasacrushonme." Shawn blurted out, flushed.
"Excuse me?"
"He…he was thinking about this 'weird affection' he has for me." Shawn made sure to use air quotes with one hand, the other remaining over his eyes.
Gus watched him a moment before sighing and putting the car in drive. "So now what? Psych office or tickets to Vegas?"
Shawn peered up at him through his fingers. "You believe me."
"Of course I believe you, Shawn. You've pulled some awful pranks on me, but nothing this important. And it was kind of obvious something freaked you out back there." Gus shrugged, gazing plaintively out the front window. "This actually makes the most sense right now."
Shawn gaped at him a moment. "How cool is our life?"
"Mmhm." Gus hummed cheerily.
… .. .
Maybe the police department hadn't been the best idea, Shawn thought, as he cowered under the chief's desk. She was giving him a look somewhere between sympathetic and annoyed. The things he was seeing…and not just the usual Halloween crowed. It was a complete overload, making him less useful than usual. He started spurting out details almost immediately, bombarded with voices, people who weren't there, images. Oddly enough, the chief's office was free of them, so he sat in there under the desk while Gus went to get a pineapple smoothie to help calm him down.
"Mr. Spencer. I understand you're having a problem. You can't stay under my desk though."
Shawn whined, tucking in closer. "But I can see them in force today."
She sighed, standing back up and exiting into the bullpen. Shawn didn't watch her go, because he'd been seeing officers walk through people all day. Now he knew why the station always had a stilted, strange feel to it. Or maybe word had gotten out that he could see them now for real so they were flocking? He'd have loved to help them all, but the influx was too much.
"Shawn. Get up." Henry's voice broke though his thoughts.
Apparently he had been fetched. "Dad please. Don't make me go back out there."
"Shawn, what's wrong?" Juliet. They were pulling out the big guns.
"I…" He choked on his words a second as he heard the door open again and the faint sound of Gus and Lassiter speaking caught his ears. "Too much. I'm seeing too much."
"What do you mean you're seeing too much?" Henry asked in exasperation.
"He was cursed by a gypsy." Gus offered.
"I was not cursed!" Shawn exclaimed loudly, followed promptly by a bonk sound as he struck the desk with his head moving too fast. "She…she said it was a gift."
"What are you talking about, Mr. Spencer?" Vick tapped her shoe impatiently.
"I did a job yesterday for this little old lady, real fortune teller type." Shawn said like it explained everything. "She was so grateful she did something to amplify my psychic powers. Now…now I can't…control it."
"Shawn this is ridiculous you're not-" Henry paused, glancing at the others in the room. "You're not serious, are you?"
"Uh hu. Ask Gus."
Gus shrugged. "Took him to the doctor and everything. He isn't drugged, just…psychic."
"While that is fine and all Mr. Spencer, I need you out from under my desk."
"But I-"
"Shawn." Juliet crouched down in front of the desk, looking him in the eyes. "Come on out, we can get you somewhere nice that doesn't have a lot of spirits."
Shawn whimpered again, but bravely crawled out from under the desk. Non-corporeal people were still milling about the bullpen. He considered briefly hiding again, but shook his head, clearing himself. Everyone he had thought he heard was there, including Lassiter. He felt his face heat up and glanced down at his shoes.
"I…uh, do you think I could get an escort out of the building?"
"Come on Spencer." Lassiter growled, heading out the door.
Juliet placed a comforting hand on his elbow and he followed Gus out after Lassie. He was hit immediately with the strange looks of the officers and the piercing looks of the ghosts. He shuddered once and fell into step with Lassiter, Jules flanking his other side and Gus sipping on his smoothie behind him. He knew for a fact that his father was still watching him, as was the chief.
One particularly angry, bold ghost started towards him. Shawn knew he was a ghost, because there was a chunk of his head missing. He was dressed in prison clothes, handcuffs around his wrists. Shawn's eyes widened and he backed away, straight into Lassiter, who grab him on instinct.
"You." The gravely, indirect voice boomed directly in his head. "Tell them. Tell them I'm sorry. I can't go until they know."
Shawn clutched his head against the sound, doubling over. The ghost gripped the front of his shirt, without actually doing so, eye drilling into Shawn's. He could barely hear the concerned voices over the sound in his head.
"You have to tell them. My name is Raymond Burhart. You have to tell them I'm sorry." The ghost wailed.
The other specters were watching sympathetically, but gave Shawn a wide berth. It was all he could do to keep from crumpling completely into Lassie's arms or fainting from the pressure. He gritted his teeth though, and jerked himself up straight, whole body protesting the removal from its defensive position.
"R-Raymond Burh-hart?" Shawn stuttered and the ghost nodded enthusiastically. He snarled at the man. "Why should I help you?"
The precinct had gone very quiet at the man's name. The fact that Shawn was speaking to someone was, well, not unusual, but never so direct, so a spectacle in its own. The ghost had reared back in surprise, and looked ready to bawl.
"I-I-I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was high and I didn't-I-it was no excuse. But now I know! I know now! What I did was wrong! If I had lived…I wouldn't…I…" The man broke down in sobs and Shawn's eyes softened.
"You really are sorry, aren't you?" Shawn whispered.
"So sorry." The man insisted.
"Shawn…" Jules returned her hand to his elbow, worry etched on her features.
"Who?" Shawn asked him, ignoring her. "Who do I need to tell?"
"Them." Raymond nodded to the police around appreciatively. "I just needed them to know."
Shawn nodded tiredly, a weird, fuzzy exhaustion setting in. Apparently being psychic was a lot of work. The ghost shook his hand, and it was like ice water was dumped on him. He jolted, lurching forward through the man, who disappeared in the same instant. Images flashed through his mind, and he could feel himself saying something, body moving on its own. When he finally broke back into a full, vivid awareness of what was happening around him, people were rushing around, police officer's darting for the doors. Lassiter was staring at him strangely and, when he looked, so was his father.
Shawn and Gus were out the door with the rest of the hoopla in seconds. "What happened back there?"
"You don't know what you said?" Gus scowled. "You said where the girl's body is."
"O-oh." Shawn frowned. "Raymond must have helped me with that."
Gus didn't say anything in return.
… .. .
Shawn was relieved the case wrapped up so quickly. He really shouldn't have returned to the police station, but he had to make his statement. The interrogation room was, oddly empty. He had no idea Jules was on the other side of the glass, contemplating him after he was done. Reynolds was in there with her, having been the one to take his statement.
"Man. I had my doubts about his skill, but wow." He whistled, impressed.
"Shawn has his own way of doing things." Juliet admitted, watching him.
"Do you think he's figured out Lassiter isn't interested?"
"What?" She turned to him stunned. Sure, she knew he thought…but Shawn and Lassiter?
"Well, I mean, have you watched them interact? And he's constantly draping himself over Lassiter and touching him. A lot." Reynolds raised his hands quickly when she scowled. "Nothing wrong with all that. And I can see his hitting on me was just frustrated transference is all. I just don't think Lassiter swings that way."
"Okay enough." She told him.
He shrugged and left, more than a little confused. She glanced back at the image of Shawn, leaning over the table to rest his head in his hands, and cursed the guy for voicing questions she'd had for a while. There was no point speculating. She sighed and headed into the room, smiling weakly at Shawn when he looked up at her.
"How are you?"
"Mm." Shawn shrugged a little. "Tired. It's a bit more intensive, being jerked around by spirits like this."
"Oh." She muttered lamely, leaning against the table near him.
He grinned at her, taking her hand in his and staring up. "What's eating you? Hopefully nothing sexier than me?"
She chuckled softly. "Nothing." Everything.
Shawn froze, smile falling from his face. "Don't lie to me. I can't fix it if you lie to me."
She paused, knowing it was rare to see him acting so mature. "It's nothing, really. I'm just stressed." Worried.
"Why?"
"Work." You.
Shawn frowned. "No. Seriously. Did I do something?"
You love me. "No Shawn. Don't be so paranoid." She said stiffly, moving to withdraw her hand.
Shawn gripped it tighter, going out on a limb. "I love you."
She smiled tightly at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. Dimly, he realized it had never reached her eyes when he said that. I don't love you back.
"It's okay." Shawn dropped her hand, looking away. "I already know. You don't have to, you know."
"Shawn I-"
"Don't insult either of us by saying you love me." He told her lightly, a sad smile on his face. "It happens. We though it would be fun, and it has been, but we just aren't…well, we just aren't."
She sighed, looking almost relieved. "Does this mean we're over?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." Shawn stood, placing his hands on the table to heave himself up. "I think it would be best if I left now. I've been having a really shitty day."
"I'm sorry, Shawn." She told him.
"I know."
Gus was waiting for him when he left, standing among the plethora of shifting spirits. Shawn was apparently getting used to them, because they no longer drew his attention sharply with pains and confusion. He sulked right past his friend, earning a hand to his shoulder.
"Shawn?"
"Being psychic sucks." Shawn told him emphatically. "I'd have been better off without."
"Shawn, what happened?" Gus watched as Shawn tugged his shoulder free.
"Juliet and I just broke up." Shawn squeezed his eyes shut. "But hey. That means I'm on the market again. Wanna go pick up chicks? I'll be, like, three times more awesome at it."
"I don't think that's a good idea Shawn." Gus told him walking after as he left.
"Don't see why not." Shawn veered sharply to the side, and blinked in confusion. "What-"
He glanced down to see the little red-head from before, holding his hand. He felt himself choke up. She tugged lightly and he followed her.
"Shawn where are you-"
"It's Emily." Shawn told him, eyes never leaving the little girl as she lead on.
Gus, wisely, shut up and trailed behind. She was leading him to evidence, he realized. What she wanted there, he had no idea. He heard a pair of voices through the door, and glanced down at her. She nodded and he pulled the door open. Lassiter was leaning against the counter, speaking to the officer in charge. Between them, on the counter, was a white hat in an evidence bag. Emily's hat. Lassiter and the other man both looked up at him. Gus stayed outside, but the door was open enough he could see and hear what was happening in the room.
"Did you need something Spencer?"
"Emily brought me here." He shrugged, watching the little girl, who was watching the detective.
The officer on duty made a cross over his heart and put the evidence back, heading deeper into storage to get away from Shawn. He had always seemed unsettled by the whole psychic thing. Lassiter furrowed his brow, looking furious.
"I've known you to take death pretty lightly, but you're starting to piss me off." He growled.
Shawn straightened. "I'm not in the mood Lassiter."
Lassie froze, mouth falling open ever so slightly. Shawn's tone was serious, pained, and not willing to give an inch. The effect was lost when he pitched sideways. Shawn glanced down in surprise, and Emily shook her head at him. She released his hand and walked over to Lassiter. Then she pitched up on her tiptoes, seemingly bracing herself on Lassiter's arm, and pouted, before rocking back on the balls of her feet and glancing at Shawn.
"What do you need Emily?" Shawn asked, kneeling down to meet her eyelevel.
She frowned and touched her throat.
"Oh…Oh god. I forgot." Shawn whispered in horror. "They…your throat. Of course you can't talk."
"Spencer?" Lassiter set his hand on Shawn's shoulder, stooping a little because of the different positions they were in.
Shawn glanced up, and felt cool lips press to his cheek. He snapped his head back, touching his hand to his cheek. She nodded, and pointed to Lassiter. He felt his cheeks heat up.
"Uh…Lassie? C-could you come down here?" He coughed awkwardly at the break in his voice.
Lassiter sighed, but humored him, dropping to his knee. "What am I doing Spencer?"
"Emily wants to kiss you on the cheek." Shawn explained, watching as she did just that.
Lassie's eyes widened. She smiled lightly, but frowned when Lassiter didn't react. She turned big brown eyes on Shawn, practically melting him in place. She pouted and he shrugged.
"I don't think he can feel it." He told her honestly, catching the almost mournful look on Lassiter's face.
It was unnerving.
"I…I can try to help." Shawn told her. "I've never done this before."
Shawn wrapped one hand around the back of Lassiter's neck, instructing him to close his eyes, and placed the other hand in Emily's. From where he was watching, Gus remained completely confused. This time, when she leaned in, Lassiter could feel the whisper of a touch. He brought his hand up to his cheek and opened his eyes, watching Shawn. Shawn was staring to the side, where the little girl had been just second before.
"I think she wanted to thank you." Shawn whispered.
"You were serious." Lassiter stood, pulling himself away from Shawn. "You may not have been psychic before…"
"Can we just accept that, regardless of any discrepancies before, I can do everything I say I can? Including chug a gallon of milk without vomiting?"
Lassiter glared at him. "Are you incapable of being mature?"
"I've had it with maturity today." Shawn shrugged.
"So earlier?" Lassiter asked, pointedly not meeting his eyes.
Shawn tensed. "Yeah. Sorry. If it's any consolation, I just found out Juliet doesn't love me. We broke it off."
"Why would that be a consolation?" Lassiter scowled. "Just what do you think I-"
"I wasn't saying-" Shawn interrupted, speaking much faster.
"-feel-"
"-that you're-"
"-for-"
"-inlovewith-"
"-you…"
"-me…"
They both stared silently at each other, too mortified to break the silence. They could hear faint scuffling from far in the back room, but it was the only indication of passing time.
"Are you?" Shawn asked, fearing his voice came out hopeful.
"I…" Lassiter glanced around, like he were looking for an exit and only finding the door behind Shawn. "I have work to do Spencer."
"You will tell me someday, won't you?" Shawn asked seriously.
"Never." Lassiter told him. "There's nothing to tell you."
Shawn smiled, turning for the door. Over all, it wasn't the worst Halloween he'd ever had. Lassiter caught his arm, and turned him back.
"Thank you, for finding her."
Shawn grinned. "Thanks for taking such good care of her."
Before he could stop himself, he leaned in to place a small kiss on Lassiter's cheek. If he listened closely, he could hear the sound of Gus hightailing it out of there. Before Lassiter could react, Shawn hurried out of the room. Gus was waiting for him outside, leaning on the car. If he looked a bit pale and green, Shawn didn't mention it.
… .. .
The next morning, when he woke, he was back to normal. He reported to the station happily, after a long breakfast explaining to his father and Gus what happened. It was obvious he'd have to report in after a day like yesterday.
When he trotted happily into the chief's office, she gave him a weary look, already exhausted. "Good morning Mr. Spencer."
"Good morning." Shawn grinned goofily at her. "I just thought I should tell you that the effect from yesterday is over now."
She straightened, giving him a very serious look. "So what are your Psychic skills now?"
That gave Shawn pause. She wanted to know how psychic he was. He could tell her. He could say something happened when the amplification wore off. He could say he was just a regular detective, not have to lie, not have to worry. He could be recognized for his own skills. He could be free of being a psychic. He could tell the truth. He glanced out at the bullpen, catching sigh of Lassie and Jules, typing up paperwork. A smile broke across his face.
There was nothing to tell.
"I'm back to usual." Shawn told her. "Exactly the same as before."
… .. … … .. . .. … … .. …
It feels weird that I didn't really infuse this with humor. Almost…disappointing. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.