Pineapples And A Motorcycle
By freakynerdchick
"Hey, Jules," said the scruffy detective, "how's your foot?"
I would have been surprised by the comment if I weren't well aware of Shawn Spencer's psychic abilities. I hadn't mentioned the minor injury to anyone for fear of being sent home. The culprit I was handcuffing decided to make a last-ditch effort to get away and I had ended up taking a kick to the ankle. But, I had a case to solve; I couldn't just sit around and complain about a sore appendage.
"I'm fine Shawn, honest." I lied.
"The spirits refuse to accept that answer, they say you should stop everything and get a pineapple ice cream with an exceptionally attractive psychic." He smirked that little smirk that made him so irresistible.
"Ah, well tell the spirits if I ever find an exceptionally attractive psychic then I'll be sure to do that," I smiled.
"Wow. That hurts, Jules. Now you have to come with me to make up for the shot my ego just took."
"Shawn, I have a lot of work to do. Maybe another time?"
" Aw, come on Jules, you'd really rather do paperwork than spend time with me?" he pouted.
I looked down at the stack of reports Lassiter had stuck me with then looked back at the still pouting Shawn. Then looked at the reports. Then looked at Shawn. He is so incredibly adorable... I couldn't help myself from thinking
"Carlton told me to have these finished by the time he got back," I said as I stood, the pain in my ankle was uncomfortable but nothing I thought I couldn't handle. I took a step and my high heel twisted out from under me, making my body pitch forward. I braced myself for impact with the floor and the utter embarrassment of falling in front of Shawn, but it never came.
I opened my eyes only to find a pair of bright, concerned ones staring back at me. "You are most definitely not fine," he said, as he made sure I was balanced again before he would let go of my torso. "You're coming with me."
I should have protested but instead I just nodded, my ankle hurt a lot more now that I had twisted it again. Jeeze! What is wrong with me today? I chase and catch up with a running criminal in heels and never trip once, but I stand up from a stupid desk chair and fall? REALLY? I didn't do anything to deserve this bad karma; at least I don't remember doing anything. Maybe this is payback for not telling Carlton that I saw Shawn take the bolts out of his chair so it would sink when he sat down- but come on- that was funny! Funnier when he decided to pull his gun….
"You ok to walk?" Shawn's voice brought me back from 'Juliet-land.' He sounded genuinely concerned.
"It's just a twisted ankle, Shawn." I started toward the doors to prove I was fine, but I couldn't hide a slight limp. The next thing I knew I was floating through the rest of the precinct; it was only when I reached the exit that I remembered humans didn't have the ability to float. I blinked and looked up. I blinked again and then blushed.
Maybe I hit my head when I fell. Yeah, that's it, I'm unconscious right now and this is just a dream, because there is no way that Shawn Spencer is carrying me...
I couldn't form words. Even if I could I would have had no idea what to say. Shawn was carrying me like Fabio on one of the many romance novel covers cluttering the shelves of my apartment. What on Earth do I say? If this were to play out the way those books do… Wow…. I blushed furiously and hoped he couldn't read minds.
"Umm... Shawn?" I said as my voice came back to me.
"Yes Jules?" he answered casually.
"What exactly is going on?"
"Well," he said matter of factly, "as we speak, oil is spilling in the Gulf, Simon Baker is currently pitching a completely original idea to his producers involving pineapple, and I'm fairly certain Lassie is either at his therapist's office, making the poor guy regret his choice of occupation, or he is at his home dancing to Cindy Lauper," he finished.
"Shawn, put me down!" I exclaimed as I looked around, "People are staring!" I blushed: again.
"Would you rather risk hurting yourself again, after all, you have injured the same ankle twice in four hours, or have a few people look at you?" He made sure his voice changed tones just to further persuade me to stay in his arms.
I was about to answer when I realized we had stopped. He finally put me down; making sure I didn't put pressure on my foot. I saw a motorcycle in front of me. " Um, Shawn I am not getting on that thing."
"Why not?" He sounded like a kid who had asked for a pet elephant and been rejected.
"Because you didn't bring helmets and you said yourself: I'm awfully clumsy today. I'd rather not take the chance."
"But you'll be fine now: I'm here and I can almost guarantee that I wont wreck my bike."
"Oh," my voice was dripping with sarcasm, "thanks ever so much for the reassurance."
"Come on Jules, live a little."
I bit my lip and looked at the bike. I looked at Shawn. I looked at the bike. I looked back at Shawn. I sighed. He helped me on after himself. Again, making sure my ankle never came in contact with anything.
Boy, I thought, today was a great day to wear a pantsuit. Too bad I'm not. My skirt ended up hiking a little higher up my leg than usual.
"Hang on tight, Jules," he smiled.
Why am I doing this again?
He started his metal death trap.
Too late to turn back now…
We left the parking lot. I was a little more freaked out than I had thought I would have been; I had never ridden one of these before. I gripped Shawn tighter than I had meant to, but I wasn't about to loosen my hold. I buried my face in his back and tried to calm down. My hands could feel his chest vibrate with laughter.
We came to a stoplight and I heard him say "Scared?"
"NO!" I said a little too quickly.
He chuckled. " Are you sure? Because I can feel you saying 'Omigod, Omigod' over and over against my back."
He reached back to pat my knee reassuringly, but it just scared me more. "DON'T TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF THE WHEEL!" I squealed.
"They're handle bars, Jules." he said over his shoulder.
"Oh, just drive," I said mildly annoyed.
He laughed again and I tried to ignore the fact that we were sitting on a speeding motorcycle, instead, I focused on Shawn. I could smell his hair, ginger blossoms; he must have finally gotten some of that Kangaroo Paste. I could feel the muscles in his back shift slightly as we turned and I could feel his left leg move to the thing that controls the speed. I could feel his breathing: calm and steady, whereas my own was shallow and sporadic. I started to feel more at ease knowing how calm he was. I felt safe.
"Jules, you can let go now, I mean, unless you don't want to, which I don't mind at all, though it will be kinda hard trying to sit in a booth and avoid another injury."
I blushed (I seemed to be doing a lot of blushing today) and released my death grip on him. He slid off the bike and turned to help me down too. If I were wearing the appropriate clothing it wouldn't have been a problem to get off the thing, but because I wasn't I had to slide one leg over the seat and pull the other one up at the same time to avoid ripping a bigger split in my skirt and giving everyone in the parking lot a show. If he hadn't grabbed my hand at the last second I would've toppled off the machine all together.
When both my feet were firmly on the ground (well mostly- my left wasn't planted as firmly as my right) I smiled a triumphant smile. Then I remembered how I had gotten to the motorcycle in the first place. "You aren't going to carry me again are you?" I asked.
"Only if you want me to," he pursed his lips like he did so often. I blushed as I realized he had yet to let go of my hand. He smiled a half smile, but didn't attempt to drop my hand so instead I detached my hand from his and said "Maybe you should stay close; just in case."
"Sure thing, Jules," he smiled and cocked his elbow in a chivalrous manner. I let out a tiny giggle as I took the offered arm and we walked into the ice cream shop.
