Alarm Clocks. Because Nothing Says 'Good Morning' Quite Like A Heart Attack.
Shawn's body thrashed violently awake to the loud, harsh chiming of an alarm. He groaned and rolled onto his back, slapping a hand on the table next to his bed, searching for his phone. Who in their right mind would set his alarm for… 3:30 in the morning?! Gus, when I see you later today, your paying for my cardiac arrest bills.
Shawn blinked rapidly, trying to blink the sleep-fog from his eyes. He laid there for several moments before deciding he was not going to be able to fall back to sleep. Darn. Well, at least he'll get a jump start on the day a maybe get some extra 'work Lassie up' time. If he were lucky he might even be able to put another stress line on Lassiter's forehead.
Pushing the sheets back, he tried to ignore the fact that it was only 3:38 a.m. which meant he had about…. Six hours until he was needed (which mean the would show up there until like another 4 after that) at the Psych office and another four until the station would call. So he started his usual morning routine. He took an extra long shower, got dressed in his favorite pair of jeans and shirt, and spent thirty minutes making sure his hair was perfect. He had time to waste, so why not do it in style? He turned expecting it to be late, only to let out a gasp to see it was only 5:40, the suns first hesitant light creeping through his window.
That's just cruel, Shawn thought, flopping down on his couch. He flipped aimlessly through the channels for about another hour then got up.
He felt like the walls were closing in. the couldn't breathe. He had to get out of here. There were dark clouds in the sky, but the weather women had said no rain, and in Shawn's opinion weather people were never wrong, right?
Grabbing a light jacket, Shawn hopped on his bike and rode to the nearest Starbucks. Shawn didn't normally need coffee, but on toughs rare occasions when he was given a heart rate check at 3 in the morning, he made sure that was the first thing on his check list.
He pulled up to Starbucks and went inside. After ordering a delicious mocha he turned to walk out and crashed into somebody.
"Hey! Why don't you watch were the hell your going, huh?" An angry voice exclaimed.
"Sorry I- Lassie?" Shawn's hazel eyes met the blue eyes Detective Carlton Lassiter.
"Spencer!" Lassie choked out through gritted teeth, "Who told you that you could have coffee?"
His coffee! Quickly he thanked the pineapple god that none of it had spilled. Oh, he didn't care about Lassie, the fact is he only brought enough money to buy one coffee.
Shawn frowned, "I'm a grown man, Lassie, I can buy coffee if I want." he tried not to show how worn out he was.
"You act like a toddler when your not all drugged up on caffeine, and I don't want to find out how you act when you are!" Lassie growled, then, lunging forward with speed neither of the men knew he had, plucked the coffee from Shawn's hands and tossed it into the garbage.
"Carlton!" Shawn yelled running over to the garbage and looking inside. The coffee had landed upside down and was spilling into the bottom of the garbage can. Great. "Lassie! I needed that!" Shawn wailed, flabbergasted, and dug his nails into his palms, gritting his teeth with almost unbearable urge to throw a giant tantrum. Lassiter, ignoring the young psychic's episode, proceeded to the counter where he ordered his own coffee.
Shawn, fuming, stormed out the door and climbed on his motorcycle. As he was sliding his helmet on, a drop of water landed on his hand. He looked up. Mistake. A cloud burst and rain poured down onto his face. Shocked, he stumbled backwards and knocked over his bike. He was soaked in an instant. Tugging his helmet off, he lifted his bike and assessed the damage. Not anything serious, just a few scratches. Shivering, with his clothes plastered to his body, he mounted the bike and rode away, toward the Psych office. He stopped outside, and when he got off his soaked jeans around the ankle snagged on the bike and ripped with that long, sickening sound. A cold wind blew, splattering icy rain against the now bare part of his leg. Not my favorite pair of pants!
Shivering violently, he could barely dig the key out of his pocket. He flung the door open and entered.
"Shawn! Its like Antarctica out there!" Gus yelled from the other room, "Close the door will ya-" he broke off when he came around the corner and saw his friend. His eyes took in Shawn's blood-shot eyes and the dark circles under them, the violent shivering, and of course, his soaked body. Gus's eyes sparkled with amusement, but his face was serious.
"You look like hell, Shawn." his voice crackled with concern.
"I know I look like hell, Gus. I think most people who wake up at 3:30 in the morning do. And I've got you to blame for that." Shawn growled as he walked over to the bathroom to change.
"Gus! Spare clothes?!" Shawn yelled.
"In the cabinet!" Gus yelled back, not attempting to get up from behind his laptop.
"Uh, can you hand me a pair of my pants and a shirt?" Shawn stuck his hand out the cracked door and waved it around.
"Why cant you?" Gus groaned.
"I could, but then you'd have to see my pineapple boxers," came the reply.
"Oh god no." Gus jumped up and snatched a shirt and pants throwing them through the crack in the door. Shawn chuckled.
"So you've had a pretty crappy day, huh?" Gus asked as Shawn came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.
"Oh, Gus, I refuse to have a bad day, much less a crappy day. Where's the hair gel?" he asked looking through several cabinets and letting them slam shut loudly.
"Left cabinet closest to the door."
Shawn grabbed the hair gel and scooped a glob into his palm. Then he ran his fingers through his hair.
"I mean, a day like this could always be worse, right?" Shawn said not looking away from his reflection in the mirror.
"Yeah I guess."
Shawn wrinkled his face up and sneezed into his palms. Gus jumped then eyed his friend with disgust.
"Oh, man! I cant tell if this is snot of hair gel! What do you think?" Shawn opened his palms and pointed them in Gus's direction.
"That's disgusting, Shawn!" Gus yelled, gagging.
Shawn laughed, "I'm just kidding, dude! Don't lose your lunch over me!" he smirked. Shawn walked back into the bathroom and washed his hands, and came out again. He sat down on the couch and propped his feet up. Turning on the T.V he flipped through the channels. Gus got up and went to the bathroom.
"Hey, Gus! Spongebob is on!" he yelled. It didn't matter though. By the time Gus came out of the bathroom, Shawn was fast asleep on the couch.