Disclaimer: I do not own the boys or the song Fire Up the Batmobile by Liz Phair. That song is where the title came from. Obviously.
Shawn scrambled out of Lassiter's house, flying over the steps and hitting the ground running. He thought he heard his lover calling after him but he honestly couldn't tell over the roaring in his head. He started the bike and took off like he could outrun what just happened. As he blew a stop sign and the speedometer climbed he had the distant thought that if Lassiter was following him he'd pull him over for these violations and put him in jail. With the other criminals.
Shawn felt hysteria clawing its way up his throat and stamped it down harshly. He couldn't afford to lose it while driving. Henry would have a field day and try to take away his bike if Shawn got into an accident now. Madness or maybe tears blurred his vision. His heart was just broken and he was thinking about his dad and his bike. Shawn shook his head and kept driving. He had to keep driving, had to find someplace quiet and safe. The brunette snorted. He thought he had but clearly, painfully, he was wrong.
After what felt like hours Shawn found a little stretch of beach that was deserted and finally pulled over. He picked his way carefully down the gentle slope and headed to the lifeguard chair. He climbed up it and sat staring at the sea. The sun was starting to set and Shawn saw his relationship painted in the colors of the sky. Warm gold for lazy mornings in bed, soft pink for the blush on the Irishman's cheeks when Shawn teased him, coral for the tie the detective lent Shawn when they went to Buzz's wedding, and red for the angry flush on Lassiter's face when they broke up.
Shawn rubbed his palm absently over his chest, like it would soothe the ache in his heart. "So much for being honest." He whispered brokenly. Tired of the charade, Shawn had finally confessed the secret of his success to his boyfriend only to have the detective throw it back in his face. Carlton seemed more concerned with the impact the news had on his career than on their relationship. Shawn had to laugh a little. It figured; the one person he had ever found that he wanted to be serious with didn't take him seriously at all. The words tumbled inside of Shawn's head like shoes in a dryer, thumping painfully with each cycle. "Being a detective is all I want, all I've ever wanted." Carlton was a detective. Had been as long as Shawn had known him. It was painfully clear that that was enough for the older man and that Shawn was…unnecessary. Fun maybe, but not needed. Not wanted. The sun had set, slipping under the ocean and it felt final in a way that made Shawn uncomfortable. Just because the sun would rise again tomorrow didn't mean he would.
* * *
Shawn shoved hangers aside and reached towards the back of his closet. His fingers dug under a mountain of stuff before closing on a strap and tugging. The backpack came free eagerly, practically leaping into his hand as though it had missed Shawn in a way that made him think of puppies and a blue eyed man with a dog name. He was done leaping around the Irishmen begging for attention and affection and offering the same. He needed a partner, someone who would help him work through problems, not wag a finger and say "Bad Psychic, bad!" Shawn needed someone who would wonder how his actions would affect them as a couple, not their self or their all important career while ignoring that Shawn's actions had helped said career.
A line of poetry he'd heard somewhere mocked him. "Pick me up; put me down, here for your amusement, a tired little clown." He flung the bag on the bed scowling and began rifling through his closet with violent movements. He might play the clown until everyone forgot he was anything else but that didn't mean it was true. Clothes just appeared in the backpack folded tight and neat to maximize space. His hands remembered what to do and Shawn let his body take over while his heart throbbed and his mind drifted like fog. He moved around the apartment, taking everything in and automatically deciding its fate. Furniture and appliances were rented, something that always bothered Gus. His friend knew a simple phone call would see it taken away. Gus had made that call before and knew how much emptier it made the apartment. The assorted bric a brac that would lead some to say Shawn had 'nested' didn't ease Gus's worry either. The pharmaceutical rep knew Shawn didn't care if it all ended in the dumpster. Just another life that didn't fit anymore.
* * *
The motorcycle went from a roar to a purr as he pulled up in front of Gus's apartment. Shawn pulled off his helmet and shut off his bike. He walked up the stairs and took out the key (still hidden in the rock) before taking a deep breath and opening the door. He made sure to slam it shut then sat at the table to wait. Gus came out in a pair of boxers and t-shirt, wielding his sample case, as per usual. He blinked at Shawn before narrowing his eyes. "Shawn! Its 12:30 and I have to be at work by 7! 7 Shawn! I know you know that so I know you have a good reason for being here." Gus lowered his case and looked at Shawn expectantly. The brunette waited while the look went from expectant to hesitant. "Shawn?"Shawn stood up and turned slightly, watching as his best friend took in the backpack. Understanding and fear bloomed like a flower over Gus's face as he set down his case with a thump.
"I left the number for the Rental place on the counter. Merry Maids is going to empty the rest and clean the place up. I already talked to my landlord and the building manager for the office so you're good on that front too." "You'll call once a week." the darker man ordered. Mary Poppins would have you believe that Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious was what you said when you didn't know what to say but she never covered what you said when you couldn't say what you wanted to say. Gus firmly believed that even Mary Poppins would've had her hands full with Shawn, a thought that was oddly comforting. Shawn was leaving again and Gus needed all the comfort he could get.
Shawn smiled a curious mix of the smallest quirk of lips that straightened into a line that could've been a frown. Gus felt a ribbon of unease unwind in his belly. This was different than the restlessness that usually prompted these trips of Shawn's. Gus was used to his best friend getting agitated with day to day life and leaving on a whim. The brunette always came back sooner or later with a handful of souvenirs, an address book full of new friends, a tan, and the determination to 'play it straight'. As if he actually had or ever would have even a passing acquaintance with the term. This felt different to Gus, this felt…"Shawn?"
Shawn looked at his best friend and the storm that was roiling inside of him flashed in his green eyes, bright and brief as a lightning strike. Gus jerked as if struck, gasping for breath in the suddenly charged room. Souvenirs, an address book, and a tan couldn't fix this. With eyes only a best friend could have the pharmaceutical rep swept his gaze over the other man and paled. "What did he do?" Gus whispered his voice sounding empty, the kind of empty that came from being too full of too many things. It sounded like how Shawn felt.
That odd little smile almost frown passed like a thundercloud across the brunette's lips. Gus found himself held tightly, fingers clutching at his t-shirt and a head resting on his shoulder with all the weight of a broken heart. A shudder racked the faux psychic's frame as he clung to his friend like he was the only solid thing left in the world. The darker man realized with a start that for Shawn, it was probably true. He reached up and placed his hands on his friend's back, rubbing soothing circles. Shawn didn't cry or speak and Gus didn't press. The best friends stood like that in the kitchen for years, minutes, weeks. The embrace ended as suddenly as it started, with Shawn pulling away.
The brunette picked up his backpack from where he dropped when he flung himself at his friend and resettled it on his back. He paused at the door and spoke without turning around to look at the man he had known his whole life. "He was Home Gus. He was Home. And now he's not. If he's not Home then…" another shudder. Another quote floated across Shawn's mind. "They say if you are lost it's a good thing because it means you know you have a home somewhere. If that's true and he's not Home then I don't have one." A soft noise from Gus made Shawn turn around and look at him. "If that's true and I have no home then I can't be lost." A harsh bark of laughter. "I'm sure as hell not found. So what am I Gus? What am I?"
The darker man had no answer, no piece of wisdom to stop the pain that wound around his friend like a black boa constrictor, squeezing the light and life out of him. The brunette fell silent and gave his friend on last almost smile almost frown before leaving. Once the roar of the motorcycle faded to silence Gus dropped into a chair. He wasn't sure how long Shawn had been there or how long he sat staring at nothing. He still had work at 7am but there was something he had to do first. Gus took a deep breath before getting up and getting his cell phone. A crime had most certainly been committed and he knew just the Detective to talk to about that.