Author Note: This is a delightful new type of story! Shawn is going to use the holidays to win over the man he wants. Therefore, I will post a new chapter for each holiday as it approaches. In other words, it'll be about Christmas before you get chapter two! This will certainly give me time to give it proper thougth, especially since New Year's will be so close after! So enjoy this little Thanksgiving treat! And for those readers returning to my work as well as new Psych fans, you can find a link on my profile to an original (published!) short story or mine.

Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Hanukkah!

The Turkey at the Table

Burton Guster, better known to his friends as Gus, sat before his computer in the cluttered Psych office. His fingers were flying over the keyboard as he did something resembling work, perhaps something even important, Shawn Spencer didn't know or even care all that much. There was something else that needed Gus's attention. So without missing a beat Shawn waltzed into the office, ignored the pineapple smoothie on his desk as well as his Nerf gun, and stopped halfway through the room. Without missing a beat, and before Gus had the chance to see what was coming, Shawn lobbed a stuffed turkey complete with googley-eyes in his best friend's direction.

"Bull's-eye!" he exclaimed as the turkey hit the intended target. Sure, it skimmed the desktop and took out a cup holding pens sending them crashing to the ground, but that was a minor concern.

Caught surprised by the fowl assault, the turkey landing squarely in his lap, Gus jumped, knocking over a can of soda. "What the hell, Shawn!"

Shawn beamed, pumping his fist in the air. "Boo-yah."

Righting the can and getting up to seek out a paper towel to wipe up the spill, Gus took a moment to throw a glare in Shawn's direction. He left the stuffed bird on his chair knowing that if he threw it back he might start something that wouldn't end too well. He loved Shawn with all his heart, but there were times, at least deep down inside, that he wished his friend would grow-up just a little. While Gus took care of his desk Shawn turned his focus to his own personal space, cluttered as it was with comic books and knick-knacks, he plopped into the chair and picked up the smoothie. For a moment he closed his eyes, savoring the wonderful taste.

"Did you know Chanukkah is coming up?" he said.

"It's Hanukkah," Gus corrected. "And what does it matter? You aren't Jewish." He picked up the turkey and sent it sailing toward the couch under the big bay window. "And traditionally turkey isn't consumed."

"I've heard it both ways," muttered Shawn.

Gus sat back down. "I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what's with the stuffed bird, Shawn? I know you've got something going on in that head of yours…"

"Correct-a-mundo!" Shawn sat up, leaning on his desk. "I have made a big decision, Gus, the biggest decision of my life."

"You're going to get a real job and stop all this fake psychic stuff?"

Shawn brushed away the obviously absurd idea. "Pssshhh, never. No, as I was making my way here I saw that silly bird and it stared at me with those intense googely-eyes. It's like it hypnotized me. It told me to buy it as a centerpiece."

"A centerpiece for what?"

"Thanksgiving," declared Shaw. "I am going to host Thanksgiving this year. Isn't it splendid?"

Splendid wouldn't exactly have been Gus's choice of phrase. He swallowed down the urge to laugh seeing the conviction clear as day in Shawn's eyes. Damn. He should have been there to instantly convince his friend that the idea was perhaps one of the dumbest things he'd ever thought of, and he knew that if thought about it long enough he could come up with some pretty ridiculous things from their past.

"Shawn, it's less than a week away. Maybe next year…"

"Nope, this year. Definitely this year. And you're going to help."

"What? When did I agree to that?"

"Just now, when you caught the ceremonial turkey."

"You threw it at me!"

"Think of it like a bridal bouquet."

"Shawn…"

Shawn sat back, putting his feet up on his desk, sipping his smoothie. "Let's see, I want to invite my dad, Jules, of course, and the chief. Should probably include Buzz and Woody, don't want them to feel left out. And Lassiter, I think he should come."

As soon as Shawn said the detective's name all the pieces fell into place for Gus. Now it made sense. It wasn't about the holiday itself, more about getting the detective into Shawn's apartment and within range. He couldn't recall exactly when it became apparent that Shawn had a thing for Lassiter, but it had been growing with every case. There were some days when Shawn was difficult to deal with, perhaps even a bit unbearable. Infatuation, or at least so Gus thought at first. Unfortunately for Shawn, Gus saw no inkling that Lassiter felt the same, in fact he figured it was quite the opposite. Try telling Shawn that, though, he just wouldn't hear it.

And with that train of thought Gus was torn.

His gaze shifted to the stuffed turkey. On one hand he wanted to help Shawn simply because it would be torture if he didn't, but on the other hand he knew it was destined to be a disaster. First off, what crazy scheme would Shawn come-up with in order to get the detective to even agree on the whole thing? Nothing Shawn did was ever going to make Lassiter want to have dinner with him, least of all on Thanksgiving; which Gus got the feeling wasn't that big a deal for Lassiter. The man never really talked about his personal life, aside from a bitter ex-wife and a fling with a prisoner. Gus was actually still surprised by the whole prisoner thing, to be honest.

Shawn had kept talking while Gus's thoughts wander, no doubt making plans for this or that, or he could have been simply talking about random mindless things with no connection to Thanksgiving whatsoever. Gus knew he should have been paying attention, otherwise he really had no one to blame when he wound up being dressed like a turkey on the big day, something he definitely would not put past Shawn.

Instead he found himself staring at his friend.

When they started spending more and more time at the precinct he thought it was because Shawn was attracted to Juliet O'Hara and who could blame him, she was a beautiful woman. And in all their years of friendship Shawn had never once shown interest in dating any men before so what made Lassiter so special? Was it the way he constantly shot down Shawn that made him so attractive, the thrill of the hunt, the one Shawn just could not have? To him Lassiter was abrasive and rude, a touch sarcastic and easily annoyed by Shawn's antics. What was he missing about Lassiter?

Why did Shawn want him?

"It's going to be brilliant. You won't regret it."

This was the moment, Gus realized, his opportunity to weasel his way out of the whole thing. It was Thanksgiving, he could claim he had dinner plans with his parents. Unfortunately, they were away on vacation and Shawn was fully aware of that since he had helped himself to a box of sweets addressed to Gus.

"I'm going to hate myself in the morning. Where do we start?"

"Please, Juliet?" Shawn was down on his knees pleading with the detective to change her mind. The chief had been the first to shoot him down and now Juliet was ready to be the second. Shawn was already starting to feel his master plan slipping away. He knew the whole thing had been a crazy idea from the start, never expecting Gus to let him get this far. He was actually quite surprised by the lack of protest from his friend. Something he would definitely get around to later. Right now he needed Juliet to say yes.

If she didn't…

She darted a glance in the direction of Gus as though to ask if the question was a serious one. Then she turned back to Shawn, a sympathetic smile on her face. She didn't even have to say anything; he already knew she was going to turn him down. "I'm sorry, Shawn but-"

He sighed, getting up. He didn't even bother to hear her out, shuffling off toward the door. There was an exchange between her and Gus, one that he could not make out, as he left the precinct. He kept going until he found his way back to the Blueberry. What he really wanted, though, as he settled on the hood, was to have his bike back, to hit the open road on his motorcycle. Hands in his pockets, head hanging down, he wondered why he ever gave the thing up, having it right now would give him the chance to escape Gus and the questions he knew where bound to pop out of his friend's mouth.

Shawn closed his eyes trying to get lost in the warmth of Santa Barbara sunshine.

"What the hell was that?" Gus asked as he came up behind Shawn.

In that instant Shawn shoved aside his pain and put a smile on his face. He was the happy, crazy psychic guy, no time for him to be down and out, at least not in front of others. He would deal with the disappointment later when he was alone in his apartment. "What was what?"

"Are you giving up that easily?"

It was a little harder than he thought to keep the smile in place. He shrugged. "You were right, it was a foolish plan. I'll just have to make sure I get to them before Christmas. That's the way to do it."

Gus was frowning. "Two people turned you down, Shawn, out of everyone you planned to ask. I'm sure Buzz and Woody would have been glad to receive the invites."

"Okay, one, I'm not inviting the guys from Toy Story, that would just be crazy, unless they can bring the dinosaur. And two, it's no big deal, Gus, you were right."

"Wait a minute, did you just-"

Shawn didn't bother to wait for him to finish the sentence, pulling open the passenger door and climbing into the Blueberry. What he really wanted to do was go home and dwell in his misery. If only he could, but Gus swung into the driver's seat, slipped the key in the ignition and waited. It was a rare occasion where they weren't running off to a case and they really didn't have any plans. When that became apparent Shawn requested he be taken back to the office. Gus obliged, though it was hard to get that look off his face, the one that said he wanted to push the topic further, but was doing his best to keep his thoughts to himself. Shawn knew that look pretty well, it was one he tended to ignore as Gus got it a lot.

"What about your father?" Gus finally popped as he pulled in front of the Psych office.

"Already said no."

"How…I thought you got the idea as you were walking to work, when did you ask him?"

"It's called a cell phone, Gus, really, you should learn to keep up on the times," Shawn said as he climbed out. He stretched, the warmth of the sun on his skin, the scent of the ocean all around him. Usually these things made him happy, not today. He hated to think about the way his father responded to the call. There had been laughter in his voice, the attempt to hide it rather poor. It shouldn't have surprised him in the least, when it came to the relationship he had with his father it was very hit or miss. He knew most of it was his fault for leaving the way he did all those years ago, but part of the blame lay at his father's feet, too. Still, had it not been for the old man he never would have wound up in the fake psychic gig and almost certainly would not have crossed paths with Detective Carlton Lassiter.

Just the thought of the tall lanky detective with anger issues made him feel all funny inside. He sighed, sounding much like a deflating balloon.

"Shawn? Earth to Shawn."

He glanced back over his shoulder at Gus, eyebrows raised in silent question.

Gus's frown deepened. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you no to do that? Your face will freeze that way."

"Shawn…"

"I think I'm going to walk home."

"That's-"

Shawn knew it was just going to be another one of Gus's logical points that he felt a need to make so he started off without waiting to hear the rest of it. Back-tracking his earlier route he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous every time he passed a couple. Some of them were holding hands; others were sharing little intimate moments like the rest of the world did not exist. When he left Santa Barbara all those years ago he wasn't sure he would ever return. But something brought him home. He felt drawn to return, having had a dream of his father one night and a week later still unable to get the sound of the man's voice out of his head. So he returned. And he managed to make a decent enough living, even if most of it was built on a foundation of lies, he was still helping people, didn't that matter most?

He had a few failed relationships, none of them ever feeling right. And back in the beginning, when he was just starting out at the precinct as a consultant, he thought it was Juliet who brought about the nervous flutter in his stomach, the extra rush of warmth when she turned in his direction. He had only ever been with women so he was quite surprised when he managed to sneak a kiss from her and there were no sparks, no fireworks, nothing tingled. From that point on he spent a lot of time analyzing every little thing until he finally figured it out.

His heart wanted Lassiter.

It should have shocked him, but for some reason he felt it was right. For the first time in his life he felt the detective was meant to be the other half of his soul. They were destined to be together. From that point on Shawn made it his goal to spend as much time around Lassiter as possible. Just being near the guy was enough to make him feel alive in every sense of the word. He wanted to impress Lassiter with his ability to solve cases, but realized he also needed to keep up appearances so he poked fun at the detective when the moments presented themselves.

What a fool he'd been to think that would work.

Now it was clear even to a blind man that with just one look Lassiter hated him.

Those looks made it feel like someone had wrapped their hands around his heart and they were squeezing. He hated it. He wanted it to go away.

Hands in his pockets, head hanging, Shawn continued his walk, a new thought forming in the back of his mind. Maybe the best way to make the wanting go away was to leave, head out on the open road again. Do whatever it took to erase Lassiter from his heart and mind. Put as much distance between them as possible, and perhaps when he felt he had removed every last trace of feeling for the detective he could return home again. Or maybe…

Was he ready to give up on Lassiter that easily? Since when was he a quieter? Still, maybe the Thanksgiving idea had been somewhat foolish. Gus was right to call him out on not asking the others, but he figured with rejections from his father, the chief and Juliet there was no way he would ever be able to convince Lassiter to attend. If possible the detective loathed the company of Buzz and Woody more than he did Shawn's, though it was rather hard to tell. Then again, even if he had somehow managed to get the others on board there still wouldn't have been much hope of getting Lassiter to agree. The detective was stubborn and steadfast in his absolute hatred of him.

Why the hell did he have to fall for someone who wasn't interested even the slightest bit? Why did cruel fate decide he could spend his nights in a lonely bed dreaming sweet dreams of someone he could never have? Why did he have to wake after them with an aching in his chest, a longing that chased him throughout the day? What had he done to deserve all this?

He walked the city for a while, ignoring a few calls from Gus, three from Juliet, and even one from his father. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with his thoughts for the time being. Eventually the sun sank into the ocean and the stars fought to glow brighter than the city lights. Shawn returned to his apartment, trudging up the stairs, and slipping beyond the door. No lights were turned on as he made his way to the bedroom, navigating his personal space like a pro. A few minutes later he fell into the embrace of pillows and blankets, sinking into the depression slowly enveloping him in a fog.

All the joy had been sucked out of his holidays.

As he closed his eyes all Shawn could think was that he really hated that stupid googley-eyed turkey.

All too soon it was Thanksgiving. Shawn sat at his desk at the Psych office, feet propped up on the desk, arms crossed over his chest. There was a frown on his face. He had spent the last hour searching the office trying to turn up the stuffed turkey. He wanted to sit it down in front of the television while he let the Food Network play. He felt it would be good justice for the horrible idea the stupid thing had given him. However, it seemed to have gone missing. In his search he found a bucket of Legos, his pineapple Halloween costume along with a bag of candy—which he was currently using to ease his sorrows—he'd hidden from Gus, and a myriad of other things he'd managed to collect over the years. Everything a person could imagine right down to a Chewbecca cookie-cutter; still not sure where he got that. It would have been prefect for Thanksgiving.

Staring unhappily out the window at the passersby he wondered what could have become of the turkey. Maybe Gus got tired of it and threw it away. They hadn't exactly done a lot of talking over the last few days, not after the little incident at the precinct. He just wasn't up for the questions, asked or not, so he locked himself away in his apartment, refused to answer any of Gus's calls. Cut out the world, just like he wanted, not that it helped any. Every time he closed his eyes he thought of something he would have said or done if he could have enjoyed a Thanksgiving with Lassiter.

Eyes closed, he let his head fall back.

Screw Thanksgiving.

Of course, he was hungry so he was going to have to figure something out.

"There you are," Gus declared as though right on cue. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I've been calling you all day."

"Battery died," he answered. Truth be told, he left it at home.

Gus pushed his feet off the desk. "Come on, we're going to be late."

"For?"

"Dinner."

"I don't want your pity dinner, Gus."

"It's not a pity dinner. Get up."

Shawn refused to move. "No."

"If you don't get your legs moving," Gus said, "I will wheel you out the front door and tether you to the back bumper of the Blueberry with a jump rope."

"You wouldn't dare."

Gus produced a yellow jump rope from his back pocket, narrowing his eyes. "Really? Do you want to underestimate me, Shawn? How long have I been your friend? How many horrible things have you done to me over the years? So which is it going to be, are you going to go along like a good Shawnie or do I have to risk innocent lives and tow you behind my car?"

Shawn sighed. As much fun as it might be getting towed along behind the Blueberry in his office chair he saw no reason why he should ruin the day for everyone else. Grudgingly he got to his feet and shuffled after Gus, making it perfectly clear by sighing that he was totally being interrupted in his attempt to spend the entire day moping. During the ride he kept his arms crossed over his chest and stared out the window. He never bothered to ask where they were going for dinner, what did it matter? So when they arrived at his father's house he was a little surprised, but not entirely. Leave it up to his father to be the one who saved him on Thanksgiving.

Pity dinner.

When he didn't get out of the car Gus pulled open his door. "Out," he ordered.

Shawn still refused to move. He didn't want to always be running home to daddy when the world refused to play the cards he wanted. He was an adult. He was fully capable of finding his own Thanksgiving dinner.

"No."

"Dammit, Shawn," Gus swore, which was unusual, "get out of the car. You have no idea how hard I've worked for you. You will get out of the car now and be freakin' happy. Move."

Shawn blinked. He wasn't used to this assertive, take charge Gus. At least not as far as wanting to push his buttons and ignore his request. There was something in his tone of voice that told Shawn he'd best get his butt in gear or suffer the consequences; which he probably wouldn't like in the least. Like an obedient dog Shawn let Gus lead him to the house. He figured his father would have a simple dinner in place, maybe some wild game or something he caught down at the pier, definitely not the traditional meal Shawn had planned for his little get together. Probably a good thing he never actually got around to buying the food.

What the hell would he do with a turkey?

Gus opened the front door and smells wafted out. Shawn let his nose lead the way from that point until he wound up in the heart of the kitchen. The aroma of turkey cooking away in the oven filled the air. He breathed in deeply feeling slightly happier despite himself. A pot on the stove boiled, filled with potatoes waiting to finish cooking before they were mashed. Pies, three of them, sat on a counter. There were other bowls and plates filled with this and that. It looked like a right good feast.

"Isn't this going to be a bit too much for three people? I mean, I can down a pie easily, but Gus here, you can't give him too much sugar or he'll have nightmares."

"Shut up, Shawn."

His father, who had been checking the turkey, closed the oven and stood. "It isn't just the three of us."

"Hey Shawn," Buzz said as he stepped into the kitchen. He looked relaxed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was a bit unusual to see the officer out of uniform. He sauntered over to a cooler, popping the top. "Just came in for a few more drinks."

Shawn waited until he left to turn on Gus. "What have you done?"

"I saw how unhappy you were when it seemed like your dream for Thanksgiving was going to be dashed," Gus explained. "So I talked to your father and then the others and well…Everything just sort of fell into place."

"What do you mean, the others?"

"Go have a look," Gus shoved him toward the dining room.

Shawn peered around the doorway to find the table completely set, every single spot, with a few extra thrown in via a pop-up card table. Enough settings for everyone he wanted to invite, plus one or two more. Buzz and his girl were talking with Woody about lord only knew what while Juliet carried on a conversation with the chief. It was almost perfect. Almost. Only one person was missing. Just then in walked the chief's husband carrying their wee little one and at his side was Lassiter. How had Gus managed that one?

And right smack in the middle of the table?

The googly-eyed turkey.

No wonder he couldn't find it.

Shawn spun around. "How…I don't….but…"

"Oh come on, Shawn," his father said. "I know why you wanted to do this and despite what you might think I only ever want you to be happy. If this helps, then I'll do my best to help."

"Now you have your chance to make a move," Gus added.

Shawn wasn't sure who he should hug first. "Group hug," he declared, attacking both of them.

Dinner passed with little to no fanfare. At first they were quiet, a comment here and there about the food. Then they started discussing work, even some of the cases Shawn's father worked. From there it was only a matter of time before they were talking about everything and anything under the sun. The time flew by. The pies were eaten. Shawn realized he had the best family in the world, even if they weren't all blood related. He would often stop to look around the table and consider himself blessed to know such amazing people.

Of course, his gaze would linger on Lassiter and when the detective looked up he would quickly turn away.

At some point he got up to venture into the kitchen hoping maybe some piece of apple pie had gotten overlooked. He realized he was still trying to mask some level of heartache when he heard the sound of someone behind him.

Before he could turn around, however, Lassiter spoke. "All right, out with it, Shawn."

"Out with what?" He nearly choked on the last word, turning to find Lassiter standing so close, dangerously, wonderfully close. Shawn felt his heartbeat increase. His palms got a little sweaty. Dare he even think that Lassiter was close enough for a kiss?

"Why do you keep staring at me?"

"I haven't been." Oh no, he wasn't blushing like a fool was he?

"Don't lie to me."

Shawn eyed the empty tins forlornly, trying to get his brain moving in a different direction. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was unbuttoning Lassiter's shirt. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lassie-face."

"Oh my god, you did something to my food, didn't you?"

"You're out of your mind."

"I knew coming here was a mistake," the detective grumbled. "I never should have let them talk me into it. What the hell was I thinking?

"You were thinking about how much you love me," the words popped out.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Shawn wanted the floor to swallow him up and spit him back out at the office. It took him a second or two to realize that Lassiter was flustered by the statement. That bolstered Shawn's courage. He closed the gap between them, nearly pressing himself up against Lassiter. He could smell the heavenly aroma of aftershave and a little something else…

"Oh, that's right," Shawn said, not sure what was coming over him as he placed a hand on Lassiter's chest, "you love me. You don't want anyone to know so you act all big and tough and like you hate my guts, but deep down," he leaned in closer to whisper in Lassiter's ear, "you really want me." For good measure he kissed Lassiter on the cheek. Then he stepped back, smiling from ear to ear. "Love you, Lassie-face. Happy Thanksgiving."

He quickly left the room, not presenting Lassiter with a moment to ruin the encounter. He plopped down into his chair. Juliet and his father were busily saying goodbye to the chief and her husband. Shawn snatched up the googley-eyed turkey and hugged it.

"Do I even want to know?"

"I have recently decided not to give up," Shawn replied. "Even if it takes me a year of holidays, I'm going to win that man over. Mark my words, Gus." He locked gazes with the turkey, narrowing his eyes. "By next Thanksgiving Lassiter and I will be here as a couple."

"Shawn, don't you think that's just a little crazy?"

He raised the turkey up high. "So the turkey foresees it, so shall it be.