Hello there! I am Yogurt, and I am a huge fan of Psych. So I wrote this. Don't get me wrong, I ship Shules like no tomorrow, but I made up PJ (which is the only thing I own in this fic) and I could only see her with Shawn. So I did this. Lassie's partner wasn't moved. Set in season one, in my mind, right now. R&R, please? Maybe? If you don't mind? Kaykewlbai. (Wow. I apparently say 'kaykewlbai' a lot, because my computer didn't red squiggly it.)

I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared at the office. Psych. I had read about the detectives in the papers over the last couple of months, and I was very impressed. I really didn't believe in psychics, but this character really made me curious. I needed help, and the detective I spoke to at the police department impolitely told me to "cut the hanky-panky" and "come back when there was actually a problem."

The only thing was, I knew there was a problem. I couldn't exactly prove it, but I knew there was something wrong with the Addams Towers. Nothing had been stolen or destroyed. No vandalism or break ins. But I swear it, something was off with that gallery, and it certainly wasn't the art.

"Oh, whatever," I said, grabbing the handle of the door and swinging it open. I entered the office and stepped through a doorway, calling, "Hello?" A man with brown hair and slight stubble on his face appeared in the doorway ahead of me.

"Hi!" he greeted back.

"Are you the psychic detective?" I asked hopefully, stepping towards him.

"I am," he said, stepping back to let me into the other section of the office. An African American man looked up from his laptop as I entered and his eyebrows went up. "I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Rich Poor IV."

"Gus," said Rich Poor IV, standing. He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, miss."

"You too," I said, smiling and shaking his hand. "Okay, you guys take private cases, right?"

"Right-a-mundo," said Shawn, gesturing to one of the chairs by the window. I sat. "What's your story?"

"Well," I began, "I was born in 1984 to Patty and Perry Fri in a little hospital in Maine-"

Shawn was smiling, but Gus said, "Uh, I think he means why you came to see us?"

"Oh," I said, "right. My bad." I shared a grin with Shawn before saying, "My name is PJ Fri. A week or two ago, a new art gallery opened across town, called Addams Towers. I got a job there, but...I dunno, something really isn't right about it..."

"Is it...creepy and kooky?" Shawn asked. Gus gave him a look, but I said, "More mysterious and spooky."

"I can only investigate it if it's altogether ooky," he went on.

"Shawn," said Gus, giving him a sideways glance before looking back at me. "Do you have anything specific that's wrong with it?"

"The owners of it are just...off," I said. "I work only as an attendant, giving the occasional tour, cleaning up, getting coffee, stuff like that. The other day I was going to go down into the basement to get a mop, and the owner yelled at me and told me not to go down there. Or else."

"Or else?" Gus repeated, frowning. "Did you go to the cops?"

"Yeah. They said I didn't have any proof that anything bad was going on. I was told to cut the hanky-panky."

"Uh-huh," Shawn said. "The man you spoke to...his name was Carlton Lassiter, am I right?"

"Yeah," I said, a bit taken aback. "How did you-"

"The window does not lie," he said, pointing at the words 'Psychic Detective' behind me. "I will help you, PJ, on one condition."

"Name it," I said.

"I think I'll name the condition Malcolm."

"I was thinking Reginald," I said, "but Malcolm works."

"No, you're right, Reginald is much better. Reginald is this: I will investigate for you if you allow me to take you out for dinner tonight."

"Shawn!" Gus said, but Shawn held up his hand in Gus' direction. "Say, seven, maybe?"

"I will have to take you up on that," I said, smiling. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Depends on what you're in the mood for later," he said. "Meet me in the square?"

"Will do," I promised.

"Then we'll talk more about the creepy-kooky occurrences at your work."

"Sounds good." I smiled at him. He smiled back. "See you at seven?"

"Seven," he agreed, waving as I left. I stepped out in the sunshine, smiling to myself. I was happy I went to see him. I checked my watch. Eleven-eighteen. I had to do my shift, then I'd get ready for my date.

I bite the inside of my cheek, glancing down at my watch. It was seven-oh-three. I knew how awful it was for me to be thinking about Shawn being late for two reasons. One, it was three minutes late, and two, I arrived fifteen minutes early. Which I realized was stupid six minutes later.

"Hey."

I jerked a little in surprise before I turned around and saw Shawn. I smiled. "Hey."

"You look great," he said, looking at my blue dress.

"Thanks," I said. "I'd do the whole 'I just threw something on' bit, but I'm always honest. I tried on about five or six different outfits before deciding I liked this one best."

"Always honest?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Always," I repeated, nodding.

"Sounds boring," he said. I laughed.

"It can be. So, where to for dinner?"

"I suggest somewhere in walking distance," he said, "because I have a motorcycle and riding that with your dress would be a bit odd. So, we have..." He looked around us. "We have a Chick-fil-A, a small diner, a Hooters, and a Pizza Hut. What say you, PJ?"

"Small diner sounds nice," I said. "I try to make it a thing to go to a new restaurant every Saturday."

"Small diner it is." We started walking. "So, what's PJ short for?"

"Ptolemy Joyce," I replied.

"But Ptolemy starts with a T, so shouldn't you be TJ?"

"There's a silent P," I explained. "Like in pterodactyl."

"I never got stuff like that," said Shawn. "Why have letters there if they're not going to be used? I'm going to start spelling my name with a silent K at the beginning."

I grinned. "K-S-H-A-W-N?" I asked.

"Yep."

"But it's just pronounced Shawn?"

"Yep," he said again. I laughed.

"I'm glad your name is spelled with a-w," I commented.

"Why is that?"

"Because the other ways to spell the name Shawn make no sense. S-E-A-N, S-H-A-U-N...I even saw S-I-A-N once."

"I'm glad the spelling of my name makes sense to you," said Shawn.

"Yep. Nothing weird about it. Just K-S-H-A-W-N."

"I had a good time," I commented. We had finished dinner and were walking slowly back to the square, hand-in-hand.

"Just good?" he asked. "I'll have to try harder to blow your mind next time."

"You think there will be a next time?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I know there will be a next time," he said. "I'm a psychic."

"Mmhmm. Well, psychic, what am I about to do?"

"You are about to wrap your arms around my neck while I kiss you vigorously, and then we will leave in your car to your apartment and see what happens from there."

"Is that so?" I mused, smirking.

"Yes, it is. But before that, I'm going to circle my arms around your waist and pull you close to me while flirting sensually with my eyes," he said, doing the actions as he said them.

"How clear are you on all this?" I asked as he leaned down closer to me.

"A hundred and eight percent."

"Well, I can't argue with that." I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down the rest of the way as his lips touched mine. Something in my stomach jumped and my eyes shut softly, one of my hands twisting into his surprisingly soft hair. He kissed me 'vigorously,' to use his choice of words, for a while before pulling away, breathless. I could feel his warm breath on my lips as he whispered, "Car?"

"Car," I whispered back.

I woke up with a pair of slender arms wrapped around me and a chin leaned on the top of my head. I smiled at the warmth and rolled over, pulling the blanket that covered us higher up. Shawn was still asleep, the tip of his nose now leaned against the top of my head.

I glanced over my shoulder at the clock on my bedside table. It said it was nine-thirty-six. I had to be in to work at ten. Crap.

"Shawn," I said, throwing the covers off of us and getting out of bed. The air was cold on my naked body, but I didn't care. Shawn jolted awake.

"Wha-" He rubbed his eyes as I pulled on underwear. "Oh, hey, PJ. What time is it?"

"About nine-forty," I replied as I hastily pulled on pants. "I'm gonna be late for work."

"Oh," he said simply. He laid there still for a moment before standing up and getting dressed.

"I'll drop you off at the square so you can get your motorcycle," I said, fastening my bra and pulling on a shirt.

"Or I could go with you and call Gus to meet us there so we could investigate?" he offered.

"That sounds better." I looked in the mirror over my dresser at my hair. It was awful. I grabbed a scrunchie and pulled it up quickly before saying, "Let's go." As we left the apartment, he took my hands and pulled me towards him, placing a soft kiss on my lips before we left. I smiled. I really liked psychic detective Shawn Spencer.

WOW. OKAY. WELP. CHAPTER ONE. Review, please? Maybe? I'll have the next one out ASAP (Act Swiftly Awesome Pacaderm!). So yep. Good day. I said good day, sir! Signed, Shown Spencer.

-Yogurt