Notes: Random bit of weirdness written in fifteen minutes. No beta, feel free to inform of my mistakes. :)
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"So, I was thinking now that we're actually making money at this thing, we should totally get one of those big wingback chairs so I can look like I'm on my throne while I preside over our affairs." Shawn smiled, leaning back in his desk chair.
"You preside over where we go to lunch three days a week." Gus raised an eyebrow. "We're not taking cases without my approval anymore, remember?"
"Okay, while WE preside over our affairs… whatever." He groaned. "I'm just sick of stroking the tiger in this puny little chair."
Gus' other eyebrow lifted, questioning the thought. "Shawn, what did I tell you about masturbation in the office?"
"Only on Thursdays, never when you can catch me, and only in the bathroom." Shawn rolled his eyes, "That wasn't a euphemism." He held up a small, furry plush tiger. "I thought I introduced you two."
"Shawn…" Gus sighed, looking from the bean bag tiger to his monitor. "You're not getting a new chair."
"Pokey demands a new chair, a fitting chair for the king of the jungle."
"Shawn, that's a lion not a tiger. And I'm not getting a chair for him."
"No, that's stupid… you're getting a chair for me and then Pokey can use this one."
Gus sighed and didn't bother answering. When he'd said they were finally in the black, he'd neglected to mention it was by $12.67. By lunch they'd be back in the negative again.
After a long wait, Shawn set the tiger back on his desk and leaned forward. "Gus, don't be the yellow lettuce they put underneath the tacos. Besides, it's your turn to go get lunch. I'm thinking… jerk chicken and a small FroYo."
"It's only eleven, I need to finish this expense report for Chief Vick."
"Come on… Gus… I'm withering away here." He whined, "And Pokey is demanding bannaberry FroYo."
"Shawn, we don't take orders from toys."
"Maybe in the royal sense of we meaning you…" He picked up the tiger again and gave it a soft look; "Ignore him, Pokey… he doesn't understand that when a tiger needs FroYo… you just don't ask questions." He looked back to Gus. "Gus, I demand frozen yogurty goodness. You can make that happen, or I can take your keys."
"You're not taking my keys, you're not allowed to drive my car until you finish paying for that fender you dented."
"Hey, that curb was way closer than it should have been… and I've only got like what… another ten bucks to pay it off?"
"Try two hundred, Shawn. You haven't made a single payment."
"Two hundred? It's like… plastic… I could have fixed it with my shrinky dinks set."
Gus groaned again; "No, Shawn. I'll go when I'm finished."
"All right then, you're forcing me to break out the big guns." Shawn turned the tiger around, setting him on the edge of the desk, facing Gus. "You don't need to see this, little buddy."
"Shawn, what are you doing?"
"Something that will make you either very uncomfortable or pleasantly aroused – either way, I win." He grinned, pushing his chair back away from the desk. "I'm gonna stroke my tiger."
"Go ahead, pet your creepy little stuffed toy." Gus waved a hand dismissively.
Shawn made a show of lowering his zipper and cleared his throat loudly; "Now that… was a euphemism."