Is it a Crime if the Chief of Police Makes You?
A/N: I got this idea from a challenge on Psychfic dot com. It doesn't completely comply with the challenge, so I guess it doesn't count, but if I were going to write that story, this would be the start of it. I'm not going to, because I don't think I can make it in any way plausible, and really, I only wanted to write this scene.
To set the scene, if you will: For some reason or another, Shawn must pretend to be a legitimate police officer to assist in an investigation. The reason for this fake-a-roo being that someone outside the team is coming into town and does not approve of psychics. And there you have it.
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Shawn did not like the reflection in the mirror. He looked pressed. Starched. Pleated.
He was wearing black, for one thing. Shawn was a creature of color, and he wasn't afraid to show it. But this monochromatic… There was an embroidered patch on his left sleeve. His shoes were shiny. There were funny lettered pins on his collar. The buttons were fastened all the way up to his neck. And worst of all he was sporting a shiny gold badge.
Shawn felt a little short of breath, and pulled the itchy collar away from his neck. They had even made him shave properly. His cheeks were smooth. Too smooth. He didn't like it. Stubble made him look rakish. Dangerous, even.
He sighed miserably. He looked like an idiot.
Deciding that he'd probably been in the bathroom for too long, he yanked open the door before he could chicken out and change back.
Gus was waiting just outside the door. Shawn glared at his best friend and silently dared him to laugh. Gus did. Loudly.
"Oh! Has he finished?" That voice belonged to Chief Vick, and it was all her fault that he looked like this. "Very sharp, Mr. Spencer."
"Thanks." So he sounded a little curt. So what? He was entitled.
"The uniform was a good choice, Detective O'Hara. He looks very professional."
Shawn's eyes slid over to Juliet. Her tongue was trapped between her teeth and she looked a little flushed. Her eyes were eating Shawn up like he was a plate of sugarcoated pineapple slices.
"Hm?" she said. "Oh! Yes. He looks very—professional."
Okay. Maybe he'd just hang on to the uniform.
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