Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Psych-Os like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.
Rating: T
Spoilers: Through season six finale
A/N: My dad had a thing where, if he accidentally blew a stop sign or something (not that it happened often) he would stop twice at the next sign, which amounts basically to letting up on the brakes and slamming down on them again and while it may balance something out karmicly, I really don't think it would hold water with a police officer issuing a ticket for failure to stop. I do not know if this is a widespread phenomenon or if it was unique to the ol' man, but it seemed ridiculous enough to appropriate for Lassiter's reaction to his moral dilemma. "Kim's Game" is essentially the game Henry plays with "how many hats are there" - a test of memory and observation.
Chapter Four: Oops I Did It Again
"Hey, Jules. Have a pleasant evening?"
Juliet, rummaging through her purse for her cell phone as she exited Lassiter's apartment, looked up with no surprise. "Shawn."
He'd been slouched against the wall across from Lassiter's door, and now he stood up straight. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked angry. "It strikes me as showing rather poor relationship skills, acting out, running off, not answering calls or texts, getting drunk and screwing another guy. Particularly when that guy is Lassie."
"You're right, Shawn. If you and I were in a relationship, that would have been a very bad thing for me to do."
"What the hell is wrong with you, Jules?" Shawn burst out. "I take you out for a nice date and you act like a crazy person."
"A nice date?" she marveled. "First of all, Shawn, a date is between two people. The minute you invited Gus along it ceased to be a 'date.'"
"What? Jules, bringing Gus was your idea."
"Like hell it was."
"Hell to the yeah, it was. You said you didn't want to see Resident Evil: Retribution without him."
"I said that I didn't want to see Resident Evil: Retribution. I told you to go see it with Gus without me."
"Well then clearly we need to work on our communication skills."
"No, Shawn, we don't need to work on our 'communication skills.' You need to learn to listen. You never listen. Not to me, certainly, and not to anyone else as far as I can tell. I'm tired of it, Shawn, and I'm tired of always having to be the one that compromises."
"When have I ever made you compromise? I always give you everything you want."
"I know you've given me everything you want, Shawn, but I've gotten very little that I can see was just for me."
"How can you say that, Jules? I brought you back together with your father, for Christ's sake."
Juliet's eyes did not turn red, but judging from the way Shawn immediately stepped back, looking spooked, he must have thought they did. "Yeah, Shawn. Let's talk about that, shall we? Let's. You forced my father down my throat when you knew full well I didn't want anything to do with the lying bastard, had damn good reason not to want anything to do with him. You pushed me into a relationship I don't want, and your motives elude me to this day. Your hypocrisy does not elude me, however, since you, who have a perfectly decent, honorable father who has clearly always been there for you despite how much you piss and moan about how bad you had it because he made you play Kim's Game one too many times, refuse to make any real amends with him, evidently because you're mad at him because 'Poor widdle Shawnie's mommy an' daddy got divorced' when you were a senior in high school. All I can say is Boo-frickety-hoo. You know, I've gotten the impression over the years that Carlton is estranged from his father as well. You going to try and remove that mote, too, Mr. Beam-in-Thine-Eye?"
"Firstly, I'm pretty sure Lassie's dad is dead; secondly, what the hell is Kim's Game; and thirdly, since you brought up the subject, why the fuck did you fuck Lassie last night?"
"All right, firstly, Lassiter's dad is not dead, he lives somewhere up in Washington Mr. Psychic; secondly, pick up a book some time. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. Parts of it might look familiar to you. Thirdly, it is no business of yours what - or who - I do."
"It is my business, seeing as I'm your boyfriend."
Taken aback momentarily, Juliet could only stare at him for a second. Then, "You know what, Shawn, there's something I'd like to show you. Would you be so kind as to wait here for a few minutes?"
He nodded, as if graciously, and Juliet turned and went back into Lassiter's apartment. He was still seated on the loveseat in his bathrobe, hair awry and a shell-shocked expression on his face. "What's wrong?" he said, when he realized she was back.
"Nothing's wrong. Say, mind if I raid your fridge? Whatever I take, I promise I'll pay you back."
"No, no, don't worry about it. Take what you want."
Juliet opened the side-by freezer and found an orderly stack of frozen dinners and bins of quick microwavable foods as she'd expected. She pulled a pepperoni Hot Pocket from an open box, unwrapped it, put it on a plate, and nuked it. She cut it into small, gooey pieces and waited until it stopped steaming, then carried the plate through to the living room. She grabbed Lassiter's arm and hoisted him to his feet.
"Come on, you'll want to see this."
She led him to the front door, opened it, and stepped into the hallway where Shawn still waited patiently. She dug her fingers into the gooey pocket-pizza slop, picked up a handful, and shoved it into Shawn's face.
"Friends are great but I need a man, Shawn, not a boy," was all she said before disappearing back into the apartment.
Shawn stood stock-still with Hot Pocket smeared all over his (a little warm, but should not have been at all astonished) face, and Lassiter stood stock-still for a moment, assimilating the scene. "Wow, Spencer, I - I'm really torn," he said at last. "On the one hand, good manners dictates that I should offer to let you in or at least give you a wet washcloth or something to clean yourself up, but on the other…I really, really like seeing you with pizza on your face." He snapped his fingers and grinned. "I know what I'll do. I'll stop twice at the next red light. That'll balance out the scales." He turned into the apartment and closed the door firmly behind him.