Title: Cabbage

Rating: T or M for swearing

Pairing: Shawn/Juliet

Genre: Angsty in that emo way.

Spoilers: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Summary: Missing scenes for said episode. Starts right after, "I smell love."

A/N: This may seem a little OOC. I don't know. I don't think of Shawn as having a hell of a lot of depth (and I love him that way, don't get me wrong), and this may test the boundaries of that introspectiveness that he may or may not possess. There's a lot going on in his face during this episode, but I tried not to take it too far. I hope you like it.

This is all from Shawn's POV. His inner dialogue is in italics, but it spills out sometimes into the regular type (is there a term for that?)

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"You and you are a one hundred percent perfect match from your personality questionnaires!" The speed-dating lady looked far more thrilled than she ought to have been. Inside, Shawn was pumping his fist, mentally preparing how best to use this new information.

"I smell love."

And just like that, the flirty, suggestive comments fled. There was ice in his veins, and heat in his cheeks, and he was glad that the lighting in the bar was dim. All he could do was laugh, forced and entirely without mirth, but she joined in. He had absolutely no idea what to say, but thankfully (probably because she was just as fucking weirded out as he was) Juliet gave him an out.

He headed for the restrooms, but changed course halfway there. He pushed open the front door of the restaurant, and walked down the block. He couldn't breathe. "Oh, God. Is this what a panic attack feels like?"

Shawn leaned against a building, and tipped his head back to stare up at a street light. He squinted, and it haloed prettily against the black sky, pulsing in time with the raging beat in his chest.

Love, love, love... The word ran through his head, round and round in circles, and all he could say was, "Shit."

He covered his mouth with his fingers. "Shit," he repeated.

He liked Juliet. She was becoming a friend. And he really wanted to sleep with her. Generally he never got past the wanting to sleep with a girl part, so just getting to the point where he enjoyed her company was enough of an accomplishment.

Stupid personality quizzes, he thought. How did we score that way?

Had she cheated?

No. Juliet wouldn't do something like that. If she had, she would have put more of an effort into flirting during their six minutes together. Cheating is something he would do. But he hadn't.

The test had been a short twenty-five questions. Some serious, some on the stupid side, but they were all worded in an amusing way, so he had answered honestly. Mostly on the off chance that he would match up with some hot girl, and yeah, he'd hoped for Juliet to be that match... but that hope had been mostly for flirting ammunition. But now? One hundred percent, and the word 'love' had been thrown into the mix, and he sure as hell wasn't going to pull that out of his arsenal.

Why did the speed-dating lady have to use the word 'love'? Shawn groaned, and beat his head against the brick wall.

Love was responsibility. Love was a permanent tie. Love was asking for trouble.

Shawn didn't like to think of himself as damaged, but his parent's divorce had put a damper on the whole marriage with kids thing. He'd grown up with loud arguments followed by cool silences, and that wasn't something he wanted for himself. He'd also gotten to see first hand what divorce had done to his mother. He never wanted to experience that kind of pain. And because of all that, he hadn't had a relationship that lasted longer than a couple months since his junior year of high school. Rebecca Hamilton, drama geek. Over ten years ago. "Wow," he said aloud. "I am damaged."

He has to figure this out. He has to get back to that fun, flirty territory, because he knew that every time he saw Juliet from now on he'd be thinking, "I smell love." It smelled like cabbage.

He paced to the curb and back again. This is easy, he thought. This is just another puzzle. Collect all the pieces and you'll have an answer.

"Shawn!"

Gus was down the street at the restaurant's entrance. Juliet and Lassiter filtered out to join him. "Crap," Shawn muttered.

"Gus!" Shawn jogged towards them. Everything is fine.

"Where did you go?" Gus had an annoyed look on his face that told Shawn he was worried.

Shawn shrugged, ignoring Juliet and Lassie's curious looks. "I heard something… turned out to be a stray cat."

"We thought, maybe—" started Juliet.

"That I'd been roofied, and you'd find me naked in a field tomorrow morning?" Shawn quipped. Before the 'l' word he would have thrown in something suggestive, but the smell of cabbage was stronger in front of the restaurant, and he was trying not to choke on it.

-----

It was just his luck that Mrs. McConnell in 2B had made sauerkraut. The smell filled up his apartment, and even with all the windows open the odor lingered.

Shawn lay flat on his back in his bed, staring at the lines made on the ceiling from the blinds and the streetlights below. There was a faint red, then green, then yellow glow from the stoplight. He counted the seconds the light stayed red.

The puzzle began with analyzing himself. Not something he liked to do, but here goes. Okay, so he can technically be called commitment-phobic. The idea of attaching himself to one person for the rest of his life (there's a brick on my chest) was scary.

"I can't do this," he muttered, breathing through his mouth to block the smell.

Puzzle piece two: Juliet.

Pros: Hot (seriously hot), blonde (never been picky in that department, but her hair… yeah, my fingers already know they like it), he likes her perfume (something with lilacs), her smile is adorable, she would understand his crazy work hours (something Mom and Dad argued about constantly) and he gets hers, she gets his sense of humor (always important), she plays his word games (and wins!), and she calls him on his shit (and it's impressive that she can be ahead of my own train of thought sometimes… oh no… am I becoming predictable). He could go on forever about her good points (and stray into X-rated territory while doing it).

Cons: she's a stickler for the rules (but that's part of the challenge), she's shown next to no interest in him romantically (daunting, but not insurmountable… romantically? Really), she doesn't know that he's lying about the whole psychic thing (I can already imagine her yelling at me… something she'd probably do anyway, but if we were involved? Yikes), and she's bossy.

Bossy? That's all you've got, Spencer?

Puzzle piece three: trial run. He shut his eyes on the light show playing on his ceiling, and ran through a scenario.

They have a house. Maybe they're married. She's late coming home from work, and he's lying in bed watching ESPN while waiting up for her. She kicks off her shoes, and lies next to him with her head on his shoulder.

He wonders if he's the, "How was your day, honey?" type.

But he would mute the TV, and wrap his arms around her, and listen… Though it's likely that they've seen each other at some point during the day. They work the same cases most of the time… so maybe they would have nothing to talk about. But no, he always has something to say, something to fill up the silence…

Imaginary Juliet takes over. (She's even bossy here.) "I'm starving."

"There's pizza in the fridge."

She wrinkles her nose. Adorable. "It's a week old."

"Mmm… crusty, dried out pepperoni, pineapple, and mold pizza. It's calling your name."

"Ech," she says. "I'll have to make something."

He knows she's tired. "I can make you some mac and cheese. You look like you need a long, hot soak in the tub…"

She hums a response.

He kisses her nose. "I could even join you…"

Her hum increases in pitch, and she leans up to kiss his mouth. "Okay. Bring in the mac and cheese."

"Kinky, Jules."

She laughs against his shoulder, and then she's up and he's watching her undress.

He stopped himself there, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. His 'domestic' scenario was going the way his normal Juliet-related fantasies went, but the brick on his chest didn't feel as heavy.

Yeah, okay, Shawn thought. Not so bad. Do-able in fantasy land at least.

A fresh breeze blew in through the open window, carrying the clean scent of the ocean. He breathed deep.

-----

The bowling alley did not smell like cabbage, but it should have. (Stinky shoes, wax, French fries, and beer.)

Shawn decided then and there that his observational skills were definitely a curse. He caught a glimpse of blonde and bright red, and his stomach tightened. Nervous? That was new.

And even more alarming was jealousy. (A squeeze at the back of his neck, and ice instantly freezing his spine.)

He was not a jealous guy.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was making a complete ass of himself.

Bowling at a high level? Fifteen to twenty hours of practice a week? Lego sponsorship? He was even shocking himself with the lies that were falling from his mouth. She smiled though (seeing right through me). And then there was Kyle, and the word 'rejection' when his arm went around her shoulders, and Shawn was fully aware that he was ruining Juliet's date, but he just couldn't stop himself. There was a part of him (a small, small part) that was bitch-slapping the asshole who had taken control of his tongue.

Tight-tucks? What the fuck?

He walked away from Juliet and her moron of a date (asshole and bitch-slapper both agreed on that), kicking himself. He hasn't embarrassed himself like that in front of a girl since high school.

Bitch-slapper was begging for him to get a beer. Or eight.

Gus stopped him, and that was when Shawn knew that this thing with Juliet was important, life changing in magnitude, because he usually told Gus everything, and he didn't breathe a word about it.

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A few hours after Mr. Asshole had been shoved back into a box with Jealousy, he was having a pretty good night. He'd gotten the last word in a mini-argument with his dad (though he's still freaked by his dad's new beauty routine), and he'd just wrapped up a case. That was always a nice feeling. He was sitting with a blonde girl (with utterly nothing upstairs), and beginning to regret the move, when Jules snuck up on him.

She was not supposed to be there. Had she heard his speech? He'd gone on about love and perfect matches. Mr. Bitch-slap has become Mr. Embarrassed. Is she going to yell at him for ruining her date? She looked like she was having fun before he stuck his nose in…

She didn't yell. She smiled, and apologized for getting rid of his 'date.' That made him feel vaguely guilty, so he asked her about her own. Mr. Masochistic was making a cameo.

The thought of a goodnight kiss and butterflies made his own stomach roil, but she wasn't with Tight-tuck now. (I'm in so deep. Fuck.)

Why wasn't he really psychic? He couldn't read her at all. Bowling is a deal-breaker? (Is she serious?) Did she believe him earlier? (No.)

"I don't take any stock in those profile matching thingys…"

He laughed and tried on a grin, but it wouldn't stick. Of course, I was just fooling around. Of course, I copied. Of course. And, for fuck's sake, I'm stuttering.

"I don't want there to be any weirdness between us…"

He heard her loud and clear. "Let's just be friends."

It was only as she was walking away that he figured out she wasn't feeling as cool as she'd been acting. "I'll see you at work," she said again. And that, just that, put them back on equal footing.

Breathe, he thought. That brick on his chest had increased in weight, and the smell of cabbage was nauseating.

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A/N: I don't think I've ever used so many parentheses before. Reviews are golden.