Woo chapter! In which things happen! Also, I've decided in my Psych-world Henry never took the job at the SBPD, because I can. Yes, Henry finally shows up in this chapter. Yay. Actually, be warned, if you're a fan of Henry. He doesn't come off well here.

Anyway, spoilers, adult content, yada yada. Enjoy!

Shawn opened his eyes and grinned, spreading his arms and legs as far as they would go in Lassie's giant bed. Now that he could actually move both arms, he was making it a point to appreciate his full range of motion. And really, for a man with such utilitarian taste in décor, Lassie had the most comfortable furniture. The couch was nearly impossible to get out of once you'd sat down, and the bed… well, Shawn had been staying here for six days now and he'd yet to leave the bed before eleven in the morning. Though that may have had something to do with the horny teenager sex every night, the memory of which made Shawn grin even more as he buried his face in Lassie's pillow.

It being Thursday, Lassie had been at work for – Shawn checked his phone – almost four hours already. After an epic battle with the forces of warm sheets and pillows, Shawn got out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen. The oven was on, just set to warm, and Shawn pulled it open and breathed in, savoring the smell of banana pancakes. Humming the A-Team theme, he got the syrup and pineapple juice out of the fridge, then sat down to enjoy his breakfast.

Something was wrong. Shawn looked around the kitchen, wondering what was causing the uneasy flutter in his stomach.

The window above the sink. The curtain was pulled back; Lassie must have opened it when he was making breakfast and Shawn could see the gleaming tops of buildings and splashes of palm trees. Grimacing, he got up and pulled the dark blue curtain over the window, shutting out the view of the glorious morning.

Now everything was perfect. He finished his breakfast and took a shower, then got dressed in an old pair of Lassie's flannel pajama pants and one of his police academy t-shirts. The pants flopped a good several inches over his feet and the shirt came almost halfway down his thighs, but it didn't matter in the slightest. He was surrounded by all things Lassie, right down to his scent, and that meant he was ok.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed quietly. He watched some TV, played some Mario Kart on the Wii, and made a sandwich he was sure would've horrified Lassie, involving pineapple, wasabi mayo, and some leftover chicken. As he stood in the kitchen eating, there was a knock on the door.

Shawn opened the door. "Gus!" He waved his sandwich at his friend, stepping back to let Gus and the large duffel bag he was carrying in. "What's that? I hope you're not planning on moving in with Lassie too. For one thing, you'd have to sleep on the couch, and for another, you'd totally cramp our style, dude."

"No, Shawn, these are your clothes. I figured you were probably out since there wasn't much in that bag I gave Lassiter, so I went to your place and – did you just say you've moved in? Like, officially living here?" Gus set the bag down and stared at Shawn, his expression something between apprehension and amusement.

God, don't ask me questions. Anything but questions.

Walking back to the kitchen, Shawn said, "Not like that. I mean, maybe. I mean… I don't know." The sandwich looked disgusting now, oozing mayo and pineapple bits. And the fluttery stomach thing was back. He set the sandwich on the counter.

He must not have hidden his distress very well because Gus said in a very deliberate I'm-dropping-this voice, "Ok. Well, it looks like I was right about the clothes, anyway. You look ridiculous."

Shawn chose not to dignify that with a response. He went back to the living room and flopped down on the couch, where Gus joined him a second later. They watched TV together for a few minutes, and then Gus looked around and said, "Why are all the curtains drawn?"

"Bec –" Shawn's voice caught in his throat. "Because the neighbors don't need to see me and Lassie having sexytimes at night, the pervs. I'm sure they were watching us." He leered at Gus.

Gus rolled his eyes. "Ok, then why are they still drawn? It's a beautiful day outside, and it's kind of gloomy in here." He got up and moved toward the big window facing the street.

"Gus, no!" Shawn grabbed Gus' wrist, halting his progress. Unable to meet Gus' eyes, he looked down, but didn't release his friend's wrist. "Just… leave it. I don't mind the gloom. Besides, that's what I've got you for, my ray of chocolate sunshine!"

Stop looking at me like that.

When Gus finally sat back down, Shawn let go of his wrist and turned back to the TV. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart.

The TV was the only sound in the room for another few minutes, until, "Juliet asked where you were."

"What?" Shawn blinked and realized he'd been staring into space. "When did you see Jules? And without me, dude? I know Lassie and I are all relationship-y now, but you could wait a week or so before making your move."

"No, I went to the station because the Chief had our check from the last case. Which she wouldn't give me. She said we both had to be there."

"But she's given you the check before… oh, I get it. The Chief has a crush on me! I guess it was just a matter of time, after all, how – "

"The Chief's married! Besides, I think you freaked her out last time you were in. She said to come in and get the check when you were 'rested' and she said something about a new case for you…"

Shawn could feel Gus watching him. "Rested, huh? Well, sounds like she doesn't mind me taking a few more days off. How 'bout it, buddy? Wanna get all caught up on your drug pushing?"

He got only a sigh in response, and when he glanced at Gus, his friend was staring at his own tightly folded hands, brow furrowed, mouth a tight line. Worry Face.

"Gus, I'm fine," he tried.

No response.

"Really! Besides, you're always saying Psych takes time away from your other job, why don't – "

Gus looked at him, and he stopped talking. When Gus didn't look away, just kept searching his face, Shawn threw up his hands. "What, dude? What?"

"You're fine."

"Yes."

"Can I ask you a question?" Gus folded his arms.

The jokes died before Shawn could voice them, and he sighed. "Yeah, what."

"When was the last time you left this apartment?"

"Wh – I don't – why?" Again, Shawn took deep breaths, feeling his heart beat wildly and sitting on his hands so they wouldn't shake.

"It was Sunday, wasn't it. You haven't left since Sunday. You've been sitting in Lassiter's place with the curtains drawn for four days straight, and you expect me to believe you're fine. And Lassie is cool with this, too? I would never have guessed he'd be so comfortable with you around all the time so early."

This sent a shiver of fear through Shawn. He's right. Oh God, he's right, Lassie probably needs a break. He's not exactly used to… whatever this is, and I don't even know what this is! I'm an idiot. Banana pancakes every morning does not mean he's ready for me to be here all the time.

"…Shawn? Hello, Shawn?" Gradually, Shawn became aware the Gus had been trying to talk to him for several minutes. The Worry Face was getting intense, too.

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry, buddy. You're… you're right, I haven't left since Sunday. I just… need a few more days, ok? I'll be fine soon, and we'll go get our check from the Chief and see about that case. Just…" Shawn looked away, fidgeting with a loose thread on Lassie's pajama pants. "Just need a few more days."

The expression on Gus' face said clearly he wanted to argue, but he didn't. They watched TV for a while, then switched to playing video games at Shawn's suggestion. He needed something more active to distract himself from the panic welling up in his stomach.

PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH PSYCH

"This is stupid." Shawn muttered to himself, standing in the middle of the produce section of the closest grocery store to Lassie's house. He'd been saying it pretty steadily for the past couple of hours. When Gus had finally left, Shawn had spent forty-five minutes pacing frantically, then, before he could think himself out of it, changed into some of his own clothes and left. The idea to replenish some of the food he'd eaten had come to him as he was wavering on the sidewalk, thinking about the safe little world in which he'd spent the last five days, a world built of rumpled sheets and the sound of sizzling from the kitchen and warm skin under his hands. It felt like that world was wobbling on its axis, ready to tip over and collapse.

He had to stop it from collapsing. Hence, the grocery store, where he found himself assaulted by details – that man's having an affair, thirty-six carts in the parking lot, woman with a new baby at home, doesn't trust the babysitter – and what felt like the judgmental stares of all of Santa Barbara.

They're not staring at you; you just haven't seen a person other than Lassie and Gus for a week. Calm down.

"This is stupid," he muttered again, picking up a tomato. Grocery shopping was usually a Gus-enforced and Gus-accompanied activity, and he was completely at a loss. Also, Lassie was going to be home soon, and Shawn wanted to be there to greet him.

Or maybe I don't. Maybe I should give him some space. I guess that means I should go back to my place… ugh. Maybe I can get Lassie to come over just for a while tonight. That might be ok.

Or it might be the final straw, if he feels crowded.

Shit.

Feeling a little sick, Shawn put down the tomato and began wandering down the aisles, pushing his empty cart, eyes sliding over the wildly colorful packages without really seeing any of it.

"Shawn?"

The gruff voice came from behind him and he stopped, willing it to be a hallucination.

Come on, not now. Not now.

"Shawn, hey!" The definitely not-hallucinated voice of his father said.

Closing his eyes, Shawn dropped his head. Then he raised it again and turned with a bright smile on his face. "Hey, Dad! What are you doing here, at this grocery store which is really far away from your house?"

"The deli guys here. Have you been to the deli? They are geniuses at cutting meat. What about…" Henry trailed off, staring at his son like he was a piece of evidence. Shawn did his best to look relaxed and happy, but apparently didn't quite pull it off. He really needed to get a handle on that, it was becoming a trend. "Damn, kid, have you turned into a vampire? You're kinda pale. And you've got dark circles under your eyes, are you sick?"

"No! No, I'm fine, just been… working a lot. Big caseload, you know. The people need my psychic gifts!" Shawn waved his hands around his temple.

Henry scoffed, and folded his arms. "Yeah, I bet. What's your idea of a big caseload, about one case? Jeez, kid, you don't even have a real job, and now you're complaining it's too much work?"

A familiar feeling of impotent anger began boiling in Shawn's stomach and he flexed his hands on the handle of the cart, trying not to clench his fists or grit his teeth. Henry would see. "No, Dad, I'm not complaining, you brought it up, remember? I'm good."

"Right, which is why you look like a corpse."

"A corpse with great hair, though, you have to admit! Now, I'll let you get back to your finely-sliced meats…" Hoping that would be it, Shawn began to turn away.

"Woah. Wait a minute." The teasing had drained out of Henry's voice, and he narrowed his eyes. "You've been drinking again, haven't you."

"Wh – no, Dad! What the hell? I told you, I've just – "

"Been working a lot, yeah, heard that. You've never worked hard enough in your life to look this tired, Shawn. I'm not an idiot. Dammit, why are you slipping now? Or do you not care about your fake job as much as you said you did?"

Someone's hands (they felt a lot like Henry's, actually) were crushing Shawn's lungs. The anger was pounding in his head with every wild beat of his heart. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, he said, "Dad. I'm not drinking. Actually, if you really want to know, I'm… I met someone. I've been spending a lot of time with them."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Why he always found himself telling Henry details of his personal life, he had no idea, but it seemed like the defenses that kept the rest of the world safely at bay just crumbled in his father's presence. The urge to actually turn and run out of the store was almost overwhelming, but Shawn resisted. He would never run in front of his father.

Henry seemed at a loss for words for a minute, then burst into laughter. "You what? You met someone? How many dates have you had with your new love, two? Actually, two dates would be kind of a record for you since Abigail, wouldn't it? Though, it's not like you put any more effort into her than you do anything else; I was always a little surprised she stuck around as long as she did."

Shock blotted all the words out of Shawn's head for a minute. "What – Dad, come on!" Inwardly, he cringed at how whiny his voice had become. "That's not – how can you say that? Yang scared her off! And I don't really blame her, I mean, he tied her up under a pier!"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, son, but she left because you didn't try hard enough to make her stay. If you had any idea what it's like to work at a relationship, you might be able to keep someone around for longer than a week, but you never will, because you have no idea what it's like to work at anything." With a smug smile, Henry folded his arms and regarded his son.

Shawn was trembling, as hard as he tried not to, gripping the handle of his cart until his hands ached. He was also staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Henry, but he couldn't seem to muster any self-control.

After a minute, the smile died from Henry's face and he said, slightly more gently, "I'm sorry, son, but you know it's true. Even after all my training, you just don't have any work ethic. You got the investigative skills, sure, but you never did learn to focus on anything."

Finally, Shawn got his voice back, though it was shaking just as much as he was. "Focus? You remember when I was nine, and Mom finally convinced you to take me to that doctor, and they said I had ADHD? And that I'd be able to calm down and focus better if I was on medication for it? You remember what you said? I do, because I remember everything, thanks to your training. You said 'Shawn doesn't need meds, he needs to buckle down and try harder. Medication will destroy everything useful about him, and ruin his chances at being a detective.'"

"And I was right, too! You know that, or have you decided to start taking the meds now? Yeah, I didn't think so. And don't forget, you may have given up on being a detective, but without my training, you'd never have Psych, whatever that's worth. Look, look," he said, holding up his hand to forestall Shawn's arguments. "I don't want to argue with you about the past. I think you know I was just trying to inspire you. I'm gonna get back to grocery shopping, I'll let you get back to," he looked at Shawn's empty cart, "whatever it was you were doing." And with that, Henry ambled past, whistling and throwing a wave over his shoulder.

Shawn had no idea how long he stood and stared after his father. Long enough for several people to pass and look quizzically at the guy zoned out in the middle of the aisle. When he could move again, he turned and walked straight out of the store, leaving his cart where it was.

Outside, the sun seemed to be trying to stab him, personally, in the eyes with its brightness and he fumbled around in his pockets before remembering he hadn't brought sunglasses. Muttering angrily under his breath, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began walking down the street, with no clear plan, just needing to move. He watched his feet as he walked, trying to shut out the rest of the world.

Jesus, that sucked. Yeah, Shawn, try and argue with Henry about his child-rearing methods. That's always gone well. Hey, while you're at it, why don't you tell him you have depression and panic-attack-inducing anxiety as well? Not like he can think less of you.

Some time later, his phone rang. For a minute, the sound didn't register, then he gave a little start and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was Lassie. Shawn stared at the phone, torn between answering and the desire never to speak to anyone ever again, then hit the accept button.

A/N: Wow, that was actually kind of stressful to write. Ever written a story and then gone back and read through it and realized every single character is you? Yeah. It's weird. Anyway, thanks as always for sticking with my insanely slow update pace, and please review! I love love love my reviews. I count them at night, laughing maniacally.