Took me forever to get this one done. Started it sometime last Christmas break, thought it was crappy, abandonded it, finally reread it and liked it, finished it, and then decided it was kinda boring. sc, windscryer, and Jenn1984 however disagreed.

So here you go. A new mushy moment after much drama. XDDDD

Thunderstorms were rare in Santa Barbara, but the occasional tropical storm did sweep through the city and Juliet was curled up on the couch in her living room with a blanket, a mug of hot tea, and Overboard, one of her favorite movies, enjoying the sound of thunder rumbling over the pounding of rain on the roof. Thunderstorms were much more common in Miami, and she had always loved them, so being able to experience one again was a little like being home again.

She was admiring an irate, sopping wet Kurt Russell when a sudden pounding on the door made her jump. For several long seconds, she simply stared at the door wondering who on earth would pay her a visit at this hour, but when the pounding simply increased in intensity, she got up, letting the blanket fall to the couch. She moved to the door, pushing up onto her toes to peer out the peephole and was astonished to see Shawn Spencer hunched outside her door, soaked from head to toe. Frowning, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"Shawn? What are you—"

"Jules!" he exclaimed and the relief in his voice worried her. "Can I—?" He gestured at the inside of the house.

"Oh—yeah, come in, Shawn," she said and he smiled gratefully. He stepped inside and she realized that not only was he wet, he was shivering. She closed the door behind him and put a hand around his back. "Come on, you're soaked."

He responded with a sneeze. "Sorry," he said. "I'm getting your house all wet Jules."

She smiled slightly as she led him into the bathroom. "It's tile. I can wipe it up. What are you doing out in this weather?"

Shawn sneezed again and said, "I was getting dinner. But my bike broke down. Your house was the closest."

"Dinner at this hour?"

"Well, technically, I got dinner over an hour ago. And if you really want to be technical, I guess it was Fourth Meal, since it was midnight, and Taco Bell. But then there was a lot of storming, and walking, and storming, oh, and throwing away soggy dinner… And yeah. Did I mention the storming?"

She smiled slightly. "And how exactly do you know where I live?" she asked, handing him a towel.

He grinned. "I think a better question is why haven't I been here before?"

Shawn's hands shook as he began awkwardly drying his hair and Juliet watched him struggle for a moment before rolling her eyes and grabbing the towel. She wrapped her hand around one of his and gasped. "Shawn, your hands are freezing. How long were you out there?"

He shrugged smiling sheepishly. "I dunno. Maybe an hour?"

"An hour? Shawn! Why didn't you call someone?"

He pulled his sodden phone out of his pocket. "Well, the battery was dead. Even if it wasn't, I don't know how well it would work now."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're impossible?"

She saw a flash of a grin before she tossed the towel over his head and began vigorously drying his hair. "All the time," he replied cheerfully, voice muffled. He then sneezed again.

"See? Now you're sick. That's what you get."

"Gee, Jules, I appreciate your sympathy."

She smiled and pulled the towel back, letting it fall around his shoulders. "You stay here and get out of those wet clothes and I'll see if I can find anything you can wear."

"Aw, Jules, you don't have to do that. I just need a ride—"

She laughed. "And what makes you think I'm going out in this weather? Unless you want to call someone at—" She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Quarter after one, you can sleep in the spare room."

Shawn smiled, bemused. "Okay. Thanks, Jules."

"Just get those clothes off."

His parting remark as she shut the door was another tremendous sneeze.

In her bedroom she rooted around in her drawers, pulling out an old hand-me-down t-shirt from her oldest brother that she often used as a night shirt because it was so large. She bit her lip as she straightened up. It was going to be harder to find bottoms. She pulled a pair of sweat pants out of another drawer and held them up, eying them critically.

She imagined what Shawn would look like in them and immediately snorted. No, those wouldn't work. She tossed them on the bed and tapped her bottom lip with a finger thoughtfully. If she remembered correctly, her littlest brother had left a pair of boxers behind the last time he visited. She headed toward the guest bedroom where she thought she might find them.

"Jules?"

She paused at the door, looking down the hall to see Shawn peering out at her from the bathroom. "Yes?"

"Do you have any cold medicine?" He sniffled. "My nose is running like crazy and my head is killing me."

She smiled. "Yeah, it's in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I'll bring you some as soon as I grab your dry clothes."

"Thanks," he said and after staring at her for a moment, he slipped back into the bathroom.

She moved into the spare bedroom and checked each of the drawers in the bureau, finally finding the boxers in the bottom one. She grabbed them, pushing the drawer shut with her foot before going back to her own bathroom to retrieve the medicine.

After getting the pills she returned to the bathroom door, knocking quietly. It cracked open and she had to hide a smile when Shawn peeked out, his drying hair fuzzy and his nose red. "Here. The boxers are my little brother's, I hope you don't mind. They're clean."

He smiled faintly, sniffling. "Mind sharing intimates with one of your brothers? Definitely not. Is he pretty like you?"

She pursed her lips and dropped the pills into his hand. "Get dressed Shawn."

He smiled and she heard him sneeze again as he closed the door. She rolled her eyes and went to wait in the kitchen, calling back, "Shawn, do you want tea, hot chocolate, or Seven-Up?"

"You actually have Seven-Up, Jules?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Seven-Up is a sick drink. I don't keep it around the house."

She smirked. "Well, you're sick, so I guess maybe it's a good thing I do. Which would you like?"

"I'll try some tea. I think my liver is still frozen and at least that'll thaw my insides."

As she began steeping the tea, she called again, "What about food? Are you hungry?"

"Mm, no, I don't think so."

"I thought you said you didn't eat."

"I didn't. But you're making me nauseous just talking about eating."

He shuffled out a moment later and she glanced at him, eyes sweeping quickly over his figure. The boxers seemed to fit okay, and the shirt was a little large, even on him. "How do they fit? Okay?"

"Yeah, Jules, perfect." He sneezed several times successively and she moved over, holding out the steaming mug of tea.

"Here. How are you feeling?"

"Lousy," he said honestly. "But I'm getting warm again, I guess that's something."

"I'll get you a blanket and a pillow."

"No, Jules, you were watching something. You don't have to do that. Really."

"Shawn. Don't be ridiculous, I can—"

"Hold that thought," he muttered and set the coffee mug on the counter before running back down the hall.

Juliet's face creased faintly with worry and she started after the fake psychic, grimacing when she heard the sound of him retching. She stepped back, pulling a glass from the cupboard before moving down the hall and slipping into the bathroom. Shawn's face was hidden by the toilet seat, but she could see his stomach convulsing as it forced itself empty and she knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. He had to have been sick before this, and going out in the icy rain had only exacerbated the illness.

It took a few minutes for his body to finally relax, his breathing heavy and his arms trembling as he forced them to hold his weight. "Sorry," he muttered, grimacing at the taste of bile in his mouth.

"It's not your fault," she said, and held out a glass of water. "Here."

He accepted the glass gratefully, taking a mouthful and rinsing his mouth before taking a tentative drink.

"How is your stomach feeling? Do you think you'll be okay for a little while?"

Shawn considered his now empty stomach and nodded wearily. "I think so. Sorry I wasted your drugs."

She smiled, getting to her feet. "Don't worry about it. I'm just sorry they won't be helping you feel better. Come on. Let's get you into the spare room. You look exhausted."

He sneezed, grimacing unhappily and said, "Actually, I'd still like to have that tea if you don't mind me sitting up with you."

Juliet smiled. "All right, I'll grab the blanket from the spare room and I'll meet you out there. Take the wastebasket with you."

"Man. Being sick is so undignified," Shawn complained, retrieving the trash can.

Juliet's laughter echoed down the hall.

He was sprawled on the far end of the couch when she returned, the mug of hot tea clutched in his hands, close to his chest and the wastebasket on the floor just in front of him. She tossed the blanket over his body and his head twisted slightly, glassy gaze meeting hers. "Thanks," he mumbled, and sounded even more stuffed up than before.

She felt terrible for him. "No problem." She set a box of tissues on the floor beside the wastebasket as she sat down on the couch beside him, pulling her own blanket close around her. "Are you sure you don't just want to go to bed?" she asked.

"Trust me, Jules. I'm gonna sleep better on this couch with a movie playing than I would in a bed when I'm feeling like this."

"All right, if you say so," she said with dubious shrug.

"Ooh, Overboard," Shawn said appreciatively as she pressed the play button and she smiled. "Goldie Hawn is awesome." He sneezed violently into a tissue.

It was distracting, having him there on the end of the couch. She couldn't help glancing over every so often to check on him, but the feeble laughter that often dissolved into a bout of coughing and the sound of him blowing his nose provided enough of a reassurance. He seemed okay, if under the weather. Soon the movie had recaptured her full attention.

She didn't notice when Shawn went quiet, but when she looked over again, he was curled up on one side, his head on the arm of the chair, mouth slightly open and his eyelashes feathery and dark against the pale blue tint of his skin, cast by the light of the television. She smiled and took a moment to watch him sleep, his chest rising and falling shallowly. He looked young, despite the scruffy five o'clock shadow on his jaw and far more innocent than she had ever seen him look.

It was impossible to stop her heart from softening.

She got to her feet, careful not to disturb him and gently tugged the blanket crumpled around his ankles up and over his shoulders. He shifted slightly, soft pink lips murmuring something indecipherable, but he slept on. She smiled and gently brushed back the fringe on his forehead. He really could be very sweet when he wanted. Or when he was unconscious.

With one last look at the sleeping psychic, she switched off the TV and shuffled off down the hall.