A Very Juliet Episode Tag by Emachinescat

A Psych Fan-Fiction

Summary: After Shawn's fight with Daniel Wayne, Juliet finds herself on Shawn's doorstep, though if pressed, she couldn't say why. Seeing his bruises, however, throws a bit of perspective into the mix. Whumpier tag to 4x12, "A Very Juliet Episode."

A/N: Written for Whumtober 2021 Day 6: Bruises. There's no way Shawn got into that fight with Wayne and only came out with a split lip to show for it. So, as I am so oft to do, I fixed it. :)

Spoilers for "Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark," "You Can't Handle This Episode," and (obviously) "A Very Juliet Episode." Also, I realized in my latest rewatch that Shawn and Abagail actually break up when she leaves, but it's also kind of weird because they act like they're together when she comes back in "Mr. Yin Presents," so for the angsty purpose of this fic, I'm saying they didn't break up, but are trying the long distance thing.

Enjoy!

A Very Juliet Episode Tag

Juliet O'Hara couldn't quite say what it was that drew her to the threshold of Mimi's Fluff-n-Fold well after 9 p.m.

If pressed, she might decide it was to thank Shawn for saving Scott's life at the risk of his own. But she'd already thanked him for that a couple of times – first with a pointed nod right after they'd arrested Daniel Wayne and again at the police station a few hours later. He'd given her a vague smile, but his eyes had seemed to be somewhere else. At the time, she'd assumed it was because he was still sulking about her relationship with Scott, but thinking back, his body language hadn't been defensive or downtrodden, just sort of… hunched.

If really pressed, she might cite their last conversation, the way Shawn's arms had been tucked around his torso, and the tense pull of his mouth as he smiled at her. The way his shoulders had hunched ever so slightly forward and the careful, even way he shuffled out of the station. At the time, Juliet had been in a whirlwind of emotion after having so much of her past dug up, destroyed, and gifted back to her, only to realize that it might to be what she wanted anymore. The conflicting emotions – Did she still love Scott? Why was she so hesitant to pick this back up where they'd left off? How could she reconcile the gratitude she felt for Shawn with that slight flutter in her stomach when she thought of his face? Hadn't that flutter once been reserved for Scott? – had left her in a daze, and it was only later, after the fact, that she'd realized that Shawn might not have been defensive about Scott, but that he might have been hiding something.

Yes, she decided, as she knocked on the door of the old dry cleaner's, that had to be it. She was checking on Shawn, making sure he wasn't worse for the wear. After all, she and Lassiter had only arrived after the fight with Wayne. Shawn had been picking himself off the ground, Scott leaning against Wayne's car, holding the back of his head, and their attacker himself had been unconscious in the dirt between them. They'd taken both men's statements, and between Scott's level-headed but sparse recollection and Shawn's highly edited version with heightened heroics and many self-comparisons to the fighting styles Chuck Norris and Jackie Chan, it seemed that, somehow, Shawn and Scott had held their own and had made it out of the encounter surprisingly unscathed. Scott, according to the paramedic who'd checked him over, had a mild concussion. Shawn had declined medical attention, but the only evidence of injury Juliet had seen was a split lip and a swollen nose, so she hadn't insisted.

Her impromptu late-night pilgrimage to Shawn's home was to thank him and to check up on him. Certainly not just to see him. Definitely not because she couldn't get his face out of her mind. Absolutely not because he popped up in her head every time she thought of Scott, because that was not happening. Besides, he had a girlfriend, and he was happy. She'd moved on since her moment of weakness in the movie theater. She was a professional, an adult, stopping by to check on a friend who might have gotten injured doing something for her.

All of her resolve and willpower melted away in a quickening heartbeat when Shawn flung open the door and stood there wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms and a set of fuzzy Chewbacca house shoes. Juliet shifted her feet, trying to still the stuttering of her heart as she realized that this was the first time she'd ever seen Shawn without a shirt.

Her eyes darted quickly up to his face, which, she was embarrassed to see, housed an expression as awkward and uncomfortable as she felt. In a flash, Shawn wrapped his arms around his torso and managed, "Juliet. Ah… what are you doing here?"

Juliet had never been more relieved that it was dark outside, as she could feel her cheeks burning as she glanced at her feet. "I'm sorry, Shawn, I should have called. I'll see you later." She turned to leave, hating herself for showing up out of the blue, for how flustered she was after just a glance of Shawn without a shirt, like she was a silly little pre-teen.

"Juliet – wait." An uncharacteristic seriousness tinged Shawn's voice, a slight gruffness that she had only heard a few times and that never failed to rattle her bones. She turned to see that Shawn had moved out of the doorway, allowing her space to come in.

Taking a deep breath and fighting every instinct that screamed at her to run away and hide, Juliet stepped through the doorway, her heels clicking with each step. She glanced around, surprised to see how relatively clean Shawn kept his home. It looked much the same as it had the last time she had visited, also without an invitation, as Gus had pointed out. Her stomach curled uncomfortably as she remembered the circumstances that had warranted her visit. An image of Shawn, tied up and bleeding in the back of a killer's truck, flashed unbidden through her mind, followed by a phone call that had haunted her for months, the breathy, reedy voice reserved for people suffering from exhaustion, blood-loss, and trauma, the whispered words she'd wanted so ardently to believe were for her – "I love you." The surge of hope despite the direst of circumstances, undercut cruelly by the added name that was definitely not hers – Abigail.

Juliet's eyes went wide and she could have kicked herself. "Oh my gosh, Shawn, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think – is Abigail here? I should have called, I–"

Shawn cut her off. He was now standing just out of view, behind the rotating laundry hanger helpfully installed in his living room as he started searching for a shirt. "No, no."

A horrible thought crossed Juliet's mind as she started trying to put the pieces together. "Were you expecting her?"

Shawn paused his search for a shirt, the whirring of the machine halting as he did. "Nah. She, uh… she's gone."

Something that Juliet refused to accept as hope flared through her chest like a paper airplane. "Oh, Shawn, I'm sorry, did you–"

"Break up? No." The thing that wasn't hope fluttered to the floor, lifeless and limp, the paper crumpled and the airplane spent. "But she left. Uh, Uganda. She wanted me to go with her, but… I have a life here, y'know? So we're trying the long distance thing."

He selected a shirt, a bright green t-shirt, and walked around the rotating closet as he pulled it over his head. Juliet's question regarding how the long-distance thing was going died on her lips as she saw a great glimpse of black and purple before the gaudy fabric covered his torso.

Shawn must not have realized she'd seen what lay beneath his freshly laundered shirt, because at the look of horror on her face, his awkward, tense expression melted into a wolfish grin. "Jules, if you're that devastated, I can take the shirt off," he teased. The cut on his lip was healing, but both of his eyes were shadowed with bruises and his nose was puffier and darker than before.

"No," Juliet snapped curtly, mind whirling and guilt pooling in her gut. Shawn blinked at her abrasive tone, then took a step back as she made her mind up, concern for Shawn's wellbeing and frustration at herself for not insisting on medical attention outweighing her own discomfort with her next words. "Actually, you know what, yes. Take it off. Now."

Shawn's lips parted slightly, his hazel eyes wary as they narrowed. "Calling my bluff, Detective? If I'd known you were this eager..."

"Not eager," Juliet clarified. "But I am concerned. Take off your shirt, Shawn," she added softly. "Let me see how bad it is."

The Adam's apple bobbed rapidly as Shawn once more crossed his arms across his chest. Realization dawned, and he shook his head. "I'm fine. It's fine. It's nothing."

"Shawn." Juliet's voice allowed no room for argument, and slowly, painstakingly, Shawn maneuvered the t-shirt over his head.

Juliet gasped at the abstract painting on Shawn's bare torso – a terrible splotching of blacks, purples, and dark, ugly blues. The bruising focused around his ribs, but extended downwards onto the flesh of his abdomen, and reached its greedy fingers around to his sides. Juliet had seen enough beatings in her time to recognize when someone had been kicked repeatedly with steel-toed shoes.

"Shawn," she breathed. She couldn't help but glance up at his shoulder as she took in the tattered state of his body, her concerned eyes lingering only for a moment on the puckered bullet wound scar that would never fully fade. She pursed her lips and dragged her eyes up to meet his own uncomfortable gaze.

Shawn flashed her another leering grin, but when he spoke, his voice was strained. "Seen enough, Jules?" Juliet wasn't fooled for a moment by the false bravado and rakish confidence as Shawn continued in a shadow of his usual energetic tone, "What should we do now? I don't have baby oil, but I do have a substantial amount of chocolate pudding cups. How do you feel about getting your hands dirty?"

"How about you turn around and let me see your back, too?"

Shawn tutted. "Really, Juliet, now you're just getting greedy."

"Turn. Around."

Shawn stared at her for a few moments, his gaze so intense and unreadable that Juliet almost looked away. But she'd learned a lot in her time as Lassiter's partner – for example, how to out-stare the most intimidating of suspects. After a moment, Shawn sighed, dropped his eyes and quipped, "All right, but if it's too much man for you, just say the safe word."

"We have no safe word, Shawn, and I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," Juliet shot back. She twirled her finger in the air. "Now turn."

Sulking, Shawn did as she demanded, and Juliet felt her breath catch in her lungs as she realized that the bruises on Shawn's chest were child's play to his back. A huge, ugly, swollen bruise blossomed from the middle of his spine, spreading its discolored tendrils out in all directions. The center of the bruise was black, and it glared at her accusingly, like the pupil of a bruised eye.

"Shawn," she gasped again.

"I know, I know," Shawn said, but this time, she could hear the pain in his voice. "It's too much. I'll turn around, I– ahh!"

Juliet lifted her fingers from where she had lightly pressed the bruise in the center of the swelling. Shawn swore colorfully, spinning around to face her. Beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead, and he clutched his lime shirt to his chest like a lifeline. "What the hell, Jules?" he gasped. "I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, but–"

Juliet held up a hand to silence him, and to her surprise – and concern – it actually worked. She recognized Shawn's tactless flirting as what it really was: an attempt to hide just how much pain he was actually in. "Enough, Shawn," she ordered. The fire in her voice was warranted, and all awkwardness from the situation had evaporated. Now, she felt angry, though at who, she didn't immediately know. Definitely Shawn for hiding this. Maybe even at herself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing how hurt he really was. "First, you have a girlfriend, and just because she's not in the country doesn't mean you have the right to flirt with me like this." Unspoken but keenly felt: It's not fair. "Secondly, this isn't just a little bruising. When exactly were you going to go to the doctor about this?"

"They're just bruises, Jules," Shawn muttered, looking now more than ever like a scolded child. "I've had worse."

Juliet scrunched up her nose in disbelief. "Even if you have, this is nothing to play around with. Did it occur to you that you might have broken ribs?"

"I'm fine."

Irritation bubbled up inside of Juliet. "I really don't get you, Shawn, you know that? I've seen you milk papercuts to the point where I'm almost convinced you're dying, and yet you hide something like this, that's actually serious?"

"I'm like a burrito," Shawn answered promptly.

Juliet raised her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. "Let me guess – you're a man of many layers?"

Shawn scoffed. "No. I'm spicy and delicious."

"Shawn."

A great sigh. "Look, Jules, contrary to popular belief, I don't always need people fussing over me."

Juliet raised her eyebrows.

"I also really, really hate hospitals and pointy things."

Juliet shook her head, partially in frustration, partially in amusement. "What you did, Shawn, following after Wayne and Scott like that, and holding Wayne off until we go there, that was really, really–"

"Brave?"

"Stupid of you," Juliet continued dryly. Her expression softened at Shawn's disappointed frown. "But it was also really brave. You saved Scott's life."

"Yeah, well, he saved mine too, so we're even," Shawn grumbled. "So he'd better not show up on my doorstep pledging to be my servant until the day he dies."

Juliet snorted. "I can guarantee that he is absolutely not going to do that."

"Oh, well, damn it. I was starting to get used to the idea of a freakishly tall servant attending to my every whim."

It was Juliet's turn to cross her arms over her chest. "Scott is a good person, Shawn."

Shawn's voice was serious as he responded, "I know."

They stood in silence for a minute, then Shawn made to put his shirt back on.

"Oh, no!" Juliet exclaimed, reaching out and snatching the material from his hands. "Not yet."

"You've already made it exceptionally clear that I have a girlfriend and cannot partake in our usual witty banter," Shawn griped. "Double standard, anyone?"

"Oh, I'm not flirting with you," Juliet assured. "But I do need to check those bruises. If there's a chance anything's fractured, I'm driving you straight to the hospital."

"Can we at least pass go?"

"What?"

"At least let me collect $200 first."

"Shawn! I'm serious. If you have broken ribs, you have to see a doctor."

Shawn made a face. "How about we don't and say we didn't?"

"The expression is 'don't and say we did,' Shawn."

"Oooh, I like that idea even better."

"Shawn."

Shawn groaned, but threw his hands up in defeat. Like a man condemned, he allowed Juliet to lead him to the couch and ease him into a sitting position. Now that she knew what to look for, it was painfully obvious how sore Shawn was. He moved like an arthritic old man, and when she gently pressed her fingers against the first rib and felt a slight give, Shawn actually howled in pain and let out a string of curses.

"Oh, you've got a broken rib for sure," Juliet said, moving on to the next. This one didn't give, but Shawn still gritted his teeth, his forehead and chest beading with sweat. "Gah!" he yelled as she began to examine his back. "Jules, if you're – ahh – pissed at me, you could've just said – urgh – something!"

"I'm not pissed at you," Juliet answered as she sat back and took in the strained quality to Shawn's face, the cloud of pain in his normally sharp eyes, the tension of his abdomen and the clenching of his fists. "Actually, scratch that. I am pissed that you were this hurt and didn't see a doctor. What the heck did Wayne do to you?"

"He got in a few good kicks," Shawn answered glumly. And he double-teamed my back."

Juliet choked. "He what?"

"You know," Shawn answered, eyes downcast, "He used both his fists to wham!" He locked his fingers together and mimicked slamming them down, wincing as he did so.

"Oh," Juliet said simply, shaking her head. "Well, for future reference, being beaten, especially around the ribs, always warrants a hospital visit and x-rays. If I ever find out you've hidden something like this from me again, I'll…" She hesitated, trying to think of a good enough punishment.

Shawn bared his teeth, though his eyes were pain-filled and tired, and Juliet knew she had to get him to a doctor soon. "You'll what, Detective?"

Juliet bared her own teeth in a matching grin as the perfect threat came to her. "I'll tell your father."

Shawn's eyes widened in horror. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I think you know I would," Juliet said coyly, then stood and offered her hand to Shawn. "C'mon. Let's get you looked at."

"But–"

"There won't be pointy things this time," Juliet promised wearily. "Just some chest x-rays and some pain medication."

"The good stuff?" Shawn asked innocently.

Juliet smirked. "The adequate stuff."

Shawn sighed. "Just as well. I hate pain meds anyway. They mess with my juju."

Juliet rolled her eyes as she carefully levered a groaning Shawn to his feet. Now that he had nothing to hide, and after her gentle but painful ministrations, Shawn seemed to have deflated, and he could barely hold himself upright. Juliet slowly helped him shuffle out his front door.

It was only when they were out in the cool night air and Juliet was fishing for her keys that Shawn spoke up, a slight quiver of amusement in his voice.

"Uh, Jules?"

"What now, Shawn?"

The smugness cut clearly through any discomfort as he asked innocently, "Can I have my shirt back, please?"

Face burning once more, Juliet all but flung the t-shirt into Shawn's face and fled to start her car.

This was going to be a very long night – but somehow, despite the company – perhaps because of the company – she found that she didn't mind quite so much.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! :) I'd love to know your thoughts!

~Emachinescat ^..^