DISCLAIMER: Like I own them. pshaw. (frustratedly crumples unsigned contract for transfer of Psych's ownership in one hand while throwing darts at the actual owner's image with the other.) I don't, actually. It's a bit depressing. (Fat pink pig waltzes by singing "chin up." We all die of horror)

"Shawn," Gus screamed (and admittedly, he did scream, and it was not a manly scream either). He pointed wordlessly to the timer counting down from forty five.

Still busy helping Juliet escape the chains that had imprisoned her next to the control board, Shawn wasn't really paying attention.

"Shawn!" Gus screamed frantically again, his shaking hands suspended above the control board, too afraid to press any buttons, and yet, too afraid not to. Who knew that the death of one math-genius high school dropout would lead to this, trapped in the basement- ahem, underground lair - of a conflagration of social outcasts who had bound together, decided enough was enough, and reprogrammed the launch directives for a nuclear missile from the USS Raven for the coordinates of one Santa Barbara, California.

"It will be fine Gus! I know we're missing the season finale of the mentalist and USA Network's broadcast premiere of Pretty in Pink, Gus, but I put them on DVR!" Shawn sounded infuriatingly blasé. They were about to be vaporized, and Shawn was worrying about Pretty in Pink!

"What am I supposed to do Shawn? We're all going to die!" Gus was enraged. "I'm not a rocket scientist! I have no clue what I'm doing!"

Having untied the unconscious Juliet and set her to the side, Shawn rolled his eyes, smirking, and shoved Gus out of the way, seemingly randomly jabbing buttons.

"Oh, Great!" Gus exclaimed. "At least I'll be dead so I won't have to explain to your father that you started the $$#$5 apocalypse!"

"Language, Gus, language," Shawn chided as he continued to type. "So what do you think, Iowa?"

"Excuse me?" Gus sputtered, having just been disturbed from a long mental rant he had been building.

"Iowa, Gus," Shawn repeated with exaggerated slowness.

"I'm not an idiot, Shawn, and stop repeating my name ever four $%^#$% seconds! You're freaking me out!"

"I said, there's nothing interesting in Iowa, is there? Just potatoes."

As usual, Gus felt the need to correct him. "Actually, Iowa is home to both the world's largest bull and the world's largest strawberry."

Shawn's lips turned down in a frown as he turned back to the keyboard, the countdown on the wall now down to fifteen.

"That's a shame, Gussy-poo. I guess I'll have to redirect the missile elsewhere. I know! Up. It's already in the upper stratosphere, (thank God it's not a ballistic missile) all I have to do is send it up. This baby is travelling at a rate similar to an SA-7. We should have her up, up, and away in no time. Calculating trajectory… and done." The countdown stopped.

Gus winced and ducked, as if that could prepare him for instantaneous death, but nothing happened.

"Shawn?"

"Yeah."

"Where the hell did you learn all that from?"

"Would you believe me if I said science class?"

"No. I know for a fact that you slept through pretty much every class since second grade, and I would have remembered if we were discussing missiles."

"How about Doctor Who?"

"Come on, Shawn. If you're going to lie, at least make it believable, like… Discovery Channel."

"Like I'd be caught dead watching Discovery Channel."

"You know that's right."

"How about reading?"

"What, they discuss missiles in Twilight, now?"

"You should know. You read it, too."

"Unh-uhn." Gus snapped defensively.

"Now you're bringing race into this?"

"How was that racial?"

"Have you never seen Bring It On: In it to Win It? Only girls from the hood make that noise."

"First off, no. Second off, it was Bring It On, Fight to the Finish, third, you haven't told me where you learned that stuff."

"Maybe I'm just an all-knowing genius."

"You're not omnipotent. You may be smart, but it's not like you're a rocket scientist."

"Actually…"

"Shawn…"

"I kind of am."

It was at that moment that Juliet woke up. Glancing between the unconscious form of Gus (he fainted, not passed out, full on fainted) and Shawn, she raised one hand to her aching head and frowned. "Did I miss something?"