Hello lovelys. This should have been uploaded on St. Patrick's Day, but medical reasons have prevented that from happening. And actually… this one-shot is kind of about my medical reason.

I was diagnosed with a (what I consider mild) mental disorder. I try to keep it hidden from most people, hence why I'm not going to go into detail about what it is, but there are the select few who know about it. I can't help but notice how differently they treat me now because of it, and it really truly sucks. I'm the same as I've always been, and this chapter is about that.

So, set before season 7 finale, no spoilers for anything.

Please review! It would mean the world to me if you all just leave a little comment at then end!

It had been three weeks. Three. Count them, three weeks since that fateful doctor's appointment. Since then, Shawn has had a grand total of twenty five "Let me get that for you", nineteen "You don't need any additional stress", sixteen "Just take the day off and relax", and a massive thirty nine "How are you feeling, really?" And yes, Shawn counted.

Shawn got out of bed on the morning of St. Patrick's day, not at all surprised to see that Juliet was already out of bed and in the kitchen making her usual coffee. She was wearing her usual pantsuit, except this time, she had a pale green shirt showing, in the spirit of St. Patrick's day. Shawn dragged his feet, one after the other, into the kitchen. He reached for a cup and filled it with water before reaching for his pill bottle. He popped one in his mouth and washed it down with his water. Now, normally Shawn would just ignore his girlfriend's eyes on him during the entire process. But not today. After three weeks, it was enough.

"Why do you always stare?" Shawn asked without even turning to face her.

"What?" was the only response the thrown of Juliet could manage.

Shawn turned to face her, "Three weeks. Every morning, without fail, I take my pills and you stare.

"I… uh, I don't know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stress –"

"No," Shawn quickly cut her off, "please don't say what you're about to say." Juliet raised an eyebrow at Shawn, not sure what to say anymore. Shawn sighed and started heading back to his room to get ready, already picturing his new favourite green shirt that he had picked especially for today. "I'm going to the Psych office," Shawn muttered.

"You haven't eaten breakfast yet," Juliet pointed out, the worry clear in her voice. Shawn stopped in the doorway of their room.

"I'm not hungry," he said honestly.

"You never used to skip breakfast. Now I'm lucky if I can get a piece of toast in you before you leave."

"Jules, it's alright. It's just a side effect of the pills. Loss of appetite." It hadn't really reassured the detective. "Look, Gus and I are getting jerk chicken for lunch. While not particularly festive, it is delicious. Why don't you join us?" And that reassured Juliet. Shawn knew it would. With both Gus and Juliet watching him eat his lunch, there wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that he would be finishing every bite of his lunch.

Gus hadn't helped Shawn's mood on this particular day. There were no cases for Psych, unusually, and so when Shawn said no to Gus' offer of Funyons, plans to visit his father suddenly popped up. And that just made things so much worst. Shawn had thought that if anyone were to treat him the same way since his diagnosis, it would be Henry. Instead, he showed possibly the biggest reaction. Instead of telling him to suck it up, he was fully of sympathy and guilt. Henry started to believe that if he hadn't been so strict on his son, maybe he wouldn't have anything wrong with him. Maybe if he hadn't been so hard on Shawn, he would be fine and happy.

He didn't consider that maybe, just maybe, Shawn would have had this diagnosis regardless of how he was raised. Something about neurotransmitters and a fault in his receptors. Shawn didn't pay much attention to the doctor. He never really did.

After a full day with his dad and Gus, Shawn wasn't sure if he could live through a lunch with both Juliet and Gus watching his every move and analysing his every word. Very quickly, Shawn found himself craving the company of a certain head detective, as he had countless times in the past couple weeks. Detective Carlton Lassiter was the only person out of everyone who knew that didn't treat him any differently.

As Shawn and Gus walked into the precinct to pick up Juliet, Shawn quickly scanned the whole department for Carlton. Upon finally finding him, Shawn made a beeline towards him, much to the surprise of Gus and Juliet.

"Lassie-face!" Shawn exclaimed, his arms opening wide as if expecting a hug.

"Not now, Spencer. Some of us actually have work to do" Carlton grumbled without looking up from his paperwork.

"Oh Lassie, don't be such a sour pants. Gus, Jules and I are going out for lunch before getting some drinks, and celebrating St. Paddy's day as the Irish do. You should come with."

"Spencer – "

"Come on, Lassie. Not only is it St. Patrick's day, you're Irish on top of it! Isn't it a law that you have to get drunk today?"

"I can assure you it's not."

It was at this point that Juliet and Gus joined them at the dete desk. "Carlton, are you coming with us?" Juliet asked.

The head detective was about to deny the offer, but then he caught the subtle but almost desperate look in Shawn's eyes. "Yeah," Carlton sighed in defeat. "Sure, why not?."

"Yes, Lassie!" Shawn cheered, "First round of drinks are on me, in the true spirit of St. Patrick's day."

"At this time?" Juliet asked, looking at her clock.

"St. Patrick's day" Shawn repeated. "Most people are way past drunk at this time."

"Shawn, maybe you should… pass on drinks this time round," Gus said quietly. Shawn stared at his friend, raising an eyebrow. "I mean… it certainly wouldn't help your… condition." Juliet nodded quickly in agreement.

"My condition?"

"Yeah. You know, with everything going on lately, I don't think alcohol would exactly help you out."

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Shawn snapped. "I am fine, I am not stressed, and I don't need you to 'get that for me' all the bloody time! Missing a meal as a side effect of my pills does not mean something's wrong, and having one drink isn't going to kill me! I haven't changed in the past three weeks, but the way you guys treat me definitely has, and I'm sick of it! It's St. Patrick's Day, for the love of God. Can't we just celebrate it as we always have?"

"St. Patrick's Day" Carlton muttered suddenly, as if it had only just dawned on him. As if the multiple times Shawn had mentioned it had simply gone in one ear and out the other. He looked at what he was wearing, and then at what the others were wearing. He quickly noticed the one colour they all had in common, that damned green, before finally turning to glare at Shawn. "Oh sweet Lady Justice, is that why you keep pinching me?!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about" Shawn said innocently.

"Oh, grow up, Spencer."

Confused, Shawn turned to look at Juliet and Gus, only to see them both holding back a laugh. It seemed to have only just dawned on them that Shawn truly was the same person, constantly pulling jokes on Lassiter and just wanting to have a good time.

"One drink" Juliet said at last

"But you're buying first round," Gus said quickly. "You already said you would, there's no backing out now. And don't think you can take one of my cards. I check my wallet every time you ask to go for lunch."

"Now Gus, when have I ever taken a dime from you?" Gus smacked his lips together in disapproval before storming out of the station, a smirk forming on Shawn's face as he did.

"I'm just going to make sure he doesn't drive off" Juliet said, starting to walk after him. "You coming?" she asked Shawn.

"I'll be with you in a sec" Shawn assured her.

Shawn and the head detective waited until Juliet was out of ear shot before either of them dared to even let out a breath. Shawn turned to face Carlton, but couldn't quite form any words yet. Carlton, deciding that this was his one and only chance to avoid this conversation, started to walk away from Shawn and to the car park.

"Lassie," Shawn called out quickly.

"Should've ran while I had the chance," Carlton muttered under his breath. He turned to face Shawn, "What, Spencer?"

"You're wearing green socks," Shawn pointed out.

"So?"

"You're Irish, you know the rules. You only pinch someone if they're not wearing green." Carlton groaned. He had hoped that he would have been able to avoid this conversation. Possibly forever. He was never a sentimental person, especially not with the resident 'psychic'.

"Look, Spencer," Carlton started. "You're going through a rough time, I get that. Everyone else gets that too, and they're just a bit worried. I know their constant surveillance isn't helping, but they need to see that nothing has changed, which will take time. Now, patience is not exactly your strong point, so every now and then I might be willing to… help you out a bit."

"Why, Lassie!" Shawn almost yelled. "If I didn't know you any better I would almost think you cared."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Spencer. I'm a detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department. It's in the job description, every now and then I save damsels in distress."

"Are you calling me a damsel in distress?"

"I'm pretty sure I am."

"I'm not a damsel in distress."

"I'm pretty sure you are."

"If anything, I'm little Timmy stuck in the well." Carlton shot Shawn a very unimpressed look before turning on his heel and making his way towards the exit. "What's wrong, boy?" Shawn asked, quickly following after the detective with a smile on his face. "Is Timmy stuck in the well?"

And, no, it wasn't over yet. No, not everything was solved. Yes, they would still watch him like a hawk. But in time, in sweet, unbearably and tauntingly slow time, things would go back to normal. Just like Shawn always wanted.