AhhhhhhHHHHH. Hello. (in Gus' phone voice).

So, I wrote this Psych fic a while back called "Shawn Walks Into A Bank", and the post date was Oct 2017 (when I first posted it on ). I cannot believe that was already 6 YEARS ago. Omg. I'm old.

So anyway, I was thinking about it again as I was rewatching Psych recently, and thought it might be fun to see what Shawn, Gus and their new doctor friend, Aaron are up to. I'm also in an h/c mood, so there's some mild whump xD

There's quite a few spoilers in this little story for Shawn Walks into A Bank, and you might be a little lost reading this without reading that story first. But all you really need to know is that Shawn and Aaron were both hostages together in a bank hostage crisis and Aaron is a doctor.

Hope you guys enjoy my trip down nostalgia lane haha. I hope to be back with other Psych fics soon, if my muse will just pick an idea already xD

~cosette141

Aaron Aldaman reluctantly opened his eyes.

He wasn't unused to his phone waking him up at ungodly hours, but that was the norm for a surgeon. So a 3AM wake up call was par for the course.

However, this call wasn't coming from the hospital.

Aaron already felt his body ready himself for whatever life he needed to save, his hand instinctively reaching out for his phone on the nightstand, still ringing the theme song from Grey's Anatomy.

He sat up, turning on his lamp as he looked at the screen.

His heart stuttered.

Aaron picked it up. "Gus?" said Aaron, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Is everything—"

"It's Shawn."

The sleep was gone in an instant.

"I'll be right there."

Aaron drove to the Psych office, medical bag ready in his passenger seat. It had been extensively upgraded ever since a certain trip to the bank a few months ago.

It used to be an advanced first aid kit, with bandages, gauze, sterilizing agents and some other extras that he almost never needed to use outside of the hospital.

Now, however?

The bag was a miniature hospital.

It carried the equipment necessary to treat anything from cuts and lacerations… to extensive gunshot wounds and blood loss.

Aaron now didn't go anywhere without his medical bag, no matter how trivial the errand may be. Which was difficult to lug it around everywhere, but not as difficult as the several hours he spent in that bank kicking himself repeatedly for not doing so back then.

But, Shawn was alive, and so was he.

And Aaron was also surprised to say that he managed to make some friends along the way.

When Shawn had been discharged, Aaron was surprised to get a phone call from him a few hours later— "Shawn, you need to rest not go out for a smoothie" —and then a visit at the hospital when Shawn, limping and leaning on Gus, came to take him to get said smoothie.

And Aaron had to admit. It was pretty delicious.

Never did Aaron imagine he'd find friends like Shawn and Gus.

Surprisingly, he was also the first call that the SBPD (specifically Detective Lassiter or O'Hara) made when they needed a doctor's advice about anything surgical or hospital-related.

Somehow Shawn and Gus had managed to drag Aaron to eat food he's never heard of, go to parts of town he's never been just to "see something weird", or to watch Die Hard. Again.

"Shawn, I've already seen—"

"Shh, this is the best part!"

"You rewinded it four times already!"

"You know that's right."

Every time Aaron got a call from Shawn, it was always a wonder of what calamity they had in store that day that they had decided needed a third witness.

But today's call was the one he'd been afraid to get over all these months, watching the progress of Psych's cases on the news, always wondering what dangers they were involved in.

And… Gus has never called him before.

So, Aaron rushed to the door, not having to knock because the door was already standing open.

But his heart started picking up when he heard the sounds of a struggle.

"Let me go!"

That was Shawn.

Aaron ran inside, afraid to find Shawn with another gun-wielding madman (but at least this time Aaron was prepared), only to find—

"What the—?" said Aaron exasperatedly.

The struggle immediately ceased, to reveal Gus' arms around Shawn's chest to hold him back, and Shawn seemingly desperately trying to escape.

Their office was a mess.

Papers on the floor, a desk chair knocked over.

"Thank god," breathed Gus over Shawn's shoulder.

"Aaron?" asked Shawn, voice shifting immediately to casual curiosity, as if this was a typical Tuesday endeavor.

Which, knowing them, could have been.

But then, that glint in Shawn's eyes, the intelligence Aaron had learned he only showed few people rose in his eyes. And then… "Gus!" he whined. "You called Aaron?!"

"I had to!" exclaimed Gus.

"I told you, I'm fine!" said Shawn, shaking Gus' hold off him, just to wince and grab at his side.

Aaron reacted instinctively, moving toward him.

"See?" said Gus, eyes worried. "He's hurt."

"It's just a scratch," bit out Shawn, his free hand grabbing on the edge of his desk to either steady himself or alleviate the pain, his knuckles white.

"Yeah," deadpanned Aaron, setting his bag on Shawn's desk. "That's what you said about the bullet wound, too."

"It was."

Aaron fought the urge to roll his eyes at the incredible understatement. "What happened?"

When Shawn opened his mouth, Gus cut in: "We were working a case today and the suspect got him with a knife." A glare to the back of Shawn's head— "Shawn didn't even tell anyone!"

"Because it was a scratch," said Shawn, though the wince in his face said anything but.

"Sit down," said Aaron, and to his surprise, Shawn complied, wincing as he took the few steps to the armchair. "Where is it?" he asked.

With a little reluctance, Shawn lifted his shirt. "See? Scratch," he said through clenched teeth.

It was, in fact, not a scratch.

The blade drew a line a few inches long, right above the scar from the bullet he took a few months ago. It bled slowly down his side, staining his skin and the waistband of his jeans.

Aaron felt himself flashback to the bank, to the blood pooling onto the dusty floor.

But, luckily, this was a scratch compared to that.

"Ouch," commented Aaron. "Well, it's not what I would medically categorize as a scratch, but it's minor as knife wounds go. You'll need a few stitches, and I can do that here."

"Told you!" said Gus from a safe distance away from the blood.

"Gus," said Aaron, "can you grab me my bag?"

"Yeah," said Gus, grabbing it and almost tripping over the mess on the floor.

"What the hell happened in here, anyway?" asked Aaron as he opened the bag, looking for his antiseptic.

"He was trying to leave against medical advice," said Gus.

Shawn gave him an exasperated, "I'm not in a hospital!"

"It was my medical advice!"

"You're not a doctor!"

"I sell pharmaceuticals, Shawn!"

"That isn't being a doctor!"

"Guys!" said Aaron, shaking himself from the surround-sound yelling.

"Shawn was about to drive home," said Gus to Aaron, like a kid telling on their sibling, "on his motorcycle. He's lucky as all hell I noticed he was bleeding! The blood loss could have made him lose consciousness and—"

Shawn groaned loudly. "See, this is why I didn't tell any—agh!"

Aaron winced as Shawn's fingers found a pillow and clutched tight, his breathing short and quick. Antiseptic was essential, but never pleasant. "A little warning before you dump a gallon of salt in my literal wound?"

"Better when you don't know," said Aaron with a half-hearted grin. He pulled out his stitching supplies.

"I… uh…" began Gus.

The only thing they heard next was the sound of the bathroom door closing.

With Gus out of earshot, Aaron looked to Shawn, lowering his voice. "I thought I told you to call me when things like this happen, Shawn."

Shawn, still wincing a bit from the antiseptic, looked toward the bathroom before lowering his voice as well. "I was going to," he said. "Gus followed me back here, so I was going to go home first. I didn't exactly count on him keeping me hostage."

Aaron smiled grimly. "I prefer he do it than a mad gunman."

Shawn shrugged, as if he was actually weighing the options.

"This'll sting," said Aaron, beginning the first stitch, and Shawn sucked in a breath. "Doesn't Gus know you called me about the concussion last month?"

"Shh," said Shawn hollowly, pain screwing his eyes shut as Aaron worked. "No," he said, opening his eyes.

"Are you telling me I'm the only one you tell when you get hurt?" asked Aaron.

A slight silence, other than Shawn's quick breaths at each pull of the needle, gave him his answer.

"I don't want them to worry," came Shawn's quiet voice. "Not after…" His voice trailed off.

Aaron looked at him, seeing the walls-down Shawn he met at the bank.

"I think they're going to worry about you whether you're hurt or not," said Aaron.

Shawn didn't say anything, and Aaron finished stitching in silence.

When he was done, Shawn let out a breath in relief. "You guys really gotta find a non-pointy way to do that," he huffed out.

Aaron sighed. "Shawn… it's still fresh. What happened at the bank," he said as Shawn pulled his shirt back down. "And… what happened to you… it happened to them, too. They had to… see it." He shrugged. "So did I."

Shawn held his gaze, looking uncomfortable. Then, "I've never been… used to people… fussing all over me. It's weird."

"Think of it this way," said Aaron. "That whole time we were in the bank, and you were suffering… they were stuck outside. Maybe all of their "fussing" is just their attempt to make up for not being there for you when you really did need it."

Aaron watched his words sink in, watched Shawn view the new perspective. Shawn smiled a little. "You were there. So what are you doing worrying about me?"

"I'm making up for the time I spent unconscious and letting that bastard take you in that car."

Shawn smiled.

And Aaron returned it.

"Gus," called Shawn. "My insides aren't on display anymore, you can come back out."

Cautiously the bathroom door creaked open, and Gus came back out.

"Just, uh," said Gus, "forgot I needed to clean the bathroom."

Shawn rolled his eyes.

Aaron packed his bag back up and Shawn stood, only to wince sharply. Gus flinched instinctively toward him, eyes wide again.

With a flick of his eyes to Aaron first, Shawn asked Gus, "Hey, buddy, can you get me some ice?"

"Yeah, of course," said Gus, hurrying to the fridge. He handed Shawn an ice pack, and Shawn shut his eyes with relief as he held it over the wound. "Mind if I crash at your place? I guess I shouldn't be driving my bike after all."

"Y-Yeah, sure," said Gus, like he was surprised Shawn was being so open to accepting help. He smiled, like he was happy he could finally give it.

Aaron exchanged a look with Shawn, smiling his approval.

"Gus," said Aaron, "you'll make sure Shawn changes those bandages every twelve hours?"

"I will," said Gus.

"Good," said Aaron. "Then I'll be—"

"Unless you wanna come with and watch some Die Hard," offered Shawn.

"Again?!"

A grin, and a fist bump.

"You know that's right."

Aaron shook his head, walking outside to head home.

And somehow finding himself at Gus' apartment watching Die Hard.

Again.