Advent Calendar 6-7

[wednesday_whimsy]

Today you are treated to two unfinished Psych fics.

They probably won't ever be finished at this rate, since the zombie apocalypse is taking forever, but it could happen. I do still like them.


Day 6
1987

It was the same song starting up for the sixth time that finally propelled Henry to his feet and up the stairs to Shawn's room. He was in the middle of a speech about being considerate of your surroundings, especially your father who had been at work all day had just sat down to watch a football game, before his hand had even reached the door handle.

He, and his speech, came to a grinding halt upon opening the door and finding Shawn and Gus on opposite sides of the room, each holding one of Madeline's summer dresses. His eyes flicked from Gus, who dropped the dress immediately, to Shawn who straightened his shoulders even as he heaved a defeated sigh, to the record player which had thankfully stopped playing its dreadful noise for the first time in half an hour.

"What's going on, Shawn?"

"Nothing," was Shawn's sullen response and Henry turned his attention to Gus, who was always easier to grill.

"Gus?"

Gus looked at Shawn, who shook his head in what should have been a subtle move, but instead looked desperate. Henry pretended not to see it.

"Gus, I'm waiting."

"There's a dance," Gus blurted out, eyes focused on Henry rather than Shawn, who gave an exaggerated groan and fell backwards onto his bed. "There's a dance at school and we don't know how. So we were practising."

Henry tried his hardest to hide his amusement, but his eyes were glittering when he dragged Shawn to his feet and removed Madeline's dress from his grip.

"Well you can't learn to dance with a dress and you can't learn to dance to that noise." He pushed Shawn towards Gus, ignoring his protests about the merits of Hungry Like the Wolf. "You have to do it with a partner. So stand like you were before, but put your hand on Gus's back and hold his other ha..."

"What? No way!" Gus backed up, stumbling over the dress he had dropped earlier. Shawn was bright red and glaring at Henry.

"Boys, I am missing a game I've been looking forward to watching all week. Now you either dance with each other, or I tell your mom and she signs you up for a class." His eyes narrowed on Gus. "You too. Move it."

Shawn shrugged and stepped closer to Gus, putting his hands where Henry told him.

"Why do I have to be the girl?" Gus complained. Henry covered his mouth and coughed to hide his laugh.

"Well I can't be the girl," Shawn argued, as though that were obvious, and then looked back at Henry. "What now?"

"Now you learn a box step. If you can master that, we'll try a waltz. Now, step forward with your right foot; Gus you step back with your left..."


Present Day

It was a Tuesday. A boring Tuesday morning, which was always worse than a boring Monday morning, because you couldn't just blame it on being a Monday. That was the beauty of Mondays. That's why Mondays were invented.

It was this reasoning that Shawn used to convince Gus to accompany him to the station. That and the giant bill stamped with huge red letters from the phone company which demanded that they pay up within the next week or face disconnection.

"You have thirty minutes to get us a case," Gus told him, glancing at his watch as they walked up the front steps. "Then I have to go do my real job."

"How is 'pharaceutical salesman' more real than 'crime fighter'?" Shawn scoffed.

"I told you to stop saying that," Gus replied. "We're detectives. You're not Batman."

"I could be Batman," Shawn argued, but his eyes were flicking around the station, trying to find anything of interest, anything that might be important, anything that might be a case.

Juliet's desk was empty and a glance to the right told him Lassiter's was too. That meant something. Another glance right put them both in the Chief's office, which was promising. Shawn hopped around Gus, heading in that direction.

He was stopped in his tracks by the looming form of Buzz McNab, who stepped between Shawn and the door with an apologetic little smile.

"Sorry Shawn. Not right now. It's a private meeting."

Shawn raised his hands to his hand and then placed one on Buzz's chest. "The spirits have something very important to impart to the Chief. It's life or death, you have to let me in there."

Buzz wavered, Shawn could see it, but stood firm. "That's what the Chief said. I'm sorry Shawn. They'll be done soon."

Shawn frowned and looked back at Gus, who shrugged. "We'll just wait then. I guess."

"Twenty-five minutes, Shawn."

It was another ten minutes before the door swung open and Lassiter stormed out, not sparing Shawn and Gus so much as a glance as he left the building. Juliet emerged rather less dramatically, smiling brightly when she saw them.

"Hi guys."

"Hey Jules," Shawn greeted, though he was still watching the door. "What's got Lassie's panties in a bunch?"

Juliet shook her head, leading them over to her desk. "Oh, just this case. We're all a little worked up about the. The Chief isn't happy, which means Lassiter isn't happy, which means..."

"You're not happy, Jules?"

She shrugged, but she was smiling. The little corner of Shawn's heart that had Juliet scrawled across it in Sharpie, gave a contented sigh.

"We came for a case," Gus said, tapping his watch. "Can we help with anything?"

"Yes, this," Shawn said, waving his hands around. "What you're doing. We want to help with that."

Juliet shook her head and reached for a pile of case files. "Sorry, I can't. This is... delicate. I do have something you can help with though."

Shawn groaned, not even trying to hide his disappointment. Whatever Juliet was about to palm off on them was never going to be as interesting as whatever had Lassiter and the Chief so hot and bothered.

Gus elbowed him in the ribs.

Shawn pushed him back.

"Boys," Juliet snapped, silencing them both. One look at her told Shawn she was done playing around. She was in full serious detective mode now. It was kind of hot. "Double homicide," she continued, holding out the file. "We have no leads."

Gus snatched the file eagerly from Juliet's hand, all thought of going back to his actual job forgotten. Shawn stayed focused on Juliet.

"You're just giving us a double homicide to work?"

"Uh huh," she said, smiling again now as she checked her gun and picked up her purse.

"Lassie isn't going to go nuts when he finds out?" Shawn's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Something was definitely going on.

"No. I told you Shawn. We have to focus on this new case. Can you handle this?"

"Of course," Shawn agreed absently, knowing at any other time he'd have been thrilled to be given this opportunity. But something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"Great. I have to go. Call me if you need anything."

She disappeared through the doors before Shawn could even say goodbye. He sat down heavily on the edge of her desk and frowned.

"What just happened?"

~~~

Shawn cared about the murder. Murders. He did. The two bodies lying in the morgue covered in curious stab wounds had been living breathing, supposedly upstanding people and they deserved all of Shawn's time and attention until their killer was apprehended. That was why he was at their apartment, which was still cordoned off with bright yellow tape, declaring it to be a crime scene.

The problem was... nothing.

There was nothing.

Well there was blood, everywhere, enough to make even stomach roll at the sight and smell. Gus stood on the front porch and took deep breaths of fresh air, trying to calm down enough to step back inside the house. There were definite signs of a struggle, but just in the one room and nothing else out of the ordinary at all. No hairs, no prints. It was times like these Shawn wished he really was psychic.

"Have you found anything?" Gus called. He just needed another minute, Shawn knew. Shawn needed a million of them.

"There's nothing here," Shawn answered, so quietly it was mostly to himself. "That has to mean something."

"It means whoever the killer is, they're smart," Gus said, a lot closer this time and Shawn spun on the spot to face him. "And thorough."

Shawn nodded and then looked back at the room again with a frown. "They cleaned up."

"They what?"

Shawn was smiling now, focused, following lines of blood on the floor with his finger, pointing out the edging. "Its been wiped down. Like someone wanted to remove something. Like you'd wipe off a smudge of paint."

Gus looked queasy again. "That's sick."

"Well yeah," Shawn agreed, "but smart. Cold." He took another minute to catalogue the room in his head. "Let's go."

It went without saying that they're stay outside as much as possible that afternoon. Fresh air and the noise of other people always helped to take away some of what sitting alone in an office couldn't, at least for Gus. Shawn locked the images away as best he could and pulled out a happier thought to occupy his mind while it worked on the puzzle in the background.

"What do you think Lassie and Jules are working on?" he asked as soon as they stepped onto the pier.

"How long have you been wanting to ask that?" Gus smirked, glad of the distraction.

"Since Lassiter stormed out of the station looking like he was going to shoot someone."

"I don't know," Gus said with a shrug, "but if it's more somehow more important than what we just saw, I don't want to know."

"It has to be big. You must have a guess. Mafia? Terrorists?"

"This is Santa Barbara, Shawn. I really don't think we're being targeted by terrorists."

"Maybe not," Shawn conceded.

"Maybe it's not big," Gus said. He stopped walking and leaned against the railing. "Maybe it's just something that needs their area of expertise."

Shawn laughed and leaned next to Gus, tilting his face up to the sun. "Which area would that be? Shooting? Threatening? Civil war re-enactment?"

"You don't know everything there is to know about Lassiter, Shawn."

"I know at least ninety percent," Shawn argued. "What skill could he possibly have that I haven't managed to figure out in four years?"

"Is that an actual question, or the set up for a new bout of stalking?"

Shawn's smile widened and Gus groaned.

"Yeah, you walked right into that one."




Day 7

Spencer was avoiding O'Hara. It was as obvious as it was perplexing, and it had been going on for three days. Carlton hadn't honestly thought Spencer could manage to irritate him more than he already did, but the wounded expression on O'Hara's face every time he ducked behind a pillar or plant to escape her, had proved him wrong.

Now for example, Spencer was approaching his desk with the kind of stealthy apprehension Carlton had only seen on TV cop shows, and he was staring at O'Hara's empty desk as though she was going to spring out from under it at any second and attack him. It would have been amusing if it had been anyone else, but O'Hara was Carlton's partner and that meant he was the one she complained to.

Spencer reached Carlton with a sigh of relief and perched on the edge of his desk. Carlton restrained himself from pushing him off into a heap on the floor. Spencer was like a child, constantly craving attention. Sometimes it was better to just ignore him and hope he calmed down. Or went away.

"Spencer," he grunted, closing the case file he was reading with a snap. "What?"

"We have a problem, Lass." Spencer's tone was serious enough to make Carlton look up at him.

"You have many problems. Mostly psychological, some emotional, but none have anything to do with me."

The serious face melted into a beaming grin and Carlton berated himself silently for allowing himself to drawn into what was now sure to be a thoroughly meaningless conversation.

"That's not true. I've been having these dreams..."

"Did you want something?" Carlton interrupted, standing quickly to glare down at Spencer. The height advantage sometimes helped when nothing else did.

"You're right," Spencer agreed, patting Carlton's chest, grinning like an idiot when his hand wasslapped away. "Business first."

"Spencer, I swear to God, if you don't have a point..."

"It's about Jules," Spencer said quickly, holding his hands up innocently. "I want to know what the plan is."

Carlton blinked, then frowned, then blinked again. Spencer was watching him patiently, but he could see the hint of a smirk starting to form. "The plan for what?"

"Her birthday, dude. It's this Friday."

This was indeed a problem. Carlton tried his best to keep his face blank, even as his mind started to scream curse words, but he thought that Spencer had probably realised he'd forgotten. It was possible he should be grateful that Spencer hadn't waited until Friday to embarrass him completely.

"Right," he said finally, pushing his jacket aside and resting his hands on his hips. He was going for nonchalant. Spencer was smirking at him. "I knew that." He had, mostly. How he'd been reminded he could clearly remember O'Hara saying something last week about families, birthdays, parties.... "She wants a party."

For a moment, Carlton saw a flicker of surprise on Spencer's face, but he reigned it in quickly enough, replacing it with another stupid grin. "Excellent. So you're throwing her a party..."

Carlton winced internally, possibly externally too if Spencer's snort was anything to go by. Hewas no good at presents. Never had been. After several failed attempts with Victoria, he'd resorted to giving her money and letting her choose something she'd be happy with. She'd never complained, but somehow Carlton knew O'Hara wouldn't be as easy to please. Apparently, with some people, it really was the thought that counted.

An idea occurred to him that brightened his day to the point that he actually laughed. Taking a great deal of delight in the look of shock on Spencer's face, Carlton threw his arm around Shawn's shoulders and started to guide him towards the door. Shawn's arm, as always, wrapped itself around Carlton's waist, and he looked up in genuine surprise at Carlton's still smiling face.

"I want to hire you," Carlton said when they reached the main entrance. "Money is no object. This is a personal matter that will benefit us both." He could practically hear Spencer wading through the sheer number of jokes he could make at Carlton's expense, trying to find the right amount of innuendo to make him blush. Carlton forged ahead, regardless. "I need you to throw O'Hara a birthday party. The best one she's ever had. I don't care what it costs, so long as she's smiling by the end of the day."

He let go of Spencer's shoulders, gave him a little push towards the door, and started to walk back to his desk. "And stop ignoring her," he called over his shoulder. "I can't deal with any more pouting."

~

Juliet was having an odd week.

First of all there was Shawn, who had ignored her all weekend, purposefully steering clear of her at work, and then had attached himself to her hip on Monday morning as though nothing has happened.

Second of all, Lassiter was acting weird. Weirder than usual. Shawn levels of weird. He had stuttered and stumbled through fifteen minutes of awkward small talk on Monday morning, looked relieved when Shawn had wandered over and interrupted them, then retreated to his desk and buried himself in paperwork. Tuesday had been a little easier thanks to missing persons, dead bodies, psychic visions and the sunglasses Juliet knew Lassiter was hiding behind.

Wednesday was the strangest yet when, after apprehending the killer and sending him off in the squad car with McNab, Lassiter dragged Shawn across the street, out of earshot and... talked to him. He was even smiling. Shawn laughed and straightened Carlton's tie, bouncing a little when his hands were slapped away. Juliet stood with Gus, watching for any clue as to what was going on.

"Am I asleep?" she asked Gus when Shawn took a piece of paper out of his pocket and Lassiter took it without comment.

"Nope," Gus replied, turning his back to Shawn and Carlton. He leaned his arms on the roof of the car and smiled at her. "How are you Juliet?"

"I'm having a very strange week," she admitted with a smile. She pointed at Shawn and Carlton. "That's actually happening right? They're talking. Not arguing."

"Oh they're probably arguing," Gus said with a smile. "Are you looking forward to your birthday?"

"It's just going to be me and the cat I think," she said with a shrug. "Unless you guys want to do..."

Gus started to stammer, something about plans and asking Shawn. Something about Lassiter and a party, but she wasn't really listening by then, because Shawn's hands had landed on Carlton's shoulders and he'd leaned in close to whisper something. Juliet waited for Carlton to push him away or at least, remove his hands, but he stood quietly, nodding along with whatever Shawn was saying.

"Ohhhh," Juliet said finally, smirking to herself once she'd worked it out. "I get it. I get what's going on." Gus looked terrified. Juliet started to laugh. "And you knew about it?"

Gus nodded. "Don't let them know you know okay? I shouldn't have said anything."

Shawn stepped away from Carlton and smiled. They turned in unison and started to walk back to Juliet and Gus.

"Of course I won't say anything," she whispered quickly, giving Gus a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It'll be our secret."