Say I Love to Play, Shawn/Gus, PG-13
Say I Love to Play
Shawn/Gus, 1790 words, PG-13
MONDAY
"I believe the correct term is a gaggle," Shawn said, peering under a row of seats in the empty movie theater. The cycle of trivia questions and ads on the screen had been looping for twenty minutes.
"A gaggle of librarians?" Gus said, listening to the way his seat creaked as he leans back. "That doesn't sound right."
"Look it up," Shawn was kneeling, feeling around under the closest aisle.
"Shawn, that's not true and I'm not going to-"
"Got it!" Shawn said, yanking out what looked like a black box with wires sticking out.
"And that is?" Gus asked, half-listening and half-trying to puzzle out the trivia question on the screen.
"Just a rather poorly designed tape recorder and stereo. For sound effects to their malevolence."
"Sure," said Gus. Maybe Paul Newman? He won lots of things, Gus was pretty sure.
"I can't believe you're not even paying attention. This is a murder, Gus!" Shawn slumped down in the seat next to him. "Also, it's Jack Nicholson."
"Manslaughter," Gus snapped. "I don't think they meant to give that guy a heart attack. Also, you're a jerk and I totally would have gotten it."
"Gus, light of my life, Cagney to my Lacey, Joker to my Batman- well, that one was a mistake but do you honestly believe they didn't realize dressing up as the Joker and bursting into theaters screaming wouldn't scare some people to death?"
"Hey," said Gus. He'd liked those ladies. "They just want people to take a greater interest in books. I think it's a noble cause."
"Pffh," said Shawn, waving away Gus's totally valid point. "Besides, comic books-"
"Graphic novels," Gus said, dragging the words out for emphasis.
"Comic books," Shawn corrected, "are books. It's in the name, Gus."
"It's a totally different medium," Gus said. "Also, you're buying me popcorn before you go do your big reveal."
"What? Why?"
"You owe me and you know it, Shawn."
"Fine," Shawn said. "I found seven bucks crawling around under all these seats, anyways."
"Good," said Gus.
"We should go on more movie dates," said Shawn, kicking his feet up on the row of seats in front of them. "Greta Garbo."
"What?"
"Actress who received a special Oscar in 1954."
"No way," said Gus, settling back against his chair, stupid smug grin on his face. "That's Bette Davis."
WEDNESDAY
"Don't think I don't see the way he looks at you," Shawn said into Gus's ear.
"SHUSH," Gus shushed, elbowing him in the stomach and making Shawn wheeze.
"Ouch!" Shawn said, indignant.
"It's really dark in this closet!" Gus defended himself. "Wait, who looks at me?"
"Our scowling detective friend," Shawn said.
If Shawn didn't shut up, Gus was going to kill him. Or heck, maybe the charming local politician turned burglar turned serial murderer would do it for him. On the other hand-
"Lassiter?" Gus asked, voice a little high.
"Yes, Gus," Shawn said, playing on the edge of exasperation. "I see the smoldering tension between you! The way he growls your name- big tough policeman wooing you into a dangerous life of high pursuit! And violence!"
"Who exactly," Gus paused to listen to the boots stomping by their hiding place, the sound of someone clicking off the safety on a pistol, "is wooing me into a life of danger?"
Shawn wrapped an arm around Gus's waist, tugging gently at the belt loops on his jeans.
That was when they heard the echoes of Juliet and Lassiter shouting at the suspect.
"Jules! I knew she'd come for me," Shawn said. He reached around Gus and swung the door open dramatically. It clunked into something in the dark hallway.
"Darn it, Spencer, warn where you're going," Lassiter said scowling and clutching at his head. Shawn sashayed out, ignoring the closet's avalanche of household items.
"About time, Lassie!" Shawn said, picking up an umbrella off the floor and opening like a parasol. "You do not live up to your namesake, you know that? I should tell your folks."
"Just go home, Spencer," Lassiter said, breaking off in the middle of reading the guy his Miranda rights to wave a tired hand at Shawn. "Guster," he greeted as Gus steps out of the hallway closet, brushing off a pile of coats.
"Don't talk to him like that," Shawn said, indignant. "I know what you're doing, you perverted Lothario. Anyways, I left you a note."
"Yeah, well, your handwriting is just awful."
"He didn't see the note for a while," Juliet said over her shoulder, leading the guy to the waiting police car.
"I put it right on your desk!" Shawn was going to knock all the pictures off the walls if he kept twirling the umbrella like that, Gus thought.
"It got lost in some piles," Lassiter protested.
"And that's why you're a detective," Shawn said. "Your supreme powers of observation. C'mon, Gus, let's go. I hope you realize there's clearly nothing for you here." He poked Gus with the umbrella, right in the small of his back, until Gus started moving towards the door.
"What?" said Lassiter, as they left him behind.
FRIDAY
Gus opened his eyes. It didn't help. The room was completely dark, except for the flare of a lighter. It blinked out again.
His wrists ached where they were tied behind his back.
When the lighter flicked again, there was an eyeball squinting at him from an inch away from his face. Gus wasn't ashamed of the way he shrieked.
The owner of the eyeball backed off, letting the lighter burn for another few moments. "That's rude," she said.
"Sorry," Gus stuttered, "I just got- nervous- so you must be the person abducting all the local pets."
"Yep," she said. "You can just call me Mary. For your remaining moments."
Gus made a totally involuntary strangled noise. Normally, he'd just dismiss the threats as attempts to scare him, but he'd seen copies of the photographs. Those bunnies could not possibly have deserved that fate.
"I see you have a nose," Crazy Mary said, peering in close.
"Jesus Christ," Gus said with vehemence, and then there was a knocking from one side.
"Shhhhhhhhhhh," she said, waving the lighter awfully close to his face.
"Hello?" came from the vague direction of the knocking, and Gus sent up a long and extended 'thank you' to any god that might be listening. Shawn, hopefully with a contingent of fifty large, buff police officers.
"Be quiet," Crazy Mary hissed at him.
"Hello?" called Shawn. "Gus? Okay, I'm coming in."
Crazy Mary flicked the lighter off again, leaving the room in darkness until Shawn opened a door Gus hadn't been able to see before, flooding the room with light from the hallway.
"Hi," Shawn said, looking at his captor. "I'm looking for my buddy Gus. He's about yea tall, sort of uptight, skin smooth like a chocolate rabbit- not that he is a rabbit, I mean, I know what you do to them and it isn't pretty-"
"Take off your jacket," Crazy Mary ordered, lighter tucked away and replaced with a gun that, to be honest, made Gus very uneasy. Very, very uneasy, especially with the way she was waving her arms around erratically.
"Okay," Shawn said, yanking it off. "See? No gun. No weapon."
"But I know you! You're the police psychic!" The way Crazy Mary's voice kept rising was also really making Gus nervous. "Who knows what kind of- curses you could work!"
"No curses!" Shawn said. "Besides, for a proper curse a psychic needs special equipment. Herbs- and crystals and things. Lots of vital spell-casting equipment. Not my specialty anyways."
Crazy Mary eyed him warily. Gus held his breath.
"Fine," she said, gesturing towards Gus's corner. "Go sit with your friend. But no talking!"
Shawn shuffled toward Gus, keeping his hands up and open.
"Don't worry," Shawn whispered, "I've got it all under control."
Even though Crazy Mary had started shooting at the ceiling on "under", Gus felt Shawn's hand on his shoulder, the press of Shawn's hips against back, and believed him. It only took another two minutes for half the Santa Barbara police force to break the door down.
"Guster," Chief Vick said, rushing in. She looked like she had jumped out of bed ten minutes ago and run straight over. In fact, she was wearing slippers.
"You came out here yourself, Chief?" Shawn said.
"Special occasion," she said. She's also wearing a shirt four sizes too large that says "GOLFERS DO IT IN ALL THE HOLES," probably unintentionally. Gus wasn't going to point that out, for the sake of his job and her dignity.
"Well, I should let you guys go home," she said. "Just come in first thing tomorrow and we'll debrief, all right?"
"Sure," Shawn said.
"And Guster-" she interrupted, before they could leave. "Glad to- glad to see you all in one piece."
"Pffh," said Shawn, and dragged Gus towards where they'd parked the car during the stake-out earlier.
"Hey, I was abducted," Gus protested. "Let me enjoy the kind words of others!"
"I never thought you were in any danger," Shawn said, and gripped Gus's hand tightly all the way back.
FRIDAY NIGHT
"Another productive week," Shawn said, topping off two homemade margaritas with thin slices of pineapple.
"Yep," said Gus, accepting one and kicking his socked feet up onto the Psych office coffee table. Shawn's six weeks as a bartender was really one of his better phases. "Now I have the last three weeks of America's Next Top Circus Performer taped and I refuse to have any distractions, Shawn."
"Sure thing," Shawn said from behind the sofa. It sounded like he was rummaging through a cabinet. Gus never wants to know, he reminded himself. Never, ever, ever. He was going to have his hour of peace, come hell or high water or one of Shawn's wacky plans for Friday night fun.
"Hey, Gus, look, I got you a present."
Gus reminded himself sternly that it would probably end up in a humiliating situation that would endanger both his day job and his dignity. Almost certainly. He still couldn't look half the Santa Barbara fire department in the face. He stared doggedly at the TV. But sometimes- sometimes Shawn comes through-
"A thank you present!" Shawn said.
"Thanks for what?" Gus said, suspicion creeping into his tone. He gave Shawn the evil eye, a technique Shawn's mother tried to teach him in the fourth grade. It's never really worked for him.
"What, I can't get you-"
"No, Shawn!" Gus spun back around to turn to face the TV defiantly, crossing his arms.
There was a pause, where Gus hovered over the remote control's play button, waiting.
"Just- thanks," Shawn said, and kissed the back of Gus's neck.
Shawn/Gus, 1790 words, PG-13
MONDAY
"I believe the correct term is a gaggle," Shawn said, peering under a row of seats in the empty movie theater. The cycle of trivia questions and ads on the screen had been looping for twenty minutes.
"A gaggle of librarians?" Gus said, listening to the way his seat creaked as he leans back. "That doesn't sound right."
"Look it up," Shawn was kneeling, feeling around under the closest aisle.
"Shawn, that's not true and I'm not going to-"
"Got it!" Shawn said, yanking out what looked like a black box with wires sticking out.
"And that is?" Gus asked, half-listening and half-trying to puzzle out the trivia question on the screen.
"Just a rather poorly designed tape recorder and stereo. For sound effects to their malevolence."
"Sure," said Gus. Maybe Paul Newman? He won lots of things, Gus was pretty sure.
"I can't believe you're not even paying attention. This is a murder, Gus!" Shawn slumped down in the seat next to him. "Also, it's Jack Nicholson."
"Manslaughter," Gus snapped. "I don't think they meant to give that guy a heart attack. Also, you're a jerk and I totally would have gotten it."
"Gus, light of my life, Cagney to my Lacey, Joker to my Batman- well, that one was a mistake but do you honestly believe they didn't realize dressing up as the Joker and bursting into theaters screaming wouldn't scare some people to death?"
"Hey," said Gus. He'd liked those ladies. "They just want people to take a greater interest in books. I think it's a noble cause."
"Pffh," said Shawn, waving away Gus's totally valid point. "Besides, comic books-"
"Graphic novels," Gus said, dragging the words out for emphasis.
"Comic books," Shawn corrected, "are books. It's in the name, Gus."
"It's a totally different medium," Gus said. "Also, you're buying me popcorn before you go do your big reveal."
"What? Why?"
"You owe me and you know it, Shawn."
"Fine," Shawn said. "I found seven bucks crawling around under all these seats, anyways."
"Good," said Gus.
"We should go on more movie dates," said Shawn, kicking his feet up on the row of seats in front of them. "Greta Garbo."
"What?"
"Actress who received a special Oscar in 1954."
"No way," said Gus, settling back against his chair, stupid smug grin on his face. "That's Bette Davis."
WEDNESDAY
"Don't think I don't see the way he looks at you," Shawn said into Gus's ear.
"SHUSH," Gus shushed, elbowing him in the stomach and making Shawn wheeze.
"Ouch!" Shawn said, indignant.
"It's really dark in this closet!" Gus defended himself. "Wait, who looks at me?"
"Our scowling detective friend," Shawn said.
If Shawn didn't shut up, Gus was going to kill him. Or heck, maybe the charming local politician turned burglar turned serial murderer would do it for him. On the other hand-
"Lassiter?" Gus asked, voice a little high.
"Yes, Gus," Shawn said, playing on the edge of exasperation. "I see the smoldering tension between you! The way he growls your name- big tough policeman wooing you into a dangerous life of high pursuit! And violence!"
"Who exactly," Gus paused to listen to the boots stomping by their hiding place, the sound of someone clicking off the safety on a pistol, "is wooing me into a life of danger?"
Shawn wrapped an arm around Gus's waist, tugging gently at the belt loops on his jeans.
That was when they heard the echoes of Juliet and Lassiter shouting at the suspect.
"Jules! I knew she'd come for me," Shawn said. He reached around Gus and swung the door open dramatically. It clunked into something in the dark hallway.
"Darn it, Spencer, warn where you're going," Lassiter said scowling and clutching at his head. Shawn sashayed out, ignoring the closet's avalanche of household items.
"About time, Lassie!" Shawn said, picking up an umbrella off the floor and opening like a parasol. "You do not live up to your namesake, you know that? I should tell your folks."
"Just go home, Spencer," Lassiter said, breaking off in the middle of reading the guy his Miranda rights to wave a tired hand at Shawn. "Guster," he greeted as Gus steps out of the hallway closet, brushing off a pile of coats.
"Don't talk to him like that," Shawn said, indignant. "I know what you're doing, you perverted Lothario. Anyways, I left you a note."
"Yeah, well, your handwriting is just awful."
"He didn't see the note for a while," Juliet said over her shoulder, leading the guy to the waiting police car.
"I put it right on your desk!" Shawn was going to knock all the pictures off the walls if he kept twirling the umbrella like that, Gus thought.
"It got lost in some piles," Lassiter protested.
"And that's why you're a detective," Shawn said. "Your supreme powers of observation. C'mon, Gus, let's go. I hope you realize there's clearly nothing for you here." He poked Gus with the umbrella, right in the small of his back, until Gus started moving towards the door.
"What?" said Lassiter, as they left him behind.
FRIDAY
Gus opened his eyes. It didn't help. The room was completely dark, except for the flare of a lighter. It blinked out again.
His wrists ached where they were tied behind his back.
When the lighter flicked again, there was an eyeball squinting at him from an inch away from his face. Gus wasn't ashamed of the way he shrieked.
The owner of the eyeball backed off, letting the lighter burn for another few moments. "That's rude," she said.
"Sorry," Gus stuttered, "I just got- nervous- so you must be the person abducting all the local pets."
"Yep," she said. "You can just call me Mary. For your remaining moments."
Gus made a totally involuntary strangled noise. Normally, he'd just dismiss the threats as attempts to scare him, but he'd seen copies of the photographs. Those bunnies could not possibly have deserved that fate.
"I see you have a nose," Crazy Mary said, peering in close.
"Jesus Christ," Gus said with vehemence, and then there was a knocking from one side.
"Shhhhhhhhhhh," she said, waving the lighter awfully close to his face.
"Hello?" came from the vague direction of the knocking, and Gus sent up a long and extended 'thank you' to any god that might be listening. Shawn, hopefully with a contingent of fifty large, buff police officers.
"Be quiet," Crazy Mary hissed at him.
"Hello?" called Shawn. "Gus? Okay, I'm coming in."
Crazy Mary flicked the lighter off again, leaving the room in darkness until Shawn opened a door Gus hadn't been able to see before, flooding the room with light from the hallway.
"Hi," Shawn said, looking at his captor. "I'm looking for my buddy Gus. He's about yea tall, sort of uptight, skin smooth like a chocolate rabbit- not that he is a rabbit, I mean, I know what you do to them and it isn't pretty-"
"Take off your jacket," Crazy Mary ordered, lighter tucked away and replaced with a gun that, to be honest, made Gus very uneasy. Very, very uneasy, especially with the way she was waving her arms around erratically.
"Okay," Shawn said, yanking it off. "See? No gun. No weapon."
"But I know you! You're the police psychic!" The way Crazy Mary's voice kept rising was also really making Gus nervous. "Who knows what kind of- curses you could work!"
"No curses!" Shawn said. "Besides, for a proper curse a psychic needs special equipment. Herbs- and crystals and things. Lots of vital spell-casting equipment. Not my specialty anyways."
Crazy Mary eyed him warily. Gus held his breath.
"Fine," she said, gesturing towards Gus's corner. "Go sit with your friend. But no talking!"
Shawn shuffled toward Gus, keeping his hands up and open.
"Don't worry," Shawn whispered, "I've got it all under control."
Even though Crazy Mary had started shooting at the ceiling on "under", Gus felt Shawn's hand on his shoulder, the press of Shawn's hips against back, and believed him. It only took another two minutes for half the Santa Barbara police force to break the door down.
"Guster," Chief Vick said, rushing in. She looked like she had jumped out of bed ten minutes ago and run straight over. In fact, she was wearing slippers.
"You came out here yourself, Chief?" Shawn said.
"Special occasion," she said. She's also wearing a shirt four sizes too large that says "GOLFERS DO IT IN ALL THE HOLES," probably unintentionally. Gus wasn't going to point that out, for the sake of his job and her dignity.
"Well, I should let you guys go home," she said. "Just come in first thing tomorrow and we'll debrief, all right?"
"Sure," Shawn said.
"And Guster-" she interrupted, before they could leave. "Glad to- glad to see you all in one piece."
"Pffh," said Shawn, and dragged Gus towards where they'd parked the car during the stake-out earlier.
"Hey, I was abducted," Gus protested. "Let me enjoy the kind words of others!"
"I never thought you were in any danger," Shawn said, and gripped Gus's hand tightly all the way back.
FRIDAY NIGHT
"Another productive week," Shawn said, topping off two homemade margaritas with thin slices of pineapple.
"Yep," said Gus, accepting one and kicking his socked feet up onto the Psych office coffee table. Shawn's six weeks as a bartender was really one of his better phases. "Now I have the last three weeks of America's Next Top Circus Performer taped and I refuse to have any distractions, Shawn."
"Sure thing," Shawn said from behind the sofa. It sounded like he was rummaging through a cabinet. Gus never wants to know, he reminded himself. Never, ever, ever. He was going to have his hour of peace, come hell or high water or one of Shawn's wacky plans for Friday night fun.
"Hey, Gus, look, I got you a present."
Gus reminded himself sternly that it would probably end up in a humiliating situation that would endanger both his day job and his dignity. Almost certainly. He still couldn't look half the Santa Barbara fire department in the face. He stared doggedly at the TV. But sometimes- sometimes Shawn comes through-
"A thank you present!" Shawn said.
"Thanks for what?" Gus said, suspicion creeping into his tone. He gave Shawn the evil eye, a technique Shawn's mother tried to teach him in the fourth grade. It's never really worked for him.
"What, I can't get you-"
"No, Shawn!" Gus spun back around to turn to face the TV defiantly, crossing his arms.
There was a pause, where Gus hovered over the remote control's play button, waiting.
"Just- thanks," Shawn said, and kissed the back of Gus's neck.