Fanfic: Epic Sandwich Making (Psych)
Title: Epic Sandwich Making
by Tabz (sl_podcast)
Characters/Pairing (if any) Shawn, Gus
A/N: I don't own Psych, but I have owned a pineapple. Unfortunately, I ate it.
Summary: Shawn is avoiding the inevitable...
Shawn was currently very busy doing something very important. That's what he had told Gus at least. His current project was building the most awesome sandwich ever. It was no mean feat. Shawn was a connoisseur. He'd been making the dish since he was five and had yet to find the perfect sandwich.
But today was going to be different, he could feel it.
Gus returned and sat his sample case down with a thud. "Shawn. Stop playing."
"Gus, I'm not playing," Shawn said with a toss of his head. He had laid all of the pickles out on a cutting board and was measuring each.
"You're measuring pickle slices."
"For an epic quest."
Gus rolled his eyes. "You're making a mess in the office, what if a client comes in?"
"I'll say we didn't know they were coming and would they like a taste of the most delicious sandwich ever made."
"Really?" Gus' voice was slightly higher pitched than normal. "You're going to tell a prospective client to our psychic detective services that you didn't know they were coming?"
"Point made," Shawn said. "But, it's all for nothing if you don't have the most perfect sandwich."
"Don't start with the Braveheart speech Shawn, you quote it every time you want me to get on board with a ridiculous personal quest. It's kind of sacrilegious..."
"What, Braveheart wasn't talking about a sandwich?"
"It was about freedom."
"I thought that was Roots?"
"That too."
Shawn picked up two slices of pickle and held them up to eye level. He tossed one behind his back and laid the other on top of half-folded roast beef slices. "RoboCop?"
"Not you're just pulling out movie titles."
"Well, I'm beginning to think they all are about the same thing. What a racket Hollywood's got going on. Am I right?"
"Shawn." Gus sat behind his desk and flipped on his computer. "You can't avoid this forever."
"Who said I'm avoiding anything, Gus?" Shawn looked over the piles of sandwich ingredients. "Sure I went to like six Trader Joe's looking for the right shade of mustard, but that's because I'm a perfectionist."
"Since when?" Gus scoffed. "You're wearing different colored socks."
"I'm color-blind?"
"Shawn, I've known you since we were kids. I'd know if you were color-blind."
"Would you believe a large dog ate the other one?"
"A large dog? In your apartment?"
"I've moved."
"To where? A pet store?"
"It may possibly be a puppy mill. Whenever I come home I free at least three cages worth of dogs before bed."
"Shawn."
"Alright... alright... it's not a puppy mill. It's a split-level with a very aggressive tabby cat in the front yard."
"Shawn, stop. Can we please get this over with?"
"It's just..." Shawn looked around the office. "We should do filing!"
"Since when have you wanted to do filing?"
"Well, I figured you could do it and I'd offer helpful suggestions while I finish my sandwich."
"Shawn." Gus rubbed his temples.
"We can't..." Shawn sighed. "Look, I know we've said many, many times that no matter how bad it got we'd solider on. We'd face it together as compadres, but I have a really bad feeling about this one buddy. I wouldn't want you to hate me because of it."
"Shawn, you're not psychic, you don't know what's going to happen."
"No, but I have a pretty good guess. If we go there, she won't make it."
"Shawn."
"Gus, don't make me."
"Shawn."
Shawn put his hands on the table and bowed his head in defeat. "Okay fine. But I'm finishing my sandwich first."
Gus looked at the half-finished sandwich. He grabbed a piece of cheese, some lettuce and closed the bread over it. "There. Now can we please go?"
"Gee Gus, way to spoil the process. Martha Stewart would be very disappointed."
Gus just ignored his friend and went to grab a bag of chips and some pineapple soda they had received from a client recently. "Come on, Shawn."
Shawn sighed and slid into his chair. "I'm telling you, she's not going to make it."
Gus picked up the TV remote and switched on the TV. "Look Shawn, even if Lauren is voted off tonight, she's still a winner in our books."
Shawn took a bite of his sandwich and didn't even bother to finish chewing it. "Easy for you to say. You didn't call 100 times on your cellphone."
"Shawn, you don't have your cellphone. You lost it at the Aquarium of the Pacific last week and haven't bothered to get it replaced."
"Right, I did say you didn't call on your cellphone... I did."
"SHAWN!"
by Tabz (sl_podcast)
Characters/Pairing (if any) Shawn, Gus
A/N: I don't own Psych, but I have owned a pineapple. Unfortunately, I ate it.
Summary: Shawn is avoiding the inevitable...
Shawn was currently very busy doing something very important. That's what he had told Gus at least. His current project was building the most awesome sandwich ever. It was no mean feat. Shawn was a connoisseur. He'd been making the dish since he was five and had yet to find the perfect sandwich.
But today was going to be different, he could feel it.
Gus returned and sat his sample case down with a thud. "Shawn. Stop playing."
"Gus, I'm not playing," Shawn said with a toss of his head. He had laid all of the pickles out on a cutting board and was measuring each.
"You're measuring pickle slices."
"For an epic quest."
Gus rolled his eyes. "You're making a mess in the office, what if a client comes in?"
"I'll say we didn't know they were coming and would they like a taste of the most delicious sandwich ever made."
"Really?" Gus' voice was slightly higher pitched than normal. "You're going to tell a prospective client to our psychic detective services that you didn't know they were coming?"
"Point made," Shawn said. "But, it's all for nothing if you don't have the most perfect sandwich."
"Don't start with the Braveheart speech Shawn, you quote it every time you want me to get on board with a ridiculous personal quest. It's kind of sacrilegious..."
"What, Braveheart wasn't talking about a sandwich?"
"It was about freedom."
"I thought that was Roots?"
"That too."
Shawn picked up two slices of pickle and held them up to eye level. He tossed one behind his back and laid the other on top of half-folded roast beef slices. "RoboCop?"
"Not you're just pulling out movie titles."
"Well, I'm beginning to think they all are about the same thing. What a racket Hollywood's got going on. Am I right?"
"Shawn." Gus sat behind his desk and flipped on his computer. "You can't avoid this forever."
"Who said I'm avoiding anything, Gus?" Shawn looked over the piles of sandwich ingredients. "Sure I went to like six Trader Joe's looking for the right shade of mustard, but that's because I'm a perfectionist."
"Since when?" Gus scoffed. "You're wearing different colored socks."
"I'm color-blind?"
"Shawn, I've known you since we were kids. I'd know if you were color-blind."
"Would you believe a large dog ate the other one?"
"A large dog? In your apartment?"
"I've moved."
"To where? A pet store?"
"It may possibly be a puppy mill. Whenever I come home I free at least three cages worth of dogs before bed."
"Shawn."
"Alright... alright... it's not a puppy mill. It's a split-level with a very aggressive tabby cat in the front yard."
"Shawn, stop. Can we please get this over with?"
"It's just..." Shawn looked around the office. "We should do filing!"
"Since when have you wanted to do filing?"
"Well, I figured you could do it and I'd offer helpful suggestions while I finish my sandwich."
"Shawn." Gus rubbed his temples.
"We can't..." Shawn sighed. "Look, I know we've said many, many times that no matter how bad it got we'd solider on. We'd face it together as compadres, but I have a really bad feeling about this one buddy. I wouldn't want you to hate me because of it."
"Shawn, you're not psychic, you don't know what's going to happen."
"No, but I have a pretty good guess. If we go there, she won't make it."
"Shawn."
"Gus, don't make me."
"Shawn."
Shawn put his hands on the table and bowed his head in defeat. "Okay fine. But I'm finishing my sandwich first."
Gus looked at the half-finished sandwich. He grabbed a piece of cheese, some lettuce and closed the bread over it. "There. Now can we please go?"
"Gee Gus, way to spoil the process. Martha Stewart would be very disappointed."
Gus just ignored his friend and went to grab a bag of chips and some pineapple soda they had received from a client recently. "Come on, Shawn."
Shawn sighed and slid into his chair. "I'm telling you, she's not going to make it."
Gus picked up the TV remote and switched on the TV. "Look Shawn, even if Lauren is voted off tonight, she's still a winner in our books."
Shawn took a bite of his sandwich and didn't even bother to finish chewing it. "Easy for you to say. You didn't call 100 times on your cellphone."
"Shawn, you don't have your cellphone. You lost it at the Aquarium of the Pacific last week and haven't bothered to get it replaced."
"Right, I did say you didn't call on your cellphone... I did."
"SHAWN!"