Thanks: To Jenn, my beta for assuring me that this was good to go:
Jenn: Back at you. It's very cute. :) h
Me: Really? Not too cheesy?
Jenn: It's Psych. The show practically is covered in queso.

Shawn knew two things: that Oreos were by far the superior cookie and that he had a certain amount of what most called game. There was a clause to that last one there: he had game in certain areas with certain (most, really) ladies. But it was like Juliet never bought tickets to the game, as though she had never had any intention of watching the game in the first place.

For a brief time he'd entertained the notion that perhaps she wasn't a player in this game at all (to save a little pride) but had dismissed that idea entirely when Gus had helpfully pointed out that she had a smile just for him. In that she smiled it only for him; for him alone. Shawn's smile, Shawn's... he needed a better name for that.

So the little nudge that she'd given to his ego by accepting his accidental and spur-of-the-moment dinner invitation had him over the moon and... somewhat confused. It made him question - why now? Why this time out of the thousands (it had to be thousands of times he'd asked) previous? Was it the shirt? His threads were pretty kickin'...

Casually, Shawn glanced down and quickly sniffed at the tan button-up he was wearing. Probably not charmed by the shirt; that was his reality-tv-night-with-Gus shirt, as it reminded him very much of the safari get up that Jeff Probst wore on Survivor. So, not the shirt. Juliet certainly hadn't noticed that he'd used new styling gel to perk up his do. Or had she? She... no, she probably hadn't. And clearly, it wasn't his dashingly good looks because, well, he'd always had those and was fairly certain that he hadn't gotten any more handsome in the past week. (As far as the handsome quotient went, he was a steady 100%, all of the time.)

There was one reason that distressed him a bit, left him with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The thought of wearing Jules down to the point that she was resigned to say yes depressed him a little, but certainly not enough to have him cancel the date. Still, that he'd had to rope her into dinner, that his constant badgering was perhaps just that... badgering... and not charming at all...

Well, crap.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Shawn ducked his head and thought about the sheer scope of what was going to happen tonight, what could possibly happen, all of the outcomes. The date with Jules. The date with Jules doing... nothing, because he hadn't thought that far ahead. The date with Jules that was missing a pretty important component: somewhere to go.

In a panic, Shawn jumped onto his bike and nearly sent himself and the motorcycle careening onto the asphalt. "Whoooooa girl, easy now."

Righting himself quickly, he shoved his head into his helmet - cautious of his hair - and raced home, all the while wracking his brain for a once-in-a-lifetime kind of idea. A once-in-a-lifetime idea that wouldn't end with one or both of them in the hospital or jail and, well, he was fresh out of those.

At his apartment, there was a fair share of pacing. Back, forth, back, fo-to the fridge for a pudding-rth. As he finished off the last of the gooey chocolate treat, he took a deep breath and decided to play it by ear. If this was going to go well, then the fates would run their course. Everything would be just fine, just fine. All he had to do was keep his cool and it would be fine.

If he could just be himself... he'd be fine. Now, just to not freak out and ruin everything.

Nothing fancy, he wasn't wearing anything fancy. His typical collared shirt and jeans as fare, Shawn snatched the keys for his bike off of the counter and fled through the back door of his apartment. For a man with no idea where he would be escorting his date, he was in very high spirits. Determined to not overthink things (which was usually much, much easier for him) hopped on his bike and steered the way to her place.

Of course, his current state of mind was warranted. There was-truth be told-something else about Juliet. That something else that made him just the teensiest bit flustered, weak in the knees, dumbstruck. And what he loved most about that was that he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was about her.

That she kept him guessing. That she didn't put up with his nonsense. That she was the strongest woman he had ever met, that she was compassionate and funny and lovely and intelligent and gorgeous. That she was surely one of the only people who could make him laugh, worry him, excite him, confuse him, unnerve him.

'Can't overthink, won't overthink,' he repeated as he swerved to avoid a squirrel, swearing it tossed an acorn at him as he whizzed by.

After a series of quick right turns, he slowed and puttered onto her street, slowing his arrival as he got his nerves in check. 'She said yes, dude. She's gotta be into you. Nay, she IS into you, so march up there and...do... something. Biting his lip, he put the bike in park and hung his head, taking a deep breath.

Shawn straightened his back and shoved his helmet under his arm, walking to the front door of her building. "Hey Juliet," he tested, checking his appearance in the dark glass of the front door as he ambled up. "I have no idea what I have in store but... this is what you... signed," his lips twisted in distaste. "Up for?" Okay, that rhymed and was obviously no good and maybe he shouldn't plan what he was going to say to her because didn't that make him a crazy person?

Shaking his head and his hands out at his side, Shawn screwed up his face, slammed his eyes closed and pushed down the buzzer for apartment seven. It was only a few moments before her voice clicked over the line, scratchy and rushed, breathless. "Huh, hello? Shawn?"

Licking his lips he was about to greet her when she interjected, "I'll be right down! I am so sorry!" Her 'so' pulled at the end a little, almost pleading with him to forgive her. "I can't find... my other... shoe." There was a brief pause and a click and the intercom went dead. Taking a step back, he wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans; sweaty, not a good sign. As he turned his back to begin pacing again, her voice crackled to life. "Got it! Be down in a sec!"

It was without thought, instantaneous. His heart picked up an insane beat, his throat went dry, and his mind went blank. There was a fairly good chance that he was well and truly screwed, that he wouldn't be able to pull this off and the rest of his life would be about screwing up this one moment and why did she have to say yes tonight?

And then he heard the creak of the door as it swung open and he pivoted around to face her and was-

Kind of shocked, actually.

She stood before him in jeans, bright green Converse and a simple sweater, the picture of comfort. It was odd, how the sight of her in everyday wear put him at ease and pulled at his heartstrings simultaneously. Like she had read his mind, like she didn't care what they were doing, as long as they were, you know, doing it together. But that was too sweet to think about and instead he made a crack about her shoes.

"I heard Kermit the Frog was found missing from his dressing room; your doing?"

She took two quick steps towards him and with a half smile, responded, "I know how to cover up a crime." Juliet's voice was low, conspiratorial and it helped ease some of the tension from his shoulders with each syllable. "And why does Kermit need a dressing room?"

With ease, he grinned, "Touche, officer." They shared a moment then, standing on the faded sidewalk in front of her apartment. The light from the streetlamp caught the highlights in her hair, the lowlights in her eyes, turned her skin a mysterious honey color that he wanted to-

His throat caught and he cleared it, gesturing to his motorcycle with one hand. "Your steed awaits, m'lady!" In a sweeping gesture, he flourished with his hand and the escorted her across the street. "I take it you've ridden a bike before." In his head, a plan crystallized and Shawn suddenly felt more sure of himself; his spine straightened, he sucked in a breath. He felt... good.

"Oh, is this a bike? Looks more like a scooter." Shawn was aghast momentarily, smiling as her lips curved upward. "Harleys are bikes, and yes, I've ridden."

Shawn shook the thoughts out of his head and climbed on, shoving a helmet at her stomach. "Of course you have," he muttered and waited silently as she slid on behind him and wound her hands around his midsection. "And don't get handsy there," he managed to eke out, even as the heat from her arms pressed against his shirt. "I never put out on the first date."

As Shawn stepped on the gas, he heard Juliet quietly mutter, "Sure, sure." He could almost feel the smile in her tone.

It helped, being this close to her, not having to say anything. As the wind rushed past them Shawn concentrated on the tight grasp she had around his chest, the sound their helmets made when they clinked together; she was close, closer than she had to be to hold onto him, but he was fine with that. If she wanted to be the one to get close, maybe this would be easier.

Now and then her fingertips would press into him and he'd forget for a moment how to drive, how to keep his eyes from sliding closed, how to breathe. Okay, so this was... bad. Bad in the best way possible. Maybe even a little wrong, but just a little wrong was okay, could be delicious even if-

"Where are we going?" she shouted the best she could with the helmet on, but he heard her and realized that they'd been on the freeway longer than he intended and he immediately signaled for the next exit. As they turned, Juliet's hand slipped closer to his belt, a move that he was sure was unconscious but he couldn't-

Immediately he took a left, not realizing that he'd managed to navigate them down the main drag and onto State Street. Rather than battle through throngs of tourists to try and scheme up a destination, he simply pulled over half-way up the block, figuring there had to be something within walking distance that would be appropriate. "Okay, we're here!" Shawn had no idea where they were, but this was a good a place as any; he had to get her hands off of him if he was going to... take... her out. "We're here at...Old King's Road, alright, not what I was going for but-"

Juliet shook her hair out as she responded, and he managed to really lose track of his train of thought for a moment. "Oh! I hope they have Magners," and then she was handing him the helmet with a charming smile and turning towards the entrance. Though it took him a moment to snap out of his half-charmed, half-confused daze, he followed her quickly, pulling up just in time to open the door for her.

"Turns out chivalry isn't dead," he mentioned as she breezed past him. "I looked into it; I know a lot of people thought that, but it was just in witness protection." Shawn cringed to himself; word vomit, word vomit, why couldn't he stop with the word vomit?

Juliet threw a small smile over her shoulder, "So it would seem."

They moved inside and he led them to an open table, just across from the bar. As Juliet fitted herself into a pew-sized booth Shawn darted towards the bar and ordered two Magners, returning only to slosh some over the table. "Andddddd, I'm off to a great start," he murmured, pushing a pint in front of her.

The atmosphere was cozy; it was dim, and did resemble the interior of an English pub. There were regulars at the bar and a surprising number of larger groups scattered throughout the main room. Both he and Juliet took their time settling into their drinks, taking in the ambiance of the room and casually meeting each other's gaze when their paths crossed. He felt compelled to speak, but needed to think of a suitable topic to foster a full-blown conversation.

As Shawn settled on reality television, because really, who didn't watch reality television, he was interrupted by a booming voice over the speakers. "Welcome to Stump Pub Trivia. I'm your trivia jockey Max, and if you haven't played before I'm going to go over the rules." There was a flurry of commotion, the waitress came by the table to give them menus and then spun away to attend to another large table.

Thwacking his menu against the tabletop, Shawn said, "I didn't know they were doing this tonight. If you want to go somewhere else..."

Juliet swigged from her beer and shook her head as she swallowed; Shawn pretended not to watch her throat work. "I'm game if you are; besides, can't you bring a little something extra to the table?" Her eyebrow quirked in the most enticing manner and he settled back into the seat, cradling his beer in his hands on the table.

Mock serious, he began, "Jules, I'm shocked you think I would cheat at something as sacred as pub trivia." Draining the rest of his glass he concluded, "And besides, it's general knowledge, how hard can it be?" His tone was arrogant, his chest puffing up comically.

Her answer was a short laugh and then she got out of the booth and sauntered over to the jockey's table. Juliet returned with a pen, a pad of paper and a grin. "Okay, we just need a team name..."

Deep in thought, he wracked his brain for the perfect expression of their combined trivia prowess. Then suddenly, something completely out of left field came to him, "How about 'The Cop and The Robber'?" he posed.

She sat back and thought about that for a moment, "You're 'The Robber'?" she questioned.

"I stole your heart, didn't I?" he asked in his best heartthrob, lothario voice.

The joke landed as he thought it would. "Not even close." With a roll of her eyes she signaled the bartender for another round.