A/N: I am a terrible person. "When are you going to finish your other fics Matilda?" The answer? No idea. Being a full time college student, and a full time employee kind of takes a lot out of you. Though I promise, I will try to get better at time management. I promise.

I'm writing this chapter because well … I managed to find time to watch the Season 8 premiere, and my life just – EEEEEEE….so much better. Anyhow. Brief Season 8 spoilers if you haven't seen it already (nothing major), and sadly – Shules and Shesperaux. Nothing too heavy, just implied. Heavier Shesperaux later on. Hopefully.

To my fellow Shassie fans. I apologize. Blame Season 8.

The Shakes

It always ended this way, every time. Every damn time. Shawn turned on his side once again facing the red glare of his alarm clock. Sleep just wasn't coming. He watched unamused as the clock turned from 2AM to 2:01AM.

With a frustrated sigh, Shawn was out of bed, and trying not to wake Jules, he headed to the kitchen. He didn't turn on the main light, just the small light over the stove. He went over to his fridge, grabbing his favorite Star Wars glass and reached for the juice. When he closed the fridge door, he damn near dropped his glass to the floor when he was suddenly face to face with an intruder.

"Still can't sleep?"

"What-" …Shawn suddenly realized he was speaking loudly, and lowered his voice. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Desperaux looked as suave as ever, blonde locks carefully kept at a medium length that seemed to work for the man. Bright eyes and a bright exterior making it easier to see him in the dim kitchen. "The front door." He answered casually, as if Shawn was just supposed to know.

"Of course." Shawn felt stupid, but also slightly afraid. However, he couldn't escape that feeling of excitement that always seemed to overtake him whenever Desperaux was around. "Okay. New question. Why?"

"London." Desperaux said again. "You were there not too long ago."

"I…I know." Now Shawn was confused. "You were there too…Remember? Staley? We solved a case together…. I think?"

"Yes. Staley." Desperaux grinned. "I nearly forgot that's the story I left you with."

"See. This is my problem." Shawn was insistent. "I never know what to believe with you." He sighed. "Desperaux, Staley, Thief, Investigator – Pierre….who…who are you?"

"Oh sweet boy." Desperaux smiled again. "You think too much."

"Some would argue not enough." Shawn countered.

"You know they're wrong." Desperaux took a seat at the kitchen island, leaning forward on his forearms. "Nice place. It reminds me of my place in Barbados. You really should come sometime."

"Oh boy…" Shawn didn't know what to say. He decided then that if this conversation was going to continue, he was going to need something a little stronger than juice.

"Here." Desperaux as if reading his mind, reached into his jacket and produced a small flask. "Pure Vodka, add it to your juice. Make yourself a…what are they called 'chick drink?' I personally call it medicine."

"Right." Shawn with shaking hands reached for the flask, and had to bite back a gasp when Desperaux clamped his hand over Shawn's, he held on a bit tightly, and looked up. Their eyes met.

Shawn pulled his hand back and staggered backwards a few steps, only stopping when his back side met with the kitchen counter. The flask now in his hand. All he could do was give a curt nod before opening the flask and adding the clear liquid to his juice. Perhaps a little too much. It burned rather harshly when Shawn took a sip.

"You never answered my question." Shawn stated then. The whirlwind of anxiety finally dying down enough Shawn was starting to see a little clearly – he hoped.

"I followed you here." Desperaux confessed then. "Even from across the pond, I had to keep up with tradition it seemed. More of a compulsion really. Rather bothersome. I don't normally act on silly compulsions."


"I watch you." Desperaux was honest. "After every time our paths cross. We say our goodbyes, and I either leave or get arrested, but I always slip out. To watch you. Sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a few weeks."

Words. Shawn had to use words now. He downed more of the drink, relishing the burn this time as it proved to be quite the distraction. Watching him? What? Why? How? ….Most importantly – WHY? Though of course the only sound Shawn could muster was a rather rushed "Uh?"

Desperaux stretched then, standing. "I never thought I could ever render you, the great Shawn Spencer speechless."

"I know words." Shawn argued, he then felt really – really dumb. "Shut up."

"Well." Desperaux, took a napkin out from his pocket, and proceeded to dab himself on the face. "I think it's time I took my leave. As always Shawn, it has been a great pleasure."

"You can't leave!" Shawn sputtered then.

"Oh?" Desperaux asked, he sounded amused. "Why not?"

"Because you never told me…"

"Told you…why I watch you?"

Shawn's mouth went completely dry. That mix of fear, anticipation, excitement – all of it, returning harder than it had been a few minutes ago. "Yeah... That."

Desperaux didn't say anything, he simply placed the napkin he was using on his face and placed it on the island. "I think that dear boy – best left for next time."

"What – next time? Why? …When is next time?" Shawn could barely keep a single coherent thought at this point. This wasn't normal for him. Was he drugged?

"Next time is up to you." Desperaux said then, he didn't stutter once, and yet Shawn had so much trouble understanding him.


Jules had woken up, she had heard Shawn talking. She had made her way the kitchen, and had flicked on the full light to see Shawn standing by the counter – holding a flask in one hand, a glass of juice in the other, and from what she could understand – talking to himself. "Shawn?"

Shawn jumped, he hadn't expected Jules to wake up. "Jules!" He turned to face her.

"Shawn it is after 2 in the morning – what are you doing up?" She moved over to him, concerned, her face crinkling in distaste as the smell of alcohol become apparent. "And you're drinking?"

"I – couldn't sleep." Shawn wasn't completely lying. His eyes darted to where Desperaux had been standing just moments before, he wasn't surprised when Desperaux was completely gone. "I thought a drink would help."

"Oh…" Jules crossed her arms around herself. She didn't know what else to ask. "Are you coming back to bed?"

"I - …maybe." What? No. That wasn't right. "Yes." Shawn corrected himself. "Let me just clean up here, and I'll be right up?"

"Okay." Jules agreed, and turned around to go back to bed. She had a feeling Shawn wasn't going to answer any of her questions if she started asking, and she frankly didn't feel like losing anymore sleep over him. "I'll see you in the bed room."

"Okay." Shawn nodded, and watched as Jules left. Sighing, Shawn dumped out the last of his drink, and looking to the flask he held back another sigh. What the hell did Desperaux mean when he said the next time was up to Shawn? Looking harder at the flask, Shawn noticed something – he recognized this flask. They were always on display in the smoke shop window next to that motel on 5th. … "Huh?" …. Desperaux was staying in town? Shawn put the flask on the counter, and trying not to think about it, tried to go bed, but then stopped when the napkin Desperaux had been using caught his eye.

Shawn went back over the island, lifting the napkin to glance at it, right away he noticed writing. 32. Desperaux was staying at the Shaky Oats Motel on 5th Street, room 32.

It took all of Shawn's will power not to grab his shoes and his bike keys. He forced himself to think logically. Not tonight. Do not go running out into the night looking for answers. He could hear his father's voice in his head very roughly. "You'll get hurt."

Okay. Shawn didn't want that. Shawn disposed of the napkin, making it sure it went straight the bottom of the trash compactor. 32. He kept the number 32 committed to memory. Tomorrow.

After everything was said and then, Shawn went back to bed, but he didn't sleep. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, and hadn't been the least bit surprised when Jules had already fallen back to sleep. Not that he blamed her.

He listen to her breathe, trying to use the steady rhythm to fall asleep himself, he think it worked. He wasn't sure. Was he sleeping? He had no idea.

Oh…the joys of insomnia.