I've been working on this story for over three months now. Up until three weeks ago, however, it was coming out really rather crappy.
That was when I met my Psych fanfiction soul-mate centipede. She helped me work out all the kinks in my story and helped me realize the full-potential of this story. Thanks to her, this story is the best it can be. She was my encouragement, my grammar-nazi, and my holy-crap-I-have-to-do-that-because-that-idea-is-brilliant girl.
Thanks so much for rocking my Psych world!
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are unfortunately not even marginally owned by me. How tragic is that?
"Shawn, what the hell were you thinking?" Henry said furiously, glancing in the rearview mirror of the squad car to see his son hunched over, nursing a black eye and a bloody nose. "What have I told you about fighting?"
"'If you're gonna fight, win'," Shawn recited in a small voice.
"Exactly. And it doesn't look to me like you won."
Shawn sagged even further in the seat. "I tried, Dad. Really, I did!"
"What were you fighting about anyway?" Henry asked, exasperated.
"Billy Rider hit Gus. Then he stole his lunch. I couldn't just let him Dad!"
Henry tried to suppress a smile. "So you were defending your partner, is that what you're telling me?"
"Yeah, Dad. You know Gus. He doesn't like fighting. Somebody has to stand up for him."
"All right. I suppose that earns you one less week of grounding. Protecting your partner is vital Shawn. He's got your back and you've got to have his."
"I know, Dad. Why do you think I've got a bloody nose and a black eye?"
Henry couldn't help it. He laughed.