Climbing the walls was an understatement.
Oh, and that wasn't even the best part. Someone, and he didn't know if it was a member of the SBPD, a former member of the SBPD, or a certain MagicHead partner… but someone had thought it was a good idea for him to see a psychiatrist.
For ten sessions.
"Do I look like I need therapy!?"
"Shawn, you're hanging, upside down off the edge of your bed, you tell me."
His friend set down a paper bag emitting smells of deliciousness. "Let me guess, your doctor told you this would be therapeutic?"
Shawn grinned sheepishly. "Actually, I was bored, decided to try a new spinning air-guitar solo and slipped. And now I can't move."
Gus really had been around him too long because he didn't even blink- just leaned down, grabbed Shawn by the shoulders, and helped him upright again.
As Shawn settled back against his pillow, he glanced at the bag. "Covert lunch number six with extra cheese?"
Gus handed him the bag, grinning conspiratorially.
"And a side order of onion rings."
Gus and Shawn knocked fists as the fake psychic tore open the sack. The heavenly scent of deep-fried onions hit him like nirvana. Grabbing one from the top of the bag, he shoved it in his mouth, gasping and chewing at the same time as it slowly cooked his tongue. At his side, Gus held out a paper cup beaded with moisture. Without a pause, he grabbed it- and mewled and whimpered as the first pull of the straw didn't produce any relief. Sucking harder, he finally got a mouthful of strawberry shake, and tilted his head back happily. He crammed down two more onion rings before turning to his friend.
"So, you gonna break me out?"
Gus snagged a ring, blowing on it delicately before taking a small bite.
"Your doctors told you one more week."
Shawn dropped his jaw, crestfallen.
Gus raised his brows, unaffected, and took another bite of onion ring.
Frowning petulantly, Shawn reached into the bag and pulled out the cheeseburger, taking a giant bite. "I hough ou hah mah bah." He said through a mouthful of burger.
Gus turned down his mouth. "I DO have your back- but your dad threatened to tell my mom about that incident at the zoo when we were eight. My mom Shawn!"
Shawn laughed suddenly, half choking on his bite. "Ha- I think that monkey still has scars!"
"It's not funny Shawn!"
Shawn couldn't help it, he laughed harder. "D- dude, it so t-totally is!" He finally managed some control, swallowing thickly as his body still shook with mirth. Gus sat in silent irritation the entire time, finally grabbing another onion ring and stuffing it in his mouth. Chewing slowly, a strange look came over his face.
Shawn felt sudden disquiet.
"Hey, did you ever tell your dad about what really happened to his old boat?"
Shawn paled, spitting his mouthful of burger into a napkin. "You- wouldn't- dare…" He said threateningly.
Gus tilted his head.
"Oh, that's a low blow…"
Nurse naughty mouth entered at that point, winking at Shawn while studiously ignoring the fast food in his lap. "Now Mr. Guster, you aren't conspiring to steal away my little boy toy are you?"
Gus smiled smugly, standing as he prepared to leave. "Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that. In fact, the 'Boy Toy' just told me how much he enjoys being here… don't you Shawn."
Shawn glared fiercely. "Guuuss…"
His friend waved, heading for the door. "Have a good day!"
One week later
His apartment was clean.
He was pretty certain it hadn't been cleaned by him…
Gus set down the bag of groceries while Shawn looked around curiously.
"Wow, I didn't know your walls were that color…"
Okay, so it hadn't been cleaned by Gus either.
Entering the kitchen, he flipped up the lid on his garbage, noting the small pair of rubber gloves. Aha! Clearly the sign of someone with little, delicate fingers that were just dying to be run through his hair.
He smiled, dropping the lid back down, already planning how to best use that new bit of information.
There was a brief knock at the door, and Gus went to answer it.
Lassiter entered, managing to look incredibly uncomfortable as he stood by the door. "The Chief asked me to pick you up. She figured since Guster has to be to work and your father is home with bronchitis… Anyway, we have about fifteen minutes."
Shawn beamed, walking over to stand next to the other man.
Lassiter leaned away from him warily.
"Lassy! Admit it, you just missed me!"
Gus grinned, his hands in his pockets. "I think you're right Shawn! In fact, I think he wishes he could give you a big hug!"
Shawn held open his arms. "Okay, come on! Who wants squeezies?"
Lassiter pushed his arm away. "Oh grow up! For God's sake Spencer!"
Gus frowned. "Shawn, I could be wrong, but I think you've just been shot down."
Shawn clasped his elbows. "Actually Gus, Lassy and I have a special understanding… a bond of brotherhood you could say… ever since we, you know… pressed lips…" He waggled his brows and batted his lashes expressively at the taller man.
Lassiter jerked back, face reddening. "It's called CPR!" He crossed his arms, fuming. "I knew O'Hara couldn't keep her chatty little mouth shut."
Shawn grinned at Gus over the detective's shoulder.
Evidently feeling he'd had more than his share of antics, Lassiter pulled open the door and stepped into the hall. "I'll be in the car. Whenever you're done with your little sideshow, we can go."
Shawn shrugged. "Well in that case, I guess I'm ready. You'll put away my groceries Buddy? Thanks!"
Without waiting for a response, he followed the detective towards the elevator; Gus's indignant response muted by the door.
The drive to the therapist's office took about ten minutes. Even so, Shawn was uncharacteristically quiet the entire time. Pulling up in front of the tall building, Lassiter put the car in park, leaving the engine running.
"I'll be back when you're done. Try not to run over session if you can at all manage it- it isn't as if I enjoy being your damn chauffeur."
Shawn smiled, opening his door. "Aww, you sure Lassy? Come on admit it, part of you likes pretending to be Hoke Colburn."
Lassiter ground his teeth. "What does that make you, Miss Daisy?"
The younger man chuckled softly, leaning to the right. But still he paused, curling his fingers around the door handle. Lassiter was being patient, but it wouldn't last- and he needed to say this. Dropping his smile, Shawn turned back to the detective. "Um… I… I didn't get to tell you before but… well… thanks. You know… for… well for…"
Lassiter turned to face forward, both hands gripping the steering wheel. "Spencer, you have an hour, starting in five minutes. If you're late, the Chief will kick my ass… and then yours."
Shawn nodded, sliding sideways out of the car. Just before he shut the door, he heard a voice from the front seat, almost drowned out by the traffic on the street.
Smiling, he turned away, looking up at the building before him.
Just nine more sessions after this. Nine… a good number… manageable. In fact, he could think of it as a challenge… or a suggestion…
He made a personal bet to see if he could lower that number to eight. And if the psychiatrist was a woman…
He wondered if they did sessions at the beach…
Warm sun beating down on his shoulders, grinning widely, he bounced up the steps towards the brick building.
At the top, he turned and took one final look over his shoulder as Lassiter drove away. Then, giving his hair a quick comb-thru with his fingers, he pushed through the doors.
This was going to be interesting.
A/N: Thanks all for sticking along for this one! As a special treat, I will post the sequel to this little story soon! Keep an eye out!
"It Isn't The Murder That Kills You, It's The Therapy"
Shawn Spencer leaned forward, his expression tense. "What makes you think I'm not a psychic?"
Adrian loosened, feeling himself go automatically into interrogation mode as he tilted his head to the side. "I asked you first."
The 'psychic' closed his eyes, bringing his fingertips to his temples. Adrian jumped when the man suddenly lunged to his feet, jerking around the room as if he was being dragged by something. "Oh no, Gus… Gus, I can't stop it!" Adrian looked on, horrified, and leaned over to Natalie. "What is he doing?" He asked slowly. Natalie just shrugged, shaking her head.
Suddenly Shawn stopped, then whirled, jogging in place. "I… I see… running… you're running… running away? No, no… running toward… something… something good… a ticket? No… a tape? Wait… a finish line! You're a sprinter!" Shawn stopped, his eyes opening mournfully. "But… but you couldn't finish… you quit… even though you loved doing it…"
Adrian glanced at Natalie, who was looking impressed. This was ridiculous… "Oh come on… he could have found that information anywhere!" He raised his hands, waiting for her support. She shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know Mr. Monk… that was pretty good."
Adrian dropped his arms in frustration. "There is no way this man is a psychic!"
Shawn dropped back into the chair he'd abandoned earlier, looking smug. "Yes I am."
Adrian glared at him. "No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"No you're not."
"I so totally am… and you can't prove I'm not."
Adrian leaned forward, smiling tightly. "Try me."