Note: This was my first Psych fic, just a little one-shot, written ages ago for the Psych Flashfiction Mexico challenge.
Shawn, Gus, Mexico, and a Jewel Thief
The sun was impossible to escape in this country. It seemed to seep into every single corner, and Gus laid flat out on the double bed, arms splayed out as he tried to let the dying ceiling fan cool him.
One of these days, he thought distantly, he was going to have to learn to say no to Shawn.
"Why would you want to do that?" Shawn asked cheerily, pulling open the curtains Gus had forced himself to stand and close not two minutes ago.
Gus figured he was either saying his thoughts out loud, or Shawn really was becoming psychic. He didn't know which was more worrying.
"Nope," Shawn said, leaning over him with a frown. "You're talking out loud. You don't have heat stroke or something, do you?"
"Quite possibly," Gus said. "Also, I think I hate you."
Shawn broke out into a wide grin. "Aw, Gus, you don't mean that." Then he leaned closer, frowning in concern. "You didn't drink the water, did you?"
"Why do you insist on dragging me along on these trips?" Gus asked desperately. "I have a job, you know, a real one."
Shawn leaned back on his heels. "I resent that," he said. "You take that back, Gus. Our fake psychic detective agency is a real job."
"That's an oxymoron," Gus snapped.
"You're the moron," Shawn said.
"No, I meant--"
"I know what you meant," Shawn said. "I was just calling you a moron."
The fan gave one last spin, sputtered, and died. Gus let out sound suspiciously like a whimper. "I'm going to die here, aren't I?"
"This new penchant for melodrama is wearing thin, Gus," Shawn said. "Maybe you should see someone about this. I know quite a few renowned psychiatrists I could recommend to you. Lassiter keeps giving me their business cards."
"You've dragged me across the border to track down a jewel thief," Gus said, disbelievingly. "I'm a normal person, Shawn, I'm not the one that needs therapy. I don't chase jewel thieves across the border."
"All evidence to the contrary," Shawn said smugly.
"Do you know how big Mexico is?" Gus demanded. "You're never going to find him. This is a waste of time."
"I know exactly where he is," Shawn said. "I'm just biding my time."
"In a sweltering motel room?" Gus asked, incredulously. "Just admit it. We're not going to win this one. It was bound to happen eventually, Shawn. You can't solve every single case."
"Ha, I can too," Shawn said. "I just thought I'd try and get you to enjoy yourself a little bit before we bust in on the guy. We're in Mexico, Gus. This doesn't happen every day."
"No, only twice a year," Gus snapped. "What is your fascination with this place?"
"Are you kidding?" Shawn asked. "The sun, the food, the sunsets, the food, the people, the food, the language, the food--"
"Okay, okay," Gus snapped. "I get it. You like the food."
"I worry about you, Gus," Shawn said kindly. "I really do. You're wound tight. I'm afraid one of these days you're going to snap, end up on the streets somewhere, shouting out ridiculously long and obscure words and then spelling them out."
"It'd still be better than this," Gus said petulantly.
Shawn laughed. "A sense of humor. Good, Gus, that's a start. Now what do you say we wrap this case up and then hit the restaurants?"
"Shawn," Gus sighed. "I'm not in the mood to go hunting some maniac just because you've got a thing for the girl he stole from."
"I don't have a thing for her, just because she's pretty and flirted with me shamelessly. I do have some self restraint."
"No you don't," Gus said.
"Well, okay, probably not, but still, I told you. I've got it covered." Shawn moved to the second door, the one leading to the adjoining room, and took out his lock picks.
"What are you doing?" Gus asked, sitting up on the bed. "Shawn, there's probably someone in that room--"
"That's what I'm counting on," Shawn said. He turned the knob and let the door slide open.
On the other side a man sat on the floor in his Scooby Doo boxer shorts, sifting through the pile of jewels on his lap. Shawn turned to Gus and flashed a wide grin. "See? You just gotta have a little faith," he said.
"Hey, you're that psychic!" the jewel thief said, scrambling to his feet. "I've read about you in the papers. Wow. This is an honor. An absolute honor. I've been following your career."
Shawn smiled widely, walking over to him. "It's good to have fans. Especially if it means you're going to give me those without a fight."
The jewel thief sighed. "Go ahead and take them. They're more trouble than they're worth. You know I almost got robbed twice since I started running? What's the world coming to?"
Shawn shook his head sympathetically. "It's worrying, I know," he agreed, before scooping up the jewelry and stuffing it in his pants.
The jewel thief nodded. "It's like nowhere's safe anymore."
"At least they have good food here," Shawn pointed out.
The jewel thief nodded again. "True."
Gus edged into the room and started tugging Shawn away. "Stop making small talk with the hardened criminal," he said, out of the corner of his mouth.
Shawn turned to him. "He's not a hardened criminal," he said, before turning back to the jewel thief. "Are you?"
He shook his head quickly. "First time offense, I swear."
Shawn nodded in acceptance, and then lit up as he got an idea. "Hey, me and my friend here were just about to get some dinner, you want to come?"
Gus turned to Shawn, disbelievingly. "Shawn--"
"I'd love to," the jewel thief said.
"After you," Shawn said, and the jewel thief threw on a shirt and jeans and headed out the door.
"Tell me you didn't just invite a jewel thief to dinner," Gus snapped.
"You know, we're really going to have to find out his name," Shawn said, oblivious to Gus's disapproval. "It'll be a little awkward if we keep referring to him as 'the jewel thief'."
"I hate you," Gus said again.
Shawn smiled. "You love me."
"I hate Mexico," Gus insisted.
"You love it," Shawn said.
"I hate having dinner with criminals."
"Okay," Shawn said. "I'll give you that one, but at least he's polite."
Shawn started out the door after their jewel thief, and just as Gus was about to follow him out, the damn fan started up again. He glared at it. "I really really hate it here," he said.
From the parking lot, Shawn shouted, "No you don't!"