NOTE: If you are looking for a happy, lighthearted story please look somewhere else!
One: Comfortable Liar
With his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth Shawn put the last piece of his project into place, then leaned back to admire his work. He'd spent the better portion of the morning working on it and had to admit that it turned out rather nice. Glancing at the clock on the microwave he knew that it was only a matter of minutes until Gus came waltzing through the door. The office was still a mess, complete disarray, and he'd promised his best friends of years that he would get things cleaned up and organized. At least he could say with good conscience that he started the project. That's when he found the bucket buried in the back of the cabinet. Curiosity prompted him to open the plain looking white bucket and the surprise inside distracted him.
He heard the door open, jumping to his feet and settling on the edge of his desk to hide his big surprise. Gus walked into the room looking like his usual self but he stopped dead in his track. He glared at Shawn. "I thought you were going to clean this place up, Shawn. If a perspective client were to come in here and see this place they'd walk right back out the door."
Gus picked up a day old banana peel from the floor, cocking an eyebrow in Shawn's direction as he held it up.
"I meant to clean, really," Shawn said. "See," he pointed toward one corner of the office. Everything was in its place and the lamp was sparkly with a good polish. But the space was small, hard to notice in the clutter.
"I promise it'll be done by the end of the day," proclaimed Shawn.
Gus merely shook his head. "What the hell kept you from getting it done earlier? You do know that if you would just do the job it wouldn't be such a big issue."
"You sound like my father."
"Your father happens to be a brilliant man," Gus countered.
Shawn moved aside so that Gus could have a clean shot of his desk, like one of the beautiful woman on a game show showcasing a prize Shawn stood there grinning madly. "Ta-da."
"What the hell is that?"
"What the hell is it?" Shawn echoed. "Gus, it's the office. This very office, down to the last detail."
"You spent the morning creating a Lego replica of the office instead of cleaning?"
"Come on, Gus! It's not just any replica; it's a complete rendition of the office done to scale. Look," he walked around his desk and pulled open the top drawer to retrieve something, "I even have you and me."
Gus grabbed the small Lego men that Shawn held out. One of them was wearing a bright green shirt with the word Psych written in white across the chest. Clearly supposed to be Shawn given that there was a handmade cup in one hand, no doubt one of those pineapple smoothies that he so liked. The other Lego person was supposed to be him but he wasn't buying it. Not the khaki pants or the dress shirt. He held up the Lego version of himself.
"Seriously, a pocket protector? Since when do I wear pocket protectors?"
The familiar sound of sirens interrupted the conversation. Shawn ran to the window like a little kid who'd heard the jaunty song of the ice cream truck. Sadly, Gus had seen him do that the day before and then run outside to get himself one of those alien shaped ice creams. Didn't think to ask him if he wanted anything but that was typical Shawn. Sometimes he was so grown up and other times, well, he acted more like a child. Gus figured that it might have to do with Mr. Spencer and the way he chose to raise Shawn. Having a cop for a father could be hard; it made it really hard to get away with things that most kids got to enjoy on a daily basis.
Shawn giggled. "Looks like we're needed. Away to the psych mobile," he yelled before racing out the door.
The two of them walked tentatively around the crime scene. A few officers were talking to people that happened to be in the area, one of them might be a witness to the crime. Shawn picked out the unmarked red car that belonged to Detective Carlton Lassiter, and wherever Lassiter was he knew he could find Juliet O'Hara. There was something that he wanted to ask her about, something he was hoping she could give him the answer to. If he could corner her before Lassiter whisked her away then he planned on picking her brain on the subject nearest and dearest to his heart. Of course, that meant letting someone else in on his little secret. Could he trust her?
He ducked under the yellow crime scene tape that danced in the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He waved to one of the officers, Buzz. The officer happened to be a good friend. Most of the people at the precinct weren't willing to deal with Shawn; even the boss could barely tolerate him at times. None of that mattered to him, though. He did everything he could to keep his foot in the door at the precinct so that he could hang around his object of affection, see the one thing in the world that made him happy.
"Lassiter isn't going to want us here," Gus whispered in his ear as he trailed behind him. "We weren't asked by anyone to be here."
"Pfft, they'll welcome our help when I solve the case."
Together they walked into the house. Shawn followed the voice of Lassiter, making sure that along the way he picked up a few hints about the people living in the house. He wanted to make sure he didn't miss a thing. He finally stumbled across Lassiter and Jules in the living room. The two of them were talking to each other about the scene. A sheet had been thrown over the victim so Shawn wasn't exactly sure if it was the husband or the wife, at least, not at first. A quick glance around the room gave him all the details he needed to figure out which of the residents was the victim. He was also able to figure out the entire series of events that led to her murder. It was a classic open and shut case. The husband committed the crime. Now to put on the theatrics of being a psychic that kept the money in his bank account.
Gus must have read his mind because he caught the glare on his friend's face, the shaking of his head. Typical Shawn, he chose to ignore his best friend. He didn't even bother to really announce his presence, having already gotten a smile from Jules. He started doing his act, hands to the head and eyes closed. He began to make noise, then started stumbling around the room like he was starting to get a transmission from beyond the grave.
And everything went south quickly.
He wasn't paying close enough attention to what he was doing and bumped a table with a priceless piece of artwork sitting atop it. The table wobbled. Gus jumped forward to catch the statue but missed. It hit the ground shattering into pieces, the sound echoing throughout the room.
Lassiter glared at Shawn, seething. "What the hell…"
"Carlton," Jules said hoping to distract him.
"You idiot," the head detective yelled. He'd put up with Shawn's antics long enough and couldn't take it anymore. He'd been having a bad week as it was, the last thing he needed was to deal with the annoying young man. "Do you ever stop to think before you act? What if that had been a piece of evidence? You could have completely fucked up the case. How the hell could someone like you have a father like Henry Spencer, a respectable man?"
"Carlton," Jules said reaching out and taking her partner by the arm. She could see how crushed Shawn looked, knowing in that moment the truth about something over which she'd been speculating.
Carlton shook free of her grasp. "I want you out of my crime scene and out of my hair, Shawn. Get out!"