Gus Should Know
I seem to be stuck at around 500 words for EVERYTHING I WRITE. Apologies. If you want something longer, I'll try. (But you'll have to review!)
A tag to "Black and Tan: A Crime of Fashion"
Now I want to to write some fic about Gus and and that weird German model. But I don't know his name.
Shawn didn't like this new Gus.
Ever since he had convinced everyone they were Black and Tan, male models, Gus was acting different.
Yes, he was looking better, and dressing better, and Shawn certainly appreciated that. But he didn't appreciate Gus's attitude.
He'd been... ignoring Shawn lately. And blowing him off. And acting rude. And obsessed with someone else.
Someone who wasn't Shawn.
And Shawn couldn't handle the fact that Gus wanted to hang out with someone who wasn't Shawn. It had always been Shawn and Gus, Gus and Shawn.
Never Shawn and Gus and someone-else-that-Gus-liked. That wasn't how it worked.
And Gus wasn't even impressed when Shawn wrapped up the case. And that definitely wasn't how they worked. Shawn wrapped up the case, Gus fist-bumped him, they went back to the Psych office to play video games and watch TV and hang out.
His mistake had been letting Gus introduce himself for the majority of the night. Without Shawn there to identify him as his 'partner', girls threw themselves at Gus. And why wouldn't they?
Yes, they weren't together, but it's not as if Shawn told anybody that. It was easier if they just assumed. Then there would be no questions. Then Shawn could pretend it was for real, they really did belong to each other.
Part of his anger was jealousy. It was never Gus who went into deep cover: it was Shawn. Gus was his rock, his black lighthouse. Gus kept Shawn anchored.
And why was Gus so happy with those models? Was it the compliments they gave him? Because Shawn had noticed long before any of them that Gus had excellent cheekbones or bone structure or whatever that idiot German had said. Gus was gorgeous. He just assumed that Gus knew that, that Shawn would be enough for him.
So Shawn ruined what Gus had. He felt terrible doing it, and knew he shouldn't, but he did it anyway. Whenever Gus got together with Belinda or Sigrid or any of the other models, Shawn tagged along. He was his most obnoxious, his most slovenly, the worst he could be. Eventually, the other models stopped calling Gus to hang out with them, they stopped answering his calls.
Shawn knew he had ruined a chance at happiness for Gus, a chance at success and glamour and fame. But he couldn't help it.
And when Gus realized what was happening, when he realized that the models didn't want anything to do with him, Shawn was there. He was there to comfort his best friend, he was there for the video-game-and-junk-food marathon, and (oh thank God he couldn't believe his luck), he was there when Gus cried.
America's Next Top Model came on, and Gus broke down. He sobbed. He confided to Shawn that he wanted to be rich, and maybe even famous, that, sometimes, when the Psych office got slow, Gus hated his pharmaceutical job and wanted a way out of there. And he had ruined any chances of that happening.
Shawn made all the proper sympathetic noises, but he was overjoyed. He hugged Gus while he cried, he soothed him, and they even (he would probably have to look it up in a dictionary, but he was pretty sure it happened) cuddled. Shawn was in heaven.
He felt only a momentary twinge of sadness, a pang of anger at himself but treating his best friend and secret crush this way, but it was only momentary.
He couldn't help it.
Gus belonged to him, and only him.
It wasn't his fault that Gus didn't know it.