A/N: Another Shawn whumping story...hope you enjoy!
Shawn groaned, trying to ignore the persistent ringing of his cell phone. It's far too early for this, he thought, rolling over to look at his alarm clock – 6 AM. Way too early.He groaned again as he reached for his phone, feeling a dull ache in his gut. The pain had started the previous night and had caused him to turn in early. Unfortunately for Shawn, it had also prevented him from getting more than a few hours of sleep.
"Hello?" he mumbled, wondering who in the hell was calling him at 6 AM on a Sunday morning.
"Shawn?" Juliet's voice answered back. "Did I wake you?"
"Jules!" Shawn exclaimed, trying to shake himself awake. "Of course not," he lied. "What's up?" he sat up gingerly, trying to ignore the nausea that resulted from his change in position.
"We have a dead body and what appears to be a murder," she explained, "the chief wanted me to call you and Gus in."
Shawn scrubbed a hand through his hair. Of all the times to be put on a case, why did it have to be the one day when he felt like complete and utter crap? Nevertheless, he heard himself asking Juliet for the details, promising her that he and Gus would be there in no time. Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed to take a shower, knowing it was going to be a long day.
Gus was surprised to see that Shawn was already at the psych office by the time he arrived, his bike parked haphazardly outside. "Shawn!" he shouted, walking into the office with two steaming cups of coffee. "You need to move your..." he trailed off, seeing his best friend curled up in a fetal position on the couch, his back to the door. "Shawn?"
Shawn just groaned in reply, and Gus put the coffees on his desk before going to see what was wrong with his friend. "Shawn," he repeated, putting a hand on Shawn's shoulder. He could feel the heat radiating off of him and his concern increased. Shawn rolled towards Gus, squinting up at him.
"Ugh," he mumbled, running a hand down his face and struggling to sit up.
"You sick?" Gus asked, eyeing him warily.
"Uh huh," Gus said, clearly not convinced. He picked up his cell phone, ready to call Juliet to let her know that they wouldn't be able to make it to the crime scene, but Shawn stopped him.
"Gus, seriously," Shawn said, nearly pleading now. "I'm fine. We haven't been called in on a case in ages and we really need the money."
Gus didn't put the phone down, though he did stop dialing. "You look awful, Shawn. How do you expect to solve a case when you're ill?"
"I solved a case when I was shot and kidnapped," Shawn said tiredly. "This is nothing compared to that."
"Does Juliet know your sick?"
Shawn shook his head miserably. "She worked late last night and crashed at her place. Besides, I'm not sick." He put his head in his hands, pressing his fingers into his skull to try to make the splitting headache go away.
Gus watched him for a moment, choosing to ignore Shawn's stubborn denial. "I have my travel case in the car, I can probably give you some meds. What are your symptoms?"
Shawn shrugged, giving in. "My stomach doesn't feel great. And my head's killing me."
"And you definitely have a fever," Gus pointed out. "You're probably getting the flu. I swear, if you get me sick..."
"Thanks for the concern, buddy."
"I'm just saying, Shawn. I'm nearly out of sick days."
"Well whose fault is that?"
Gus just glared at him. "I'll be right back." He hurried to his car to get his pharmaceutical case. When he returned to the office, he was glad to see Shawn sitting up straighter, a little more color in his face. "Take these," he said, handing Shawn some pills and a bottle of water.
Shawn didn't question the drugs. The pain in his stomach was still there and he'd do anything to make the pounding in his head go away.
"You good?" Gus asked when Shawn kept his eyes closed, swallowing hard. "If you're going to throw up, do it now, Shawn. My car is a company car and I need to return it in like-new condition."
It was Shawn's turn to glare now. "I'm fine. Let's just go. I'll fill you in on the case on the way."
It took all of Shawn's willpower not to throw up all over Gus's car. The pain was duller now but it had been replaced with an overwhelming nausea. He'd tried to explain the case to Gus but had grown silent after a few minutes, clamping his lips together tightly and resting his head against the window. He knew Gus was concerned, but his friend stayed quiet, knowing that Shawn was not up for talking right now.
They pulled up behind Lassiter's car, and Shawn stumbled out. "How you doing?" Gus asked, coming around to give Shawn a hand.
"A little better now that we've stopped moving," Shawn told him honestly. The car ride had been torture.
"We'll just check out the scene, okay? Then I'll take you over to your dad's place."
"You're gonna abandon me?" Shawn whined. "With him?"
"I told you I have a date tonight," Gus reminded him. "With"
"The girl in 2B," Shawn finished. Gus had been trying to get the nerve to ask her out for weeks. "Who goes on a date on a Sunday, anyway?"
"She was busy every other day," Gus said, as if that was so obvious. And not suspicious at all.
"Then just take me to my apartment."
"I'm not leaving you alone when you're clearly sick. Maybe Juliet will come rescue you later."
Shawn smiled in spite of the pain in his stomach. "I hope so."
They walked over to where Lassiter, Juliet, and a number of crime scene investigators were gathered. Juliet saw them first and hurried over to say hi. She stopped when she saw Shawn.
"Shawn you look awful," she said, mimicking Gus's statement from earlier. Shawn tried to smile but he knew it came off as more of a grimace. Juliet had her hand to his head, checking for fever. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" she wasn't angry, he knew, but she almost sounded hurt that he'd kept her in the dark.
"I felt fine until this morning," he said, which was mostly true. "Just a bug, Jules."
Juliet clearly wasn't fooled. "You don't have to be here, Shawn. Go home, get some rest."
Shawn shook his head ever-so-slightly. "You kidding me? I've been itching to solve a case." When Juliet didn't give in, he relented a little. "I promise, Jules. After this I'll go home." Gus nodded, backing up Shawn's statement.
"I've already told him I'm taking him to his dad's," Gus told her, knowing that would ease her worry a little. Henry might be hard on Shawn, but he was still his father. He could be surprisingly caring when Shawn was sick. Juliet still looked unsure but nodded anyway.
"Body's this way," she told them, leading them to where Lassiter was yelling at a CSI. "This is Marsha Dunlap, the owner of this house and a prominent woman in Santa Barbara. She was found by her husband, Arthur Dunlap, early this morning. Apparently he came looking for her when she didn't join him for breakfast." Juliet finished, looking over to the boys. She expected to see Gus gagging at the body. It wasn't a pretty site – Mrs. Dunlap had died from a single blow to the head which had split her skull. Even Juliet had had a hard time looking at the body.
But Gus wasn't the one having a hard time, she quickly realized. Shawn had his eyes closed and his skin looked almost green. "What's the matter, Spencer?" Lassiter asked in a taunting manner. "I thought Guster was the one with the weak stomach. Haven't you ever seen human brains before?"
Shawn didn't answer, but it was obvious he was struggling not to be sick. "Carlton!" Juliet scolded. "He's not feeling well." Lassiter's face didn't lose the grin, though.
"Go home, Spencer. We don't need your help."
Shawn opened his eyes, his face composed. "Don't you ever get tired of being wrong, Lassie?"
Gus smiled, hoping the snarky comment was a sign that Shawn was feeling a little better.
Lassiter grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.
"As I said before, boys. This is Marsha Dunlap. And that," Juliet said, pointing to a visibly distraught man seated on the porch of the house "is Arthur. We took his statement earlier, but if there are any questions you need to ask him, let us know."
Shawn studied the body, trying his best to avoid focusing on the gory mess that was Marsha's head. That proved incredibly difficult, however, as he needed to get some idea of the murder weapon. "Do you know what she was bludgeoned with?"
Lassiter answered this time. "There was no murder weapon on the scene, and until Woody does the autopsy, we won't know for sure."
"Why? Are you getting something?" Juliet asked, ignoring the glare Lassiter shot her.
Shawn squinted. "I can't be sure..." he broke off, when his eyes caught the glimpse of an odd shape in at the edge of the wound.
"Shawn?" Gus asked, recognizing his "I have a vision" face.
Shawn shook his head. "Vision gone. Seems my illness is keeping the spirits at bay," he groaned suddenly, curling forward a little.
"Quit exaggerating, Spencer," Lassie scolded, and Shawn was more than willing to let Gus and Jules believe he was just acting. He straightened up, trying his best not to wince.
"Gus, I believe you owe me a pineapple smoothie."
"Since when?" Gus asked, annoyed. The frustrated jab that Shawn gave him shut him up though. "Oh right, of course. Let's go, Shawn," Gus covered, realizing Shawn wanted to leave.
Shawn nodded, waving to Jules and Lassie and turning to follow his friend, weaving unsteadily on rubbery legs.
Juliet watched as the duo walked away, frowning in concern as she saw Shawn stumble. "I'll be right back," she told Carlton, ignoring whatever snarky comment he made in reply. She caught up to Shawn just as he reached the Blueberry. He had put his hand on the hood of the car, holding on tightly to keep from falling.
"Shawn," Juliet said gently, putting a hand on his back. Shawn didn't turn around but she could hear him breathing heavily, almost panting for breath. He turned towards her, his face ashen. "Oh Shawn," she said, obviously concerned. He closed his eyes against a sudden ripple of pain. "Do you need to sit down?"
Shawn shook his head minutely. "Think I'm gonna be sick," he groaned, pushing away from the car and walking two or so feet before bending over and vomiting helplessly onto the grass. He felt Juliet's hand on his back and could hear her trying to comfort him, but he couldn't concentrate on anything other than his aching stomach. He struggled to take in a few deep, calming breaths, willing himself not to be sick again. It didn't work and his stomach clenched as he emptied the rest of its contents.
When his stomach had finally calmed, he straightened up as best he could. Juliet had her hand on his forehead again and he leaned into it unconsciously.
"You're burning up. I really think you need to go home."
"He okay?" Gus asked, walking around the car but staying a few feet back, unwilling to set off his own sympathetic gag reflex. Juliet put her arm on Shawn's elbow and helped him back to Gus's car.
"No," she said, just as Shawn contradicted her with a weary "yes." Juliet turned to look at him. "You're not okay, Shawn. There's nothing you two can do right now, anyway. Go home with Gus. I'll be over later and if there's anything new on the case, I'll make sure to brief you on it. Okay?"
Shawn knew there was no arguing with Jules at this point. And the truth was, he felt a thousand times worse than he had five minutes ago. He nodded pathetically, climbing into the passenger seat. "See you later?"
Juliet nodded, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. "I promise. Feel better."
Gus said good bye to Juliet before rounding the car and getting into the driver's side. "I swear, if you puke in my car, Shawn..."
"If you don't stop telling me that, I'm gonna puke all over your car," Shawn said tiredly. Gus stared at him as if trying to decide whether or not he was serious. He felt a twinge of sympathy at how terrible Shawn clearly felt and turned the key. "Well, just let me know if you need me to pull over." Shawn didn't answer, and Gus pulled out of the driveway.
"Thanks buddy," Shawn mumbled, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep. The motion of the car made him feel dizzy and he spent the rest of the ride pressing his hand tightly against his stomach, willing the pain to go away.
Continue? Thanks for reading!