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elles_lettersRating: PG-13
Summary: When a former partner of Henry's comes under investigation, Shawn will do anything to get assigned to the case. Turns out, he's not interested in helping an old family friend; he's out to protect himself.
Warning: Mentions of child abuse and use of coarse language.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | [bonus] | chapter nine | chapter ten
Chapter Two
"We have to get on this case," Shawn stated as soon as he and Gus had stepped out of Karen's office
"And why is that?" Gus asked curtly.
"Dude, you heard the Chief. This guy's been messing with kids for over twenty years. You want a perv like that running around town?"
"No, I don't," Gus admitted. "But that's what the police are here for. Let Lassie and Juliet handle it."
"Speak of the pale, lanky devil," Shawn said under his breath. "Yo, Lassie!"
Said pale, lanky devil grimaced at the sound of his name. Carlton turned to face the two and Shawn could see his exhaustion from across the bullpen. His suit jacket was slightly rumpled, dark circles ringed his eyes and he clutched a coffee-stained mug in his right hand.
"What do you want, Spencer?" Carlton asked with a sigh.
"Lassie, I hear you and Jules are investigating an old partner of Henry's."
Carlton straightened and began to move closer to the private investigators. "That's right. Your 'friend' is accused of abusing hundreds of children. Would you know anything about that?"
Shawn flustered. "Lassie, I'm honestly insulted. I know we've never gotten along, but I'd like to believe that you know I wouldn't protect a child molestor."
To his credit, Carlton did manage to look contrite. "Sorry, Spencer." He rubbed a hand across his face. "This case has been frustrating. Your friend is slipperier than a greased-up wrestler."
"That's ... quite possibly sexiest thing I've ever heard you say."
Carlton frowned, his cheeks turning slightly red. "Spare me. Your buddy's abusing his knowledge of the justice system—of our department— to shield his sick hobby." Carlton shook his head. "Bastard," he muttered darkly.
Shawn cleared his throat. "'Buddy' may be too strong a word there, Lassie, but it does seem as if you guys could use some help. I would like to offer Gus and I as credible consults on the behavior patterns of one Ian Stiles.
"Once again, Shawn, no," Gus interrupted. No one acknowledged him.
"Thanks, but no thanks, Spencer. The last thing I need is you flailing around pretending to see the evidence." Carlton froze as a thought came upon him. "And you better not be 'seeing' any illegal evidence or I'll drag you down to the hole myself."
Shawn gave a bitter smile. "For the last time, Lassie, neither I nor the spirits take part in the exploitation of children. And I'm beginning to be insulted by the insinuation."
"Sorry. Again." Carlton turned to head toward his desk, taking a long sip from his mug as he went. Shawn followed him, dragging a reluctant Gus behind him.
"Let me and Gus help. We can predict his next move ... uh, tell you how he's getting the boys to stay quiet ... I know the spirits can help you find something."
"No, they can't," Gus interjected.
"Forget it, Spencer," Carlton answered at the same time. "This case is too important to risk with any of your games." The detective sat down heavily at his desk.
"Then just let us in on what you've found so far," Shawn leaned heavily onto Carlton's desk, his body startling the papers scattered across the workspace. "Organizing and tagging the evidence, maybe? We'll do it for Bono ... and for the rest of U2 too, if that's what you want."
"That's pro bono, Shawn. And again, no we won't." Gus said, pulling his friend back from the desk.
Carlton leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Why are you so keen on getting my permission to take a case, Spencer? You've never asked before. Usually you just show up all glib and smart ass. Hell, I would have thought you'd start questioning Stiles the second you learned about the case."
Shawn stiffened. "There's nothing you could do to make me face Stiles," he said firmly. "I just want to help you catch your man."
The two men glared at each other in silence, both trying to read the other. Carlton was calm as studied the other man's face. Shawn, for all appearances, remained steady as well. Only Gus noticed the slight tick in his jaw as he struggled to mind his tongue.
"Shawn?" Gus asked, his previous annoyance replaced by concern.
Shawn stared at the detective a few more seconds before giving a reassuring glance to his best friend.
Carlton rolled his eyes and stood up from his desk. "Look, Spencer, I don't know what your reasons are for wanting to work this case and I'm sure I don't want to know; but we have too much at stake here to risk your usual flippant attitude toward proper police procedure. Stay away. In fact, if you so much as Google search this case, I'll have you both arrested for interfering with a police investigation."
Carlton grabbed a thick folder off his desk and roughly pushed past the two men. He strolled through the busy bullpen and knocked on the door of Karen's office.
Shawn exhaled loudly. "I hate office politics," he mumbled.
"So," Gus began as they watched the two officers through the chief's glass walls. "What'll we do now? We don't have a case but at least we have a job. Want to go grab some nachos?"
"Nah," Shawn said. He glanced quickly at his watch. "I'll see you later tonight. I've got some errands to run."
When Shawn showed up at the front door of his apartment dressed head to toe in black, with a crow bar hanging off his hip and a mesh bag filled with dirty clothes slung over his shoulder, Gus knew it was going to be a bad night.
"Go away, Shawn," he called from behind his closed door.
Shawn held up a black pullover. "Oh, come on, dude. I just spent 80 bucks on matching lightweight sweaters. It'll be awesome. Haven't you always wanted to be a cat burglar?"
"I said, 'go away.'"
"Gus!" Shawn whined, "I can't believe you. You know black is your color."
The silence on the other side of the door was deafening. Shawn replayed his comment in his head, then grimaced.
"I totally didn't mean it that way," he yelled at the door.
"I'm not breaking into a detective's house, Shawn, especially a detective who's a suspected pedophile."
"Well considering neither one of us is underage—"
"No, Shawn. Both Lassiter and the chief made it very clear we're to stay far away. We were hired to protect the integrity of this case, remember?"
"Aw, come on, Gus. There's nothing to worry about. It's not like we haven't broken into peoples homes before." Shawn lowered the mesh bag from his shoulder and pulled a small bundle from the pile of clothes. "Look! I've got gloves to match the sweaters."
Gus opened the door to his apartment, but kept the security chain latched. He studied the articles of clothing Shawn held up. "Those are dress socks, Shawn. My dress socks."
Shawn wadded the socks back together and tossed them back into the bag. "Look, I spent all my money on the sweaters, alright? Now will you come on?"
"For. Get. It." Gus said. He thrust a hand through the narrow space between the door and the frame. "Give me back my socks and go home, Shawn. Stiles may be a sick pervert, but he's still a cop. If you go creeping around his property, you'll probably end up getting shot. I'm too tired to stay up all night in an emergency waiting room with you."
Shawn shook his head. "Stiles isn't home. He packed a bag and left town this afternoon. From what I observed, he'll be gone all weekend."
"'Observed?' You only learned he was back in town eight hours ago. Don't tell me you've spent the afternoon following him."
"Of course not," Shawn replied. "How long have you known me? My bladder is much too small for stake outs."
Gus forked an eyebrow.
Shawn grinned. "Lassie's been following him. And I may have stolen and photocopied some of his case notes."
Gus slammed the door shut.
"Gus," Shawn sighed, knocking on the door. "Come on. I … I need you to do this with me. I can't … " He leaned against the door and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do this alone."
Silence.
"Please, Gus. I need your help."
Shawn waited. Waited to hear the click of the door knob or anything that would signify that his best friend was going to walk out that door and go with him as he confronted the demons surrounding one of the most influential men in his life.
He waited…and nothing. Shawn pushed off from the door and took a deep breath in. He couldn't blame Gus for his reluctance to join him. Stiles meant nothing to him.
"Fine, Gus," Shawn exhaled. "I'll just head over there myself. Will you at least meet me back at the Psych office in two hours?"
No answer from behind Gus' heavy door.
"I'll bring nachos."
Still no answer. Shawn slowly turned away, readjusted the sack over his shoulder and made his way down the front steps. He hadn't even reached his bike when he heard the sound of Gus' door opening then being pulled tightly shut.
"Why do you always do that?" Gus called out over the clinging of keys against a lock. He sounded annoyed but resigned to his fate of burglary wingman.
Shawn smiled to himself. The relief that swept through him nearly left him lightheaded. He repressed the grin before turning to face Gus. "Do what?"
"Make me feel guilty for not wanting to help you break the law. You did the same thing when I refused to help you steal that pony you named Snuzzles from that traveling petting zoo."
When Gus got close enough, Shawn tossed him the extra pullover. "Her little pony friends missed her," he said with a smirk.
Gus just rolled his eyes and pulled the sweater over his head. He studied the lightweight wool, rubbing his hands along the sleeves, then turned to give Shawn a pleased grin. "Is this cashmere?"
"Black is your color, isn't it?"
Gus pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. "Got that right."
A/N: I've said it once and I'll probably say it over and over: I love writing Shawn and Gus together. Still no Shassie yet, but it'll come. The way I have this story playing out in my head, Lassie will play a bigger role later on. Right now, we have to deal with Shawn's demons.
(P.S. Sorry this update took so long. I had another piece I had to finish up before I could concentrate on this one. It's all done now, so this fic can get all of my attention.)
Summary: When a former partner of Henry's comes under investigation, Shawn will do anything to get assigned to the case. Turns out, he's not interested in helping an old family friend; he's out to protect himself.
Warning: Mentions of child abuse and use of coarse language.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | [bonus] | chapter nine | chapter ten
Chapter Two
"We have to get on this case," Shawn stated as soon as he and Gus had stepped out of Karen's office
"And why is that?" Gus asked curtly.
"Dude, you heard the Chief. This guy's been messing with kids for over twenty years. You want a perv like that running around town?"
"No, I don't," Gus admitted. "But that's what the police are here for. Let Lassie and Juliet handle it."
"Speak of the pale, lanky devil," Shawn said under his breath. "Yo, Lassie!"
Said pale, lanky devil grimaced at the sound of his name. Carlton turned to face the two and Shawn could see his exhaustion from across the bullpen. His suit jacket was slightly rumpled, dark circles ringed his eyes and he clutched a coffee-stained mug in his right hand.
"What do you want, Spencer?" Carlton asked with a sigh.
"Lassie, I hear you and Jules are investigating an old partner of Henry's."
Carlton straightened and began to move closer to the private investigators. "That's right. Your 'friend' is accused of abusing hundreds of children. Would you know anything about that?"
Shawn flustered. "Lassie, I'm honestly insulted. I know we've never gotten along, but I'd like to believe that you know I wouldn't protect a child molestor."
To his credit, Carlton did manage to look contrite. "Sorry, Spencer." He rubbed a hand across his face. "This case has been frustrating. Your friend is slipperier than a greased-up wrestler."
"That's ... quite possibly sexiest thing I've ever heard you say."
Carlton frowned, his cheeks turning slightly red. "Spare me. Your buddy's abusing his knowledge of the justice system—of our department— to shield his sick hobby." Carlton shook his head. "Bastard," he muttered darkly.
Shawn cleared his throat. "'Buddy' may be too strong a word there, Lassie, but it does seem as if you guys could use some help. I would like to offer Gus and I as credible consults on the behavior patterns of one Ian Stiles.
"Once again, Shawn, no," Gus interrupted. No one acknowledged him.
"Thanks, but no thanks, Spencer. The last thing I need is you flailing around pretending to see the evidence." Carlton froze as a thought came upon him. "And you better not be 'seeing' any illegal evidence or I'll drag you down to the hole myself."
Shawn gave a bitter smile. "For the last time, Lassie, neither I nor the spirits take part in the exploitation of children. And I'm beginning to be insulted by the insinuation."
"Sorry. Again." Carlton turned to head toward his desk, taking a long sip from his mug as he went. Shawn followed him, dragging a reluctant Gus behind him.
"Let me and Gus help. We can predict his next move ... uh, tell you how he's getting the boys to stay quiet ... I know the spirits can help you find something."
"No, they can't," Gus interjected.
"Forget it, Spencer," Carlton answered at the same time. "This case is too important to risk with any of your games." The detective sat down heavily at his desk.
"Then just let us in on what you've found so far," Shawn leaned heavily onto Carlton's desk, his body startling the papers scattered across the workspace. "Organizing and tagging the evidence, maybe? We'll do it for Bono ... and for the rest of U2 too, if that's what you want."
"That's pro bono, Shawn. And again, no we won't." Gus said, pulling his friend back from the desk.
Carlton leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Why are you so keen on getting my permission to take a case, Spencer? You've never asked before. Usually you just show up all glib and smart ass. Hell, I would have thought you'd start questioning Stiles the second you learned about the case."
Shawn stiffened. "There's nothing you could do to make me face Stiles," he said firmly. "I just want to help you catch your man."
The two men glared at each other in silence, both trying to read the other. Carlton was calm as studied the other man's face. Shawn, for all appearances, remained steady as well. Only Gus noticed the slight tick in his jaw as he struggled to mind his tongue.
"Shawn?" Gus asked, his previous annoyance replaced by concern.
Shawn stared at the detective a few more seconds before giving a reassuring glance to his best friend.
Carlton rolled his eyes and stood up from his desk. "Look, Spencer, I don't know what your reasons are for wanting to work this case and I'm sure I don't want to know; but we have too much at stake here to risk your usual flippant attitude toward proper police procedure. Stay away. In fact, if you so much as Google search this case, I'll have you both arrested for interfering with a police investigation."
Carlton grabbed a thick folder off his desk and roughly pushed past the two men. He strolled through the busy bullpen and knocked on the door of Karen's office.
Shawn exhaled loudly. "I hate office politics," he mumbled.
"So," Gus began as they watched the two officers through the chief's glass walls. "What'll we do now? We don't have a case but at least we have a job. Want to go grab some nachos?"
"Nah," Shawn said. He glanced quickly at his watch. "I'll see you later tonight. I've got some errands to run."
When Shawn showed up at the front door of his apartment dressed head to toe in black, with a crow bar hanging off his hip and a mesh bag filled with dirty clothes slung over his shoulder, Gus knew it was going to be a bad night.
"Go away, Shawn," he called from behind his closed door.
Shawn held up a black pullover. "Oh, come on, dude. I just spent 80 bucks on matching lightweight sweaters. It'll be awesome. Haven't you always wanted to be a cat burglar?"
"I said, 'go away.'"
"Gus!" Shawn whined, "I can't believe you. You know black is your color."
The silence on the other side of the door was deafening. Shawn replayed his comment in his head, then grimaced.
"I totally didn't mean it that way," he yelled at the door.
"I'm not breaking into a detective's house, Shawn, especially a detective who's a suspected pedophile."
"Well considering neither one of us is underage—"
"No, Shawn. Both Lassiter and the chief made it very clear we're to stay far away. We were hired to protect the integrity of this case, remember?"
"Aw, come on, Gus. There's nothing to worry about. It's not like we haven't broken into peoples homes before." Shawn lowered the mesh bag from his shoulder and pulled a small bundle from the pile of clothes. "Look! I've got gloves to match the sweaters."
Gus opened the door to his apartment, but kept the security chain latched. He studied the articles of clothing Shawn held up. "Those are dress socks, Shawn. My dress socks."
Shawn wadded the socks back together and tossed them back into the bag. "Look, I spent all my money on the sweaters, alright? Now will you come on?"
"For. Get. It." Gus said. He thrust a hand through the narrow space between the door and the frame. "Give me back my socks and go home, Shawn. Stiles may be a sick pervert, but he's still a cop. If you go creeping around his property, you'll probably end up getting shot. I'm too tired to stay up all night in an emergency waiting room with you."
Shawn shook his head. "Stiles isn't home. He packed a bag and left town this afternoon. From what I observed, he'll be gone all weekend."
"'Observed?' You only learned he was back in town eight hours ago. Don't tell me you've spent the afternoon following him."
"Of course not," Shawn replied. "How long have you known me? My bladder is much too small for stake outs."
Gus forked an eyebrow.
Shawn grinned. "Lassie's been following him. And I may have stolen and photocopied some of his case notes."
Gus slammed the door shut.
"Gus," Shawn sighed, knocking on the door. "Come on. I … I need you to do this with me. I can't … " He leaned against the door and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do this alone."
Silence.
"Please, Gus. I need your help."
Shawn waited. Waited to hear the click of the door knob or anything that would signify that his best friend was going to walk out that door and go with him as he confronted the demons surrounding one of the most influential men in his life.
He waited…and nothing. Shawn pushed off from the door and took a deep breath in. He couldn't blame Gus for his reluctance to join him. Stiles meant nothing to him.
"Fine, Gus," Shawn exhaled. "I'll just head over there myself. Will you at least meet me back at the Psych office in two hours?"
No answer from behind Gus' heavy door.
"I'll bring nachos."
Still no answer. Shawn slowly turned away, readjusted the sack over his shoulder and made his way down the front steps. He hadn't even reached his bike when he heard the sound of Gus' door opening then being pulled tightly shut.
"Why do you always do that?" Gus called out over the clinging of keys against a lock. He sounded annoyed but resigned to his fate of burglary wingman.
Shawn smiled to himself. The relief that swept through him nearly left him lightheaded. He repressed the grin before turning to face Gus. "Do what?"
"Make me feel guilty for not wanting to help you break the law. You did the same thing when I refused to help you steal that pony you named Snuzzles from that traveling petting zoo."
When Gus got close enough, Shawn tossed him the extra pullover. "Her little pony friends missed her," he said with a smirk.
Gus just rolled his eyes and pulled the sweater over his head. He studied the lightweight wool, rubbing his hands along the sleeves, then turned to give Shawn a pleased grin. "Is this cashmere?"
"Black is your color, isn't it?"
Gus pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. "Got that right."
A/N: I've said it once and I'll probably say it over and over: I love writing Shawn and Gus together. Still no Shassie yet, but it'll come. The way I have this story playing out in my head, Lassie will play a bigger role later on. Right now, we have to deal with Shawn's demons.
(P.S. Sorry this update took so long. I had another piece I had to finish up before I could concentrate on this one. It's all done now, so this fic can get all of my attention.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 06:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 07:13 am (UTC)Thanks for the comment and I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 08:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-14 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-14 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 12:37 pm (UTC)"That's pro bono, Shawn.
XDD genius.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-14 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-13 03:06 pm (UTC)Still very intriguing. And I love your Gus-Shawn banter, it's so perfect!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-14 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-15 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-15 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-16 04:55 am (UTC)I hope you update soon!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-16 07:38 am (UTC)Anyway, thank you for commenting on the story! I'm glad you're looking forward to the rest and gave it a chance despite the typo. =)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-16 12:31 pm (UTC)I was out of town (bombing the most important meeting of my life, but that's neither here nor there... Well, actually, it was there, but never mind.) so I didn't catch this the very second it was posted. It was a wonderful surprise to come home to.
You just nail the Shawn/Gus banter and relationship perfectly, and I absolutely loved that Lassie kept apologizing, but didn't stop acting like a jerk. I don't know, that detail really worked well.
I am so, so glad that I begged for this prompt from you, because you're doing it the kind of justice I never would have been able to. I'm so hooked, but I would be even if you weren't writing something I've wanted to see forever.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-18 05:54 am (UTC)I'm so happy you're enjoying the fic! I hope I can keep it up.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-18 12:44 pm (UTC)I think that underlies a lot of (canon) issues with Lassie. If Shawn and Gus were cops, they'd get some measure of respect from him for being willing to think outside the box. As it is, I think the civilian/liability aspect tends to war with any respect he might have for their results.
I am content to wait for more, because this is awesome so far. Well, not CONTENT- I mean, I'd like for you to forsake your daily life and do nothing but write, but in light of that being a somewhat unreasonable expectation, we'll say "content" and move on. ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-21 05:06 pm (UTC)Laura.
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Date: 2011-08-24 08:43 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading! I love writing Gus/Shawn banter. Their bromance is epic!
no subject
Date: 2011-11-10 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-18 02:18 am (UTC)