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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. And because it should be mentioned, this story obviously takes place before Season 5's Shules relationship.
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 Four
Beep
"You have 8 new messages. Message one:"
"Shawn, this is your father. I know you got my text. Call me back when you get this. Bye."
Beep
"Message deleted. Message two:"
"Shawn! I'm not playing around, kid. Call me back."
Beep
"Message deleted. Message three:"
"Shawn!—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message eight:"
"Listen, kid, I'll find you and I'll make you tell me everything that's going on, you hear me?! I've know you since you were pooping in your pants—which, by the way, you didn't stop doing until you were six. You can't avoid—"
"Message deleted. End of messages."
The Next Day
"I still can't believe I let you talk me into this." Gus tightened his grip on the Blueberry's steering wheel and looked around the street cautiously.
"Didn't take much talking, buddy."
"This is a crime, Shawn. Even if you ignore the fact that we're already participating too much in a case we were told to stay away from, we could totally get arrested for this."
"We're just visiting an old friend."
"We're trespassing. Using the sexual offender database to commit a crime is, in itself, a crime."
"Alright, dude, you are seriously starting to creep me out with how much you know about perverts."
"That's common knowledge, Shawn."
"Common creeper knowledge, maybe."
"It was posted on the offender registry website in big red letters."
"Mm-hmm," Shawn replied skeptically. He got out of the car and stood in the street to look around. He was surprised by the normalcy of the neighborhood. It wasn't Wisteria Lane by any stretch of imagination, but it was the red-lit skid row he was expecting, either. The houses were small and plain, but were also clean and well-kept. A few old men sat at a nearby bus stop, laughing amongst themselves.
"You know, Gus, this isn't really what I thought a neighborhood full of perverts would look like."
Gus pulled Shawn to the sidewalk and out of the path of an oncoming pick-up truck. "What were you expecting?"
"I don't know…dilapidation, shady trench-coated characters hanging out on the corner, a permanent state of nighttime."
"It is a bit too sunny out here," Gus agreed. "Where's the house were going to?"
"3569 San Pascual Street. Home of a Mr. Leonard Jones," Shawn pointed to a squat one-story house across the street with an assortment of stone garden elves in the front yard. "Again," he said with a slight waver of distaste in his voice, "this was not what I was expecting."
It took nearly two minutes of knocking (and Shawn singing) before a short, thin man with a scowl answered the front door.
"Can I help you two?"
Shawn smiled brightly. "Hello, sir. I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my friend, Mr. Johnny Klean. That's 'Klean' with a 'K.' Please refrain from making any Mr. Clean jokes, as it sends him into a murderous rage."
"What do you want, boy?" The man asked with a sigh.
"We just moved to this area and thought it would be nice to meet some of the neighbors. Leonard, is it?"
The man frowned. "How do you know my name?"
Shawn smiled. "No worries, man. My buddy and I aren't here to cause any trouble. To be honest, we're actually uh—how do you guys put it?— we're all friends of Pee-Wee Herman."
The man just cocked an eyebrow.
"We're in the same book club?"
More staring.
"We're all on the same list is what I'm getting at."
Gus snapped his head sharply in Shawn's direction to give him a look of both disgusted horror and repressed rage. "Shawn!"
Leonard began to close the door on them, but Shawn stuck his foot in the door jamb.
"Look, dude, we're not here to harass you. We've just got a few questions about the way things work around here."
"Get off my property before I get the police back out here to haul your asses off."
That caught Shawn's attention. "'Back?' Have some officers been out here already? Did one of them look like the Man in the Yellow Hat only without the yellow hat … or curious monkey?"
"No," the thin man said in a huff. "There was only one guy out here. A Miles or Giles or something."
"Stiles," Gus muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
"Yeah, Stiles," the man repeated with a sneer.
"What did Det. Stiles want, Lenny?"
"I'm still not sure," Leonard said with disdain in his voice. "Your friend came around here the other day talking some crap about being a resource I could rely on if I ever felt 'weak.'"
"You disgust me," Gus said evenly.
"Gus," Shawn said lightly. "Could you judge our new neighbor a little more quietly?"
"You're allowed to judge child molesters as loud as you want, Shawn. Ask anyone." Gus crossed his arms and looked Leonard up and down. "I hope a group of angry and hormonally precocious elementary school children kick your ass."
"Calm down, baldy," Leonard said, scratching his beard. "I never touched any kids…or anyone, actually. I got on that list for flashing my boss' wife during a company picnic."
"Well, that hardly seems severe enough to be declared a sex offender," Shawn said.
"It was an annual event," Leonard said, shrugging his narrow shoulders. "Every summer at our company's Fourth of July picnic, I'd fall off the wagon and out of my clothes."
"...Ew," Gus said with a curl of his upper lip.
The man ignored Gus' exclamation. "The point is, despite what your police friend thinks, I know how to keep my hands to myself."
"Ew," Gus repeated.
"Why does everyone think he's my friend?" Shawn asked no one in particular.
"Listen, boys," Leonard continued. "I've been on that list for the last ten years. I've haven't stepped out of line since getting on it. Why the hell do the police think I need looking after?"
"They don't," Gus said softly.
Shawn gave Gus a curious look. "Did Det. Stiles talk to anyone else?" he asked.
"Why do you want to know?" Leonard asked suspiciously. "I thought you were out just meeting the neighbors."
"Oh, we are. But we want to meet the ones Det. Stiles was meeting," Shawn replied.
"He wants to," Gus corrected. "I just want to run far, far away."
The older man gave them both a skeptical look before rolling his eyes and kicking Shawn in the shin.
"What the hell?" Shawn screeched as he jumped back. Leonard slammed the door shut and quickly latched the security chain on his front door. He cracked the door and glared out from the narrow opening.
"You two boys go home," he ordered. "Keep asking questions like that around here and you're gonna cause some serious problems."
The door slammed closed again.
Gus shook his head nervously. "I have a bad feeling about this, Shawn."
"Me too, dude. That was bone he kicked."
"I'm serious, Shawn. Cops don't keep tabs of sex offenders like that. Probation officers do. And I don't think they go door-to-door offering resources and advice."
"There you go again with the creepy."
Gus ignored the jab. "And why was he even talking to this guy? Flashing is a pretty petty crime."
"I don't think he knew that, Gus." Shawn rubbed his shin. "If I had known Legs was gonna kick me, we wouldn't have been talking to him."
"Stiles made a mistake coming out here, Shawn," Gus said as realization hit him.
"I told you he was no genius. He just knows the rules to the game better than your average criminal."
"Shawn," Gus said forcefully. "Stiles was in the middle of unpacking when we broke into his house. Food, recliner chair, horrifying evidence of child sexual abuse. He isn't running around looking for pervy friends to get more porn. He's hiding it by giving it to the one group of people he knows can't resist it."
Eight rounds of endless pancakes at IHOP and the ick Shawn and Gus felt following their findings in Perv Parkway still refused to disappear.
Shawn could have gone for more, but with Gus refusing to pay for his meal ("Don't forget, Shawn," he'd told him through a mouthful of strawberry pancakes, "you told some old flasher I was a sex offender. I'm still mad about that."), he decided to just head home and sleep it off.
He'd collapsed into his couch and was preparing to drop off when his phone rang. Considering the hour, it was either Gus (doubtful, as he would be in the midst of his own syrup-induced sugar crash right about now) or his father.
"Papa!" he squealed into the phone cheerily. "I haven't heard from you in ages."
"Save it. I want you to tell me everything that's going on, Shawn."
"Well, I'm currently lying in my dark living room while wearing a pair of blue jeans, a navy polo and my khaki jacket. The television isn't on, but I think my bedroom stereo is, as I can hear the voices of Prince and Apollonia in the distance—"
"What's going on with the case, Shawn!?"
"I'd love to share that with you, Father," he replied seriously, "but I'm legally forbidden to talk it."
"I'm your father, Shawn, and we're talking about a man I worked with, trusted my life with, for almost 10 years. If he's done what they've accused him of doing, I have a right to know."
Shawn could feel bile rising in his throat. "A right to know. That's interesting, Dad. I would have thought you would have been the first to know."
"What do you mean by that?" Henry asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"You didn't suspect anything, Dad? Nothing at all?"
"Believe me, Shawn, if I thought Stiles was capable of doing anything like what he's been accused of, I'd have brought him in myself. I'm an officer. It's my duty to serve and protect."
"'Protect,'" Shawn repeated with a scoff. "Well, I'll be glad to inform you that you did a slightly better job at that than Stiles did."
"What are you talking about, Shawn?"
"Don't want to talk, Dad. Have a good night."
"Shawn, we're not done—"
Shawn switched his phone off and tossed it on his coffee table. His father's voice rang in his head. Serve and protect. Serve and protect. Serve and protect.
He ran to the bathroom and retched.
A/N: This chapter! *random angry flailing.* Writing this chapter wasn't hard; coming up with Stiles crime and cover-up was. In the first couple chapters, I wrote him as some sort of slick justice evader. I had a hard time thinking up of the perfect cover-up to fit that image. (I'm no criminal! I'm the type of person who you can just look at and know she's lying.)
At some point, I just decided "fuck it" and just go with some sort of realistic cover-up. It didn't have to be the level of genius I wanted it to be. The whole point of this story was to let me write some Shasshie hurt/comfort, not the perfect mystery novel.
Still, I hope it doesn't disappoint and isn't too cliche.
(Random tangent: Guys, I cannot watch post-season three Psych and then expect to write Shassie. Just can't do it. The Shules, while cute, just destroys any Shassie-shipping opportunity the show once had. So I don't plan to write much season four/five/six Shassie, unless the current couples break up or something.
I will say this, though: Seeing Shawn and Lassiter in relationships is rather endearing, because it turns out they are rather good at it. Carlton's a bit over-eager and Shawn's not always the most serious, but they are committed and loving. D'awwwwyouguys!)
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. And because it should be mentioned, this story obviously takes place before Season 5's Shules relationship.
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 Four
Beep
"You have 8 new messages. Message one:"
"Shawn, this is your father. I know you got my text. Call me back when you get this. Bye."
Beep
"Message deleted. Message two:"
"Shawn! I'm not playing around, kid. Call me back."
Beep
"Message deleted. Message three:"
"Shawn!—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message—"
Beep
"Message deleted. Message eight:"
"Listen, kid, I'll find you and I'll make you tell me everything that's going on, you hear me?! I've know you since you were pooping in your pants—which, by the way, you didn't stop doing until you were six. You can't avoid—"
"Message deleted. End of messages."
The Next Day
"I still can't believe I let you talk me into this." Gus tightened his grip on the Blueberry's steering wheel and looked around the street cautiously.
"Didn't take much talking, buddy."
"This is a crime, Shawn. Even if you ignore the fact that we're already participating too much in a case we were told to stay away from, we could totally get arrested for this."
"We're just visiting an old friend."
"We're trespassing. Using the sexual offender database to commit a crime is, in itself, a crime."
"Alright, dude, you are seriously starting to creep me out with how much you know about perverts."
"That's common knowledge, Shawn."
"Common creeper knowledge, maybe."
"It was posted on the offender registry website in big red letters."
"Mm-hmm," Shawn replied skeptically. He got out of the car and stood in the street to look around. He was surprised by the normalcy of the neighborhood. It wasn't Wisteria Lane by any stretch of imagination, but it was the red-lit skid row he was expecting, either. The houses were small and plain, but were also clean and well-kept. A few old men sat at a nearby bus stop, laughing amongst themselves.
"You know, Gus, this isn't really what I thought a neighborhood full of perverts would look like."
Gus pulled Shawn to the sidewalk and out of the path of an oncoming pick-up truck. "What were you expecting?"
"I don't know…dilapidation, shady trench-coated characters hanging out on the corner, a permanent state of nighttime."
"It is a bit too sunny out here," Gus agreed. "Where's the house were going to?"
"3569 San Pascual Street. Home of a Mr. Leonard Jones," Shawn pointed to a squat one-story house across the street with an assortment of stone garden elves in the front yard. "Again," he said with a slight waver of distaste in his voice, "this was not what I was expecting."
It took nearly two minutes of knocking (and Shawn singing) before a short, thin man with a scowl answered the front door.
"Can I help you two?"
Shawn smiled brightly. "Hello, sir. I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my friend, Mr. Johnny Klean. That's 'Klean' with a 'K.' Please refrain from making any Mr. Clean jokes, as it sends him into a murderous rage."
"What do you want, boy?" The man asked with a sigh.
"We just moved to this area and thought it would be nice to meet some of the neighbors. Leonard, is it?"
The man frowned. "How do you know my name?"
Shawn smiled. "No worries, man. My buddy and I aren't here to cause any trouble. To be honest, we're actually uh—how do you guys put it?— we're all friends of Pee-Wee Herman."
The man just cocked an eyebrow.
"We're in the same book club?"
More staring.
"We're all on the same list is what I'm getting at."
Gus snapped his head sharply in Shawn's direction to give him a look of both disgusted horror and repressed rage. "Shawn!"
Leonard began to close the door on them, but Shawn stuck his foot in the door jamb.
"Look, dude, we're not here to harass you. We've just got a few questions about the way things work around here."
"Get off my property before I get the police back out here to haul your asses off."
That caught Shawn's attention. "'Back?' Have some officers been out here already? Did one of them look like the Man in the Yellow Hat only without the yellow hat … or curious monkey?"
"No," the thin man said in a huff. "There was only one guy out here. A Miles or Giles or something."
"Stiles," Gus muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
"Yeah, Stiles," the man repeated with a sneer.
"What did Det. Stiles want, Lenny?"
"I'm still not sure," Leonard said with disdain in his voice. "Your friend came around here the other day talking some crap about being a resource I could rely on if I ever felt 'weak.'"
"You disgust me," Gus said evenly.
"Gus," Shawn said lightly. "Could you judge our new neighbor a little more quietly?"
"You're allowed to judge child molesters as loud as you want, Shawn. Ask anyone." Gus crossed his arms and looked Leonard up and down. "I hope a group of angry and hormonally precocious elementary school children kick your ass."
"Calm down, baldy," Leonard said, scratching his beard. "I never touched any kids…or anyone, actually. I got on that list for flashing my boss' wife during a company picnic."
"Well, that hardly seems severe enough to be declared a sex offender," Shawn said.
"It was an annual event," Leonard said, shrugging his narrow shoulders. "Every summer at our company's Fourth of July picnic, I'd fall off the wagon and out of my clothes."
"...Ew," Gus said with a curl of his upper lip.
The man ignored Gus' exclamation. "The point is, despite what your police friend thinks, I know how to keep my hands to myself."
"Ew," Gus repeated.
"Why does everyone think he's my friend?" Shawn asked no one in particular.
"Listen, boys," Leonard continued. "I've been on that list for the last ten years. I've haven't stepped out of line since getting on it. Why the hell do the police think I need looking after?"
"They don't," Gus said softly.
Shawn gave Gus a curious look. "Did Det. Stiles talk to anyone else?" he asked.
"Why do you want to know?" Leonard asked suspiciously. "I thought you were out just meeting the neighbors."
"Oh, we are. But we want to meet the ones Det. Stiles was meeting," Shawn replied.
"He wants to," Gus corrected. "I just want to run far, far away."
The older man gave them both a skeptical look before rolling his eyes and kicking Shawn in the shin.
"What the hell?" Shawn screeched as he jumped back. Leonard slammed the door shut and quickly latched the security chain on his front door. He cracked the door and glared out from the narrow opening.
"You two boys go home," he ordered. "Keep asking questions like that around here and you're gonna cause some serious problems."
The door slammed closed again.
Gus shook his head nervously. "I have a bad feeling about this, Shawn."
"Me too, dude. That was bone he kicked."
"I'm serious, Shawn. Cops don't keep tabs of sex offenders like that. Probation officers do. And I don't think they go door-to-door offering resources and advice."
"There you go again with the creepy."
Gus ignored the jab. "And why was he even talking to this guy? Flashing is a pretty petty crime."
"I don't think he knew that, Gus." Shawn rubbed his shin. "If I had known Legs was gonna kick me, we wouldn't have been talking to him."
"Stiles made a mistake coming out here, Shawn," Gus said as realization hit him.
"I told you he was no genius. He just knows the rules to the game better than your average criminal."
"Shawn," Gus said forcefully. "Stiles was in the middle of unpacking when we broke into his house. Food, recliner chair, horrifying evidence of child sexual abuse. He isn't running around looking for pervy friends to get more porn. He's hiding it by giving it to the one group of people he knows can't resist it."
Eight rounds of endless pancakes at IHOP and the ick Shawn and Gus felt following their findings in Perv Parkway still refused to disappear.
Shawn could have gone for more, but with Gus refusing to pay for his meal ("Don't forget, Shawn," he'd told him through a mouthful of strawberry pancakes, "you told some old flasher I was a sex offender. I'm still mad about that."), he decided to just head home and sleep it off.
He'd collapsed into his couch and was preparing to drop off when his phone rang. Considering the hour, it was either Gus (doubtful, as he would be in the midst of his own syrup-induced sugar crash right about now) or his father.
"Papa!" he squealed into the phone cheerily. "I haven't heard from you in ages."
"Save it. I want you to tell me everything that's going on, Shawn."
"Well, I'm currently lying in my dark living room while wearing a pair of blue jeans, a navy polo and my khaki jacket. The television isn't on, but I think my bedroom stereo is, as I can hear the voices of Prince and Apollonia in the distance—"
"What's going on with the case, Shawn!?"
"I'd love to share that with you, Father," he replied seriously, "but I'm legally forbidden to talk it."
"I'm your father, Shawn, and we're talking about a man I worked with, trusted my life with, for almost 10 years. If he's done what they've accused him of doing, I have a right to know."
Shawn could feel bile rising in his throat. "A right to know. That's interesting, Dad. I would have thought you would have been the first to know."
"What do you mean by that?" Henry asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"You didn't suspect anything, Dad? Nothing at all?"
"Believe me, Shawn, if I thought Stiles was capable of doing anything like what he's been accused of, I'd have brought him in myself. I'm an officer. It's my duty to serve and protect."
"'Protect,'" Shawn repeated with a scoff. "Well, I'll be glad to inform you that you did a slightly better job at that than Stiles did."
"What are you talking about, Shawn?"
"Don't want to talk, Dad. Have a good night."
"Shawn, we're not done—"
Shawn switched his phone off and tossed it on his coffee table. His father's voice rang in his head. Serve and protect. Serve and protect. Serve and protect.
He ran to the bathroom and retched.
A/N: This chapter! *random angry flailing.* Writing this chapter wasn't hard; coming up with Stiles crime and cover-up was. In the first couple chapters, I wrote him as some sort of slick justice evader. I had a hard time thinking up of the perfect cover-up to fit that image. (I'm no criminal! I'm the type of person who you can just look at and know she's lying.)
At some point, I just decided "fuck it" and just go with some sort of realistic cover-up. It didn't have to be the level of genius I wanted it to be. The whole point of this story was to let me write some Shasshie hurt/comfort, not the perfect mystery novel.
Still, I hope it doesn't disappoint and isn't too cliche.
(Random tangent: Guys, I cannot watch post-season three Psych and then expect to write Shassie. Just can't do it. The Shules, while cute, just destroys any Shassie-shipping opportunity the show once had. So I don't plan to write much season four/five/six Shassie, unless the current couples break up or something.
I will say this, though: Seeing Shawn and Lassiter in relationships is rather endearing, because it turns out they are rather good at it. Carlton's a bit over-eager and Shawn's not always the most serious, but they are committed and loving. D'awwwwyouguys!)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-12-18 09:43 pm (UTC)So intense!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 12:52 am (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting~!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 04:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 06:08 am (UTC)...it's funny what you said about post season three Shassie, because in my case, it was the current season ep where Lassy has Shawn hooked up to the polygraph machine that made me look at the tv and shout "They are SO in love. DO it ALREADY." I guess we all find inspiration different places!
Anyway. I surprise myself by how much I like this. I will be on the lookout for more!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 12:56 am (UTC)Your comment about post-season 3: LOVED it. Wish we could hang out and watch an episode! =D
Thanks for reading! I'm glad I didn't disappoint you!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-19 07:15 am (UTC)Ouch.
I didn't think it was too cliché. Then again, I could never write any crime novel whatsoever because usually I'm not into this genre at all xD
As for S4-6 Shassie ... you could either write it AU or make them break up. Granted, after the latest development on the Shules front it would be rather hard and seeing how commited Lassie is to Marlowe it wouldn't be all that easy either, but it's still doable.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 12:57 am (UTC)And you said "AU." I FREAKIN' love AU. I wish more people gave it a chance.
Thanks again!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 06:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-20 01:20 am (UTC)Loved the ending. Will Henry put two and two together after Shawn's sarcastic comments, or will he just put it down to Shawn being his usual self? Come on, Henry...
Laura.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 12:59 am (UTC)You don't want to get bogged down with the case details and never get round to the Shassie after all
THAT! That is exactly why I just decided to screw it and finish the chapter. Even I was getting tired of waiting for the Shassie. =P
no subject
Date: 2011-12-23 09:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-07 11:06 pm (UTC)Sorry this reply is so late, but I wanted to thank you for commenting. Thank you!