Psych/The Mentalist FF: Not as clever as you think you are [Shawn/Patrick; R]
Reposting from 
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: Not as clever as you think you are
Fandom: Psych/The Mentalist crossover
Pairing: Shawn Spencer/Patrick Jane (mostly one-sided)
Rating: R
Length: 1,382 words
Disclaimer: Psych belongs to Steve Franks and the USA network; The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller and CBS.
Spoilers: Very general for both series.
Summary: Prompt was belief, originally here.
“I don’t believe in psychics,” Jane says.
“That’s okay,” Shawn answers cheerfully, “neither do I. Tell me though, how’d you manage to convince everyone else that you don’t exist? Because I’ve tried, and they still don’t buy it.”
Shawn stopped being afraid of police interrogations a long time ago, somewhere between his own father dragging him in, and becoming a mostly-respected consultant for the SBPD. Jane, at least, is interesting. He's not trying to be scary, or nice, or to offer Shawn a deal for his cooperation. He's just talking, very clearly and reasonably, about the impossibility of Shawn knowing what he obviously knows.
"So you don't claim to be a psychic detective?" Jane asks. "In that case, someone's gone to extensive lengths to frame you, given the business cards and the office-space rented in your name."
"Oh, no, I do. I'm just not claiming it to you specifically. Most people find the psychic thing easier to believe.”
"You did reveal a number of details about the case which would seem beyond the scope of guesswork."
"I prefer to call it deductive reasoning. Look, shouldn't you be out, I don't know, solving the crime? I know I'm much more mysterious and interesting than the case - I would be more interested in deciphering my enigma - but really. There are lives at stake."
Jane looks at him with a close-mouthed smile. "You aren't as mysterious as you think. Don't be offended - few people are."
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm very mysterious. For one thing, there's my psychic ability. And my piercing hazel eyes have often been regarded as lending me an air of magnetism."
Jane stares into Shawn's eyes for a minute or so. He says, "Curious. Of course, we've already refuted the psychic claim. Which just means you're a liar, taking advantage of credulous people. Unfortunately that's rather less unusual."
It's not as if Shawn doesn't get accused of lying on a regular basis, but something about the way Jane says it makes it sound worse. He retorts, “but when you do it, it’s all cool? I think you’re just pissed that I’m a better fake-psychic than you and that you can’t read me.”
“Oh, I can read you just fine.” Jane takes a breath. “High IQ, low ambition. Or easily bored, at any rate. Probably would have been diagnosed as ADHD nowadays, but as it was you just left a lot of things unfinished. Criminal record, but a short one, because it was just one more thing to try and that was easy too.”
Shawn is unimpressed. “Please. You can get all that from my file. Surprise me.”
Jane takes hold of Shawn’s wrist, and sits on the edge of the interrogation desk. “Broken home. Late in life, but definitely divorced parents. Now, you’re going to tell me that’s in your file too, and it probably is, but I should tell you that I don’t like to look at those before talking with the person.”
Shawn looks across the room at the two-way glass.
“Eyes on me, Shawn,” Jane says. Shawn’s heart rate picks up. “You have a photographic memory and combined with that ‘deductive reasoning’ you were talking about, you could have made an excellent cop. In fact, you would be an asset to the CBI, but there’s no use in making a job offer because Santa Barbara’s the only place you’ve managed to stay for longer than three months. There must be something keeping you there, possibly your father, although it’s curious that while he’s listed as your emergency contact, he wasn’t your first call. And you didn’t call a partner either - you’re unattached or not serious given the way you flirted with both Cho and Van Pelt since being brought in here.”
This isn’t precisely untrue, but Shawn has already mostly forgotten that. Jane might not be psychic, but something about his voice is short-circuiting Shawn’s higher reasoning. He thinks about telling Jane that he should be recording those ‘stop smoking while you sleep’ CDs. Or hypnosis - it’s the rhythm of his voice, and the way it goes straight to Shawn’s… He coughs, and Jane offers him the glass of water before continuing.
“Like most people, you’re terrified of becoming your father. You shouldn’t worry - you’re not. And that’s not what’s troubling you lately anyway. Your father is rather an angry man. Not violent, not abusive, but he has a very firm sense of right and wrong.”
Jane’s voice drops half an octave on ‘wrong’, and Shawn squirms under the table.
“You’ve never had that. Your father assumes that the rebellion started after the divorce, but the seeds were planted long before that. You should tell him. It’s one of the consequences of being very clever - the rules have never really seemed like they applied to you. Sometimes you see the world in the abstract, and you’re starting to wonder why the cases don’t affect you the way they do other people.”
Shawn wonders if flirting with Jane while in the same room as the victim’s body had been what tripped them up. He looks at Jane, who had grinned back at Shawn before asking Agent Lisbon to pull him in, and doesn’t think so.
Jane says, “You act younger than you are, and feel older, most of the time. You’ve travelled to more places and gathered more esoteric skills than people twice your age. But you always feel young around your father, because when you were smaller - twelve? no, maybe ten - he was the centre of your universe. And he tried, very hard, to fix that feeling you have that you can do anything, because you’re so often surrounded by people much less intelligent than you are. It didn’t work, but he’s still that voice in your head telling you that you’re screwing up. Most of your life is devoted to lifting one finger at that voice. This may explain your…” Jane looks down at Shawn’s jeans, “issues with authority.”
Shawn keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Jane’s - it’s worked before, as a method of distracting attention. Jane leans closer to whisper in Shawn’s ear, too low for the microphones to pick up. Shawn has always been an easy sell for a deep voice and a firm tone. Admittedly, sometimes he reacts to the tightening in his jeans by being offensively obnoxious, until the other person’s feeling as crazy as he is.
Jane’s buttons are harder to push. But Shawn’s in luck, because he can hear doors slamming down the corridor. Jane lets go of Shawn’s wrist, and opens the door.
Shawn can hear Lassiter’s irritation at being forced to rescue Shawn, and Juliet’s calm which is threatening to turn nasty. Somewhere in there, Gus is throwing around law and precedent.
Shawn grins at Jane, and flings the glass of water in his own face. He thinks about a variety of unnerving pointy things until his hard-on subsides. He counts to five. He cries, “Why would you throw water at me, man? Who does that?”
“He did what?” Shawn is somewhat gleeful to realise that the voice isn’t even Gus - it’s Jane’s pretty boss, who doesn’t sound nearly surprised enough.
Jane blinks at him, and calls, “I didn’t.”
Agent Lisbon walks in and shakes her head. “I don’t even know, with you. Anyway, there’s an Attorney General on the line looking for you, Jane.” She turns to Shawn. “You’re free to go.”
Shawn nods politely at her, and stands. He starts to walk out, and grabs Jane’s arm. “By the way, I’d check into your widow’s supposed grieving father. One - not grieving, two - definitely speaks English. Did you see his ears go all pointy when I mentioned the Guatemalan cricket scores? Three-… Well, you can work that one out yourself. But just in case, here’s my card. Gus?”
Gus, still brandishing a pile of legal documents, nods his head towards the corridor.
Jane smiles slowly. He says, “And you’ll investigate these ‘psychic vibrations’ for me?”
Shawn shrugs. “I’ll investigate whatever you want. I’m flexible that way. But then you already know that, don’t you?” He walks away.
Jane’s laughter isn’t quite as impressive as his ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here today’ voice, but Shawn's pleased with himself all the same.
FIN
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: Not as clever as you think you are
Fandom: Psych/The Mentalist crossover
Pairing: Shawn Spencer/Patrick Jane (mostly one-sided)
Rating: R
Length: 1,382 words
Disclaimer: Psych belongs to Steve Franks and the USA network; The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller and CBS.
Spoilers: Very general for both series.
Summary: Prompt was belief, originally here.
“I don’t believe in psychics,” Jane says.
“That’s okay,” Shawn answers cheerfully, “neither do I. Tell me though, how’d you manage to convince everyone else that you don’t exist? Because I’ve tried, and they still don’t buy it.”
Shawn stopped being afraid of police interrogations a long time ago, somewhere between his own father dragging him in, and becoming a mostly-respected consultant for the SBPD. Jane, at least, is interesting. He's not trying to be scary, or nice, or to offer Shawn a deal for his cooperation. He's just talking, very clearly and reasonably, about the impossibility of Shawn knowing what he obviously knows.
"So you don't claim to be a psychic detective?" Jane asks. "In that case, someone's gone to extensive lengths to frame you, given the business cards and the office-space rented in your name."
"Oh, no, I do. I'm just not claiming it to you specifically. Most people find the psychic thing easier to believe.”
"You did reveal a number of details about the case which would seem beyond the scope of guesswork."
"I prefer to call it deductive reasoning. Look, shouldn't you be out, I don't know, solving the crime? I know I'm much more mysterious and interesting than the case - I would be more interested in deciphering my enigma - but really. There are lives at stake."
Jane looks at him with a close-mouthed smile. "You aren't as mysterious as you think. Don't be offended - few people are."
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm very mysterious. For one thing, there's my psychic ability. And my piercing hazel eyes have often been regarded as lending me an air of magnetism."
Jane stares into Shawn's eyes for a minute or so. He says, "Curious. Of course, we've already refuted the psychic claim. Which just means you're a liar, taking advantage of credulous people. Unfortunately that's rather less unusual."
It's not as if Shawn doesn't get accused of lying on a regular basis, but something about the way Jane says it makes it sound worse. He retorts, “but when you do it, it’s all cool? I think you’re just pissed that I’m a better fake-psychic than you and that you can’t read me.”
“Oh, I can read you just fine.” Jane takes a breath. “High IQ, low ambition. Or easily bored, at any rate. Probably would have been diagnosed as ADHD nowadays, but as it was you just left a lot of things unfinished. Criminal record, but a short one, because it was just one more thing to try and that was easy too.”
Shawn is unimpressed. “Please. You can get all that from my file. Surprise me.”
Jane takes hold of Shawn’s wrist, and sits on the edge of the interrogation desk. “Broken home. Late in life, but definitely divorced parents. Now, you’re going to tell me that’s in your file too, and it probably is, but I should tell you that I don’t like to look at those before talking with the person.”
Shawn looks across the room at the two-way glass.
“Eyes on me, Shawn,” Jane says. Shawn’s heart rate picks up. “You have a photographic memory and combined with that ‘deductive reasoning’ you were talking about, you could have made an excellent cop. In fact, you would be an asset to the CBI, but there’s no use in making a job offer because Santa Barbara’s the only place you’ve managed to stay for longer than three months. There must be something keeping you there, possibly your father, although it’s curious that while he’s listed as your emergency contact, he wasn’t your first call. And you didn’t call a partner either - you’re unattached or not serious given the way you flirted with both Cho and Van Pelt since being brought in here.”
This isn’t precisely untrue, but Shawn has already mostly forgotten that. Jane might not be psychic, but something about his voice is short-circuiting Shawn’s higher reasoning. He thinks about telling Jane that he should be recording those ‘stop smoking while you sleep’ CDs. Or hypnosis - it’s the rhythm of his voice, and the way it goes straight to Shawn’s… He coughs, and Jane offers him the glass of water before continuing.
“Like most people, you’re terrified of becoming your father. You shouldn’t worry - you’re not. And that’s not what’s troubling you lately anyway. Your father is rather an angry man. Not violent, not abusive, but he has a very firm sense of right and wrong.”
Jane’s voice drops half an octave on ‘wrong’, and Shawn squirms under the table.
“You’ve never had that. Your father assumes that the rebellion started after the divorce, but the seeds were planted long before that. You should tell him. It’s one of the consequences of being very clever - the rules have never really seemed like they applied to you. Sometimes you see the world in the abstract, and you’re starting to wonder why the cases don’t affect you the way they do other people.”
Shawn wonders if flirting with Jane while in the same room as the victim’s body had been what tripped them up. He looks at Jane, who had grinned back at Shawn before asking Agent Lisbon to pull him in, and doesn’t think so.
Jane says, “You act younger than you are, and feel older, most of the time. You’ve travelled to more places and gathered more esoteric skills than people twice your age. But you always feel young around your father, because when you were smaller - twelve? no, maybe ten - he was the centre of your universe. And he tried, very hard, to fix that feeling you have that you can do anything, because you’re so often surrounded by people much less intelligent than you are. It didn’t work, but he’s still that voice in your head telling you that you’re screwing up. Most of your life is devoted to lifting one finger at that voice. This may explain your…” Jane looks down at Shawn’s jeans, “issues with authority.”
Shawn keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Jane’s - it’s worked before, as a method of distracting attention. Jane leans closer to whisper in Shawn’s ear, too low for the microphones to pick up. Shawn has always been an easy sell for a deep voice and a firm tone. Admittedly, sometimes he reacts to the tightening in his jeans by being offensively obnoxious, until the other person’s feeling as crazy as he is.
Jane’s buttons are harder to push. But Shawn’s in luck, because he can hear doors slamming down the corridor. Jane lets go of Shawn’s wrist, and opens the door.
Shawn can hear Lassiter’s irritation at being forced to rescue Shawn, and Juliet’s calm which is threatening to turn nasty. Somewhere in there, Gus is throwing around law and precedent.
Shawn grins at Jane, and flings the glass of water in his own face. He thinks about a variety of unnerving pointy things until his hard-on subsides. He counts to five. He cries, “Why would you throw water at me, man? Who does that?”
“He did what?” Shawn is somewhat gleeful to realise that the voice isn’t even Gus - it’s Jane’s pretty boss, who doesn’t sound nearly surprised enough.
Jane blinks at him, and calls, “I didn’t.”
Agent Lisbon walks in and shakes her head. “I don’t even know, with you. Anyway, there’s an Attorney General on the line looking for you, Jane.” She turns to Shawn. “You’re free to go.”
Shawn nods politely at her, and stands. He starts to walk out, and grabs Jane’s arm. “By the way, I’d check into your widow’s supposed grieving father. One - not grieving, two - definitely speaks English. Did you see his ears go all pointy when I mentioned the Guatemalan cricket scores? Three-… Well, you can work that one out yourself. But just in case, here’s my card. Gus?”
Gus, still brandishing a pile of legal documents, nods his head towards the corridor.
Jane smiles slowly. He says, “And you’ll investigate these ‘psychic vibrations’ for me?”
Shawn shrugs. “I’ll investigate whatever you want. I’m flexible that way. But then you already know that, don’t you?” He walks away.
Jane’s laughter isn’t quite as impressive as his ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here today’ voice, but Shawn's pleased with himself all the same.
FIN