Sleep, riches and health, to be truly enjoyed must be interrupted (for justprompts).
"Sleep, riches and health, to be truly enjoyed must be interrupted." - Jean Paul Friedrich Richter
******
SUNDAY 23th, 11:35
Shawn was confused over the fact that Tori Spelling's voice was suddenly grave, slightly raspy and disturbingly similar to Henry Spencer's. To top things off, the second she used the forty yard long dinning table to hit the castle's polar bear, he knew things were starting to get weird. PETA would probably complain about that too.
Sherlock Holmes had said things were elementary in the various movie adaptations of his life (fictional or not, like he and Gus always argued about) and he was right.
What Sherlock Holmes surely wouldn't be able to explain (even if the dude were still alive) was... Who in his right mind gets out of bed a Sunday morning? Or even worse, why his Dad was such a mystic force against the laws of nature and days off??
SUNDAY 23th, 11:43
"Shawn, I've been trying to talk to you since Friday night." Henry spat at him. The vein popping out of his forehead looked like it was about to explode. "You didn't pick up the phone. Gus wouldn't pick up the phone!"
"That's because we were making sweet, sweet love and wanted no interruptions from an octogenarian again."
His father simply crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to react to that. Shawn wondered if by this point he considered this a joke, if he considered it a bad taste joke and choose to ignore it or if he simply didn't care after all his teenage son's past shenanigans.
"I want your ass on my lawn in half an hour." He marked every work poking Shawn's chest. "That grass isn't cutting itself."
"Why don't we wait and see? The fortune cookie told me it would happen for real this week!"
SUNDAY 23th, 12:25
Holding two glasses of fresh pre-made lemonade, Henry slipped open the door to his backyard. He had been rough to the kid, but even after more than 30 years he was aware that this was the only way to deal with Shawn when something didn't interest him. And he had promised to help him out with the garden after Henry hurt his leg. The kid needed to keep his promises and that was a lesson he was gonna make sure to burn into his brain even if it was the last thing he'd do.
"Shawn, I got this new lemonade yesterday, I thought you might want to give it a try."
The lawn mower was abandoned at the back of the yard. Shawn's jacket was gone too.
"That damn kid."
SUNDAY 23th, 20:17
"Shawn? Shawn??"
Gus was a man on a mission. He knew there was no point in calling Shawn that morning, he had a rule himself that involved not taking calls during Sunday mornings unless they were related to work. But it was past the 20 hours and he and his best friend had a talk that needed to be talked.
According to Mr Spencer's instructions, he was supposed to be doing some work at the backyard. As Shawn's best friend, Gus knew better than to trust a fake psychic/former CEO of a dolphin-less swimming with dolphins academy/self-proclaimed inventor of the acronym OMG. Friend or not.
He checked Shawn's older room, the garage, the attic, even the back of Mr Spencer's truck before indeed trying the backyard. What Gus wasn't expecting was to find Shawn there, trapped on the roof.
"That cheating old man stole my ladder!!"
Gus smirked, this was the perfect opportunity. Point for the elder Spencer.
And a point to himself.
SUNDAY 23th, 23:05
Juliet recognized it straight away. The architecture, the fabric of choice, the humming of the A-Team song (someone must have been watching a certain remake), it all made sense.
Shawn had build a Blanket Fort under the interrogation room B's table.
She crouched, because there was no way she'd kneel down on the dirty floor of the interrogation room. Sure, she appreciated the great job Estela did by cleaning at night, but these suit pants were expensive! She couldn't afford looking unprofessional with dirt stains! What if a crime was committed somewhere fancy?
She started moving, swaying her hips as she slid one foot at a time to approach the fort and lastly yank aside the blanket that appeared to be the main door. Shawn emerged from the fort, his eyes looked smokey like a super model's with heavy make up or like one of those wild and yet adorable raccoons he swears he's not afraid of.
"Before you say anything, let me point out I'm a betrayed man. And a betrayed man need his privacy, Jules."
"Unless you mean there was a 273A..."
"Gus took money from my jacket while I was trapped on my Dad's roof."
"Oh."
So it was one of those times when Shawn and Gus had one of their disagreements. No wonder Shawn was having comfort food. Her comfort food. The comfort food she baked just before coming to work, missing her daily internet surfing time to check on emails from her parents and new funny cat pictures on her favorite blog.
At least Shawn had the decency to get the hint and look down at the dessert guiltily.
"It's a shame your scones got burnt, but don't worry, I almost didn't notice at all."
She dropped the blanket on his face.
"Those are brownies, Shawn."
MONDAY 24th, 02:27
"So, after my Dad stole my precious one on one time with my pillow, Gus had the nerve to take my money to pay the rent! Why can't he use his credit card? He's got it for a reason. Hasn't he learned anything after watching three Toy Story movies? If you don't use stuff for the purpose it was created for it goes sad and slightly psychotic!"
Shawn sneezed all over Lassiter's chest. And over the beige blanket covering them. The back of the couch probably got sneezed on a little too.
"Jules' brownies made me sick."
"You can't get a cold for eating brownies, no matter how poor the cook's skills are."
"But Jules is that special. Even her brownies are magical flu inducers!"
It was a low blow, Shawn was testing him again. Everything is a test with him, pushing until things break. Making you think he cares about you, making you need him, suddenly dating a childhood sweetheart and then knocking on your door in the middle of the night because he's got a boo-boo and his girlfriend decided to pursue a normal life and forget what a nightmare he is.
"... and her eyelashes are unique, each one of them has no comparison, like cornflakes."
"That's snowflakes, Spencer." The older man stated. Why is he doing this? The last thing he needs is to catch a cold because an idiot with Daddy issues can't spend his days off helping out his father with his chores like a real man. Or a real boy-man, at the very least.
"I'm pretty sure it's cornflakes. And you're a snowflake. And the world is a giant snow globe of little people eating unique cereals."
Lassiter pressed his lips tightly. He hated tests.
Shawn nuzzled his chest once more, pushing him a bit more out of he couch. They barely fitted together on it and it wasn't the most comfortable furniture or position to lie in. But Shawn looked in heaven.
"Can't watch Hawaii Five-0 without cable... Not 'till the pizza man pays it." Carlton heard the muffled whisper as he pressed his lips on Shawn's forehead. This wasn't feverish talk anymore, he was surely just in that state when he is so tired he babbles nonsense until someone puts a sock in his mouth. It's happened before.
"You can watch it here." Carlton said softly, resting his cheek on top of his soft hair. He was lucky that hair gel seemed to have worn off.
He's not gonna say it, he's said enough before. He's not playing Shawn's game, he's already crossed a line tonight. But the psychic looked so pathetic on his doorstep. Pathetic and needy. Pathetic, needy and with that soft playful smile Lassiter misses so much whenever he's got too much scotch and too much time to think.
"I'd like that." Shawn stirred lightly. Lassiter's ass was feeling a breeze as it was now stuck out of the couch. "You make Hawaii Five-0 watchable and that's a lot to say."
MONDAY 24th, 11:43
His body was warm but he could feel the cold sheets under his legs. It was the perfect combination of hot and cold, which not even Katy Perry had been able to describe in almost four minutes. His head didn't ache anymore at least. And even if he still couldn't smell anything with his blocked with yuck nostrils, Shawn was feeling far much better after that amazing long night sleep.
Right now it didn't mattered that he was deprived of his last paycheck and that he'd been forced to steal Gus' PayPal account again to make his shopping, it didn't mattered that he'd have to wait for a couple of weeks to be able to enjoy the smell of pineapple upside down cake for breakfast/past midnight snack.
Shawn ran his arm up and down Lassie's side of the queen sized bed, waiting to feel a post it note, a crumpled paper, something. But the sheets were cold and empty, this time he couldn't enjoy as much the coolness under his arms.
Pushing himself up with his elbows, Shawn scanned the room through hooded eyes. There was far more light than the last few times he had visited, Lassie had probably left the curtains aside to punish him for breathing too loud or something. With a groan, the fake psychic was ready to get on his feet to cover the window with whatever was at hand. Perhaps the curtains.
And there it was. Lying on Lassie's pillow.
'Spencer:
You're cleaning the mess you left in the bathroom.'
Short, straight to the point and flooding love, even if Lassie had obviously forgot the hugs and the kisses. Turning to the chair on the corner of the room, Shawn left the piece of paper right over where the Head Detective had piled up his clothes. He could spare another hour or maybe forever ignoring Lassie's demand.
Dropping himself back on the comfy mattress, he wrapped himself in the Air Force blue blanket that smelt of coffee, cheap soap and a taste of gunpowder. He could actually spare a couple more hours catching up with the sleep he had lost on his so called day off. Even the Pope would definitely take the chance!
After all, this had been the best sleep he's had in months.
******
SUNDAY 23th, 11:35
Shawn was confused over the fact that Tori Spelling's voice was suddenly grave, slightly raspy and disturbingly similar to Henry Spencer's. To top things off, the second she used the forty yard long dinning table to hit the castle's polar bear, he knew things were starting to get weird. PETA would probably complain about that too.
Sherlock Holmes had said things were elementary in the various movie adaptations of his life (fictional or not, like he and Gus always argued about) and he was right.
What Sherlock Holmes surely wouldn't be able to explain (even if the dude were still alive) was... Who in his right mind gets out of bed a Sunday morning? Or even worse, why his Dad was such a mystic force against the laws of nature and days off??
SUNDAY 23th, 11:43
"Shawn, I've been trying to talk to you since Friday night." Henry spat at him. The vein popping out of his forehead looked like it was about to explode. "You didn't pick up the phone. Gus wouldn't pick up the phone!"
"That's because we were making sweet, sweet love and wanted no interruptions from an octogenarian again."
His father simply crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to react to that. Shawn wondered if by this point he considered this a joke, if he considered it a bad taste joke and choose to ignore it or if he simply didn't care after all his teenage son's past shenanigans.
"I want your ass on my lawn in half an hour." He marked every work poking Shawn's chest. "That grass isn't cutting itself."
"Why don't we wait and see? The fortune cookie told me it would happen for real this week!"
SUNDAY 23th, 12:25
Holding two glasses of fresh pre-made lemonade, Henry slipped open the door to his backyard. He had been rough to the kid, but even after more than 30 years he was aware that this was the only way to deal with Shawn when something didn't interest him. And he had promised to help him out with the garden after Henry hurt his leg. The kid needed to keep his promises and that was a lesson he was gonna make sure to burn into his brain even if it was the last thing he'd do.
"Shawn, I got this new lemonade yesterday, I thought you might want to give it a try."
The lawn mower was abandoned at the back of the yard. Shawn's jacket was gone too.
"That damn kid."
SUNDAY 23th, 20:17
"Shawn? Shawn??"
Gus was a man on a mission. He knew there was no point in calling Shawn that morning, he had a rule himself that involved not taking calls during Sunday mornings unless they were related to work. But it was past the 20 hours and he and his best friend had a talk that needed to be talked.
According to Mr Spencer's instructions, he was supposed to be doing some work at the backyard. As Shawn's best friend, Gus knew better than to trust a fake psychic/former CEO of a dolphin-less swimming with dolphins academy/self-proclaimed inventor of the acronym OMG. Friend or not.
He checked Shawn's older room, the garage, the attic, even the back of Mr Spencer's truck before indeed trying the backyard. What Gus wasn't expecting was to find Shawn there, trapped on the roof.
"That cheating old man stole my ladder!!"
Gus smirked, this was the perfect opportunity. Point for the elder Spencer.
And a point to himself.
SUNDAY 23th, 23:05
Juliet recognized it straight away. The architecture, the fabric of choice, the humming of the A-Team song (someone must have been watching a certain remake), it all made sense.
Shawn had build a Blanket Fort under the interrogation room B's table.
She crouched, because there was no way she'd kneel down on the dirty floor of the interrogation room. Sure, she appreciated the great job Estela did by cleaning at night, but these suit pants were expensive! She couldn't afford looking unprofessional with dirt stains! What if a crime was committed somewhere fancy?
She started moving, swaying her hips as she slid one foot at a time to approach the fort and lastly yank aside the blanket that appeared to be the main door. Shawn emerged from the fort, his eyes looked smokey like a super model's with heavy make up or like one of those wild and yet adorable raccoons he swears he's not afraid of.
"Before you say anything, let me point out I'm a betrayed man. And a betrayed man need his privacy, Jules."
"Unless you mean there was a 273A..."
"Gus took money from my jacket while I was trapped on my Dad's roof."
"Oh."
So it was one of those times when Shawn and Gus had one of their disagreements. No wonder Shawn was having comfort food. Her comfort food. The comfort food she baked just before coming to work, missing her daily internet surfing time to check on emails from her parents and new funny cat pictures on her favorite blog.
At least Shawn had the decency to get the hint and look down at the dessert guiltily.
"It's a shame your scones got burnt, but don't worry, I almost didn't notice at all."
She dropped the blanket on his face.
"Those are brownies, Shawn."
MONDAY 24th, 02:27
"So, after my Dad stole my precious one on one time with my pillow, Gus had the nerve to take my money to pay the rent! Why can't he use his credit card? He's got it for a reason. Hasn't he learned anything after watching three Toy Story movies? If you don't use stuff for the purpose it was created for it goes sad and slightly psychotic!"
Shawn sneezed all over Lassiter's chest. And over the beige blanket covering them. The back of the couch probably got sneezed on a little too.
"Jules' brownies made me sick."
"You can't get a cold for eating brownies, no matter how poor the cook's skills are."
"But Jules is that special. Even her brownies are magical flu inducers!"
It was a low blow, Shawn was testing him again. Everything is a test with him, pushing until things break. Making you think he cares about you, making you need him, suddenly dating a childhood sweetheart and then knocking on your door in the middle of the night because he's got a boo-boo and his girlfriend decided to pursue a normal life and forget what a nightmare he is.
"... and her eyelashes are unique, each one of them has no comparison, like cornflakes."
"That's snowflakes, Spencer." The older man stated. Why is he doing this? The last thing he needs is to catch a cold because an idiot with Daddy issues can't spend his days off helping out his father with his chores like a real man. Or a real boy-man, at the very least.
"I'm pretty sure it's cornflakes. And you're a snowflake. And the world is a giant snow globe of little people eating unique cereals."
Lassiter pressed his lips tightly. He hated tests.
Shawn nuzzled his chest once more, pushing him a bit more out of he couch. They barely fitted together on it and it wasn't the most comfortable furniture or position to lie in. But Shawn looked in heaven.
"Can't watch Hawaii Five-0 without cable... Not 'till the pizza man pays it." Carlton heard the muffled whisper as he pressed his lips on Shawn's forehead. This wasn't feverish talk anymore, he was surely just in that state when he is so tired he babbles nonsense until someone puts a sock in his mouth. It's happened before.
"You can watch it here." Carlton said softly, resting his cheek on top of his soft hair. He was lucky that hair gel seemed to have worn off.
He's not gonna say it, he's said enough before. He's not playing Shawn's game, he's already crossed a line tonight. But the psychic looked so pathetic on his doorstep. Pathetic and needy. Pathetic, needy and with that soft playful smile Lassiter misses so much whenever he's got too much scotch and too much time to think.
"I'd like that." Shawn stirred lightly. Lassiter's ass was feeling a breeze as it was now stuck out of the couch. "You make Hawaii Five-0 watchable and that's a lot to say."
MONDAY 24th, 11:43
His body was warm but he could feel the cold sheets under his legs. It was the perfect combination of hot and cold, which not even Katy Perry had been able to describe in almost four minutes. His head didn't ache anymore at least. And even if he still couldn't smell anything with his blocked with yuck nostrils, Shawn was feeling far much better after that amazing long night sleep.
Right now it didn't mattered that he was deprived of his last paycheck and that he'd been forced to steal Gus' PayPal account again to make his shopping, it didn't mattered that he'd have to wait for a couple of weeks to be able to enjoy the smell of pineapple upside down cake for breakfast/past midnight snack.
Shawn ran his arm up and down Lassie's side of the queen sized bed, waiting to feel a post it note, a crumpled paper, something. But the sheets were cold and empty, this time he couldn't enjoy as much the coolness under his arms.
Pushing himself up with his elbows, Shawn scanned the room through hooded eyes. There was far more light than the last few times he had visited, Lassie had probably left the curtains aside to punish him for breathing too loud or something. With a groan, the fake psychic was ready to get on his feet to cover the window with whatever was at hand. Perhaps the curtains.
And there it was. Lying on Lassie's pillow.
'Spencer:
You're cleaning the mess you left in the bathroom.'
Short, straight to the point and flooding love, even if Lassie had obviously forgot the hugs and the kisses. Turning to the chair on the corner of the room, Shawn left the piece of paper right over where the Head Detective had piled up his clothes. He could spare another hour or maybe forever ignoring Lassie's demand.
Dropping himself back on the comfy mattress, he wrapped himself in the Air Force blue blanket that smelt of coffee, cheap soap and a taste of gunpowder. He could actually spare a couple more hours catching up with the sleep he had lost on his so called day off. Even the Pope would definitely take the chance!
After all, this had been the best sleep he's had in months.