At the Psych office [OTA]
Having your own place of work (where you were your own boss, you set your own hours, and your own payscale) had its advantages, Shawn thought. Not just because the the above, but also because he got to choose which fine beverages would nestle in the 'company' fridge. So he stood right in front of the open fridge door, cans and bottles clinking together as he lined them neatly along the shelves.
Then something happened.
And an eleven year old Shawn Spencer stood in front of an open fridge door in a place he didn't recognize, staring with interest and deep confusion at the bottle of chocolate milk colored liquid in the palm of his hand.
"Star...bucks...? Frap...puh....cheee...no?"
Putting the bottle down and looking around him, he noted that this wasn't his house. Or Gus's house. Or that latchkey kid with the retainer's house who sometimes let he and Gus hang out. Weird.
"Dad?" He called, automatically, even though he hated having to do that. This was another one of Dad's tests, wasn't it? Shawn sighed and immediately scanned all around him, checking for anything out of place, anything that seemed like it didn't belong there.
Bizarro weird.
He found the front door and flung it open, and he was suddenly hit by a blast of cold air. Really cold air. Really really cold air. Something his southern California born and bred little body was unused to. He shut the door, chewed on his lip. He knew what this was like. This was like those stories his dad told him about soldiers left out in the wilderness where they had to use all their skills to find their way back to civilization.
Well, if he looked around hard enough, maybe he'll find a clue. Or Gus. Or both.
And hopefully not Dad, because, despite the whole test thing? Being on his own was kind of cool.
Then something happened.
And an eleven year old Shawn Spencer stood in front of an open fridge door in a place he didn't recognize, staring with interest and deep confusion at the bottle of chocolate milk colored liquid in the palm of his hand.
"Star...bucks...? Frap...puh....cheee...no?"
Putting the bottle down and looking around him, he noted that this wasn't his house. Or Gus's house. Or that latchkey kid with the retainer's house who sometimes let he and Gus hang out. Weird.
"Dad?" He called, automatically, even though he hated having to do that. This was another one of Dad's tests, wasn't it? Shawn sighed and immediately scanned all around him, checking for anything out of place, anything that seemed like it didn't belong there.
Bizarro weird.
He found the front door and flung it open, and he was suddenly hit by a blast of cold air. Really cold air. Really really cold air. Something his southern California born and bred little body was unused to. He shut the door, chewed on his lip. He knew what this was like. This was like those stories his dad told him about soldiers left out in the wilderness where they had to use all their skills to find their way back to civilization.
Well, if he looked around hard enough, maybe he'll find a clue. Or Gus. Or both.
And hopefully not Dad, because, despite the whole test thing? Being on his own was kind of cool.