FIC: More Than Skin Deep (1/3)
Title: More Than Skin Deep
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Juliet
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A night out drinking leads Shawn with a 'permanent' souvenir. It doesn't take long for the rest of the gang to find out and begin to speculate who inspired it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: This was originally a Shassie story but I loved it so much I wanted to share a version with all my other fans. So if you read the original, the first two chapters will seem really familiar.
Inspiration for both stories goes to PsychLassieFan4Ever and her inclusion of tattoos in Maroon5d. It resparked my own desire to write a Psych tattoo story.
The whole story is complete, but I like to space out the updates to give everyone a chance to read and review.
Enjoy.
Chapter 1: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Complaints
Shawn nervously tugged on his sleeve, making sure it was pulled down all the way to his wrist. He usually preferred to wear t-shirts, but today he didn't have a choice. Hopefully Gus wouldn't comment on it. He checked one more time his arm was completely covered, took a deep breath to calm himself, and walked into the office.
Gus looked up at him and frowned. “Long sleeves?”
He swore Gus had a sixth sense to immediately pick up on anything he didn't want his friend to notice. “It's a bit chilly today, Gus,” he said defensively.
Gus looked outside at the scantily clad beach goers walking past on the boardwalk. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I'm fine. I just wanted to wear something different today,” Shawn said belligerently. “Why, is wearing long sleeves suddenly illegal or something?”
Gus looked taken aback by his response. “No, I just thought it was a strange thing to wear when it's ninety degrees outside,” he said irritably.
“I don't think it's strange,” Shawn said, tugging again on the end of his sleeve. “Are you done attacking me now over my wardrobe choices?”
Gus threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Wear what you want. Just don't come crying to me when you're suffering from heat stroke.”
“Don't worry, I won't,” Shawn snapped back.
“Good.”
“Fine.”
They both glared at each other. Gus turned away with a huff, going back to whatever he had been doing on his computer before Shawn walked in.
Shawn went and sat at his desk. He carefully laid his arm down, palm up, checking the sleeve again to make sure everything was covered. He glanced at Gus, but his friend was ignoring him. He hated when they fought, but at least it had kept his friend from asking any more questions. Relaxing slightly, he opened his own laptop and got to work.
Two hours of YouTube videos later, Shawn's stomach started to rumble. He got up and went to the fridge to see if Gus had bought more snacks for the office. “Oooo, pudding packs!” He eagerly reached in and snapped one off.
“Toss me one?” Gus asked.
Shawn snapped off another and kicked the fridge closed. He awkwardly tossed it left-handed to Gus. His friend had to quickly slide his chair back, fumbling a bit as he grabbed it. “Dude!” Gus exclaimed, managing to keep his grip on the cup and glaring at him.
“Sorry, man.” He had always been bad at throwing with his left hand. He gripped his own cup tightly with his right hand but it made his arm ache. He switched to his left and used his teeth to pull off the lid. Only half came off, the rest firmly glued to the edges of the container. He shrugged and grabbed a spoon before walking back to his desk. He sat down and was about to dig in when he became aware of Gus watching him. “What?”
“Did you do something to your arm?” Gus asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Course not,” Shawn scoffed. He scooped up some pudding, managing to get it into his mouth in what he hoped was his usual smooth manner.
“I'm not an idiot Shawn.” Gus pointed at his right arm. “I can see the way you're holding your arm away from your body.”
“Nuh, uh.” He scooped up another spoonful, deliberately letting his arm brush against his side. He hid his wince in a happy hum as he ate his pudding.
Gus sighed. “Just tell me what you did.”
“I didn't do anything,” Shawn insisted. “Don't be that apple your mom always packed in your lunch instead of cookies. I'm fine.” He finished the pudding and let his arm fall against the desk. He yelped, jerking it back and cuddling the injured limb against his body.
“Like hell you are.” Gus got up and came over to his desk. “Alright, let's see it.”
“No.” Shawn curled protectively around his arm, turning his back on Gus.
“Shawn, if you hurt yourself, you need to get it checked out.” Gus went around the desk, trying to get to him from the other side.
“I'm fine,” he said, spinning away again.
Gus grabbed the back of his chair and dragged it away from the desk. “That's cheating!” Shawn yelled, digging his heels in. He grabbed the edge of his desk as he passed and hung on tightly.
They struggled briefly over the chair, then Gus suddenly let go. Shawn wasn't expecting it and he flew forward, smacking his legs on the side of the desk. The chair twisted and started to lean. He tried to keep himself upright but all he managed to do was turn himself so he landed right on his arm when he hit the floor. He cried out, clenching his eyes shut against the pain and curling into a ball on his side.
“Shawn?” Gus asked hesitantly.
Shawn cracked open his eyes and glared at his friend. “Happy now?” he asked sarcastically, blinking away tears.
“This wouldn't have happened if you just told me what you did,” Gus said, though he sounded guilty. He reached down and helped pull Shawn to his feet.
“It also wouldn't have happened if you had just left me alone,” Shawn snapped. His arm was throbbing now, from his fingers all the way up to his shoulder. He dug around in his desk for some aspirin and struggled to get the bottle open one handed.
“Here.” Gus grabbed the bottle and opened it for him. He also went to the sink and got him a glass of water.
Shawn nodded his thanks, popping a couple of pills and drinking the entire glass of water. He placed the glass on the desk and looked nervously at Gus. “Now what?”
Gus crossed his arms. “Now you tell me what you did to your arm.”
Shawn sighed in defeat. “It will be easier to show you.” He carefully rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out towards Gus.
Gus's eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God, Shawn! Is that real?”
“I sure hope so,” Shawn said dryly. “Otherwise, that was a really expensive press on.”
“Didn't it hurt?” Gus asked.
“I don't really remember. I was kind of drunk,” Shawn admitted.
“But, really, Shawn? A tattoo?” Gus asked disapprovingly.
“All the cool kids have them,” Shawn said defensively. He didn't see what the big deal was. It was just a tattoo.
Just a picture drawn on his skin that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. . . OK, maybe he did see what the big deal was, but Gus didn't have to freak out so much about it.
Gus tilted his head, frowning. “Is it supposed to look all blotchy like that?”
“It's still healing,” Shawn said defensively. Though he had to admit his arm wasn't great to look at right at this moment.
“Your arm looks swollen,” Gus said worriedly.
“Yup. You should touch it. It's kind of like poking a balloon that's about to pop.” He poked the side of his arm a couple of times in show.
“I'll pass.” Gus wrinkled his nose in disgust before he glanced up from Shawn's arm and gave him a look. “You should have called me.”
“Why? So you could pass out from all the blood?” Shawn waved at his arm. “It was a whole lot bloodier than I thought it would be. Though I guess it makes sense; I was getting my arm cut up by a bunch of tiny needles.”
Gus looked a little green but he still gave Shawn an impressive glare. “No. So I could try to convince you not to do it.”
“Which is why I didn't call you,” Shawn said reasonably. “I was drunk, not stupid.”
“I'd say getting a tattoo counts as pretty stupid to me,” Gus argued. “What the hell were you thinking?
Shawn sighed. “We were drinking, and Emily was all like, 'Guys with tattoos are hot.'” He used a variation on his 'Jules voice' for Emily, high-pitched and nasally. “And I was all like, 'Really? 'Cause I've always wanted to get one.' Then suddenly we were at a tattoo parlor and this guy was asking me which arm I wanted it on and it was too late to back out. It would have ruined my tough guy reputation.”
Gus crossed his arms. “So what happened with Emily?”
“Well, she sort of left after an hour. I don't think the crying really impressed her,” Shawn admitted reluctantly.
Gus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn't remember if it hurt.”
“I don't, exactly. I just remember thinking that it hurt.” He looked down at his arm. “I really hope it looks better when it heals. You can barely make out the shapes of the spots.”
“Spots are spots,” Gus said with a shrug. “If they're a little fuzzy on the edges no one would notice.”
“I would,” Shawn argued. “I was very specific on how some of them were supposed to look.”
“Why?” Gus asked suspiciously.
“No reason,” Shawn said quickly. “I just like the broken circle shapes more than the half-moon ones.”
Gus didn't look like he bought it. He grabbed Shawn's arm by the wrist, ignoring his hiss to be careful. He looked at the spots carefully, then pointed to two of them. “Are those letters?”
Shawn cringed. “No?”
Gus sighed in disgust. “You put some random girl's initials on your arm, didn't you?”
“I did not,” Shawn said truthfully. They weren't some random girl's initials. Really, Gus should give him more credit than that.
Gus studied the letters again. “G. R. ?” He looked at Shawn in horror. “Please tell me you did not get Gina Repach's initials permanently tattooed on your arm.”
Shawn snorted. “Be reasonable, Gus. Of course they're not Gina's initials.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of that pretty, yet undoubtedly crazy girl. “ Besides, those aren't the right letters.”
“Then what are they?” Gus asked.
Shawn shook his head. “You're just going to have to wait until it heals.” He pulled his sleeve back down, hiding his tattoo from view. “ Now, if you don't mind, I believe someone owes m e lunch for viciously mauling my arm.”
“I didn't maul you. The chair fell over.” Despite his argument, Gus went to his desk and grabbed the keys to the Blueberry.
“Because you pushed it,” Shawn argued.
“I didn't push it, I let go. You pulled it into the desk,” Gus said.
“It's still your fault.” Shawn stopped Gus before he could walk out the door. “In all seriousness, dude, could you promise not to tell anyone about this? Especially my dad.” He shuddered. “I'd rather get my dick tattooed than endure the shouting match this will bring up.”
Gus punched him hard in the shoulder. “I didn't need that image in my head, Shawn,” he snapped irritably.
Shawn rubbed his injured shoulder, wondering how many bruises he was going to end up with today. “Gus, please?” He gave his friend his best sad puppy dog look.
Gus sighed. “Fine. But you know he'll find out eventually.”
“And hopefully I can make eventually on his death bed as he takes his last breath.” He considered that for a moment. “Or after he takes his last breath, so he doesn't have any air left to lecture me.”
“Good luck with that,” Gus said, shaking his head. “So, jerk chicken?”
“You know that's right,” Shawn said. He followed his friend out the door, checking his sleeve again. Looks like he better start buying more long sleeve shirts.
I plan to post the next part next week, but I could be convinced to post it sooner (hint, hint).
Chapter 2
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Juliet
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A night out drinking leads Shawn with a 'permanent' souvenir. It doesn't take long for the rest of the gang to find out and begin to speculate who inspired it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: This was originally a Shassie story but I loved it so much I wanted to share a version with all my other fans. So if you read the original, the first two chapters will seem really familiar.
Inspiration for both stories goes to PsychLassieFan4Ever and her inclusion of tattoos in Maroon5d. It resparked my own desire to write a Psych tattoo story.
The whole story is complete, but I like to space out the updates to give everyone a chance to read and review.
Enjoy.
Chapter 1: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Complaints
Shawn nervously tugged on his sleeve, making sure it was pulled down all the way to his wrist. He usually preferred to wear t-shirts, but today he didn't have a choice. Hopefully Gus wouldn't comment on it. He checked one more time his arm was completely covered, took a deep breath to calm himself, and walked into the office.
Gus looked up at him and frowned. “Long sleeves?”
He swore Gus had a sixth sense to immediately pick up on anything he didn't want his friend to notice. “It's a bit chilly today, Gus,” he said defensively.
Gus looked outside at the scantily clad beach goers walking past on the boardwalk. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I'm fine. I just wanted to wear something different today,” Shawn said belligerently. “Why, is wearing long sleeves suddenly illegal or something?”
Gus looked taken aback by his response. “No, I just thought it was a strange thing to wear when it's ninety degrees outside,” he said irritably.
“I don't think it's strange,” Shawn said, tugging again on the end of his sleeve. “Are you done attacking me now over my wardrobe choices?”
Gus threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Wear what you want. Just don't come crying to me when you're suffering from heat stroke.”
“Don't worry, I won't,” Shawn snapped back.
“Good.”
“Fine.”
They both glared at each other. Gus turned away with a huff, going back to whatever he had been doing on his computer before Shawn walked in.
Shawn went and sat at his desk. He carefully laid his arm down, palm up, checking the sleeve again to make sure everything was covered. He glanced at Gus, but his friend was ignoring him. He hated when they fought, but at least it had kept his friend from asking any more questions. Relaxing slightly, he opened his own laptop and got to work.
Two hours of YouTube videos later, Shawn's stomach started to rumble. He got up and went to the fridge to see if Gus had bought more snacks for the office. “Oooo, pudding packs!” He eagerly reached in and snapped one off.
“Toss me one?” Gus asked.
Shawn snapped off another and kicked the fridge closed. He awkwardly tossed it left-handed to Gus. His friend had to quickly slide his chair back, fumbling a bit as he grabbed it. “Dude!” Gus exclaimed, managing to keep his grip on the cup and glaring at him.
“Sorry, man.” He had always been bad at throwing with his left hand. He gripped his own cup tightly with his right hand but it made his arm ache. He switched to his left and used his teeth to pull off the lid. Only half came off, the rest firmly glued to the edges of the container. He shrugged and grabbed a spoon before walking back to his desk. He sat down and was about to dig in when he became aware of Gus watching him. “What?”
“Did you do something to your arm?” Gus asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Course not,” Shawn scoffed. He scooped up some pudding, managing to get it into his mouth in what he hoped was his usual smooth manner.
“I'm not an idiot Shawn.” Gus pointed at his right arm. “I can see the way you're holding your arm away from your body.”
“Nuh, uh.” He scooped up another spoonful, deliberately letting his arm brush against his side. He hid his wince in a happy hum as he ate his pudding.
Gus sighed. “Just tell me what you did.”
“I didn't do anything,” Shawn insisted. “Don't be that apple your mom always packed in your lunch instead of cookies. I'm fine.” He finished the pudding and let his arm fall against the desk. He yelped, jerking it back and cuddling the injured limb against his body.
“Like hell you are.” Gus got up and came over to his desk. “Alright, let's see it.”
“No.” Shawn curled protectively around his arm, turning his back on Gus.
“Shawn, if you hurt yourself, you need to get it checked out.” Gus went around the desk, trying to get to him from the other side.
“I'm fine,” he said, spinning away again.
Gus grabbed the back of his chair and dragged it away from the desk. “That's cheating!” Shawn yelled, digging his heels in. He grabbed the edge of his desk as he passed and hung on tightly.
They struggled briefly over the chair, then Gus suddenly let go. Shawn wasn't expecting it and he flew forward, smacking his legs on the side of the desk. The chair twisted and started to lean. He tried to keep himself upright but all he managed to do was turn himself so he landed right on his arm when he hit the floor. He cried out, clenching his eyes shut against the pain and curling into a ball on his side.
“Shawn?” Gus asked hesitantly.
Shawn cracked open his eyes and glared at his friend. “Happy now?” he asked sarcastically, blinking away tears.
“This wouldn't have happened if you just told me what you did,” Gus said, though he sounded guilty. He reached down and helped pull Shawn to his feet.
“It also wouldn't have happened if you had just left me alone,” Shawn snapped. His arm was throbbing now, from his fingers all the way up to his shoulder. He dug around in his desk for some aspirin and struggled to get the bottle open one handed.
“Here.” Gus grabbed the bottle and opened it for him. He also went to the sink and got him a glass of water.
Shawn nodded his thanks, popping a couple of pills and drinking the entire glass of water. He placed the glass on the desk and looked nervously at Gus. “Now what?”
Gus crossed his arms. “Now you tell me what you did to your arm.”
Shawn sighed in defeat. “It will be easier to show you.” He carefully rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out towards Gus.
Gus's eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God, Shawn! Is that real?”
“I sure hope so,” Shawn said dryly. “Otherwise, that was a really expensive press on.”
“Didn't it hurt?” Gus asked.
“I don't really remember. I was kind of drunk,” Shawn admitted.
“But, really, Shawn? A tattoo?” Gus asked disapprovingly.
“All the cool kids have them,” Shawn said defensively. He didn't see what the big deal was. It was just a tattoo.
Just a picture drawn on his skin that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. . . OK, maybe he did see what the big deal was, but Gus didn't have to freak out so much about it.
Gus tilted his head, frowning. “Is it supposed to look all blotchy like that?”
“It's still healing,” Shawn said defensively. Though he had to admit his arm wasn't great to look at right at this moment.
“Your arm looks swollen,” Gus said worriedly.
“Yup. You should touch it. It's kind of like poking a balloon that's about to pop.” He poked the side of his arm a couple of times in show.
“I'll pass.” Gus wrinkled his nose in disgust before he glanced up from Shawn's arm and gave him a look. “You should have called me.”
“Why? So you could pass out from all the blood?” Shawn waved at his arm. “It was a whole lot bloodier than I thought it would be. Though I guess it makes sense; I was getting my arm cut up by a bunch of tiny needles.”
Gus looked a little green but he still gave Shawn an impressive glare. “No. So I could try to convince you not to do it.”
“Which is why I didn't call you,” Shawn said reasonably. “I was drunk, not stupid.”
“I'd say getting a tattoo counts as pretty stupid to me,” Gus argued. “What the hell were you thinking?
Shawn sighed. “We were drinking, and Emily was all like, 'Guys with tattoos are hot.'” He used a variation on his 'Jules voice' for Emily, high-pitched and nasally. “And I was all like, 'Really? 'Cause I've always wanted to get one.' Then suddenly we were at a tattoo parlor and this guy was asking me which arm I wanted it on and it was too late to back out. It would have ruined my tough guy reputation.”
Gus crossed his arms. “So what happened with Emily?”
“Well, she sort of left after an hour. I don't think the crying really impressed her,” Shawn admitted reluctantly.
Gus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn't remember if it hurt.”
“I don't, exactly. I just remember thinking that it hurt.” He looked down at his arm. “I really hope it looks better when it heals. You can barely make out the shapes of the spots.”
“Spots are spots,” Gus said with a shrug. “If they're a little fuzzy on the edges no one would notice.”
“I would,” Shawn argued. “I was very specific on how some of them were supposed to look.”
“Why?” Gus asked suspiciously.
“No reason,” Shawn said quickly. “I just like the broken circle shapes more than the half-moon ones.”
Gus didn't look like he bought it. He grabbed Shawn's arm by the wrist, ignoring his hiss to be careful. He looked at the spots carefully, then pointed to two of them. “Are those letters?”
Shawn cringed. “No?”
Gus sighed in disgust. “You put some random girl's initials on your arm, didn't you?”
“I did not,” Shawn said truthfully. They weren't some random girl's initials. Really, Gus should give him more credit than that.
Gus studied the letters again. “G. R. ?” He looked at Shawn in horror. “Please tell me you did not get Gina Repach's initials permanently tattooed on your arm.”
Shawn snorted. “Be reasonable, Gus. Of course they're not Gina's initials.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of that pretty, yet undoubtedly crazy girl. “ Besides, those aren't the right letters.”
“Then what are they?” Gus asked.
Shawn shook his head. “You're just going to have to wait until it heals.” He pulled his sleeve back down, hiding his tattoo from view. “ Now, if you don't mind, I believe someone owes m e lunch for viciously mauling my arm.”
“I didn't maul you. The chair fell over.” Despite his argument, Gus went to his desk and grabbed the keys to the Blueberry.
“Because you pushed it,” Shawn argued.
“I didn't push it, I let go. You pulled it into the desk,” Gus said.
“It's still your fault.” Shawn stopped Gus before he could walk out the door. “In all seriousness, dude, could you promise not to tell anyone about this? Especially my dad.” He shuddered. “I'd rather get my dick tattooed than endure the shouting match this will bring up.”
Gus punched him hard in the shoulder. “I didn't need that image in my head, Shawn,” he snapped irritably.
Shawn rubbed his injured shoulder, wondering how many bruises he was going to end up with today. “Gus, please?” He gave his friend his best sad puppy dog look.
Gus sighed. “Fine. But you know he'll find out eventually.”
“And hopefully I can make eventually on his death bed as he takes his last breath.” He considered that for a moment. “Or after he takes his last breath, so he doesn't have any air left to lecture me.”
“Good luck with that,” Gus said, shaking his head. “So, jerk chicken?”
“You know that's right,” Shawn said. He followed his friend out the door, checking his sleeve again. Looks like he better start buying more long sleeve shirts.
I plan to post the next part next week, but I could be convinced to post it sooner (hint, hint).
Chapter 2