With Added Hoisin Sauce (Challenge #7)
Author: Loz/lozenger8
Title: With Added Hoisin Sauce
Challenge: Dark and Stormy Night
Word Count: Approximately 3000 words (the rules are more like flexible guidelines, right?)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Shawn/Gus. There's a due South reference and a few other references sprinkled throughout.
Summary: Gus gave him a look. His 'I know what you're doing and it won't work' look, but Shawn ignored it and frowned at the window. "Did I just see a giant duck?"
When the call had come in from Chief Vick that there had been a murder, Shawn jumped up and down for joy, then paused, thought about what he was doing, and went to perch on the edge of his desk. Okay, so on the one hand, it had been a monumentally boring week. Like, watching paint grow boring. Or grass dry. It had been Bee Oh Argh and then he couldn't continue because he was too apathetic. On the other hand, he had just celebrated another person's death and lately he had been trying very hard not to be that callous and self-involved. His ability to fake empathy had been dwindling and he needed to somehow muster some genuine compassion. On the third mutant hand, the call did prevent him from having to explain exactly what he was doing with his lips hovering a quarter of an inch from Gus'.
Gus gave him a look. His 'I know what you're doing and it won't work' look, but Shawn ignored it and frowned at the window.
"Did I just see a giant duck?"
"No, Shawn. If you hadn't noticed, it's raining. When it rains normal people wear raincoats. They're often yellow, and they billow; giving you the illusion you've seen waterfowl."
Shawn shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I saw a giant duck."
"That call sounded urgent. It's a case, isn't it? Was that second message a picture?"
Shawn leaned back further on the desk, crossing his arms. His afternoon snack spiked annoyingly into the small of his back and he squinted at it menacingly, vowing June Bug revenge. "Yeah, but, no need to hurry. I'm sure Lasstacular's on it. Over it. Under it. And through it."
"I know what you're doing and it won't work."
"I'm not doing anything! Honest. I'll even pinky-swear."
"You're trying to get me to force you to the station so when we get there you can blame our super-sudden appearance on me and not be lying."
"Why would I go to all that trouble, Gus? Why wouldn't I just lie?"
Gus opened his mouth to speak, narrowed his eyes. He clearly thought for a moment, his nostrils flaring. "I don't know. But you are up to something, I can tell."
Satisfied that he had diverted Gus' attention, Shawn crossed his feet, swapping them extra slowly. He pinched the inside of his elbow to make sure he wasn't jittering. He even managed to convincingly display maximum comfort, with a relaxed sigh and head tilt. He was believable, he thought. Most people would look at him and think 'whoa, that is one relaxed dude'.
Gus was giving him a patented dead-eye stare; his disapproval, though silent, coming through loud and clear. A moment passed, Gus gave a mini-flail. Shawn just loved seeing him worked up. He recognised that this was probably a bad thing, but one of his greatest pleasures in life was Gus in consternation at his antics. It felt like home.
"We have to get to the station, Shawn."
"In our own good time. First, we need to avoid the giant duck."
Gus stood, grabbed their jackets, and launched one at Shawn's head before sliding his arm into one of his sleeves. He took the car keys from his desk and walked out the door to the office. Shawn admired his elegant strides, and was about to follow when Gus' voice rang out clear through the pitter-patter of raindrops.
"I can't believe you weren't joking."
"I never joke!"
"You always joke."
Shawn threw his jacket on and joined Gus outside the door, following the line of his sight to the large plastic figurine currently wedged between a fire-hydrant and the Psychmobile. A river of water was cascading down the road at a furious pace, not unlike Gus whenever he thought he heard or saw a ghost, or Shawn whenever he heard about a 'Breakfast Club' screening.
"Maybe sometimes."
"Every time."
"Not this time. You know, I think it might actually be a suspect in our case."
"And how do you figure that?"
"I recognise this fine specimen of --- what did you call it? Wait, I remember --- waterfowl," Shawn said with a self-congratulatory grin. "It belongs in the realm of mini-golf! And that second message? Totally a picture of the deceased, with a suspicious-looking beak-mark on his forehead."
"No. Please. Tell me that this time you're laughing at my expense."
"I would never do that."
"You always do that."
Shawn smirked to himself before wandering towards the duck in a bid to move it. For something that looked light, it was surprisingly heavy, and he covered his hands with his sleeves and pushed, and pushed, and pushed some more, until his shoulders were aching and he could feel his cheeks burning up with a rush of blood. He thought for a moment there was sweat running down his face until he remembered the rain. Eventually, the duck was in the centre of the sidewalk, out of their way. He went back into the office, grabbed the tug-o'-war rope he'd won six times in a row with the previous Thursday and returned to tether the duck in place.
Shawn stroked his hand down the plastic moulded back. "Good little ducky, stay right there. We'll be back later. And I make this promise to you we won't have orange sauce, nor vegetables to roast."
He did this simply to annoy Gus further, but was pleasantly surprised he could still feign kindness. When he looked up Gus was giving him one of his 'you're a freak and I'm not sure I can always handle that' looks, which Shawn had gotten used to, so therefore he wasn't all that upset or offended. If anything, he returned the look with relish.
*
At the station, things were ablaze with action. Lassiter was pacing, taking folders from different people's desks as he walked. Jules was on the phone, obviously making enquiries into license plates and registration stickers for some as yet unknown purpose. Buzz was doing a crossword and four down was 'ubiquitous'. Chief Vick ushered them into her office.
"When I said I needed you at the station, I did mean right away," she said, and Shawn felt a little bit scared by the tone of her voice; it was hard enough to cut through glass, and her entire office would likely suffer.
"We were waylaid," Shawn explained, thinking that Gus had been surprisingly non-complainy on the car-ride over and it was maybe not a great idea to anger him any more than strictly necessary, even if he was too cute when he pouted. "I had a vision."
"A vision?"
"A tremor."
"A tremor?"
Shawn closed his eyes and shuddered for effect. "A tremble in the psychic force. It felt like I was going forward in time, to the 25th --- No, 24th and a half Century."
He opened one eye to see Chief Vick staring questioningly at Gus. He screwed his eyes shut tighter.
"Yeah, there was a quest for some... foamy substance? No, no, a molecule of a foamy substance."
Okay, Gus should totally have been getting where he was going with this by now, they had watched it only that past weekend. Shawn started to sing, loudly and high-pitched.
"A b c d e f g h i j k lmnop q r x t u v w x --- ahah! Success!"
This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he should have gone with duck, duck, goose.
"There's some... pork rinds?" he ventured.
"Duck Dodgers!" Gus finally cried out. "Duck? Is that what you're trying to say, Shawn? You sensed a duck?"
Shawn opened his eyes and glared at Gus whilst swooning, one arm slung above his head. "Perhaps. I feel faint."
He quacked, lamely. And once more, just to really drive the point home.
Chief Vick slumped, giving a dejected little sigh. "What does this have to do with Tony De Marco's murder?"
"If you don't mind me asking, Chief Vick, where was the body found?" Gus asked. Shawn was impressed with his ability to both look and sound like a total suck-up.
"Cachuma Lake."
Shawn very slyly attempted to high-five Gus behind his back. Gus didn't return it, shrugging with a confused frown, and he had to high-five himself, twisting his hand the other way.
Chief Vick continued. "The pathology isn't back from the lab, but it looked like he was killed by a blunt force trauma to the head. I fail to see how a duck could be responsible."
Shawn started his carefully thought-out quacking fits at that moment, cuddling closer into Gus when he wrapped his arms around him. He did his best Daffy Duck impression and quacked right out the door and down the hall on the back of his heels, more than pleased when Gus finally had the good sense to call to ask the Chief to follow.
"I think he wants you to come with us?" Gus yelled, sounding genuinely confused. Gus really wasn't on top of his game, it was almost like he was flustered. Shawn was annoyed and overjoyed all at once. See, he thought maybe he had an excuse for the previous impending kiss. Something less offensive and somehow more honest than 'there was nothing else to do and I've always been curious.'
Shawn pushed himself tighter onto Gus until the Psychmobile came into view and he flung his whole body forward, draping over the passenger window. He was soaked by now, his shirt plastering against his back, his hair flat against his head. Gus came around the other side, opened the door and Shawn watched as he meekly thrust his hand forward, gesturing to the backseat. The Chief tutted and Shawn could see her hesitancy as clearly as he could see Gus' discomfort. There was a twitch forming in her left eye, one hand was balled up tight, and she waited a second too long to accept the offer.
"I'm only doing this because my officers are swamped and I need a quick resolution."
"This will be quack, quack, quick, I'm sure of it," Shawn said. He winked at Gus, who glared back and climbed into the driver's seat. Shawn took his place in the front passenger seat, resting his hands on his knees so he wouldn't be tempted to tap against the dash.
The drive to the office was uncommonly terse, and the sun had set, casting everything into darkness. Shawn was thankful when they pulled up, but noted that the duck looked menacing and nefarious, a silhouette against the glare of the streetlamp behind.
"What in God's name, Mr Spencer?"
"This is your perpetrator, Chief," Shawn said, gesturing broadly.
"I don't care how psychic you are, you are dispensable, and don't think I won't cut you from future cases for playing practical jokes and wasting my valuable time!"
"I'm not." Shawn stroked the duck a couple of times and rolled his eyes back. "I sense this duck was on a truck."
"The duck was on a truck?" Gus asked, perplexed. Shawn kind of loved him in that moment.
"It was, but just our luck, the duck fell off the truck."
"Mr Spencer, I don't give a---"
"But you see," Shawn stepped forward. "This truck was from the family fun centre at the Lake they call Cachuma. It goes by here all the time. Dad used to take us to the Cachuma Lake Recreation Area, remember, Gus? Remember the yurts? The yurts were awesome."
"No they weren't, they were awful. You contemplated patricide. I was all set to join you."
"Be honest, you saw the duck before you came to the station, didn't you?" Chief Vick said with a well-worn sigh.
"I did," Shawn confirmed. "Shortly after I had my vision."
"Tremor," Chief Vick returned.
"Tremble," Gus corrected.
"And what makes you think it's involved?"
"My psychic ability," Shawn said. "I think you need to call for back up to haul it off the sidewalk. In the meantime, would you like some delicious pudding?"
Shawn was glad to get out of the rain, and even more glad that the first thing Gus did upon entering the office was strip off his jacket and start to strip off his shirt, before Chief Vick raised a quizzical eyebrow. Shawn got three portions of pudding ready, watching with interest as Chief Vick dialled the station just as he'd suggested. His plan for complete unquestioned domination was slowly gathering more ground.
Twenty minutes went by. They ate pudding and complained about the rain. Chief Vick complimented him on his cooking skills and he didn't have the heart to admit all he'd done was beg Mrs Guster with his most winsome smile. Shawn desperately wanted to get out of his sodden clothes and get into comfy dry ones, preferably from the drier, so they'd be all warm and soft.
Lassiter looked kind of murderous when he knocked on the office window and demanded to know what was going on. Shawn was amused and let it show as he explained. Chief Vick reminded Lassiter about the dinosaur case and he stalked off, grumbling. Soon, Shawn was alone with Gus again. Alone with a wet and dripping Gus who, as soon as the others had gone, was immediately removing his clothing.
Shawn felt like Gus should be self-conscious, even though he knew they'd seen each other wearing less and in more embarrassing circumstances. But Gus had understandably been giving him weird vibes since the almost-not-quite-kiss, and yet he seemed quite calm and collected as he peeled away cotton from his rain-soaked limbs. The lamplight made him shine and shimmer; the effect heightened by the darkness of his skin, and Shawn went into a little fantasy where he was licking Gus' shoulder, no longer needing to be curious because he'd know exactly what kissing Gus was like. Kissing and other things. Oh so many other things, with hands in places, and legs akimbo, and gentle murmurs.
"How did you really know, Shawn?" Gus cut into his reverie, now rubbing himself down with one of the towels in their long line of merchandise.
"I saw the duck fall off the truck."
"It was your good luck."
"Exactly. Plus, there's a branding mark embossed on the beak. There was discolouration on the corpse that was an approximation of the same shape."
"You never cease to amaze me."
"I'm going to assume you mean that in the good way."
"You assume whatever you like. I'm going home."
Shawn blocked his exit, dancing from side to side. "You can't leave me here all alone."
"Why not?"
"It's dark."
"And?"
"Raining."
"And?"
Shawn realised Gus was teasing him a second too late, his lips curving down disconsolately. "We have unfinished business."
Gus levelled him with a stare. One of his 'this is going to be an Important Conversation, isn't it?' stares. He hadn't given Shawn one of those since Shawn gave a long-winded declaration that he was moving back to Santa Barbara for more than two weeks. "You have something you want to say?"
"I was going to kiss you earlier because it seemed like the right thing to do."
Gus twitched ever so slightly, his tone wary. "I'm not sure I follow."
Shawn took a breath, then waited for his nerves to settle. He exhaled deeply and breathed in again. "In my darker moments, when I let myself think about it, I sometimes worry I've lost a little part of my humanity. I don't always care about other people." He stopped again, taking hold of Gus' left wrist, rubbing his thumb in a circle, concentrating on that instead of having to maintain eye-contact. "But I care about you. And, I don't know, I think I felt that if I were more honest about how I care about you, I'd learn to be more considerate and kind-hearted, and less selfish. And whatnot."
Gus batted him on the arm, considerably harder than Shawn would ever want him to. "You're a freak, Shawn."
"Yeah, I know."
"No, I mean it. You're a complete freak. Okay, so you're selfish. But really? Not that much more than the next person. And when it really counts you care a whole damn lot."
Shawn looked up and was surprised by the candid fury in Gus' expression. He took it as an encouraging sign. If his best friend, the person who knew him best in the world, believed he had a heart, perhaps there was hope for him yet; the fact that he wasn't currently all that sorrowful over Tony De Marco's death as he was gleeful that he'd once again bested the Santa Barbara Police Department notwithstanding.
"You're going to die of pneumonia if you don't change your clothes," Gus said, helpfully, stepping away. Shawn nodded, working on the buttons of his shirt. He felt like he'd simultaneously bared his soul and avoided a major development in their relationship. It made him uneasy, his stomach knotting and his chest tight.
"Oh, and Shawn?" Gus added, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around the back of Shawn's neck like a scarf. "I care about you deeply too." He pulled the ends of the towel and Shawn found himself almost toppling over. He was half an inch away, and Gus kissed him, right on the lips, just as Shawn had been fantasising about all year, if he were completely honest with himself. It was strange, and wonderful, and Gus felt so smooth and soft, his nose tight against Shawn's and his lips parting.
When the call came in from Chief Vick that this was just the beginning of the murder inquiry, Shawn groaned, low in his throat, and wished the day had been exactly as the rest of the week had been. He could do with a little boring right now, if it meant he had time to explore the new and exciting twists and turns in his life. But much to Gus' obvious dismay, he said they'd be at the station immediately.
"You do realise I'm expecting you to pay for dinner for once," Gus said as Shawn dried off and slid on a new t-shirt.
"Fine. What do you feel like?"
"It starts with Peking and ends with uck."
Shawn wrinkled his nose up and faked disdain. "That's disgusting. You're disgusting, Gus."
"And that's why you love me," Gus countered, smiling slyly at Shawn's resultant grin.
Title: With Added Hoisin Sauce
Challenge: Dark and Stormy Night
Word Count: Approximately 3000 words (the rules are more like flexible guidelines, right?)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Shawn/Gus. There's a due South reference and a few other references sprinkled throughout.
Summary: Gus gave him a look. His 'I know what you're doing and it won't work' look, but Shawn ignored it and frowned at the window. "Did I just see a giant duck?"
When the call had come in from Chief Vick that there had been a murder, Shawn jumped up and down for joy, then paused, thought about what he was doing, and went to perch on the edge of his desk. Okay, so on the one hand, it had been a monumentally boring week. Like, watching paint grow boring. Or grass dry. It had been Bee Oh Argh and then he couldn't continue because he was too apathetic. On the other hand, he had just celebrated another person's death and lately he had been trying very hard not to be that callous and self-involved. His ability to fake empathy had been dwindling and he needed to somehow muster some genuine compassion. On the third mutant hand, the call did prevent him from having to explain exactly what he was doing with his lips hovering a quarter of an inch from Gus'.
Gus gave him a look. His 'I know what you're doing and it won't work' look, but Shawn ignored it and frowned at the window.
"Did I just see a giant duck?"
"No, Shawn. If you hadn't noticed, it's raining. When it rains normal people wear raincoats. They're often yellow, and they billow; giving you the illusion you've seen waterfowl."
Shawn shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I saw a giant duck."
"That call sounded urgent. It's a case, isn't it? Was that second message a picture?"
Shawn leaned back further on the desk, crossing his arms. His afternoon snack spiked annoyingly into the small of his back and he squinted at it menacingly, vowing June Bug revenge. "Yeah, but, no need to hurry. I'm sure Lasstacular's on it. Over it. Under it. And through it."
"I know what you're doing and it won't work."
"I'm not doing anything! Honest. I'll even pinky-swear."
"You're trying to get me to force you to the station so when we get there you can blame our super-sudden appearance on me and not be lying."
"Why would I go to all that trouble, Gus? Why wouldn't I just lie?"
Gus opened his mouth to speak, narrowed his eyes. He clearly thought for a moment, his nostrils flaring. "I don't know. But you are up to something, I can tell."
Satisfied that he had diverted Gus' attention, Shawn crossed his feet, swapping them extra slowly. He pinched the inside of his elbow to make sure he wasn't jittering. He even managed to convincingly display maximum comfort, with a relaxed sigh and head tilt. He was believable, he thought. Most people would look at him and think 'whoa, that is one relaxed dude'.
Gus was giving him a patented dead-eye stare; his disapproval, though silent, coming through loud and clear. A moment passed, Gus gave a mini-flail. Shawn just loved seeing him worked up. He recognised that this was probably a bad thing, but one of his greatest pleasures in life was Gus in consternation at his antics. It felt like home.
"We have to get to the station, Shawn."
"In our own good time. First, we need to avoid the giant duck."
Gus stood, grabbed their jackets, and launched one at Shawn's head before sliding his arm into one of his sleeves. He took the car keys from his desk and walked out the door to the office. Shawn admired his elegant strides, and was about to follow when Gus' voice rang out clear through the pitter-patter of raindrops.
"I can't believe you weren't joking."
"I never joke!"
"You always joke."
Shawn threw his jacket on and joined Gus outside the door, following the line of his sight to the large plastic figurine currently wedged between a fire-hydrant and the Psychmobile. A river of water was cascading down the road at a furious pace, not unlike Gus whenever he thought he heard or saw a ghost, or Shawn whenever he heard about a 'Breakfast Club' screening.
"Maybe sometimes."
"Every time."
"Not this time. You know, I think it might actually be a suspect in our case."
"And how do you figure that?"
"I recognise this fine specimen of --- what did you call it? Wait, I remember --- waterfowl," Shawn said with a self-congratulatory grin. "It belongs in the realm of mini-golf! And that second message? Totally a picture of the deceased, with a suspicious-looking beak-mark on his forehead."
"No. Please. Tell me that this time you're laughing at my expense."
"I would never do that."
"You always do that."
Shawn smirked to himself before wandering towards the duck in a bid to move it. For something that looked light, it was surprisingly heavy, and he covered his hands with his sleeves and pushed, and pushed, and pushed some more, until his shoulders were aching and he could feel his cheeks burning up with a rush of blood. He thought for a moment there was sweat running down his face until he remembered the rain. Eventually, the duck was in the centre of the sidewalk, out of their way. He went back into the office, grabbed the tug-o'-war rope he'd won six times in a row with the previous Thursday and returned to tether the duck in place.
Shawn stroked his hand down the plastic moulded back. "Good little ducky, stay right there. We'll be back later. And I make this promise to you we won't have orange sauce, nor vegetables to roast."
He did this simply to annoy Gus further, but was pleasantly surprised he could still feign kindness. When he looked up Gus was giving him one of his 'you're a freak and I'm not sure I can always handle that' looks, which Shawn had gotten used to, so therefore he wasn't all that upset or offended. If anything, he returned the look with relish.
*
At the station, things were ablaze with action. Lassiter was pacing, taking folders from different people's desks as he walked. Jules was on the phone, obviously making enquiries into license plates and registration stickers for some as yet unknown purpose. Buzz was doing a crossword and four down was 'ubiquitous'. Chief Vick ushered them into her office.
"When I said I needed you at the station, I did mean right away," she said, and Shawn felt a little bit scared by the tone of her voice; it was hard enough to cut through glass, and her entire office would likely suffer.
"We were waylaid," Shawn explained, thinking that Gus had been surprisingly non-complainy on the car-ride over and it was maybe not a great idea to anger him any more than strictly necessary, even if he was too cute when he pouted. "I had a vision."
"A vision?"
"A tremor."
"A tremor?"
Shawn closed his eyes and shuddered for effect. "A tremble in the psychic force. It felt like I was going forward in time, to the 25th --- No, 24th and a half Century."
He opened one eye to see Chief Vick staring questioningly at Gus. He screwed his eyes shut tighter.
"Yeah, there was a quest for some... foamy substance? No, no, a molecule of a foamy substance."
Okay, Gus should totally have been getting where he was going with this by now, they had watched it only that past weekend. Shawn started to sing, loudly and high-pitched.
"A b c d e f g h i j k lmnop q r x t u v w x --- ahah! Success!"
This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he should have gone with duck, duck, goose.
"There's some... pork rinds?" he ventured.
"Duck Dodgers!" Gus finally cried out. "Duck? Is that what you're trying to say, Shawn? You sensed a duck?"
Shawn opened his eyes and glared at Gus whilst swooning, one arm slung above his head. "Perhaps. I feel faint."
He quacked, lamely. And once more, just to really drive the point home.
Chief Vick slumped, giving a dejected little sigh. "What does this have to do with Tony De Marco's murder?"
"If you don't mind me asking, Chief Vick, where was the body found?" Gus asked. Shawn was impressed with his ability to both look and sound like a total suck-up.
"Cachuma Lake."
Shawn very slyly attempted to high-five Gus behind his back. Gus didn't return it, shrugging with a confused frown, and he had to high-five himself, twisting his hand the other way.
Chief Vick continued. "The pathology isn't back from the lab, but it looked like he was killed by a blunt force trauma to the head. I fail to see how a duck could be responsible."
Shawn started his carefully thought-out quacking fits at that moment, cuddling closer into Gus when he wrapped his arms around him. He did his best Daffy Duck impression and quacked right out the door and down the hall on the back of his heels, more than pleased when Gus finally had the good sense to call to ask the Chief to follow.
"I think he wants you to come with us?" Gus yelled, sounding genuinely confused. Gus really wasn't on top of his game, it was almost like he was flustered. Shawn was annoyed and overjoyed all at once. See, he thought maybe he had an excuse for the previous impending kiss. Something less offensive and somehow more honest than 'there was nothing else to do and I've always been curious.'
Shawn pushed himself tighter onto Gus until the Psychmobile came into view and he flung his whole body forward, draping over the passenger window. He was soaked by now, his shirt plastering against his back, his hair flat against his head. Gus came around the other side, opened the door and Shawn watched as he meekly thrust his hand forward, gesturing to the backseat. The Chief tutted and Shawn could see her hesitancy as clearly as he could see Gus' discomfort. There was a twitch forming in her left eye, one hand was balled up tight, and she waited a second too long to accept the offer.
"I'm only doing this because my officers are swamped and I need a quick resolution."
"This will be quack, quack, quick, I'm sure of it," Shawn said. He winked at Gus, who glared back and climbed into the driver's seat. Shawn took his place in the front passenger seat, resting his hands on his knees so he wouldn't be tempted to tap against the dash.
The drive to the office was uncommonly terse, and the sun had set, casting everything into darkness. Shawn was thankful when they pulled up, but noted that the duck looked menacing and nefarious, a silhouette against the glare of the streetlamp behind.
"What in God's name, Mr Spencer?"
"This is your perpetrator, Chief," Shawn said, gesturing broadly.
"I don't care how psychic you are, you are dispensable, and don't think I won't cut you from future cases for playing practical jokes and wasting my valuable time!"
"I'm not." Shawn stroked the duck a couple of times and rolled his eyes back. "I sense this duck was on a truck."
"The duck was on a truck?" Gus asked, perplexed. Shawn kind of loved him in that moment.
"It was, but just our luck, the duck fell off the truck."
"Mr Spencer, I don't give a---"
"But you see," Shawn stepped forward. "This truck was from the family fun centre at the Lake they call Cachuma. It goes by here all the time. Dad used to take us to the Cachuma Lake Recreation Area, remember, Gus? Remember the yurts? The yurts were awesome."
"No they weren't, they were awful. You contemplated patricide. I was all set to join you."
"Be honest, you saw the duck before you came to the station, didn't you?" Chief Vick said with a well-worn sigh.
"I did," Shawn confirmed. "Shortly after I had my vision."
"Tremor," Chief Vick returned.
"Tremble," Gus corrected.
"And what makes you think it's involved?"
"My psychic ability," Shawn said. "I think you need to call for back up to haul it off the sidewalk. In the meantime, would you like some delicious pudding?"
Shawn was glad to get out of the rain, and even more glad that the first thing Gus did upon entering the office was strip off his jacket and start to strip off his shirt, before Chief Vick raised a quizzical eyebrow. Shawn got three portions of pudding ready, watching with interest as Chief Vick dialled the station just as he'd suggested. His plan for complete unquestioned domination was slowly gathering more ground.
Twenty minutes went by. They ate pudding and complained about the rain. Chief Vick complimented him on his cooking skills and he didn't have the heart to admit all he'd done was beg Mrs Guster with his most winsome smile. Shawn desperately wanted to get out of his sodden clothes and get into comfy dry ones, preferably from the drier, so they'd be all warm and soft.
Lassiter looked kind of murderous when he knocked on the office window and demanded to know what was going on. Shawn was amused and let it show as he explained. Chief Vick reminded Lassiter about the dinosaur case and he stalked off, grumbling. Soon, Shawn was alone with Gus again. Alone with a wet and dripping Gus who, as soon as the others had gone, was immediately removing his clothing.
Shawn felt like Gus should be self-conscious, even though he knew they'd seen each other wearing less and in more embarrassing circumstances. But Gus had understandably been giving him weird vibes since the almost-not-quite-kiss, and yet he seemed quite calm and collected as he peeled away cotton from his rain-soaked limbs. The lamplight made him shine and shimmer; the effect heightened by the darkness of his skin, and Shawn went into a little fantasy where he was licking Gus' shoulder, no longer needing to be curious because he'd know exactly what kissing Gus was like. Kissing and other things. Oh so many other things, with hands in places, and legs akimbo, and gentle murmurs.
"How did you really know, Shawn?" Gus cut into his reverie, now rubbing himself down with one of the towels in their long line of merchandise.
"I saw the duck fall off the truck."
"It was your good luck."
"Exactly. Plus, there's a branding mark embossed on the beak. There was discolouration on the corpse that was an approximation of the same shape."
"You never cease to amaze me."
"I'm going to assume you mean that in the good way."
"You assume whatever you like. I'm going home."
Shawn blocked his exit, dancing from side to side. "You can't leave me here all alone."
"Why not?"
"It's dark."
"And?"
"Raining."
"And?"
Shawn realised Gus was teasing him a second too late, his lips curving down disconsolately. "We have unfinished business."
Gus levelled him with a stare. One of his 'this is going to be an Important Conversation, isn't it?' stares. He hadn't given Shawn one of those since Shawn gave a long-winded declaration that he was moving back to Santa Barbara for more than two weeks. "You have something you want to say?"
"I was going to kiss you earlier because it seemed like the right thing to do."
Gus twitched ever so slightly, his tone wary. "I'm not sure I follow."
Shawn took a breath, then waited for his nerves to settle. He exhaled deeply and breathed in again. "In my darker moments, when I let myself think about it, I sometimes worry I've lost a little part of my humanity. I don't always care about other people." He stopped again, taking hold of Gus' left wrist, rubbing his thumb in a circle, concentrating on that instead of having to maintain eye-contact. "But I care about you. And, I don't know, I think I felt that if I were more honest about how I care about you, I'd learn to be more considerate and kind-hearted, and less selfish. And whatnot."
Gus batted him on the arm, considerably harder than Shawn would ever want him to. "You're a freak, Shawn."
"Yeah, I know."
"No, I mean it. You're a complete freak. Okay, so you're selfish. But really? Not that much more than the next person. And when it really counts you care a whole damn lot."
Shawn looked up and was surprised by the candid fury in Gus' expression. He took it as an encouraging sign. If his best friend, the person who knew him best in the world, believed he had a heart, perhaps there was hope for him yet; the fact that he wasn't currently all that sorrowful over Tony De Marco's death as he was gleeful that he'd once again bested the Santa Barbara Police Department notwithstanding.
"You're going to die of pneumonia if you don't change your clothes," Gus said, helpfully, stepping away. Shawn nodded, working on the buttons of his shirt. He felt like he'd simultaneously bared his soul and avoided a major development in their relationship. It made him uneasy, his stomach knotting and his chest tight.
"Oh, and Shawn?" Gus added, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around the back of Shawn's neck like a scarf. "I care about you deeply too." He pulled the ends of the towel and Shawn found himself almost toppling over. He was half an inch away, and Gus kissed him, right on the lips, just as Shawn had been fantasising about all year, if he were completely honest with himself. It was strange, and wonderful, and Gus felt so smooth and soft, his nose tight against Shawn's and his lips parting.
When the call came in from Chief Vick that this was just the beginning of the murder inquiry, Shawn groaned, low in his throat, and wished the day had been exactly as the rest of the week had been. He could do with a little boring right now, if it meant he had time to explore the new and exciting twists and turns in his life. But much to Gus' obvious dismay, he said they'd be at the station immediately.
"You do realise I'm expecting you to pay for dinner for once," Gus said as Shawn dried off and slid on a new t-shirt.
"Fine. What do you feel like?"
"It starts with Peking and ends with uck."
Shawn wrinkled his nose up and faked disdain. "That's disgusting. You're disgusting, Gus."
"And that's why you love me," Gus countered, smiling slyly at Shawn's resultant grin.