Chapter Text
The second time was an accident, honestly.
Shawn had managed to move past the little ‘experiment’, sharing only one or two awkward looks with Lassiter before business as usual continued. And if he found himself craving the feeling he’d gotten under the concerned and caring gaze of the older man, well, that was between him and his thoughts. He certainly did not intend to hold a reenactment.
Shawn wasn’t even sure how they’d been invited to the lock-picking seminar. As he sat in the back row half-listening to the guest speaker’s drone on padlocks, he noticed that he and Gus were the only non-police officers in the room who had the displeasure of attending.
There wasn’t even a case to occupy his mind. Not even one that they hadn’t been invited onto- both O’Hara and Lassiter’s desks were completely empty of paperwork for the first time since the Psych team had started consulting. If Shawn were as superstitious as he claimed to be, he might think something big was coming.
The point was, Shawn really did not want to be there. He simply didn’t have a reason to leave his partner, who seemed to be genuinely enthralled by the presentation. The man already paid for the magazine subscription, what else could there be to learn on the subject?
His mind, itching with the deprivation of any sort of puzzle, began to wander without permission. He eyed the person sitting to his front right. Shredded left shoe lace, two shaving cuts marring his jaw, fur coating his lower pant legs. Up all night with a new puppy.
The woman behind him coughed. Dry, red nose. Fresh tan. Feverish appearance. Someone was quickly regretting using her sick days as PTO for a vacation.
Shawn shook his head as if the physical movement would stop his ever-racing mind.
Someone entered the room, quickly sitting to Shawn’s left, one of the only seats available and the closest to the door. Sad, sullen eyes. Tie haphazardly tied. Lethargic in movement. Shawn hadn’t seen this officer before, but he seemed to be genuinely depressed.
Shawn leaned to his right, nudging his friend with his elbow. “How much longer we got on this thing?”
Gus glared at him. “Shawn, we’ve only been here for fifteen minutes. This is an hour-long demonstration,”
“An hour?”
Gus shushed him, pointedly returning his attention to the speaker.
Shawn huffed. He had to get out of this.
“Listen-” He was met with another shush.
Shawn counted to five before trying again. “Listen. No one’s affected by me being here or not. I’m just going to go make a few rounds, grab us some lunch from the vending machines, and I’ll be back in no time!”
Gus turned to him sharply, eyebrows lowered. “Shawn, maybe if you paid attention to something other than yourself for once, I wouldn’t have had to solve that last case myself at the last minute.”
Shawn felt his face flush as anger came over him. Gus had solved the last case himself? Yes, Gus had been the one to put the pieces together during their last case, but that would have gotten them absolutely nowhere without Shawn’s final ‘vision’ convincing the detectives to actually consider it. Besides, how many cases had Shawn had to solve basically alone after Gus put Psych on the back burner in favor of his pharmaceutical job, family visiting, or literally any other minor distraction?
Shawn stood abruptly, his chair screeching as he accidentally caught the attention of the room, which fell silent save for the drone of the lecturer, who also paused to squint at him.
The late-arriving man to his left scowled at his interruption, while most of the crowd seemed almost excited to find a better source of entertainment.
Gus gritted his teeth as though expecting a loud retaliation.
Shawn had intended to storm out silently. He wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed by the precinct’s full attention, but his friend’s harsh words left him feeling like a dog being scolded in front of company. He avoided the room’s gaze as he turned on his foot, briskly making his way out one of the doors.
The PI walked quickly, although he didn’t have a specific destination in mind. Solved the last case himself, he’d said. Gus may have put the evidence together, but at least half of that evidence he wouldn’t have noticed in a million years himself.
Shawn settled into one of the chairs at O’Hara and Lassiter’s desk clump. He’d known the main room would be clear; all the detectives had just been accounted for watching him childishly storm out of the lecture. He spun the chair bitterly. Solved the last case himself. And he’d said it as if it was something he’d been stewing over since it’d happened, too. Shawn’s mistake, surely, for assuming that if his best friend had an issue with him he’d be an adult and bring it up.
“Shawn, are you alright?”
He recognized the voice as Juliet. She must have come to check on him, or more likely, taken any excuse to leave the monotonous seminar. No, she wasn’t getting out that easily; Shawn had earned his exile. Solved the case himself.
“Nothing, Jules, just a, uh, vision migraine coming on,” He said. There. She would leave him alone to stew, and he would have a perfect excuse for doing so.
“A migraine? Oh god, I have some ibuprofen if that would help?”
No, Shawn could not be forced to rejoin that conference. He could just picture the satisfied look on Gus’ face as he reentered the room like a lost pet being returned.
“No, a vision migraine, Jules. Only lessens when I get the vision, I’m afraid.”
Suddenly, the room got significantly darker. Shawn swiveled his chair around and nearly jumped out of it when he saw that Lassiter was with her, currently closing the blinds of the second closest window to them. Was he going to black out the whole precinct? “Lassie- what are you doing?”
The man didn’t turn around as he continued his task. “My mother used to get migraines. Even a lamp on made her sick; too bright.”
Well, now Shawn felt like crap. He really needed to start choosing his words more carefully. Migraines were worse than headaches; everyone knew that, but Shawn hadn’t meant to imply he was in excruciating pain.
“You don’t have to—”
Shawn paused. He was not going to admit to the detectives that he was basically mocking a condition that Lassiter had been personally affected by. He had to commit. He weakened his voice, adding the strained quality usually present when he feigned a vision. “That’s a lot better, thank you Lassie, but you can’t blackout the whole room. Besides, it’s not…” That bad? Was he really about to diminish what that sort of pain could cause someone? “It’s usually worse, I’m sure it’ll get better soon.”
“I’ll get you some water,” Lassiter said, and left to do so before Shawn could protest.
Shawn allowed his head to fall forward into his hands, running them through his hair.
O’Hara’s worried voice caused a pang of guilt to shoot through him. "How often does this happen?"
"Oh, not often at all. Only when something…" Shawn opened his eyes and was faced with the detectives’ desks, empty of paperwork. "...something really big is coming,” Perfect, that could amount to literally anything. “Or when the spirits are angry with me." He added.
“Big like what? Wait, what do you mean angry?”
"Angry, unappreciative, Jules, I wish I knew, but..." He cut off her explanation with a faux-wince.
"Okay, O'Hara, maybe the interrogation could wait?" Lassiter had returned, and set a short cup of water in front of Shawn.
Shawn winced again, for a different reason. He had just wanted the detectives to leave, but the intensity of Lassiter's eyes filled him with a familiar guilt. Maybe he could drag this out just a bit longer, graduate his pained reactions until the taller man offered his arms for comfort, pulling him close and silencing the pseudo-psychic’s overactive mind.
No, no. This was not a reenactment of the previous week. This was not some sort of sick scheme to get the attention of a man who clearly only tolerated him at best. They needed to leave.
"Of course. I’m sorry, Shawn, I'm just worried is all.” O’Hara’s kind voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Thank you both, really," Now leave. "Now, you kids should get out of here. What if you get locked somewhere? You’re gonna wish you’d been paying attention," He tried for ‘in severe pain but trying to brave through it’.
“Oh, I am more than capable of breaking a padlock,” Juliet responded.
“We’ll let you rest,” Lassiter seemed to pick up on Shawn’s hundredth hint that he wanted to be alone.
“Please, text one of us if you need anything, though,” Juliet added, seeming reluctant at the head detective’s executive decision to leave him.
Shawn only hummed in response, shutting his eyes again as he heard their footsteps trail out of the room.
Maybe twenty minutes passed, and Shawn’s mind felt clearer as his anger dulled. Maybe… Maybe he could have been more attentive in the last case. He still didn’t think his friend was in the right, not by far, but was it really worth dwelling on?
He had just decided to be the bigger person, return to the lecture, and apologize for storming out, when he heard footsteps return to the room. He looked up to see the two detectives hesitantly standing in the doorway.
“Spencer?” Lassiter spoke in almost an exaggeratedly hushed tone. “Are you… how’s your head?”
Shawn shook it. “All better, Lassie, thank you.”
O’Hara pushed past her senior, entering the room with an open file folder. “I’ll bet I can guess why,”
Shawn opened his mouth to question her, but was waved off.
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Three missing persons have been reported in the last forty-eight hours.”
Shawn’s eyebrows raised. That certainly qualified as ‘big’. Maybe some spirits really were in his corner. “Yeah, Jules, that was exactly it.”
Lassiter’s expression was guarded as he shared a look with the other detective. There was something else.
“I can see why this would affect you so much, Shawn. The missing people… they’re all psychics.”