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whitelighter) wrote2007-10-06 04:35 pm
Psych fic: Psychic ½ (1/?)
Author:
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agentgreenway (aka eevmew) Rating: PG (for now)
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Lassiter
Summary: Shawn Spencer made it a habit not to take friends out for Couple's Night or to unintentionally flirt with the male half of his coworkers. That was what Shauna Riley was for.
Author's Notes: Well, I guess this is where I'll thank my betas (none of whom have LJ to my knowledge), MusicalLuna, Jenn1984 and Stefanie. This is also where I'd like to apologize for the massive amounts of brain scarring and/or side pains may occur during the reading of this story. It's not my fault; blame the plot bunnies!
Disclaimer: I make no money from this. Neither of the premises used this story actually belong to me (though the plot does). They belong to Steve Franks and Rumiko Takahashi.
Second Disclaimer: EDIT! Apparently, I forgot to mention that this is AU (technically-not-really a crossover), gen and what could be eventually called a comedy of errors.
Chapters: | 1 | 2 |
--- * Psychic ½ * ---
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Gus muttered to himself. He looked at his companion who was practically hanging off of his arm and said in a slightly louder voice, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!”
“Oh, come on, Gus!” his companion cajoled while playfully resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s fun! Besides, it’s Couple’s Night at the restaurant and you were the one who complained that we ate-in at the office too much.”
“This is definitely not what I meant when I said that and you know it,” Gus hissed as they walked through a small crowd of rowdy teenagers. A few of the boys whistled at the woman at his side and in return, she swished her hips, looking over her shoulder to give the boys a wink.
Mortified, Gus looked forward and tried to block the image from his mind. “This is so wrong,” he said.
His companion giggled and gave his arm a hug. “Come on, Gus! Loosen up! It’s not like any of this is real or something. We’re just going to have a nice, half-priced meal to catch up and talk. Really, this time,” she added at his skeptical look. “Does it look like I can fit a police scanner in this?” she asked using her free hand to gesture at the knee-length, forest green dress that she wore.
“I’m trying not to look,” Gus informed her, keeping his gaze resolutely ahead.
“Why?” she asked, sounding genuinely confused. “Really, who’s it going to harm if you look?” She suddenly smiled and stepped away so that Gus might see her better and held her arms out. “Honestly, I don’t mind. I got all dressed up just for this and now my date won’t even look at me!”
“Shawn,” Gus warned, giving his companion a glare while keeping his eyes above shoulder level through sheer strength of will. “If you do this all night, I am going to leave. Without you.”
“Shawn-uh,” the woman corrected with a pout. She brought her arms back down to her side and continued to walk a little too closely next to Gus, but she seemed to have toned down her enthusiasm... at least until they got inside. “My name is Shauna, Gus. Get it right.”
“Shauna,” Gus snorted. “Right. Sure, whatever.”
“See?” Shauna asked, turning up to Gus with a grin. “I knew you loved me!”
Gus gave her another warning look and then exhaled in an attempt to keep from throttling his best-friend-gone-crazy.
“Oh look, there it is!” she suddenly chirped, pointing to the fairly fancy restaurant. “Gus,” she started, turning to him and batting her eyelashes. “I seem to have left my wallet in my other dress. Would you mind paying for tonight?”
Groaning, Gus saw no other option than to concede. He was too hungry to just turn around and leave in some juvenile effort to get back at Shauna, and if it really was half-price for couples, it might actually be worth it. With this in mind, he nodded to Shauna and she gave a happy little squeal and again hugged his arm.
“But just this once,” he told her. “Next time, bring a purse or something.”
“Sure, if I can ever find one that would match my dress,” she agreed. “Now, come on! Reservations are in my name and I want to get in there before the karaoke ends!”
--- * --- * ---
After they had sat down at their table and perused their menus, Shauna turned her attention to watch the man currently up on stage belting out N*SYNC’s Bye, Bye, Bye. Gus, in turn, was watching Shauna.
It was incredible, Gus thought, how well she fit into that role. He watched as she put her elbows on the table to rest her chin in her hands; watched her posture shift and he knew that under the table, her legs were crossed in the most feminine way possible.
Considering who the woman across from him really was, Gus was surprised he was so well adjusted to it. Even after nearly twenty years, something like this just should never be normal to anyone. Yet, it was normal to him, and he knew it was only business as usual for Shawn. Well... Shauna at the moment.
And though, while the whole date thing was something new, Gus figured that Shauna had been waiting to find the right time to talk him into it for who knew how long. And in the end, she didn’t even have to do anything, Gus mused a bit sourly.
Suddenly, Shauna frowned and made as if to stand up from her seat. She glanced over to Gus and noticed his curious look. “Something’s wrong,” she explained, nodding up to the man on stage, who was now staggering around and jerking spasmodically. The microphone suddenly slipped from the man’s hand and fell onto the stage, filling the restaurant with a screech of feedback that did nothing to drown out a woman’s scream when the man then tumbled off the stage.
Shauna bolted from her seat and was soon kneeling over the man, turning him over to check for a pulse. Gus was behind her, though not nearly as enthusiastic at getting as close, especially when Shauna looked up grimly and said, “He’s dead.”
--- * --- * ---
Carlton Lassiter had not been having a good day.
All through the morning he had been tasked with showing a batch of rookies throughout the station. If that hadn’t been enough of a blow to his pride, O’Hara had been assigned to work with another detective for the day to try and figure out a string of robberies – something Lassiter would have been more than happy to do himself if he hadn’t been chauffeuring the rookies.
And then there was the giggling. Every time he had turned his back, he could hear their stifled laughter and chortles. Whenever he tried to confront them—using his best intimidation techniques that he usually reserved for the interrogation room—they would only straighten out and pretend that they were paying attention. It worked for a moment, but then when he turned his back... the laughter would just start back up.
The rest of the day had gone on to follow that example and suffice to say, Carlton Lassiter had not had a good day.
He suspected the night was only going to get worse.
“What do we have?” O’Hara asked as they parked in front of Delicious Melody, the karaoke restaurant. She unbuckled but didn’t yet leave her seat, looking to Carlton expectantly.
“Not much so far. The victim was singing up on stage when he fell off. He was already dead before anyone could help.” Carlton unbuckled and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him a little harder than was probably necessary.
“Right.” O’Hara had stepped out at the same time as him, though she closed the door without attempting to knock it off its hinges like he had. “We going to question the witnesses?”
“Until we can get a clearer picture of what happened,” Carlton said with a nod. He headed inside, not even needing to flash his badge to the cop guarding the entrance—they all knew who their Head Detective was.
When he got inside, the first thing he saw was the small gaggle of people attempting to get a look in at the dead body still laying at the foot of the stage, only to be held off by the other cops who had somehow managed to get there before Carlton. Everyone else was either off in a corner whispering to each other or too scared to leave their seats.
One person, however, sat on the edge of the stage, out of the way and Carlton wondered why she seemed so calm. The woman in the green dress was bent over slightly, her head tilted down, spilling her short blonde-brown hair into her face, with her hands up at her temples – Carlton’s first guess was that she had a headache and didn’t want to be a part of the rest of the proceedings.
As Carlton got closer to the body, he noticed her eyes rapidly flicking back and forth under their lids and realized that she wasn’t in pain, but thinking. About what, he couldn’t say for sure, but he filed it in the back of his mind to make sure to talk to that woman.
He forced his way through the small group of civilians, giving them all a warning glare to back off—which they wisely heeded—and turned back to the body. He knelt down and gave it a good visual inspection, holding off until the forensics guys arrived to do anything more.
He stood and turned back to O’Hara, who had scampered off and made it her duty to console the woman sobbing her eyes out at the nearby table. Carlton guessed she was the girlfriend the victim had come in with. He decided to wait until she had calmed down a bit before talking to her.
Instead, he turned back to the woman from earlier, who had now sat up and was looking around the room curiously. Her attention turned to him and Carlton held his breath. Even from the distance, it looked like her eyes were changing color to match the shifting environment around her.
He mentally shook himself and made his way over to her, flashing his badge for her benefit. “Detective Carlton Lassiter, SBPD,” he introduced.
“I know,” the woman responded, everything about her screaming her amusement, though at what, Carlton could only guess.
“You know?” Carlton asked, skeptically raising a brow. She had better not cry psychic.
The woman laughed and nodded exaggeratedly. “You’re in the paper all the time. Of course I know!”
“Oh.” Carlton mentally backpedaled. He had been so ready to debunk the woman and prepared to dislike her, merely because she claimed to know something that he—at the time—thought she shouldn’t have. Spencer was a bad influence on him. He cleared his throat and forged on. “Did you see what happened?”
“Actually, I did,” the woman answered, shifting from her perch on the stage so that she could stand up. She was barely O’Hara’s height. “I saw it all.”
Carlton’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Did you now?” he asked carefully.
“Well, yes.” The woman tilted her head to the side and splayed her hands a bit before giving a bob of a nod. “I didn’t know it at the time—obviously, or I would have stopped it—but I did.”
“Uh-huh,” Carlton said noncommittally. “And... what happened?”
The woman looked like she was about to respond when something behind Carlton caught her attention. She grinned and waved someone over. Carlton half-turned to see who she was beckoning and his eyes widened.
“Guster?”
“Hello, Detective,” Guster greeted carefully, giving him a small nod. He looked over to the woman and Carlton missed his expression as he passed by, but he did notice the two drinks Guster had in his hands. Whatever it was he had silently asked her, the woman only shrugged and gave a small smile.
“You two know each other?” she asked, looking at Guster specifically, a glint in her eye that Carlton couldn’t decipher.
“Yes,” Guster answered, giving the woman a drink with an umbrella in it. “I work with Detective Lassiter often. I’m sure I told you I work in a psychic detective agency.”
“Actually,” the woman replied, taking the umbrella and twirling it between her fingers, “my cousin did, but if you want to, we can pretend it was you.”
“Can we not get into this right now?” Guster asked in a sudden change of tactics. He gave some sort of pointed nod in Carlton’s direction and he felt his own eyes narrow. What was that supposed to mean?
“Sure thing, Burton-Bear,” the woman replied with a giggle. Carlton didn’t have to be facing him to hear the outraged noise Guster made.
“Burton-Bear?” Guster hissed at her, seeming not to realize that Carlton could hear him. “Don’t ever call me that again, Shauna. I’m serious.”
“Shauna?” Carlton questioned, interrupting whatever conversation the two were having to look at the woman in wide-eyed surprise. “That’s your name?”
“So I’ve been told,” the woman replied, the amused spark once again permeating her whole. “Though, actually, I’ve been informed recently that I have a second name, to boot.” She smiled and Carlton had to force himself to focus on the main point... whatever that was. “It’s Riley. Shauna Riley.”
Carlton couldn’t help but glance over to Guster, who had turned to face both himself and Ms. Riley, and think, This man’s best—and possibly only—friend’s name is Shawn and he goes out and dates a woman named Shauna?
“Anyway, we’re not really here to trade pleasantries, are we, Detective?” asked Ms. Riley, reaching back to set her drink down so that she could cross her hands together in front of her abdomen. “Though, if you’re really set on doing that, I’m sure we could think of a couple of other people to introduce to each other. What about that woman you came in with? I’d love to learn her name... and possibly where she gets her hair done.”
Carlton blinked, trying to figure out just what the woman had said. Eventually, he came up with ‘Would you like my statement now?’ and went with that. He cleared his throat again, pulling out his tablet and pen. “Would you mind telling me what you witnessed, Ms. Riley?”
“Sure.” She brought a hand up to her face, pausing almost imperceptibly as she moved her hand slightly down to rub at her chin. The hand came down and she crossed it again, this time seeming tighter than before. “So, Gus here and I come in, all excited because we never get to go out or anything—” She paused and looked at Guster, who seemed to be attempting to take the if out of ‘If looks could kill’. “What?” she asked innocently.
“Would you just cut to the chase and tell the nice detective here what exactly you saw? Without the extra commentaries?” Guster asked in annoyance. “I would like to get home sometime before midnight, you know.”
Ms. Riley put on an adorable looking pout—and here Carlton tried to convince himself he had not just thought the pout adorable (even if it sort of was)—and then continued in a slightly more sullen tone, “So we come inside and take our seats. I notice that the guy and his girl seem to be having an itsy-bitsy disagreement and then the guy heads to the bathroom.”
“And then...?” Carlton prompted, giving her a ‘go on’ motion with his pen-hand.
“Then...” Ms. Riley paused and glanced back to where O’Hara was still speaking in hushed tones with the girlfriend. “...she poisoned his drink.”
“What?” Carlton asked, startled. “Are you sure?”
“Well, that white powder obviously wasn’t sugar!” she replied hotly. Then she blinked and backed down, slowly breathing out to calm herself. “Yes, I’m sure. He came back and was fiddling with something in his pocket—personally I think he had wanted to propose to her tonight but after the fight decided to hold off until another time. Then, he finished his drink and got up on stage to sing.” Ms. Riley’s eyes fell to the floor. “And now he’s dead.”
Guster awkwardly gave Ms. Riley a pat on the shoulder, then brought his hand back. She shot him a slightly amused look and shook her head.
Carlton frowned and flipped his notebook closed. “Do you have any evidence, Ms. Riley?”
“She didn’t have time to throw away whatever it was she was using to hold the poison.” Ms. Riley looked straight toward the girlfriend and her gaze hardened. “I bet you she thought he was cheating on her. Crime of passion...” She shook her head sadly and turned back to retrieve her drink, which she slowly sipped from. “You should go speak with her. Ask her whether or not she realized he had been about to propose.”
Carlton nodded slightly, giving her a calculating look. Whatever she thought she had seen, Ms. Riley was absolutely positive she was right. The only other time he had seen confidence so assured was in Spencer. Carlton turned away to hide his grimace at the thought and went to go see if he couldn’t get a confession out of the girlfriend.
There was a slight giggle and a stifled chortle behind him and then, “Detective, wait!”
Carlton stopped and turned around in time to see Ms. Riley already halfway to him. “What is it?” he asked. If she had something more to say, she had plenty of time to do it earlier.
“You’ve got...” She reached around and under his arms, as if giving him a hug and Carlton held his breath, wondering just what the world she thought she was doing. “...something...” She put a hand on his upper back while the other caught hold of something else and tugged. He felt something snap off and she pulled back triumphantly, waving a paper with a piece of tape stuck on the top. “On your back,” she finished, grinning loftily. She handed it to him and then turned back to Guster, waving her shoulder. “That’s all!”
Carlton looked down at the paper where ‘Kick me, I’m Irish!’ was scrawled, then back up to Ms. Riley as she chatted with a nervous looking Guster, then finally back down to the paper.
At least he finally knew why the rookies had kept laughing at him earlier.
--- * --- * ---
Loved it? Hated it? Have no idea what's going on whatsoever? Leave a comment and let me know. I ♥ comments.
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