Title: Gift for SSPSYCH 2007

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: PSYCH

Rating: G

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their world. Please don't sue me. I'm just having fun and not making any money.

Summary: Shawn has a cold. Really, he does.

Notes: Happy holidays, SSPSYCH!

            "I don't have a cold. I don't have a cold." Shawn cocked his head at his reflection in the rear view mirror. He sniffed wetly and frowned at himself in disbelief. He shook his head and tried to say it more convincingly. "I don't have a cold."

 

            Gus headed out of his office building and jumped into the passenger seat. "The super smeller and I are ready to roll!" He took a deep breath through his nose to prove it.

 

            Shawn nodded and cleared his throat. He quickly turned the key in the ignition and started the car. He readjusted the rear view mirror and backed out of his parking place. As they hit the road, he felt the need to sneeze and he felt Gus staring at him. "What?" he shrugged innocently.

 

            Gus looked aghast. "No joke? No teasing? No catch phrase?" He blinked. "You've got a cold."

 

            "Have not."

 

            Gus chuckled, his face brightly lit with a smile. He relaxed into his seat and turned his eyes to the road. "Yes you do. You've got a tell. Whenever you get quiet like that, I know you're sick. Why didn't you tell me? I could have brought you something. I hear good things about those nasal sprays."

 

            "Don't need anything," Shawn said, continuing to be short. "Cause I'm not sick."

 

            Gus glanced over. "Oh yeah? Your nostrils are flaring and everything. I know that look. You have to sneeze." He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Go ahead."

 

            Shawn cleared his throat. This was the problem of having a friend for your whole life; one knew you far too well. "You're talking nonsense, Gus." But his nostrils were twitching and his breath was hitching. It was all he could do to concentrate on the driving. "ahh... hahhh..."

 

            "Here it comes."

 

            Shawn frowned. "Nothing is..." But it was. And it did. "ahhTshihhh!"

 

            Chuckling again, Gus fished a tissue out of his pocket. "Here ya go, buddy."

 

            Shawn sniffed and refused it. "I'm just fine, thank you. Sniff! Snifffffffff!"

 

            "Oh yeah. You sound just fine."

 

*

 

            The case they had been assisting the police on had appeared at first to be a simple robbery. Simple being that millions of dollars were involved and robbery being that the money was in the form of stolen collectable postage stamps. If the owner, a one Margaret Margolis, hadn't been fast friends with the chief in their youth, the case wouldn't have garnered as much attention. Ms. Margolis had demanded full attention until her precious, prized collection was returned. It was another case of annoying childhood friends thinking they knew too much. But it was another case Shawn was confident he and his agency could solve.

 

            The key was the alarm system, which had been off during the robbery. Yet the thief had gone to great lengths to enter and leave with visible, unnecessary force. The fact that Ms. Margolis had a staff of over thirty people made investigation slightly more difficult. While the cops pursued outside leads, Shawn and Gus had focused on those inside the house. That was where they had discovered the stash to supposedly stolen stamps, hidden away by someone who knew where to hide them.

 

            They were meeting the cops there at Ms. Margolis' house in half an hour, but were arriving early in order to discover the perpetrator. However, they had called ahead in order to spread the rumor that the cops had found and detained a suspect.

 

            "You're sure you're gonna be okay?" Gus asked as they walked up the driveway.

 

            Shawn sniffed and nodded. He would think of something. They needed the money. He needed the fame. And he needed to not look like an idiot in front of Jules and Lassie. "I'm fine, Gus. I don't have a... oh no." He buried his face in his arm. "ahhhShooo! ahhhShuhh!"

 

            "Gesundheit."

 

            "Danke." Shawn sniffed and shook his arms, limbering up and getting ready. As they stood on the stoop in front of the front door, Shawn sniffed hard rubbed two fingers under his nose. He looked at Gus, who looked back, sympathetically.

 

            "I know, I know. You don't have a cold. Same old story since we were kids, Shawn."

 

            Shawn remembered how he had taken pride in controlling his symptoms, using them to get out of the less favorable events while making sure he seemed well enough to stay out of bed and do the fun things. And solving a mystery definitely qualified as a fun thing. At least, it did the way Shawn solved it.

 

            They were granted admittance at once and took a detour to see Ms. Margolis. Gus kept a close watch over Shawn, who was watching Gus closely, as well, but for a reaction to the smells he smelled. "Anything yet?" Gus shook his head, then he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and his head swung towards an open doorway. Gus' eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He turned to Shawn immediately. 'You got it?' Shawn mouthed.

 

            'Oh, I got it!' Gus mouthed back, nodding enthusiastically.  Then he mouthed the name.

 

            O'Hara and Lassiter were waiting for them in a living room, along with Ms. Margolis and her personal assistant, as well as a servant who was brining in a tray of drinks. Shawn helped himself to a water, but mid-sip he felt another sneeze coming on. He did his best to fight it, but only managed to set the water down. "ahhhh... ahhhh-Hitshhhhhh! ahhhChishhhhh!"

 

            He was aware that everyone was looking at him, and the room had gone silent. Luckily, Shawn could think fast. He spun around, sniffling and blinking. "Cat?" He glanced around the room, then looked at Ms. Margolis. "Do you have a cat?"

 

            "No," she replied, looking insulted.

 

            Shawn sniffed and dramatically rubbed the palm of his hand against his nose. "I don't know... I'm getting cat. Ahhh-Tishhh! hahTChhhh!" His body bent in half dramatically, then twisted around as though in one of his fake psychic trances. It felt so good to sneeze freely like this and not worry about people who might judge him for it. Well, Gus probably was, and he probably didn't look as gorgeous as he should for Jules, but at least she wouldn't realize he had a cold. "I don't have a cold," he said, quickly, making sure everyone plainly heard that bit. He noticed that Lassie was staring at him with narrow, beady little eyes. "So it must be a cat. Cat..." He pretended to spaz out and then started scratching his arms as though allergic. "Yes, a cat... a cat burgler."

 

            "Oh good one," Lassiter said, rolling his eyes. "We know it's a robbery already."

 

            But Shawn wouldn't be stopped. His plan to draw as much attention to himself as possible wasn't over yet. Neither was the tickle in his nose, and he took advantage of his situation to sneeze while he could. "hahChshhhh! HAHChishhh! Chishhh!" He wanted to stop and blow his nose, but knew that wasn't doable at the moment. He was getting a psychic vision of the future or getting flashes of the past or channeling the dead- whatever it was didn't include blowing his nose. Gratefully, though, Gus handed him a tissue and Shawn rubbed his nose. As he did, he noticed Ms. Margolis' staff congregating at the entrances to the large room, watching.

 

            "And I'm getting..." He put his hand to his forehead, which felt nice against the ache which was beginning there. "Home." He looked around. "You're sure you don't have a cat here?"

 

            Everyone was starting to get annoyed with him, now. Everyone except Gus, who was gesturing with a tilt of the head and a flick of the eyes towards a writing desk at the end of the room. Shawn had already figured that much out, but the reminder didn't hurt. He hurled himself across the room dramatically. "The spirits! The spirits are pointing me... here! Open this!" Lassiter and O'Hara came over and pried open the roll-top desk to reveal a pile of papers.

 

            "That's it!" Shawn insisted, turning and sneezing again. "hahhChuhh! hihChihhh!"

 

            They rooted around and uncovered a hidden compartment that blended into the top of the desk. When opened, it revealed sheet after sheet of stolen stamps.

 

            Gus provided explanation, trying to sound surprised. "The thief must not have had time to make a getaway with them! But that would mean..."

 

            Shawn nodded emphatically, putting his hand to his heart. "Someone who knew the house well... someone who worked in the house!" He gasped sniffed hard. "My nose is all stuffed up now." Shawn waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. "But I'm getting something about smell."

 

            "Stamps don't smell," Lassie pointed out.

 

            "Actually, they sort of do," Jules said, bending over. "Glue and preservation chemicals and... what is this?" She pulled out a special sheet of stamps which were promotional and done in special scratch-and-sniff style. Very rare, very expensive, and very smelly.

 

            Gus was smiling.

 

            Shawn was about to sneeze again. He grabbed hold of Gus. "I can't go on!" he said, practically swooning. "HahTchhh! HahChoo! Sniff! I'm overpowered! I... I need..."

 

            "What, Shawn? What do you need?" Gus asked, trying to sound worried.

 

            "I need... I need... something to drink." He wheeled around, unsteady on his feet, and stumbled forward to where one of the members of the kitchen staff was standing. Then he pretended to faint.

 

            Honestly, he wasn't feeling very good at all in the moment, so when Gus and Jules both grabbed him and held him up, he didn't fight them. But he'd managed to get her close enough to smell what Gus had smelled.

 

            What was more, the man realized they had smelled it. From out of nowhere, perhaps having hidden it under his apron the whole time, the man pulled out a gun, point it right at Shawn.

 

            There was a scramble, a gunshot, a sneeze, and several screams from all directions.

 

*

 

            "Shawn?"

 

            Shawn groaned as he opened his eyes. Everything hurt, especially his head and his leg. He pulled his eyes open and found himself staring into his father's face. "AH!" He jumped in surprise at the sight, regretting it immediately as the pain everywhere intensified. He looked around and found himself in a hospital bed. Gus and his father stood on one side, and Jules stood on the other side. He blinked in confusion.

 

            "You were shot in the thigh, Shawn," Jules told him. "You went down at the scene. Lassiter took the guy down and we've got him in custody. Do you remember any of that?"

 

            Shawn shook his head and wished he hadn't done so. Pain shot through his temples and he closed his eyes until the sharpness of it faded. But then he felt the need to sneeze. He didn't like to think of what it would feel like to try and hold it back, and he didn't feel like he had the energy to pass it off as anything except what it was. So he merely turned his head away from Jules and let loose. "HahhhShooo!"

 

            "Bless you!" Gus said cheerfully. Shawn didn't have the energy to stare meanly at him. Besides, it was sort of nice to hear.

 

            "Don't worry," his father said, patting Shawn's arm, then offering a box of tissues. "We know you have a cold."

 

            Shawn took a tissue and rubbed his nose. "You do?" He looked at Gus, accusingly, but Gus held hands up in an innocent sort of gesture.

 

            "The EMT's who responded realized you were running a bit of a temperature," Jules explained. "And you spent the entire drive here to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, saying over and over 'I don't have a cold.'" She smiled at him. "Kind of cute, really, since anyone could see that you clearly had a cold."

 

            "Cute," repeated Shawn, smiling. "That's me. Cute and hungry." He coughed again then tried to get up. Everyone jumped forward, pushing him back down with comments about how he needed to rest.

 

            Shawn waited until they backed up again, giving him a little space. Then he smacked his hand to his head. "I'm getting another vision!"

 

            "Shawn," said his father, sternly, knowing Shawn was getting no such thing.

 

            "The spirits say I need to get up."

 

            "Shawn!" Gun said, warningly.

 

            Shawn smiled at Jules and held out an arm. "They say my lovely detective friend needs to accompany me to the cafeteria where they will tell me exactly what's in the Jello."

 

            It had done the trick, and Jules laughed. She took his hand but eased him back against the hospital bed. "Maybe later, okay? Now are you going to rest or do I have to stay here and make sure you stay in bed?"

 

            Shawn's eyes met Gus' quickly. "He's been an awful patient, ever since we were kids," Gus said. "I, uh, think you'd better stay a while."

 

            "Feel free to use force if necessary," Shawn's father added, with a smile.