Work Text:
1985
Shawn clutches a pair of red kid's scissors in his hand; he had taken them from Ms. Debbie’s classroom today when she wasn’t watching. It had been easy to get home before his dad, and Mom was in another city again. Her traveling psychiatric exams have been happening more and more recently.
He raises them to his head, watching his hand shake ever-so-slightly before he steadies it. The person staring back at him from his bathroom mirror is all wrong, perfect long hair at odds with the way he feels.
He’s had enough of this, feeling like an intruder in his own body. He wants to get out, and he’s been planning it since this morning when Tommy said he could never be a cop like his dad because he was a girl. That had been the final straw.
Shawn first cuts along his shoulders, but it still looks too feminine so he aims for shorter, snipping just above his ears. He grazes the left one, and it throbs but doesn't bleed as he finishes the back. At least there wouldn’t be scarlet mixing with the brown locks strewn across the floor.
He hears the front door open as he’s brushing the rest of the cut hair from his shirt, freezing in place. His dad calls for him using that name, the one that gives him a sinking feeling in his stomach every time he hears it, and knows he has two options.
Option one: stay here and wait for his dad. Shawn can start cleaning up the mess, which might help his case. It still would probably end in yelling and a call to Mom. Or, he could run.
The second one sounds much more appealing when he realizes that the time taken to find him will provide a buffer from his dad’s anger.
Shawn hurries back into his room, sliding the only window up as far as it can go. His bare feet scrape against the roof tiles, and he shudders as he balances in the cold. He creeps down the roof and then jumps with a practiced ease to the deck box resting underneath the lip.
Once he reaches the paved street, he sprints down to the Guster’s and feels a thrill go through him as the wind messes up his newly-cut hair. Hoping Gus is alone, Shawn shimmies up the tree closest to his best friend’s room and raps three times on the window. His fingers throb with dull pain in the chill air.
The blinds open to reveal Gus’s terrified face, and it takes too long for him to place Shawn with his short hair. The window squeaks as it opens, and Shawn winces. He crawls through the opening and immediately collapses in his best friend’s arms, shaking from more than just the cold.
Gus threads a hand through the back of his hair curiously and it feels good, it feels right , and he could have cried.
Instead he just mumbles, “I don’t wanna be a girl anymore,” into the shoulder his face is currently jammed into.
“...Okay,” Gus agrees, and Shawn allows himself to crack a small smile at how easy that had been.
Best friends really are the best.
~~~
23 Years Later
Carlton can physically feel the moment the two clowns enter the building. The atmosphere changes from an easy peace to one where it’s hard to focus, the sounds of Spencer and Guster arguing over some inane topic like 80’s movies, or the best food truck, or what-have-you filling the air.
He groans, scrubbing hands over his face. One day. Just one day without them infringing, is that too much to ask?
The file lying out in front of him has lost its appeal, but he stares down at it stubbornly. He will not be distracted by them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Carlton sees Guster disappear into the Chief’s office, presumably to get a check for their last case. This is where Spencer normally tries to pry a case out of O’Hara, so he makes sure to look busy but be listening enough that he can stop her from giving up details.
Except… Spencer is talking to Carlton’s partner in whispers, quiet enough that he can’t hear the words distinctly. That’s not right. Spencer always talks loud enough for the entire bullpen to hear perfectly.
Now they’re leaving. Why are they leaving?
“O’Hara, where are you going?”
She barely stops to reply, “Don’t worry, it’ll only be a moment,” then the two of them disappear around a corner.
Recently, the two of them seem to get on more than they did before. Spencer has stopped ostentatiously flirting with O’Hara in public, but they’ve been talking more secretively at crime scenes, and disappearing during lunch breaks—
Carlton startles when the door to the Chief’s office opens. Guster comes out holding a check. He watches as the man’s eyebrows furrow looking around the bullpen, his partner nowhere to be seen.
“Did you see where Shawn went?” Guster asks him.
“He and O’Hara went somewhere… She said they’d be back soon, though.”
“Oh. Weird.”
Interesting that Guster doesn’t appear to know what’s happening between O’Hara and Spencer either. It always seemed to him that the Psych duo were perfectly in-tune, with references and the psychic bullshit.
The realization comes to him, and Carlton considers ignoring it, but then what kind of head detective would he be?
O’Hara and Spencer are dating .
~~~
Gus closes his computer and stretches his hands above his head, rolling out his wrists. It’s around one-thirty; maybe getting some food and stretching their legs would be nice?
“Hey, Shawn,” he calls across the room. Shawn is sitting on the edge of his desk, cross-legged, typing on his phone. He makes an inquiring noise without looking up.
“I was thinking we could go down to that new food truck I saw for lunch? It’s a Brazilian-Chinese cuisine mash-up, thought it could be interesting.”
“Can’t, sorry. Plans. We could totally go tonight, though, if you’re up for that?” Shawn suggests instead.
Gus is still confused. “You have plans?”
“Yeah. I’ll be back like, by four at the latest.”
He looks up, taking in Gus’s expression, and smirks. “Aw, can you handle me being gone that long? Are you—”
“Shawn!” Gus cuts him off. “No, I just didn’t expect it is all. Have fun with your… plans.”
“I will.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, Gus’s curiosity slowly building. Why does Shawn have plans? No, with who?
The peace is interrupted by a quick knock on the door. Shawn springs up to get it, but the door pushes open before he can get there. Gus leans in his seat, trying to see who it is without being obvious. Unfortunately, the wall hides them. Fortunately, Shawn talks loudly.
“Jules, hi! I thought we’d get ice cream, down the pier? They have amazing berry sherbet, you’ll love it—”
Juliet? Shawn has plans with Juliet? In which they’re getting ice cream?
The pair leaves. Gus just keeps staring at the wall obscuring his sight, confused but also understanding what was happening.
Why else would Shawn be taking Juliet to get ice cream other than a date?
He feels… mildly betrayed. Why hadn’t Shawn told him?
~~~
Juliet enters the police station with relaxed shoulders and an easy smile. The day before, she had been so frustrated with how complicated her life had to be as a trans woman, and Shawn volunteered to take her out so she could vent to him.
He understood her more than Carlton or any of the other women at the precinct did. They had spent the afternoon eating ice cream and complaining about how stupid cis gender roles were, and how unfair it is that she has to endure misogyny just to feel like herself.
Now, with the weight off her shoulders, she can focus on her work.
“Hey, Carlton,” Juliet greets happily.
“O’Hara,” he acknowledges. She used to think his use of people’s last names meant he didn’t trust them, but now she knows it’s just one of his quirks.
Setting her bag down next to the chair, she pulls out the file for the next case. Another report of a missing car.
She feels eyes watching her, and looks up to find Carlton frowning at her. He looks away as soon as Juliet catches him watching. She shrugs and goes back to reviewing the contents of the file. Her good mood will not be ruined.
A couple hours pass, and she's narrowed down a few leads for the car thief. She hears the Psych duo walk in, talking about a food truck, and looks up.
“Shawn, Gus!” she says cheerfully. “I was just wondering if you guys were going to be called in.”
“We weren’t called in,” Shawn corrects. “Actually, I don’t know why we’re here.” He gives Gus a side-eye.
Gus strides forward, determinedly. He stares Juliet down, and she leans back in her chair, confused.
“Are you and Shawn dating?”
“ What?!” Shawn sputters. Juliet opens her mouth, and closes it again, still confused.
“No???” she finally responds. “Why would you think that?”
“I thought you were dating too!” Carlton adds on. “You kept disappearing together.”
“And there was that date yesterday—I thought it was a date. It sounded like a date,” Gus says.
Juliet makes eye contact with Shawn, and abruptly they both start laughing. She puts her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Shawn is bent over absolutely wheezing , and oh my God this should not be this funny.
Taking in a deep breath, she manages to stop laughing long enough to take in Gus and Carlton’s confused faces. Then a couple more chuckles slip out.
“We are not dating,” Shawn gasps, still struggling to breathe.
“Then why—” Carlton asks, brows furrowed. He kind of looks like a lost puppy.
Juliet looks to Shawn, seeking permission silently. Carlton knows she’s trans, even if he doesn’t understand it, and she’s okay with Gus knowing. But she needs to make sure Shawn’s okay with Carlton knowing he’s trans.
He gives her a slight nod.
“We’re both trans,” Juliet says. “We were giving each other advice, and complaining about cis people—no offense.”
“Oh. OHHH,” Gus realizes, looking disappointed in himself.
Carlton grimaces. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I can see how you’d think that, now,” Shawn assures them. “...It’s still funny though, and I will be making fun of you for eternity,” he directs toward Gus.
Gus sighs, but accepts his fate.
“You really think I’d date Shawn and keep it from you?” Juliet asks Carlton after the Psych duo has wandered away.
“Well, you know… It’s Spencer. Maybe you figured since I hate him—”
“Please,” she interrupts with a scoff. “You don’t actually hate him.”
He makes a non-committal noise. “I just… didn’t think I was wrong. It was the most likely conclusion!”
“Well, you know, the simplest explanation isn’t always the correct one.”