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The wedding date was set, the venue was chosen, the dress was bought. They were still figuring out where they’d get the cake, but that was only a matter of time. Gus couldn't justify putting it off any longer.
Gus glanced at Shawn out of the corner of his eye. He was lounging on Gus’s couch, lit a flickering blue from the movie playing on the TV, a mostly-empty bowl of popcorn askew on his blanketed lap. He had that perpetually casual and carefree air that Gus had long envied but never managed to learn for himself.
As the end credits began to roll, Shawn’s gaze snapped to meet his. Gus tensed, flicking his gaze away to watch Mr. Rooney limp across the screen.
“Dude, what’s your deal?” Shawn asked, sitting up and turning to face his friend. “You’ve been acting all weird tonight. It’s Ferris Bueller, man, how can you be tense during Ferris Bueller?”
“It’s not—” Gus cut himself off with a deep breath. “I have something I need to tell you, Shawn.”
“You don’t have cancer, right? 'Cause I don’t know if I could deal with it if you had cancer. I think we could do a 50/50 if needed, probably not a Fault In Our Stars, though, I’d rather avoid the one where a dude named ‘Gus’ dies—” Shawn's tone was light. To anyone else he'd seem flippant and uncaring, but Gus could see a concerned wrinkle deepen between his eyebrows.
“Shawn. That’s not it.” Gus’s stomach clenched, despite the fact he knew that there was no way Shawn would take it too poorly. Their friendship had survived much worse hardships; nobody had even gotten hurt this time. Besides, Shawn had certainly done much worse to Gus— he hadn't forgotten about the time Shawn drugged him, stole his car, and drove the both of them halfway across the state.
“What, then? Lay it on me, buddy.” Shawn's full attention was now directed at Gus, his eyes scanning him in the same way that he would pick apart a crime scene.
Gus took a deep breath, finally managing to get words together. “We have to get divorced.”
Shawn stared at him, then laughed. “Wow, you really had me going for a second there. I’m pretty sure I’d know if we were married, Gus.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Gus said, “Legally, we are in a domestic partnership that has to be dissolved before you and Juliet can get married.”
“What? How? Since when?” Shawn gaped.
“I may have had you sign some documents—” Gus raised his voice over Shawn's protests. “—but it's on you for not reading them, honestly. I mean, you had just gotten yourself shot!”
“So you decided to marry me? Don't get me wrong, I love you, man, but I don't think the typical thought process is ‘oh, my best friend got shot, I think I should trick him into gay marrying me—'”
“You didn't have any health insurance, Shawn!” Gus shouted. “It was only a matter of time before you got yourself into more trouble, and I wanted to make sure you were covered when it did. Why do you think you didn't owe tens of thousands of dollars after your appendix burst?”
“I assumed you figured something out— oh. Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” Shawn visibly mulled it over. “Yup, alright, that tracks. And the reason the IRS hasn't been breathing down my neck for the last 5 years worth of taxes…”
“Yeah. Our tax guy was pretty pleased, really simplified things on my end. He's the only other person who knows about it, by the way. I mean, he thinks we're together, but I couldn't exactly tell him the truth.”
Shawn's eyes widened. “So that's why he gave me that Macy's gift card! I thought he was congratulating me for a case, or something. And there was that time asked me for advice with his lesbian daughter… Wow. That conversation makes so much more sense now. Honestly, Gus, I'm impressed. Not that you tricked me into it— I'll sign literally anything you put in front of me— but that you hid it from me this long.” He tilted his head in consideration. “And that you'd commit tax fraud.”
“I mean, I wouldn't say it's fraud—”
“It's definitely fraud, dude. But it's fine, ‘cause we can just get divorced and then Uncle Sam will be none the wiser.”
The knot in Gus’s stomach had begun to untie itself. Shawn was taking this as well as he could possibly hope. Just a few legal niceties to tie up, and then this whole thing would be behind them. No harm no foul.
Shawn pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Gus asked.
“Calling Juliet. She'll get a kick out of this.”
Gus’s eyes widened, and he lunged out of the recliner over to the couch. Juliet would kill him if she knew! He had to plan how he'd break the news to her— there was no way the “Shawn” explanation would fly. He grabbed for Shawn's phone, who flung his arm back to keep it out of reach. The two of them tussled, turning what had been a movie night into a game of keep-away.
“Ha!” Shawn wriggled out from underneath Gus and leapt to the other side of the living room, tapping his phone frantically while Gus was still trying to recover. He managed to push himself to his feet, cursing the fact that he was in his forties. How the hell was Shawn still so spry?
The speakerphone rang loudly. Gus shot out a hand to snatch the phone but Shawn extended his arm just over his head, keeping it just out of reach. It wasn't effective for long (Gus did have longer arms, after all), but by the time he had possession, Juliet's voice was echoing from the speaker.
“Hey, Shawn. What's up?” Her voice sounded out, tinny from the call quality.
“Jules!” Shawn shouted, shooting a triumphant look at Gus. “You're on speaker with me and Gus. Say hi, Gus.”
Gus glared at him, but responded anyway. “Hello, Juliet.”
“Hi, Gus,” Juliet said, “Is this important? I'm kind of working, so…”
“Oh, it'll just be a minute,” Shawn said, “Gus, tell Juliet the juicy little tidbit you just told me.”
“You tell her,” Gus hissed at Shawn, voice low enough that the phone speaker wouldn't pick it up, “She's your fiancé!”
“Dude, you're the one that married me. This is on you,” Shawn whispered back in kind, pointing a finger at Gus's chest.
“No. I am not going to do that. You called her, you tell her.”
“...Guys?” Juliet said, “I'm busy right now, so if this is just gossip, can we save it for later?”
“No, this is important,” Shawn said, and then gestured at the phone and whined, “Come on, Gus!”
Gus relented. “Fine. Juliet, you remember when Shawn got shot?”
“How could I forget?”
“Okay, well, after that, I was trying to— well, you had to consider he didn't have any health insurance, and I was already claiming him on my taxes—”
Juliet suddenly laughed, interrupting. “Oh my god, is this about your guys’ domestic partnership?”
“You know about it?” Gus asked, at the same time Shawn said, “Does everyone know but me?”
“It's like you guys forget I'm a detective. Of course I checked if you were married. I remember what happened with Gus and Mira.” Juliet's voice shone with humor. “I didn't need a repeat of that.”
“And you didn't say anything?” Shawn protested.
“Uh, I assumed you knew. His name is on your health insurance card, Shawn.”
“It is?” Shawn fished his wallet out of his pocket and pulled the card out to examine it. “Huh. Would you look at that.”
“And you're not… mad?” Gus asked.
“I mean, I was a little peeved at first but I figured there was a reason for it,” Juliet said, “It’s a bit more paperwork than Shawn typically goes for, so I figured you were the instigator.”
“Yeah, okay. That's true,” Gus said.
“Besides,” Juliet continued, “There's always been three people in this relationship. I mean, I've felt like more of a third wheel when out with you guys than I have with some actual couples. As long as you guys haven't been sleeping together, I don't care.”
Shawn made eye contact with Gus, and raised one eyebrow. “I mean, there was one time back in high school—”
“Let me rephrase: as long as you haven't slept together while we were together, I don't care,” Juliet said firmly, “Honestly, it makes things easier for me. Shawn's a needy guy; I certainly wouldn't be able to deal with him by myself.”
“Jules!” Shawn scoffed, scandalized, while Gus chuckled in agreement.
“You guys still have to get divorced, though.”