faye_dartmouth | Psych/H50: Nine Tenths of the Law (1/1)

Title: Nine Tenths of the Law

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I wrote this because

geminigrl11 spewed a handful of plot bunnies one night and this one took hold. It has no purpose except hopefully to be random and fun :) Light beta given by

geminigrl11 , and any typos that remain are my own. No specific spoilers for either show, but a general knowledge of Shawn, Gus, and Danny is highly recommended.

Summary: Shawn and Gus vacation in Hawaii and meet some of the locals. (Psych/H50)

-o-

“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

Gus stood next to Shawn and looked. Tilting his head to the side, he had to shake his head. “Yes,” he replied simply.

Shawn didn’t even flinch. “No, not possible.”

Gus opened his mouth to respond.

Shawn just shook his head. “The girls in bikinis in the suite next to us do not count,” he continued.

Gus’ mouth closed promptly and he scowled. Whether it was from being shut down preemptively or that Shawn could, as usual, seemingly read his mind, it wasn’t clear, but Shawn had a strong feeling that it was a lot of both.

Shawn looked at his friend, feeling truly disappointed. “Come on, man,” he said. “They were fifteen.”

“Nineteen,” Gus corrected him emphatically, because of course Gus knew. He probably already had their birthdays memorized and had them programmed into his speed dial for maximum convenience. Gus helped prove Shawn mental point by breaking out an uncontrollably salacious grin. “And they were fine.”

“And looking solely for some type of tropical fling,” Shawn expanded, hoping to spare his friend from both his fantasies of matrimony and total creepiness. Really, it was hard to say which was worse. “You don’t want to be used for cheap and convenient sex, do you?” Shawn shook his head, realizing what he was saying. “Don’t answer that. Besides, they simply do not compare to the natural beauty of this magnificent island.”

With that, Shawn turned his attention back to the view before them in total awe.

Gus remained frustratingly unimpressed. “It’s a pineapple stand.”

“An authentic Hawaiian pineapple stand,” Shawn amended. He reached out and picked up a piece of fruit, holding it up for all to appreciate. “Have you ever seen a fruit so delectable in your life? It’s practically screaming, eat me, eat me!”

Even Gus could not deny such wondrous truth. He shrugged in concession. “They do look pretty good.”

“Pretty good,” Shawn said with a dramatic scoff. “They look like dew drops from heaven, sent to bless the earth with sweetness and bliss.” Then he nodded, fully resolved. “I must have one. Maybe two, two and a half. But definitely one.”

Gus shook his head. “I can’t believe we score a week in Hawaii as payment for our latest private case and you want to commemorate it with a piece of fruit.”

“It’s a piece of heaven,” Shawn corrected.

“It’s a piece of fruit,” Gus pointed out reasonably.

Shawn turned to him, setting the pineapple down to fully glare at his friend. “Oh, so your purchase of a dingy piece of driftwood is so much more appropriate?”

“It was a tiki statue,” Gus told him, clearly perturbed.

“It was creepy,” Shawn countered. “It stared at me half the night.”

“It’s an authentic piece of Hawaiian culture.”

“It’s a knockoff that you bought from a sell out on the side of the road,” Shawn contended. Then he turned primly back to the pineapples. “Now, help me pick out the perfect one.”

Gus could have argued, but after so many years, Shawn knew he had finally trained Gus well. Still, Gus made a point to walk to the other side of the stand, examining the fruit with his nose in the air.

Pouting aside, Shawn was content just at the thought of pineapples. And Gus would come around. He always did.

There was more important business to attend to. Like finding the perfect pineapple. Shawn scanned the stand critically. His ideal fruit couldn’t be too dark and had to weight just the right amount. Most importantly, the stalks had to be delightfully spiky and evenly disbursed in order to be considered the right fruit for their momentous consumption.

And then....there it was.

Shawn moved in to grab it. “Gus,” he called with genuine excitement. “I found it! The goddess of citrus-y fruit and the embodiment of sheer joy!”

His fingers wrapped around the beautiful specimen to hoist it in the air when someone else sought to claim it, too.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” another man said, hand still on the pineapple.

Shawn didn’t let go, but offered a cordial smile. “Quite all right,” he said, keeping his grip firm. “I can see you also appreciate the glory of this beautiful piece of fruit.”

The other man inclined his head, smirking a little. He was shorter than Shawn and his face was scruffy and weathered. “No,” he said pointedly. “I’m sorry but I believe you’ve got your grimy hands on my pineapple.”

Shawn smiled back. “Oh, come now,” he said cajolingly. “It’s not like it has your name on it.”

“Exactly, and it doesn’t have your name on it either,” the man countered, his grip still firm. “And possession is nine tenths of the law, babe.”

Shawn frowned, but then rallied his true strengths. Small as this man was, it seemed entirely possible that a physical altercation would not go well for Shawn or the disputed fruit. No, it was time to pull out the wow factor, Shawn Spencer style. He offered up a disarming smile. “I don’t think you understand,” he said. “This pineapple has called to my very soul. This fruit and I have been bonded on a spiritual level. You see, I’m a psychic.”

“I don’t care if you’re the damn pineapple fairy,” the man sniped back. “This is my piece of fruit, and if I’m going to stoop so low as to buy into the scourge of this island, then there’s no way I’m settling for some second rate piece of sweetened garbage. So, this is my fruit, plain and simple.”

“If you think so poorly of the amazing pineapple, then why do you want one at all?” Shawn asked rationally.

Across the stand, Gus was watching them now, but carefully keeping his distance while seemingly looking for a quick exit.

The man didn’t seem concerned either at Gus or the fact that they were in a public place. Instead, his eyebrows went up, forehead crinkling as one of his hands went wide. “Why do I want it? Because while I detest the sticky sweetness that the tourism industry tries to perpetuate in this hell hole, I have my daughter this weekend and her one request, beyond another viewing of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, was a pineapple. If I can put up with Dike Van Dyke singing in a flying car for the four billionth time, then you better believe I’m going to put up with a piece of spiky crap that could poke my eye out and still somehow manage to pass as fruit. So you and your psychic connection can just buy another pineapple or take a long walk off a short pier for as much as I care.”

It was quite the tirade, almost impressive, actually. Shawn had delivered soliloquies of equal creativity and length, though his tended to be a bit more friendly and a lot less bitter.

Still, clearly this was a man to contend with. Curious in earnest, Shawn narrowed his eyes and took in the facts. The slicked back hair was clearly not designed for the outdoor elements in Hawaii, which suggested that the man was in fact a transplant to the island, and if the bitterness was any indication, it had been a recent and not-so-happy move. The crumpled business clothes were indicative of a professional career of sorts, and the misplaced tie reinforced Shawn’s conclusion that he wasn’t native to the island. The slight accent seemed to be from the eastern seaboard--Jersey, if Shawn had to guess--and the absence of a wedding ring and the mention of the daughter explained why he’d moved at all. Given the bitterness, it could be assumed that the ex-wife moved the daughter first, which explained much of his disposition and general ire.

And then there was the gun and the badge to consider, and the rest of the pieces fell into place.

Shawn put a hand to his head, taking a breath. “Oh, I see it now,” he said. He stopped and looked at the man. “Your daughter--she’s everything to you. You moved here for her.”

“Yeah, and I’m buying the damn pineapple for her, too,” the man quipped.

“You take your job seriously,” Shawn continued. “Both as a father...and a cop.”

“Wow, you saw my gun,” he responded keenly. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Shawn let his hand fall and nodded seriously. “Most people are.”

“Well, trust me, psychic wonder, you’ll have to do better than that to make much impression considering everything I’ve seen since I’ve moved here.”

“You know,” Shawn said sagely. “You’re taking your aggression out here to compensate for the other areas of your life that make you feel powerless.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got anger management issues,” he conceded with a roll of his eyes. “The problem is, I’m still the sane one at my job, so I suggest you give me the pineapple before I cuff you right here and turn my partner loose on you with his vague interpretation of the Hawaiian legal code.”

Shawn let go of the pineapple, holding up his hands in appeasement. “It’s just a pineapple.”

The man pulled it to him with a glower. “No, it’s my pineapple,” he said crisply. Then he forced a smile. “Oh. And welcome to Hawaii. I hope you’ll love it here as much as I have.”

With that, the man turned and walked away. As he paid for the fruit, Gus came back to Shawn. Leaning in, he said, “That didn’t go the way you thought it would, did it?”

Shawn squinted after the man. “I believe I’ve just met the man that makes Carlton Lassiter look normal and well adjusted.”

They both watched as the man paid for his fruit and then got into his Camaro before peeling back out into the street.

Gus nodded. “Scary,” he said. “I thought he might shoot you.”

“I believe he very well might have,” Shawn said. “Which just proves my earlier point.”

Gus frowned. “What earlier point?”

Shawn looked at Gus genuinely. “That pineapple is the purpose of life.”

Gus rolled his eyes.

“It’s true,” Shawn insisted. “There’s no way this would have gotten so heated over a couple of bimbos in bikinis.”

Gus shook his head and walked away.

“Oh, come on,” Shawn called after him. “I’m saving you from potential harm.”

Gus didn’t slow down.

Shawn frowned. “But I still need my pineapple. Gus. Gus!”