Look Out

[musicalluna]

Title: Look Out
Fandom: Psych
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Shawn
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: "You're safe here, Shawn," Juliet told him.
A/N: For samantha jones' character fantasy "Juliet watching Shawn sleep."
Disclaimer: Not mine to torment, but I do.

The apartment was quiet aside from the muted grumbling of her partner in the kitchen and the sound of his spoon clinking against the sides of a ceramic coffee cup.

The lights in the small living room had been turned off so that the only the pale flickering of the muted television and the stream of fluorescent white from the kitchen doorway, spilling across the carpet and revealing its dark blue color in a long stripe, provided any light to see by.

Juliet sat in a worn blue-gray recliner, her stockinged feet tucked up underneath her as she watched the man passed out on the dark brown suede couch a few feet to her right, her fingers curled around the grip of her weapon.

Shawn sprawled lengthwise across the couch, using the puffy armrest furthest from where she sat as a pillow. One of the narrow rectangular red throw pillows was wrapped in his arms, tucked beneath his chin and pressed tight against his chest, which was covered in a thin forest green t-shirt that pulled taut around the soft white curve of his biceps. Another sliver of pale skin peeked out between the t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans, almost glowing in the blue-tinted light of the television. One knee bent in, foot pressed into the corner of the couch and the other leg stuck out over the other armrest, his sock-covered foot dangling freely.

His face was slack, which pulled the dark purple crescents beneath them down ever further, making him look even more weary, despite the softening effect of sleep. Pink lips parted as he drew in a breath, a crease flickering across his forehead.

Juliet's gaze focused on his face, willing him to stay asleep. Shhh, it's all right, she thought at him. Everything's fine.

When he stilled again, breathing evening out and softening to near inaudibility, Juliet let out a sigh, her eyes drifting to his shoulder. The extensive bruising there was hidden by his t-shirt, but she remembered vividly the black and blue of it, and even more vividly, Shawn's muffled scream as they had pushed it back into place. There were other wounds—more specifically, road rash curving around his shoulder, down along his ribcage and along his left thigh—but those too were hidden by his clothing. He slept now only because of the heavy-duty drugs they had procured for him a few hours ago.

The light from the kitchen doorway disappeared abruptly, eclipsed by her partner as he returned, coffee mug clutched in one hand.

He moved into the room, steps nearly silent on the carpet. Pausing by the couch, he looked down at their sleeping charge. His eyes flicked up to hers.

"How's he doing?"

Her shoulders pushed up in a small shrug, eyes roving over the lines of Shawn's sleeping figure again. "He's out. The painkillers did a good job."

Lassiter grunted softly and stepped back, sitting himself down in a square wooden chair, upholstered in a red that matched the throw pillows.

Juliet's eyes fell on Shawn's face again.

Being run down on the road, nearly run over, and forced into hiding by a man desperately evading capture, it was all a little much even for Juliet to take in, so Shawn's quiet, borne out of shock was easy to understand. That, however, didn't make it any easier to endure.

His quiet motionlessness only seemed to further underscore how badly the whole thing was affecting him. It seemed unnatural to see him like this.

On the couch, Shawn twitched, legs tensing and pulling up toward his body, his fingers digging into the pillow in his grasp. Juliet grimaced and slid her legs out from beneath her, ready to try and soothe him back into peaceful slumber. Her toes were just brushing the carpet when he shot upright, shoulders tensing hard enough to elicit a hiss and a wince of pain, despite the drugs in his system.

Lassiter jerked to attention in response, swearing as hot coffee splashed over the lip of his cup onto his thigh.

Shawn's head jerked from side to side, his eyes sweeping furiously around the room, even as he blinked, trying to clear away the bleariness of sleep. His fingers dug into the suede, legs tensed for action.

Juliet got to her feet and approached him carefully with her hands held out. "Shawn," she said gently, "Shawn. Everything's okay."

He shook his head, a crease forming between his eyes as he frowned at her, still blinking. "Jules?" he replied, confusion thick in his voice. His head turned when Lassiter got to his feet, grumbling, and stalked off into the kitchen.

She moved forward, edging down on the sofa beside him. "Yes, Shawn, it's me. You're okay," she said. "You're safe."

Slowly, the muscles in Shawn's body eased, though he put his hands to his eyes and then kept blinking. "Somebody gave me drugs?" he mumbled.

Juliet nodded, brushing her hand lightly against his back. "Yes, you dislocated your shoulder and suffered some serious road rash. You were in a lot of pain."

He made a face, tentatively reaching to prod at his shoulder. Its answering throb of pain seemed to convince him. "Where're we?" he asked, looking around again, more slowly this time.

"A safe house."

"Derringer," Shawn murmured softly under his breath and Juliet got the impression that it was more of an answer to himself than a question for her. A faint shiver rippled through him.

She put a gentle hand on his knee. "You should try to go back to sleep, Shawn. You need it."

He shook his head, blinking again in an obvious effort to wake himself up. "No, no, I don't want to." His eyes flicked toward the door.

"You're safe here, Shawn," Juliet told him. "Carlton and I are keeping watch and the only other person who knows you're here is the Chief."

Shawn scrubbed his hands over his face. "I know. I trust you, I just—"

Juliet got to her feet, earning an anxious look from Shawn, which rapidly dissipated as she pushed him over and sat down at the end of the couch on his right. "Well if you're not going to sleep, at least lie down and get comfortable. We'll be here for awhile."

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark circles, but he finally refused, shaking his head. "Jules..." His hands went to his eyes, rubbing again and he leaned back into the couch, a faint grimace flickering across his face. "How long have we been here?"

Juliet sighed and sat back as well, resigning herself to his wakefulness for at least a little while longer. "Only about four hours."

"What time is it?" he asked, eyes flicking toward the heavily draped windows.

She smiled. "Almost two AM."

He looked at her, really taking her in for the first time. "And you're not tired?"

Her smile turned wry. "Overlapping twelve hour shifts. Carlton is just having a cup of coffee to soothe his nerves before he goes to get some sleep." She raised her hands. "Don't ask me how that makes sense."

Shawn's mouth curved into a weary smile. "The man's an addict."

She chuckled softly. "You're telling me."

They sat in silence for a long moment, her attention focused on him, though not directly, the sounds of Lassiter grumpily fixing a new cup of coffee drifting in from the kitchen.

A frown finally appeared on Shawn's face. "Where is Gus?"

She lifted her eyebrows at him. "Last you said he was on a business trip—New England, I think? Visiting his brother for a little while, too, I think." She frowned herself. "You don't remember?"

Shawn pressed his fingers into his eye sockets and then murmured, "No, yeah. I remember. I just..."

She nodded. "It's been a long few days."

Shawn huffed out a slightly derisive noise of agreement. "Yeah."

They both turned part way when Lassiter emerged from the kitchen again. He gestured down the hall. "I'm going to..." He waved his hand. "...whatever."

Juliet nodded. "Okay. I'll wake you if we need you."

Lassiter grunted. His eyes flicked briefly to Shawn and then he shuffled off down the hall.

"Twelve hours is a long time," Shawn murmured when he was gone. He shifted, hand hovering over his thigh where it was torn from the road and he winced.

"Not so long. We've done much longer on stake-outs." She watched him shift again, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't put so much pressure on his wounds and then reached out, putting a hand to his arm. "Come on. Lie down, Shawn. You can't be comfortable."

Another indistinct noise and he shifted again. Finally his forehead pinched. "I don't want to sleep," he protested feebly.

"Okay. That's fine. Just lie down so you're not aggravating your injuries, all right?"

He pursed his lips, obviously reluctant to make the decision, but he nodded, breathing out a sigh. "Okay."

She put out her hands, helping him ease onto his side, his head settling warm on her thighs. "There," she murmured. "Better?"

Agreement was a faint noise and the smoothing of his features. "Musta looked bad 'f you're letting me do this," he said, lazy amusement in his voice.

Juliet smiled. "Think what you like." Her fingers drifted into his hair, running gently along the ridges of his skull. He let out a breath in a long stream, the remaining tension in his frame slowly leaking out.

His eyes fluttered. "'els good," he mumbled.

"Mm?" she said, feigning ignorance. "Oh. That's nice." She kept pulling her fingers through his hair, stroking behind his ears and along his hairline in long movements. He resisted, eyes fighting to focus on the images playing across the television, but before long his eyes drifted closed and remained that way, his face softening.

Juliet continued carding her fingers through his hair long after he fell asleep, reassuring even his unconscious mind that she was there, looking out for him.