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Sleep is For the Weak
Dec. 12th, 2010 12:31 pmTitle: Sleep is For the Weak
Fandom: Psych
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Shawn/Juliet
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: Shawn is sleep deprived and Juliet is exapserated.
A/N: I wrote this in the last 45 minutes, so there are no explanations, nada. ENJOY SLEEPY!SHAWN REGARDLESS.
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or the characters.
For the third time that morning, Juliet caught a glimpse of sharp movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to see Shawn prying his red-rimmed eyes open, his head bobbing slightly. She sighed and watched as his eyes drifted closed again and his head started to sink towards his chest. His head jerked slightly back upward once, twice—she rolled her eyes and called, “Shawn!”
His eyes immediately opened, irises taking a minute longer to trace her voice to this end of the large garage, which never happened. The moment she spoke she could usually count on his eyes swinging without hesitation in her direction. “Present and accounted for,” he mumbled, seeming oblivious to the slight slur of the words. “What’s up, Jules?”
His attentiveness seemed to improve as she moved toward him, some of the glaze sliding away from his eyes, though it was obvious it wasn’t what it usually was. “Shawn, as charming as your presence at a crime scene is, why bother coming if you’re just going to hang around just barely staving off an imminent faceplant?”
That seemed to bring even more of his regular energy back and he straightened, looking affronted. “I would never do something as unawesome as taking a faceplant.”
She snorted. “Shawn, I’ve seen dying flowers that looked less droopy than you do right now.”
His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “Jules—you did not just compare me to—”
“Yes, Shawn,” she confirmed. “A dying flower. A daisy if you want to get really specific. You look terrible.”
He made a face at her, running a hand through his mussed hair. “That’s not very polite.”
“It’s also not polite to fall asleep at a crime scene,” she pointed out.
“How do you know I wasn’t just entering a deep commune with the spirits? You could have totally messed with my groove, Jules,” he said and then yawned around his fist so widely she could have easily pushed both their hands in his mouth.
“Uh huh,” she replied skeptically, arms crossing over her chest.
Shawn struggled to stave off another huge yawn and wound up mumbling something around his hand that she couldn’t decipher.
“What was that?” she asked, “I couldn’t understand you around the ridiculous sound of your exhaustion.”
He mumbled another response from behind his hand and she could see his shoulders slackening from the mere effort the yawns were exerting on him. Sighing in her most put-upon fashion, she took him by the elbow and muttered in exasperation, “Shawn, I don’t know why you’re staying up to this point of exhaustion and I probably don’t want to know, but this is ridiculous. If you don’t sit down and rest you’re going to fall down.” She began slowly drawing his unresisting figure across the garage, neatly avoiding the most important sections of the scene.
“Mmno—ot tired,” he managed to get out between a jaw-stretching yawn that sent a wince flickering across his face. She pulled open the door to Lassiter’s car. “Seriously, I’m fine Jules. Just missed a coupla hours.”
“I’m not an idiot Shawn. I was in the Academy. I went to college. I know what sleep deprivation looks like.” His gaze took on a shade of confusion as she pushed him down, his knees folding beneath him with next to no effort from her. She shook her head. He really was tired. Probably hadn’t eaten in a few hours either.
“Jules, what are you—”
She nudged and hoisted his legs into the car and then bent to look in at him. He was already going to butter against the soft leather seats of the car, his eyes unfocusing, though she could see his protests lurking somewhere in the backs of them. She lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and his eyes fluttered closed, only to be pulled stubbornly back open. “Jules…” he mumbled.
She smiled. “Sleep, Shawn.”
“But…”
“Squad car, Shawn. I’m locking you in. Get some sleep or I’ll leave you in there long enough for Carlton to find you.”
As the door was swinging shut, she heard him mumble, “Drive a hard barg’n,” and she laughed quietly to herself as she headed back into the garage.
Fandom: Psych
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Shawn/Juliet
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: Shawn is sleep deprived and Juliet is exapserated.
A/N: I wrote this in the last 45 minutes, so there are no explanations, nada. ENJOY SLEEPY!SHAWN REGARDLESS.
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or the characters.
For the third time that morning, Juliet caught a glimpse of sharp movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to see Shawn prying his red-rimmed eyes open, his head bobbing slightly. She sighed and watched as his eyes drifted closed again and his head started to sink towards his chest. His head jerked slightly back upward once, twice—she rolled her eyes and called, “Shawn!”
His eyes immediately opened, irises taking a minute longer to trace her voice to this end of the large garage, which never happened. The moment she spoke she could usually count on his eyes swinging without hesitation in her direction. “Present and accounted for,” he mumbled, seeming oblivious to the slight slur of the words. “What’s up, Jules?”
His attentiveness seemed to improve as she moved toward him, some of the glaze sliding away from his eyes, though it was obvious it wasn’t what it usually was. “Shawn, as charming as your presence at a crime scene is, why bother coming if you’re just going to hang around just barely staving off an imminent faceplant?”
That seemed to bring even more of his regular energy back and he straightened, looking affronted. “I would never do something as unawesome as taking a faceplant.”
She snorted. “Shawn, I’ve seen dying flowers that looked less droopy than you do right now.”
His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “Jules—you did not just compare me to—”
“Yes, Shawn,” she confirmed. “A dying flower. A daisy if you want to get really specific. You look terrible.”
He made a face at her, running a hand through his mussed hair. “That’s not very polite.”
“It’s also not polite to fall asleep at a crime scene,” she pointed out.
“How do you know I wasn’t just entering a deep commune with the spirits? You could have totally messed with my groove, Jules,” he said and then yawned around his fist so widely she could have easily pushed both their hands in his mouth.
“Uh huh,” she replied skeptically, arms crossing over her chest.
Shawn struggled to stave off another huge yawn and wound up mumbling something around his hand that she couldn’t decipher.
“What was that?” she asked, “I couldn’t understand you around the ridiculous sound of your exhaustion.”
He mumbled another response from behind his hand and she could see his shoulders slackening from the mere effort the yawns were exerting on him. Sighing in her most put-upon fashion, she took him by the elbow and muttered in exasperation, “Shawn, I don’t know why you’re staying up to this point of exhaustion and I probably don’t want to know, but this is ridiculous. If you don’t sit down and rest you’re going to fall down.” She began slowly drawing his unresisting figure across the garage, neatly avoiding the most important sections of the scene.
“Mmno—ot tired,” he managed to get out between a jaw-stretching yawn that sent a wince flickering across his face. She pulled open the door to Lassiter’s car. “Seriously, I’m fine Jules. Just missed a coupla hours.”
“I’m not an idiot Shawn. I was in the Academy. I went to college. I know what sleep deprivation looks like.” His gaze took on a shade of confusion as she pushed him down, his knees folding beneath him with next to no effort from her. She shook her head. He really was tired. Probably hadn’t eaten in a few hours either.
“Jules, what are you—”
She nudged and hoisted his legs into the car and then bent to look in at him. He was already going to butter against the soft leather seats of the car, his eyes unfocusing, though she could see his protests lurking somewhere in the backs of them. She lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and his eyes fluttered closed, only to be pulled stubbornly back open. “Jules…” he mumbled.
She smiled. “Sleep, Shawn.”
“But…”
“Squad car, Shawn. I’m locking you in. Get some sleep or I’ll leave you in there long enough for Carlton to find you.”
As the door was swinging shut, she heard him mumble, “Drive a hard barg’n,” and she laughed quietly to herself as she headed back into the garage.
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