Genre: Romance, Fluff
Summary: Juliet is angry.
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or the characters.
Shawn's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline when the front door slammed hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall. That didn't sound good.
He froze, the click-top of a pen between his teeth. That sounded even worse. Frantically, he tried to remember what he could have done that might put Juliet into a mood like this.
He couldn't think of anything.
“Ah, Jules?” he called back, knowing he'd be in a lot more trouble if he didn't answer. “I'm in here.”
He had just gotten to his feet when Juliet appeared in the doorway, her breathing harsh and her eyes blazing.
“I'd just like to say for the record that I—”
She stalked forward, giving him a rough shove onto the couch, ordering, “Sit.”
He blinked up at her, eyebrows raised. “Yes, ma’am.”
She climbed onto the couch with him, movements jerky and sharp as she curled up and crammed herself against his side, pressing her face into his shoulder. Shawn eyed her warily out of the corner of his eye, not really willing to risk actual movement. He nearly flinched as she took a deep breath and pressed a little closer.
“Ah, Jules…?” he finally asked, tone careful and reserved. “Is everything okay?”
She sighed, adjusted her head so that her forehead brushed his throat, and inhaled again, more slowly this time. “Better now,” she murmured.
The tone of her voice led him to believe that the danger of losing a limb from any sudden movements had passed. He let his arm settle around her, barely restraining a shiver as her breath warmed the base of his neck. “You’re sure?”
She smiled and pressed a kiss sideways onto his throat before taking another slow, deep breath. “Aromatherapy always helps.”