Genre: Romance, Fluff
Summary: Juliet really likes Shawn's costume.
A/N: A Halloween fic, for Mia, just because she's so awesome. Seriously guys. That T is completely legitimate. Best not to read if you're uncomfortable with intense making outness. :)
Disclaimer: Shawn is not mine, or he'd wear a lot more costumes.
Juliet's stomach fluttered nervously as she leaned forward toward the mirror, carefully brushing mascara onto her lashes.
It had been three weeks since Shawn had broken up with Abby, and Juliet had had butterflies ever since. She had tried to stamp out the feeling, because it was stupid and as Shawn had once said, she had had her chance. Expecting him to make a move now, after he had just gotten out of a huge relationship with Abigail and after all of the times she had turned him down, it was just—
Not pinching her eyes shut was a difficult thing, and Juliet sighed as she recapped the mascara.
Shawn had volunteered to pick her up for the City Halloween Party and Juliet had reacted with embarrassing haste. She was pretty sure she had seen him brighten a little at her overly enthusiastic response, but it easily could have been weirded-out surprise.
She pointed a sharp finger at her reflection in the mirror. “Stop it. Shawn is a friend. And that's how you're going to treat him.”
Giving herself a final once over in the mirror, Juliet's breath caught in her chest, her stomach going into hyper-drive at the sound of an approaching motorcycle. Having a brief moment of last-minute paranoia, she wondered if maybe she should have gone with something a little more costumey and a little less...opportunistic.
Normally she would have chosen something with a little less obvious emphasis on her female assets. But this year, she had decided to take full and complete advantage of the opportunity Halloween presented to all women. But going dressed as Batgirl—complete with figure-hugging bodysuit and blood-red lips though, that was...
It was a little late for second guessing now. She turned and rushed down the stairs at the sound of Shawn's horn, feeling a rush of glee at the flapping of her cape behind her. Okay, so the attractiveness factor wasn't the only awesome part of the costume.
At the door she checked her utility belt for her keys, cards, money, and lipstick and then finally stepped outside.
Only to stop in her tracks, gaping.
Her first instinct was to laugh, but she covered her mouth and opted to just stare.
The psychic sat astride his bike in her driveway wearing thick black eyeliner, his normally tanned skin paled with the help of cosmetics and his lips filled in with dark black lipstick. Encircling his neck was a black, silver-spiked dog-collar. A pentacle dangled from the center, dipping right down into the suddenly captivating indentation between his collar bones.
Worse, the long lines of his neck were only emphasized by his black collared shirt, open down to the third button. And clearly the outfit had been designed for torture because the shirt lacked any form of sleeves, Shawn's shoulders laid bare for all to see. Leather pants—fitted leather pants—with straps that draped across his thighs and buckles at the waist, along his hips, and then again curving around the side of his knee, covered his legs, a pair of equally strap, spike, and buckle-laden boots on his feet. His normally neatly (or at least carefully) coiffed hair looked like it had been violently ruffled after being dyed pitch black but for a jagged streak along the left side of his head, which had been colored blood red.
Combined with the dark color of the motorcycle beneath him, and the faint gleam of it's chrome surfaces, Shawn was the picture perfect image of a Goth-rocker. Right down to the fingerless gloves which turned into fishnet at his wrists and continued all the way up to his elbows, ending just below the curve of his biceps.
When she finally stopped staring long enough to drag her eyes back to his face, Juliet realized that he looked, of all things, embarrassed.
He sighed theatrically. “I lost a bet with Gus.”
“And this happened how?” she asked, trying to smother a smile.
“Gus' girlfriend. He has a Goth kink—” Juliet could see why. “—he knows I think it's weird, and so when I lost the bet, he had his girlfriend do the honors. I look ridiculous, I know.” A pained grimace crossed his face.
Juliet grinned as she approached the bike and shrugged one shoulder casually. “Oh, I don't know, Shawn. I think I like it.” He wasn't looking, so she let her eyes trail down along the long line of the tendon in his neck; it took a conscious effort not to reach out and brush her fingertips across the curve of his collar bones. Friends could admire other friend's attractive features, couldn't they?
Then he looked up and she dragged her eyes away, putting on a bright smile. “This,” he says skeptically. “The eyeliner and the dog collar.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “Eyeliner is attractive, Shawn. Don't you remember Roller Derby?”
“Yeah, maybe on women. Men aren't meant to wear make-up, Jules.”
“Well, I, for one, think it can be appealing,” she said and swung a leg over the back of the bike, sitting behind him. “It's that whole...rock star aesthetic.”
Shawn shook his head as he passed a second helmet back to her. “Fine, eyeliner is a maybe. But the dog collar? Really?”
“It's just a choker, Shawn, that happens to look like a dog collar,” she retorted, drawing her mask down around her neck so that she could fit the helmet over her head. “Chokers draw attention to the neck. The neck is an erogenous zone.” She grinned and then added with a light pat of her hand on his shoulder, “Plus, they're a symbol of submissiveness.”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me. I'm going to kill Gus.” He reached for the key and just before turning it, added, “Wait. You didn't hear that.”
Juliet's laughter mingled with the sound of the bike's motor roaring to life.
~ * ~
The first ten minutes of the drive were spent embroiled in a heated inner-debate as Juliet tried to enjoy herself without enjoying herself too much. It was a rough battle. Shawn's shirt, as it turned out, was made of rather flimsy material, and she could feel the muscles around his ribs and on his stomach bunching and releasing under her hands as he maneuvered the motorcycle down the road. That combined with the view she had of his shoulders and thighs, well... How was a girl supposed to fight off non-platonic emotions with that kind of sensory stimulation?
They were almost halfway to the location when Shawn's bike suddenly, and alarmingly, spluttered and died. Shawn tensed and Juliet felt his stomach contract as he breathed out something that was likely a curse, but he stayed calm and after a minute or two of cars whizzing past, honking at them, they rolled to a stop on the shoulder. Juliet immediately pulled her helmet off.
Shawn yanked off his own helmet, his already unruly hair looking even more unruly as a result, and said, voice laced with frustration, “I don't know. I swear I had it checked like, two months ago.” He lifted himself up, trying to kick start the motorcycle again, and receiving no response for his efforts. He sighed. “I would have stolen Gus' car if I had known my baby was going to cut out early on me,” he said, directing the last few words into the handlebars.
Juliet smiled. “Don't blame your poor bike. I'm sure she didn't want to get sick either. We'll just have to call for roadside service.”
Shawn glanced over his shoulder at her, his surprise amplified by the dark eyeliner. “What makes you think my motorcycle is a she?”
“A guy like you would never call your motorcycle 'baby' if it weren't a she,” Juliet said, climbing off of the bike on the side furthest from the road.
“That's sexist,” Shawn said, climbing off after her and sounding suitably insulted.
Juliet pointed a finger at him. “Also true.”
“Completely irrelevant,” Shawn said dismissively. Unfortunately, he looked even better now that he wasn't sitting on the bike because as he turned away, cellphone in hand, Juliet got a good look at one of his best assets. Leather pants did almost criminal things to the curve of his backside.
This was so unfair. How was she supposed to keep her thoughts platonic when his waist looked like that? Why couldn't he have dressed up as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man or something? Or at least something that didn't play up every single one of his best parts.
He turned and she snapped her eyes back up to his face just before he looked up from the phone. “I called Triple A. Gus generously bought me a lifetime membership.”
Juliet crossed her arms and said with amusement, “You mean you stole his credit card and bought yourself a lifetime membership.”
“Gus and I are practically the same person anyway, what's the difference? Besides, if I hadn't stolen his credit card and bought a membership to Triple A, we'd be stuck out here all night, because Gus is off celebrating Halloween with his Queen of Darkness.”
Juliet laughed. “So now we wait?”
“Now we wait,” he confirmed.
The road they had broken down on wasn't a main road by any means, but it wasn't a deserted back road either. Every couple of minutes a car or two would pass by illuminating the tree line a few feet to their left and brightening everything for a moment before letting it fall back into the pale silvery glow of the moon overhead.
“Man,” Shawn said after a few moments of silence, running a hand through his hair. “I had this whole thing planned out, too. I was going to come dressed as Marty McFly and then I was going to tell you a tiny lie about how it was couples only and then spend the night sweeping you off your feet.” Juliet stared at him as he picked at the black nail polish on his fingernails, trying to determine if she was hearing what she thought she was hearing. Shawn continued with a wave of his hand, “But then it was Gus with the stupid bet and this completely Marilyn Manson thing and now my bike... I just can't seem to get it right with you.”
Juliet's heart tripped and staggered and her sudden lack of breath nearly meant that the words in her head never got past her lips. But somehow: “Shawn, I told you. The Gothic look is not a bad thing.” Her stomach ascended into her throat, but she ignored it and reached up, touching the pentacle dangling from the collar around his neck. “This specifically is...very. Very. Sexy.”
Shawn's eyebrows rose, black lips parting in an 'O' shape to reveal the pink inside. It took a second, but he finally recovered. Then his mouth curled into a small smile, eyes going dark. “So you have a Goth kink, too, Jules. Huh.”
She grinned, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Newly discovered, but yes, it appears that I do.”
Emboldened by his positive reaction, she let her fingertips brush the bare skin of his neck.
A shiver vibrated through him.
“Jules.” One of his hands came up, wrapping around her wrist, the other pressing into the curve of her back. His eyes were smoldering, gaze even more intense than usual because of the stark contrast created by the eyeliner. “Are you, you know—” His tongue flicked out over his lower lip and Juliet very nearly lost it right there. “Is the offer still on the table? From that night...at the drive-in?” he asked finally, voice soft.
Juliet stepped a little closer, feeling a thrill chase up her spine when his breathing caught. “Only if you want it to be.”
Shawn's shoulders sagged slightly as he breathed out, “I do. I really, really, really do.”
The bundle of fluttering butterflies in her stomach exploded and Juliet grinned. “So...this is a date?”
He smirked and leaned a little closer. “Only if you want it to be.”
“I really...really do,” she replied and then dropped her eyes, smoothing down the collar of his shirt with her hands. “... because if this is a date...” Her hands slipped between the sides of the collar, thumbs tracing over his collar bones and drawing another shiver out of him. “...that means I can do this.” More shivers as she drew her nails along the skin at the back of his neck, up to the bottom edge of the collar.
“I think,” he said, sounding a little breathless, “we're definitely calling it a date.”
Juliet smiled and then felt her heart skip a few beats when Shawn leaned forward, tilting his head to line up their noses and—
A horn honked loudly as a car sped by on the road, sending leaves spinning and both she and Shawn jumped, a curse word slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Shawn started laughing.
“Why is that so funny?” she demanded. The happiness in his expression looked completely out of place amidst all of the black make-up.
His shoulders lifted, hands waving at her as he said between chuckles, “Because it's you, Jules. Sinner's words out of a saint's lips, you know. It just, it sounds funny.”
“I am no saint,” Juliet growled, planting a hand on his chest.
That just seemed to make Shawn's laughter worse so he wasn't paying any attention when the pressure of her hand had him stumbling backwards, away from the road. “Saint my ass,” Juliet muttered. He was still laughing when his back hit the trunk of one of the trees not far from his bike, but a few seconds later when her lips pressed against the patch of skin just below the corner of his jaw, he went abruptly quiet, sucking in a sharp breath. She felt his pulse accelerate beneath her mouth and smothered a smile.
Dipping her head, she pressed another kiss to the juncture between his throat and collar bones and carded her fingers through his hair, nails trailing down the back of his skull.
“Oh, crap...” Shawn whispered, swallowing hard. His head rolled back, exposing his throat even further, which only made the collar look that much more appealing. Not that that was difficult.
Juliet trailed her lips along the tendon on the right side, murmuring between kisses, “Maybe...I should have...been a vampire...instead.” Finally reaching his pulse-point again, she nipped at the sensitive skin there and he gasped, hands tightening around her arms.
“Vampire...bat,” he breathed and then his hands were grasping her head, pulling her into a fervent kiss and it was Juliet's turn to feel her knees go weak.
Her hopes hadn't been in vain after all.