Disclaimer: Psych + Mine = way more smooching between Shawn and Juliet.

You do the math.

Also, this is so Lu's fault. She's completely addicted to make out fics.

It sprinkled a bit on her way home, but it was dry again when it came time to make the run between her car and the building. Not that she couldn't have redried her clothes. It was her washer, not her dryer, that was broken.

It would have been a pain in the ass, but she could have done it.

But since it stayed dry, it wasn't a relevant point anyway.

She hung up the things that required it and sorted her folded clothes according to the proper drawer. She was just starting on her as yet unfolded underwear when there was a knock at her door.

"Shawn?" she said in surprise when she opened it. Her pulse kicked into high gear at the sight of him so recently after their last . . . encounter.

"Hi, Jules," he said with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, even as she stepped aside to let him in.

He pointed to the belt slung around his waist, various tools tucked into the straps and slots, and then lifted the tool box in his hands.

"Your stuff is broken, right?"

"Um, well, yeah," she said, frowning. "But I have a guy coming out to look at it. I mean, you don't have to-"

"No problem. I was a Maytag repairman for three weeks in Boca Raton."

"I, uh, have Kenmore-"

"Not a problem," he said easily. "Most of the stuff inside is really the same. So, where's your laundry- Oooh!" He darted away, into her living room, looking around.

"I really like the colors you used here. Very . . ." He frowned, trying to find the right word. "Sophisticated, yet homey."

She blushed. "Ah, thanks." She recovered and said, leading the way toward the back of the house, "The washer and dryer are back here, but Shawn you really don't have to do this."

"I know," he said and crouched down in front of the washer, looking it over. He glanced back up at her. "But I want to."

He resumed his inspection as she tried to swallow the butterflies in her stomach that were doing their best to go flying out.

He opened the door and poked his head in, then stood again and pushed buttons. Nothing happened, just as she knew it wouldn't.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. He leaned over the washer, one foot coming up off the ground as he pulled himself forward to see into the space behind.

The belt he was wearing, full of all those nice heavy tools, resisted the movement as much as it could and kept his jeans in the same place, even as his shirt rode up with his shoulders as he reached down to wiggle plugs and whatever the hell else was back there.

Juliet was a little more focused on the strip of skin she could now see, along with the waistband of his boxers. Cotton plaid. Now why was she not surprised?

He let his weight fall back to the ground and her eyes shot up, wide as they went to his to see if she had been caught. Didn't seem so from the way his brow was still furrowed in concentration, an adorable purse to his lips drawing her attention there almost immediately.

She thought of what happened when the power went out in the laundromat and licked her own lips.

That caught his attention and he slowly smiled, knowingly, like he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

But then he was psychic, so he probably did.

All he said, though, was, "Where's your fuse box?"

She blinked at him. "Uh, my what?"

"Fuse box? Circuit breakers? Whatever your house has."

"Oh, well, I don't think it's that. I mean, the dryer works," she said, waving a hand.

Shawn frowned and pressed a button on the dryer, getting a beep and the display lighting up. His head cocked and he looked back at the washer.

He shrugged. "Garage or basement?"

"Seriously, Shawn, I don't think-"

He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "And you may very well be right. But it never hurts to check."

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Basement."

"This way?" he asked and headed into the kitchen.

"Yeah," she said and then darted around him to open the door.

He headed down the stairs and she followed, wincing at the mess she knew her basement to be. She didn't need another room to entertain people and didn't have the furniture anyway, so she used it for storage.

But she'd just had her brothers put anything she didn't have a place for down there in a haphazard pile of boxes, no rhyme or reason to where there were set down except the first in were the furthest back. Since then she'd added things here and there and always promised herself she'd clean it up, but had never gotten around to actually doing it.

Shawn flipped on the light at the bottom of the staircase, gave the room a quick visual sweep, then headed for the standard grey metal panel set into the wall.

He'd just gotten the door opened and was reaching for a switch, when there was a crack of thunder overhead and the lights all went out.

She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, wondering if this black out was going to be like the last.

"Shawn?" she said cautiously.

"Stay right there," he said and she froze.

But the touch she was expecting, the fumbling hands on her arms, sense of someone closer to her, the soft press of lips and tease of his tongue . . . they never happened.

She did feel him almost brush her as he walked past, a shadow in the little light that came down the stairs, his footsteps heading into the full dark of the basement.

She turned to follow him with her ears, then blinked and threw up a hand in surprise when a flashlight turned on, illuminating his face like a kid telling ghost stories at summer camp.

He grinned and it was both goofy and macabre all at the same time.

"Come on, let's head back upstairs," he said and lowered the flashlight so the beam was on the floor.

She felt a hand take hers as the light stopped on the lowest stair next to her feet. Part of her said she should pull away, not encourage him.

It wasn't like she needed his hand on hers with the flash light.

But the rest said she was being a big dork and his hand was nice and big and warm as it enclosed hers and she should just enjoy it while it lasted.

He tugged her up the stairs and made the point a moot one.

They came back out into her darkened kitchen, though there was enough light coming through the windows and from the other rooms that the flashlight was no longer needed. He shut it off.

Neither was the hand holding, but he didn't let go.

Instead he pulled her through the house back to her living room and sat on the couch.

Her continuing to stand would be awkward, so she followed his lead. She might have sat closer than was strictly necessary on such a large couch, but it was her couch. She could sit wherever she wanted.

"I can't really do anything more until the power comes back on," he said, sounding apologetic.

"That's okay, Shawn. I understand."

His eyes were locked on hers and she felt suddenly self conscious as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She sort of wished they were downstairs again.

"I'd much rather be up here," he said and she frowned. Had she said that out lou-

The rest of her thought was cut off by his leaning in kiss her.

She pulled back a bit, surprised, but he just followed and then she realized that her movement was counter productive and leaned forward again, into the kiss.

His hand released hers to join the other one in cupping her face, those long fingers of his aligning with her jaw and spreading out over her neck, his thumbs finding places on her cheeks.

Her hands came to his shoulders and found a spot to settle on—not a moment too soon either as his tongue traced the line of her lower lip and she gave him what he asked for with hardly a thought. If not for her hands on his shoulders, she might have gone completely limp and fallen over.

That would have been embarrassing.

What followed was a delightful game of tongue twister, both of them dueling it out for a moment or six until his movements and grip on her became less aggressive and more . . . Mmmm . . . deliciously slow and languid.

Like she was a chocolate candy and he was going to enjoy every moment as she melted under his skilled tongue's caresses.

She had the vague notion that one of his hands had moved to splay over her back, the other down to her hip. One of his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt where it covered the top of her jeans, going no further, but just moving over her skin there at her waist, on the verge of tickling, but not enough to make her try to pull away.

She could stay forever, in this moment, right here, and be perfectly content.

He pulled back a little, retreating to a distance she wasn't sure she wanted to let him go to, but he continued kissing her, little light pecks on the lips and cheeks and nose, so she didn't so more than grunt a complaint and join him in this new activity.

He leaned over, taking her with him, until they were resting against the back of the couch, then gently pressed her head down until he could kiss her forehead.

She tried to come back up for more, but he tucked her into place and settled in, trapping her where she couldn't do anything but enjoy being close to him, under his arm and by his side.

"We, uh . . ." He coughed and cleared his throat. "Probably shouldn't keep doing that."

She looked up and frowned. "Why the hell not?"

He looked down at her in surprise. "Because it's going to get us in trouble?"

She rolled her eyes and took his hand in hers, examining it closely. She'd wanted to do so almost since the day she met him.

It was one of her things, not quite a kink, but definitely a quirk.

She loved hands. Especially skilled, dexterous hands. And she'd spent enough time watching his that she knew they were the kind she liked best.

She wondered briefly if he played any instruments, piano or guitar maybe. He should learn if he didn't.

"Who is it going to get us in trouble with?" she asked. "Our parents? Shawn, we're not teenagers. We're both consenting adults well past the age of majority. We can kiss whoever we want."

He'd gone very still when she took his hand and now he spoke quietly, like he was afraid of startling her.

"We can still get in trouble. With ourselves. If we don't pay attention and end up doing something we regre-" He ended suddenly, swallowing that last sound down noisily as she spread his fingers and laced hers between them, examining the fit. She liked the way that looked, her smaller more delicate fingers alternating with his bigger, more sturdy ones.

They fit together very well.

It took her a moment to realize he wasn't talking anymore.

She looked up and saw a look of pure terror mixed with rather blatant want, almost wistful longing, as he looked at their hands.

She brought her free right hand up to his cheek and turned his head until she could capture his lips again.

He relaxed as she deepened the kiss, shifting so they more comfortably faced each other, then really got into the kiss, stealing her breath away from her with his intensity.

When they finally broke again, this time for air, his forehead came to rest on hers.

"Jules-"

"Shh," she said, and pressed a finger to his lip.

She felt ridiculously giddy when his lips puckered to kiss the digit and her silly grin reflected that.

"I wouldn't let you kiss me now if I thought it was a bad idea," she said quietly.

"But I-" He stopped and bit his lip, his eyes closing as he braced himself to say the words he didn't want to say, but knew he should.

"But nothing," she said, not letting him say those words. He didn't want to say them and she didn't want to hear them.

"You took me by surprise in the laundromat, Shawn. And my reaction then was probably less about rational thought and more about how good of a kisser you were, how instantly I became addicted to your taste." She nuzzled his neck and pressed a kiss to the rough stubble there.

Then she lifted her head because if she didn't she was going to get distracted again and not remember this thought, let alone being able to finish it.

"But I had time to think, on the way home and since then. And I wouldn't let you kiss me now if I thought it was a bad idea," she repeated.

He met her gaze, searching and questioning and she held steady, waiting for him to see she was being totally honest. Of all the times for him to read her mind, now was the one she wanted.

His whole body relaxed, his expression softening from nervousness to relief, then straight on to giddiness.

"Okay then," he said and leaned in, capturing her lips once more.

She smiled against his mouth, her right hand coming to rest on his chest as she leaned into him, then followed the move through until she was straddling him. Her hands smoothed over his chest, then came up to his neck, sliding back to tangle in the short hairs there as the kiss deepened and intensified.

His hands came to her waist again and she relished the heat of him against the coolness of the day brought by the rain and the thick cloud cover that blocked the sun.

And then the power came back on.

It's surprising how you don't realize how loud your house is until the power goes out and silences it all. Or, more specifically, when you adapt to that silence and the power comes back on and deafens you with all the little noises things make.

They jumped and his grip tightened on her as her head shot up. They both looked around.

He laughed and her head dropped to rest on his shoulder as she smiled.

She climbed off of him and offered him a hand up.

He accepted, but as soon as he was on his feet he leaned in for one last peck on the lips. She tried for more, but he pulled back and rested his forehead on hers, licking his lips.

"Hold that thought. I need to check on the washer," he said. He did keep hold of her hand though as they headed back to the laundry room.

He pressed a button and the washer beeped and blinked and generally behaved as though nothing had ever been wrong.

"How . . ." She frowned.

"Your washer and dryer were on different circuit breakers for some unknown reason. It's not the usual way of doing things, but I've seen it before. You probably lost other outlets, but nothing that you noticed or connected to this."

She smiled and lifted herself the necessary inch or so to kiss him again. "My hero."

"That'll be a hundred and twenty five dollars."

She slapped his arm and he chuckled. "Or another kiss."

She obliged him happily.

"Now," he said, slinging one arm over her shoulder and gently guiding her toward the front door. "I vote we celebrate with food. Specifically, with an early dinner over at that new Hawaiian place over on Santa Rosa. And then maybe follow it up with the new Star Trek movie. You haven't seen it right? The spirits say you didn't want to go alone because you're afraid you'll look like a geek."

She laughed and nodded. "Sounds great. Let me get my purse."

He released her hand reluctantly so she could head upstairs.

She came back down and he reclaimed it quickly, making her feel young and kind of stupid, but not enough to let go.

Until she realized he was still wearing the belt.

"Uh, Shawn?"

He raised his eyebrows then looked down when she pointed.

"What?" he asked, looking as innocent as a kindergartner covered in finger paints. "They have a special discount today if you show up dressed as Bob the Builder or any member of the Village People."

She rolled her eyes, but she was fighting back laughter. "Just take it off."

He pouted, but said, "Fine," and quickly shed the bulky belt. "Happy now?"

She kissed him again—just because she could.

"Ecstatic."

Review, plz&thx.