Psych: Scottish Espionage

by: jewel of athos

Summary: In which Shawn tails Juliet to a "Scottish Spy Party"… For the Psychfic Shules Ficathon, 2010.

Prompt: glass

Author's Note: Wrote this…in July, I believe. I posted it on Psychfic, but over the summer I got so busy and distracted that I never posted it here. And now I am. Special thanks to Hbee on Psychfic, who gave me the prompt and ran the whole event and is incredible; and to ZedPM there (Kkarrie here on FFN), who listened to me rant whenever I was having writing trouble and was a HUGE help with this fic. Thank you both! :D

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Juliet was undercover. Deep cover. So deep that she was dressed up in high-heels and a stunning black and red dress. So deep, that she had spent the last twelve-point-two minutes chatting with a couple of dry, boring, stuffy-looking men in dark suits, sipping a glass of champagne.

At least, that was what Shawn had assumed was going on when he'd tailed her here. Otherwise, why would she have come to such a strange, mysterious, boring party after all? Did she not realize the complete and utterly insulting lack of pineapple flavored snacks?

It must be a sort of covert operation, he thought as she laughed. Espionage. Hey, maybe she's a spy!

"Excuse me?" Shawn spun around, cursing the potted palm that he'd thought would conceal him A pretty young woman with long dark hair and a white jacket was frowning at him. Shawn plastered on a fake smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I take your spot behind the potted plant?"

"No, and you're not supposed to be here either. You're supposed to be serving the guests." Shawn looked down at the white jacket that he had liberated from the catering truck when he'd arrived.

"I know, I'll be right there. I was just taking a breather before I hit the crowd, you know? Trying to scope out the hungriest guests. See the fat baron-dude over there? He appears to be salivating at the scent of seasoned meat-" The girl shoved a tray into his hands, cutting him off.

"Just get out on the floor before you lose your job," she ordered

"Alright..." Shawn watched the girl as she rolled her eyes and walked back towards the kitchen for another tray. "Thank you!" She didn't look back.

Frowning, Shawn popped a sausage into his mouth and balanced the tray on one arm. He'd waited tables for three whole weeks in Reno once; this should be a cakewalk.

After one more sausage from his tray, Shawn stepped out into the room and started serving.

"Are these fresh?" One older man asked, his deep Scottish accent ringing with annoyance.

"There are two sausages missing!"

"Oh, are there?" Shawn looked down his nose at the tray and sniffed twice. "Or are there twenty-six sausages on the plate? Glass half full, my friend!"

"Don't try to play with me, lad. I know your kind!"

"My kind? Sir, you should thank me for these twenty-six sausages. Haven't you ever heard the legend of the lucky African red goat?"

"What does a goat have to do with missing sausages?"

"Exactly!" Shawn handed the man a sausage and slipped away before the argument could escalate, gravitating towards a quieter part of the room. He pulled out his phone and dialed Gus. He answered on the third ring.

"Shawn, this had better be important!"

"Great to talk to you, too, buddy. Listen, I'm on to something big here!

"Big as in a reference to the movie that we love, or bit as in a new case?"

"The second one, ish, and it's crazy! I think Juliet is a spy!" Gus sighed.

"I'm hanging up, Shawn."

"No, really, Gus!"

"Shawn, it is eleven o'clock at night. If you're still excited about this in the morning, I will talk to you then. But I don't think that Juliet's a spy. Goodnight."

"But Gus..."Shawn heard nothing but dial tone. Swearing, he dialed Lassiter.

"Hey, are you going to serve those things, or are you going to yak on the phone all night?"

"Just a minute!" He shouted at the impatient guest, tapping his foot. Really, could one be any more rude?

Finally, he heard a click on the line.

"Spencer, this had better be good!"

"You know, Lassie, it's funny. Gus just said the same thing to me, not five minutes ago!"

"Spencer..."

"Right, sorry. Okay, this is going to sound awkward...but do you know if Jules is a spy?"

"O'Hara? No, not that I know of. Whatever would give you an idiotic idea like that?"

"Hasn't she been acting all odd and sneaky lately? Tight-lipped about her "dinner plans", leaving work early... I tailed her tonight, and do you know where she is? She's all dolled up and talking to a bunch of stuffed-shirt foreign dignitaries or something. It's like Scotland had a baby, and this place is it. Very strange, very mysterious." Shawn finished explaining and took a deep breath, waiting for Lassiter to come back with some conspiracy theory. To his shock, what he heard instead was the detective laughing at him.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You think that because I couldn't stop O'Hara from going to a party that she's involved in some sort of elaborate espionage?"

"Yes," Shawn nodded for emphasis, even though he was on the phone. Lassiter laughed again at his tone.

"You're insane," he said.

"Aren't you even the least bit concerned with what's going on here?"

"I think that I'm just going to let you figure out this one on your own, Psychic." For the second time that night, Shawn's ear was filled with dial tone.

"Darn it, Lassie!" He shouted at the device.

Everything stopped at his outburst, and all eyes turned towards him.

"Shawn?" His eyes met Juliet's, and the glass fell from her hand and shattered. He wiggles his fingers at her in greeting and blushed. Rolling her eyes, she motioned him over, and the party resumed around them as they knelt on the floor to clean up the broken glass.

"Shawn, what are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I wanted to know what your secret mission was about," he admitted. Juliet paused and looked at him.

"Secret mission?"

"No, Jules, it's okay, you don't have to explain. I know you're a spy."

"Shawn, I'm not a spy."

"You're not? Then what's with all the fancy secrecy and mysterious Scottish men in black? What, are you part of the Scottish secret service or something?"

"How about my cousin's birthday party?"

"Aha! See, I knew that you were involved in some kind of - what?"

"This is my cousin's birthday party, Shawn. He founded several private schools for Scottish immigrants in the state. Everyone here is either family, students, or faculty."

"Oh..." Shawn frowned, playing with an idle chip of glass. "Then why is it so boring?" Juliet raised an eyebrow.

"It's tradition at the schools that the life of the party arrives at midnight, and the guests get a cocktail party beforehand." She laughed. "You know, for a psychic, you were way off base here. Isn't that kind of a big thing for you to miss?" Shawn gave her what he hoped was a dashing smile.

"Now, Jules. While it is true that I can't always control my visions, I don't intentionally spy on people that I like...except if it's from behind potted plants and meat platters." She laughed.

"Would you like to stay?" she asked, sweeping up the last of the glass into her hands. Shawn grinned.

"I was hoping you'd ask." She led him to a subtly placed trashcan and discarded the glass bits. Shawn noticed red stains on a few. He caught her hands.

"Hey, did you cut yourself?" he asked, turning her palms up and holding on gently when she tried to pull away.

"It's not bad, really. It's nothing to worry about..."

"Oh, don't say that," he released the hand that had not been scratched and whipped a band-aid out of his pocket with a flourish. "Blood is always something that you should be worried about," he continued, centering it over the cut. "If you're Gus, especially so; you'll either gag, vomit, or faint. Or any combination of the three. Occasionally that includes running in terror, screaming like a little girl." He crumpled the band-aid and tossed it in the trash. "There! All done. Should we hug?"

"Well-" Juliet's words were cut off as a cheer rose up from the guests around the room. The guest of honor had apparently arrived. Juliet sighed.

"Some other time?" Shawn thought for a second.

"No, I think now is good." And he wrapped his arms around her quickly before she could protest.

fin.

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A/N: It didn't turn out exactly what I was hoping, but I needed to involve the prompt AND romance, and I only had so much time within which to do it…but I'm satisfied. (: