Not So Much Zen As Narcoleptic

By Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: Don't be a half-melted chocolate bar. I don't own "Psych."

Author's note: This story has been hanging around in my notebook forever. So here it is.

It had been a long day, and Juliet was exhausted.

Ex-haust-ed.

She'd been up late the night before on a case - she hadn't even gotten to see Shawn after work - and then was woken early. There had been a damn bird outside of her window at 4 a.m. morning that would not shut up and stopped her from going back to sleep. She had found herself wishing fruitlessly that she'd stayed the night at Shawn's like he'd wanted. With a groan, she thought about how nice it would have been to sleep next to him, wrapped up in warm blankets, and wake up to the soft kisses on her neck that he liked to give her when they were both still half asleep.

To make matters worse, the station had been out of coffee when she'd arrived at 7. She blamed Carlton - partially because she needed someone to blame and partially because it was probably his fault.

Then she'd spent the day tracking the criminal of the week - a drug dealer, this time around - and Carlton had her running ragged all over the city because he was laid up with a broken leg. Shawn had brought her coffee after lunch (which wasn't really lunch but was instead half a donut and a Twix from the vending machine), but that had only perked her up so much and she'd had a hearty crash at about 6 in the evening. Then Carlton had kept her with paperwork until 9:20, and she had a date scheduled with Shawn that she had to call and push back twice before they finally settled on 10 because even though she was tired she really did want to see him.

So, at 9:45 p.m., Juliet entered her apartment wearily, but with relief, dropping her coat haphazardly over a chair and toeing out of her shoes in the middle of the walkway. She collapsed on her stomach on the couch in her living room, her head propped on the cushion farthest from the door and her feet hanging over the opposite arm rest, groaning in comfort.

She thought idly that it was a bad thing that she'd laid down, because now she wasn't going to be able to get back up.

"Urgh," she said to herself.

Her muscles didn't ache, but they had apparently decided that she'd been awake quite long enough, thank you, and felt strangely heavy.

"Gotta get up," she muttered to herself. "Date with Shawn." She glanced down at her watch, still stationed on her wrist, which hung carelessly off the edge of the couch. Five minutes, she decided. She'd just rest her eyes for five minutes, then she'd get up and change her clothes to go meet Shawn.

But, of course, she was asleep just about as soon as she decided to close her eyes.

Shawn was getting worried, and Shawn did not like to be worried.

Jules was 20 minutes late to their date and she wasn't picking up her phone. He called her again, frowning when it just kept ringing and ringing and eventually went to voicemail.

That was it. He'd already left two messages. He was going over to her place. He threw a $10 bill on the table to cover the drink he'd ordered and leave a tip for the waitress who had a dead table for half an hour. He exited the diner quickly, pulled on his helmet, swung a leg over his Norton, and fired her up. Another moment and he was pulling out of the parking lot, headed toward Jules.

He took the route that she would most likely have taken from her apartment, keeping an eye out for accidents or anything unusual.

As he neared her apartment, he was somewhat reassured that he didn't see anything out of the ordinary along the way and, as he pulled into the parking lot in front of her place, that her car was parked in its usual spot. She was probably home then.

He parked next to her car and hurried up the stairs to the second floor where her apartment was located. He knocked three times, but no one answered. He looked around, noticed that the cover to the light outside her door had been lifted recently as evidenced by the chipped paint around the bottom, lifted it up, and - voila! - found her spare key.

He let himself in quietly and breathed a sigh of relief when he immediately spotted Jules lying on her huge leather couch, completely zonked out.

She'd taken off her shoes, he noted as he very nearly tripped over them, but hadn't even bothered to remove her suit jacket, though her heavy coat was on the chair that matched her couch.

She must have been more tired that he'd thought. He'd noticed she was a little out of it when he saw her at the station earlier in the day and that had been hours ago, just after lunch. But she had sounded okay on the phone, if exasperated with Lassie.

He closed the door softly behind him and locked it. He set her shoes neatly next to the door where no one - namely her - would trip over them. Then he kicked off his own shoes and padded toward her. He crouched next to the couch near her head and ran a gentle hand through her hair. She stirred, but only a little. He smiled, kissed her forehead, and then carefully gathered her into his arms. She burrowed into his chest and his heart thudded.

He headed for her bedroom and laid her gently down on the bed. He worked off her pants and then her jacket. She came almost awake at that, murmuring a confused "Shawn?"

"Shhhh," he soothed, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "It's just me. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

She smiled just a little and then did just as he suggested. He pulled off his own pants and button-up shirt, leaving on the t-shirt he was wearing beneath it, and then climbed into bed next to her. He thought about setting her alarm, but tomorrow was Saturday, and she didn't have any place to be early.

He cuddled her close, inhaling her pretty girl scent. He closed his eyes and soon he was asleep, too.

When Juliet awoke, the sun was streaming through her window, her clock read 10:17 a.m., and Shawn was sprawled out next to her, fast asleep. She did the math. God, she'd been asleep for more than 12 hours. And somehow Shawn was lying beside her, even though she had definitely not met him for their date. She looked down at herself and found that she was clothed in nothing but her underwear and the soft coral-colored cotton shirt she'd been wearing under her suit jacket yesterday.

So, to sum up: Shawn had entered her apartment without her aid, carried her to bed, taken off most of her clothes, and fallen asleep next to her, and she hadn't woken for any of it.

She was somewhat surprised, especially considering that she quite liked it when Shawn took off her clothes and certainly preferred to be awake when he was doing so.

Also, he'd managed to break into her house, which either spoke to how exhausted she'd been, how sneaky he was, or how poor of a cop she was. She chose to believe it was a mixture of the first two. He was Shawn, after all, and he was always doing things that she couldn't figure out. It was part of his charm and part of why she was attracted to him.

She rolled over onto her back and immediately realized that she had to go to the bathroom. She slid from the bed and padded to the bathroom on still-sleepy legs.

When she was done, she tried to climb back into the bed quietly to cuddle with Shawn even though she was hungry - it had been far more than 12 hours since she'd eaten - because she wanted to lay next to him more.

But her movements shook the bed just enough to wake him, and he smiled lazily at her as his eyes creaked open. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he said on a grin.

She couldn't help but grin back. "I missed our date, huh?" she asked sheepishly, resting one hand on his T-shirt covered chest. He wrapped his fingers around hers.

"Well," responded Shawn, "sort of."

"Sort of?" she asked, confused.

"We did spend the evening together. It just didn't include most of the usual date accoutrements, like a restaurant or food or a movie or sex. We just skipped straight to the sleeping part."

"You're not annoyed with me?"

He shrugged, carefree in the way that Shawn was. "You were tired. You fell asleep. It happens. Plus, I did get to take off your pants, and you know how much I like that."

She laughed and then remembered something. "How did you get in here?"

He cracked a grin. "Your spare key."

"How did you-" she started to ask, and then just stopped when she remembered who she was talking to. So she just laid back down half on top of him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the feel of his arms around her. "Thanks for taking care of me."

She couldn't see his face when he responded because her head was resting on his chest, but his voice sounded very serious when he replied. "Any time, Jules." He took a couple of deep breaths and ran his fingertips over the dip in the small of her back.

Then: "Say, Jules, I notice you're not wearing any pants, which I happen to find very tempting, if a little subtle for my tastes. Would you mind if I took advantage of that?"

She lifted her head off his chest and smiled at him, reaching a hand up to bury it in his hair. "Certainly not, Mr. Spencer. In fact, I rather expect you to, considering you're the one who removed them. And I believe I owe you - what did you call it? - some of the usual date accoutrements."

He chuckled and rolled her beneath him.