Whumperless Whump event

Day 10: Go Home, Shawn (Psych 2006)

Summary: Shawn's sick. Like, really sick. But he's gotta help solve this murder first.

Notes: second sick fic in a row. Yaaaay

It started out as whump but then it kind of devolved into the slapstick that encapsulates Psych. oops. Sorry lmao. There's still a bit of whump in there. If you look for it.

Whumperless Whump event day 10: Your work is never finished

Ship: none

Word Count: 911

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Shawn wiped the snot running from his nose with his sleeve, sniffling the remaining. He swallowed down the phlegm in his throat and groaned. He kept walking. Yellow crime scene tape soon entered his vision as he went on. It surrounded the entrance to a fairly large mansion.

Somehow, some way, Shawn had broken his health streak and gotten sick. Not terribly so, he could still walk. Even though doing that still kinda hurt.

He shook his head clear of the imaginary cotton balls stuffed inside and ducked under the tape, heading inside the minimalistic-styled house and towards where he saw Juliet and Lassiter standing over a dead body.

Lassiter was writing something down on his notepad, and Juliet was on her phone, presumably trying to call Shawn or Gus. The floor they were both standing on was carpeted in the same bland color as the rest of the house. Except for, of course, the circle of blood next to the victim's head.

"Shawn! Where have you been? We've been calling you-"

Juliet was interrupted when Shawn let out a fit of involuntary coughs. He finished after what felt like hours, but was only a few seconds. "Sorry Jules. Phone died." His voice came out nasally and congested. He sounded like someone had stuck their fingers up his nostrils.

She looked at him in concern. "Are you feeling alright? If you're sick, you probably shouldn't be here."

"I could argue that he should never be here."

"Carlton."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Spencer, go home. We don't need you, and I'm pretty sure what you need is bed rest."

"No no no, Lassie! I've never been more chipper and spry, and all those fun words you like to say." Really, Shawn was just doing what he did best: lying. The gears in his head felt like they were in dire need of a heavy dose of WD-40, and his sinuses to have the pressure-relief valve turned down to zero. Was he saying that right? Is that how pressure was relieved? He couldn't really be sure of anything he thought of right now.

Juliet looked conflicted. "Fine, just- just try not to touch anything." She relented. It must have been a pretty tough case if she was letting him take a crack at solving it in his state.

Shawn looked down at the dead guy, who was laying down Peter Griffin Death-Pose-style. He cracked a grin at the joke he thought up. Bringing up a hand to his head, he tried looking for any clues that stood out.

Nothing did. Not a single thing. He was seeing the stuff in the room and surrounding him, no doubt about it, but his brain couldn't piece anything together like it usually did.

Trying to make a single coherent thought was like trying to push through mud. And he knew all about that, having had to muck through the stuff on a farm in Wisconsin. He only stayed there as a farmhand for about a week before quitting. Baby pigs and goats were cute, but not cute enough to get him to keep that job.

Besides, the longer he held his hand to his head, the more he felt his now-delicate temples throb under the pressure of his finger.

He tried squatting down next to it, hoping a closer look would make things a little clearer for his mind.

As he did, his phone slipped from his pockets and landed on the floor with a thud. For some reason, a small, almost completely translucent cloud of tiny black particles rose up from the carpet surrounding the body. Without meaning to, he breathed it in.

It smelled like... pepper? It tickled his already sensitive nose. He tried his best to hold it back, but-

"ACHOO!"

Lassiter let out a groan of disgust. "Oh, gross Spencer. You got your disease-ridden bogeys everywhere!"

Shawn opened his eyes and, true enough, there was some snot sprayed on the ground around the corpse — thankfully, none actually landed on it.

Picking up his phone again, he tried standing up, but found himself wanting to stay down a lot more. He groaned and stood up anyway, very very slowly. He could practically hear his muscles stretch uncomfortably.

As Shawn finished getting up, he heard a familiar voice.

"Shawn! Shawn!"

Shawn slouched in disappointment. Great. Gus had found him.

Juliet looked over. "Why does Gus look angry at you?"

"I uh- may or may not have left him locked in the Psych closet so I could come here and investigate. Even though-"

"Even though I told him he needs to rest. Because he is sick." Gus enunciated the last sentence. He'd finally reached the three, and noticed the small dusting of something wet surrounding the body on Shawn's side. "Oh, my god. You're unbelievable, Shawn."

"No Gus-" he'd been forced to sneeze by... pepper...

That's right. Now, why had there been pepper of all things in the carpet surrounding the body?

Pepper... pepper... seasoning... flavoring... food... poison... poison!

The gears in Shawn's head finally finished turning. "Woah woah woah! I'm getting something!"

Everyone stopped and stared at him.

He raised his hand to his head once more, ignoring the throbbing feeling. "He was poisoned! Check him for poison!"

"Alright, thank you for that Shawn."

"Are you done?"

Shawn let his hand fall down. "...Yeah."

"Great. Now, let's go." Gus began guiding him none to gently to the blueberry, ignoring his friend's sounds of protest.

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Notes: not exactly whump, I know. But he's like, sick and stuff, and Gus has to drag him away. So like. I dunno man. I'm tired.