Shawn Spencer x Reader

Shaved Ice

WARNING: Some sexual innuendos, and a couple swear words (c'mon, it's Shawn!!).

"Hey there!" You greeted cheerfully, wiping down the counter with a rag before tossing it into a bucket. You walked back over to the customer who had just entered and leaned your elbows against the counter as you eyed him up and down. "You've been in here before, right?"The brown haired man nodded. "I come in at least twice a month. Sometimes more if I'm having a really intense craving for flavored ice."

"For future reference, I'm __y/n__." You said, offering the man your hand across the counter. He took it but didn't shake it, and instead brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand lightly.

"Well then, hello beautiful. I'm Shawn." He said and winked at you before letting go of your hand. You blushed and pulled your hand back, coughing awkwardly before grabbing a slip of paper and handing it to the man.
"You know the drill, right? Write down what flavors you want and then bring it up to the counter so I can start shaving your ice."
Shawn nodded and started scribbling onto the paper, and you had barely started getting the ice maker ready by the time Shawn was at the counter, pretending to ring a bell.

You chuckled to yourself. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Hold your horses." You walked back over to the counter and held out your hand for Shawn's paper. He handed it to you and your eyes skimmed across the paper, eyebrow raising when you saw the size he wanted.

"Are you sure you want a jumbo? Most people can't even finish a regular."

"Oh, I'm sure." Shawn said with a grin. "If I can't finish it, maybe I can get you to help me out." He added a wink and you rolled your eyes at him, inputting the information into the register and asking him for a ten dollar bill.

He paid you, and you went back to the ice machine and started to crush the large amount of ice required for his humongous cup of ice.
You glanced back down at the flavors he wanted and grabbed those ones from a shelf, placing them on the counter next to his cup. You saw a little note written on the bottom of the note, reading it and flushing slightly when you saw that it was Shawn's way of asking you for his number.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to live a little, writing your number on the small bit of remaining space and tucking it in the pocket of your apron so you could give it to him when his shaved ice was done.

Shawn was surprisingly silent the whole time you were making his shaved ice, and you were fairly positive that it was because he was staring at your ass. You had turned around at one point, and his eyes were practically glued to your bum and all he did when you noticed was lift his eyes to your face, wave at you, and then drag them back down (that man was shameless).

He didn't want any ice cream in the middle of his shaved ice, so you started drizzling flavor on the large bowl of ice. When you were finished (the flavoring process was the easy part, the shaving process was the hard one), you scooped out a spoonful of chopped pineapples and poured them onto the mound of shaved ice that rose a good six inches over the rim of the cup (anyone who bought shaved ice certainly got their money's worth).

You plucked the piece of paper from your pocket and placed it on the counter in front of Shawn, putting his cup of shaved ice down on the edge of it.

Shawn grinned to himself and extracted the note from the counter, sticking it in his pocket before gesturing for you to sit down next to him. "Care to split this with me?" You shook your head. "As much as I'd like to, I can't. My boss would kill me if she caught me flirting with a customer."

"Oh, so you admit that we are currently flirting?" Shawn asked, unable to get the silly grin off of his face.

"Yes, Shawn. I admit it." You said, rolling your eyes at him. You peeked around the cafe, noting that there were no other customers and that your boss wouldn't be coming in to lock up for another couple of hours, before cautiously making your way out from behind the counter and taking the seat next to Shawn.

"Thought you couldn't join me?" Shawn teased, already digging his spoon back into the shaved ice before holding it in front of your mouth. "Say ah."

"Ah." You did as he asked (which, he had to admit, slightly surprised him), opening your mouth and waiting for him to bring the spoon to your lips. He did after a moment of frozen surprise, and the little hum of pleasure that spilled out of your mouth should not have made his heart feel all fuzzy (but it did anyway).

"That is delicious." You commented, removing the spoon from your mouth and handing it back to Shawn. "I've been working here for almost a month, and I would've never in my life thought to mix Tiger's Blood, mango, pineapple, and guava."

"I've been coming here for years, so I've tried just about every flavor combination possible." Shawn started, shrugging. "That, and I'm a psychic."

"Oh, really?" You said, arching an eyebrow at him. "If you're a psychic, please do tell, what am I thinking?" Shawn's eyes darted up and down your body, to the fingers you were drumming against the counter to your teeth which were nibbling on your lower lip, before flicking upwards to your eyes, stunningly pretty __e/c__ orbs that were brimming with curiosity and disbelief.

"You don't believe that I'm a psychic, that's pretty obvious. Judging by the way you've been tugging on your lower lip, you think I'm attractive. You want to kiss me, but you don't know me well enough to act on that. And you're nervous. Even though you're stupidly gorgeous, you don't get hit on a lot, which is ridiculous, by the way, and the fact that I'm flirting with you makes you a little nervous."

You frowned. "I wanna say that you're completely wrong, but you're not. You were actually really accurate, aside from me wanting to kiss you." Shawn raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying that you don't want to kiss me?" You grinned, shaking your head. "No, I'm saying that I want to do a lot more than kiss you."

That seemed to surprise Shawn; he looked up at you in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing before his eyes darkened.

"When do you get off?" You couldn't help it. You had to make the joke. "Whenever we get to your house." Shawn gaped at you for a moment, that joke was extremely unexpected, before bursting into laughter. "You really just did that."

"I did. I really did." You said, shaking your head at yourself. "I'm sorry. I, uh-"

"Make dirty jokes when you're nervous?" Shawn interrupted, finishing your sentence for you. You nodded.

"I am so sorry. Oh my god, please forgive me. Like you said earlier, I don't get hit on a lot so I get nervous when cute people flirt with me and-" Shawn cut you off, his hands flying to your cheeks as he lightly pressed his ice cold lips to yours. "Never apologize for making awesome jokes." Shawn murmured, smiling at you before pressing his lips to yours once again.

Your hands were just tangling themselves in Shawn's (fantastic) hair when the bell on the door to the shop jingled, signaling that you had a customer. You hastily pulled away and jumped to your feet, moving behind the counter in a span of about three seconds.

Shawn was left stunned, his eyes slowly blinking open as a lazy smirk pulled the corners of his lips up. He went back to eating his shaved ice, but he was surprised to find that his heart was beating way harder than it should've been for just a kiss.

You were smiling brightly at the customer that just walked in, a frazzled looking woman with three little girls tugging excitedly on her sleeves, and if Shawn hadn't just been the one kissing you, he would've never guessed that only seconds before you were locked in a deep kiss.

Fifteen minutes later, when two of the woman's kids were happily eating their syrup-covered ice and the third child's ice was being crushed in the ice maker, you leaned across the counter, pecked Shawn's cheek, and whispered something in his ear.

"I get off at seven thirty; you wanna pick me up then?" Shawn grinned and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You bet your ass I do."

( I got this from miss-union-jack on deviantart. All rights go to her.)