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Shawn Spencer (technically for hire)
It's early in the morning when he opens the door to the nursery. Their little family has settled into a comfortable routine, but today is different. Tbeir little girl is a year old today.

It still seems surreal to him that somebody chose them to be her family, but at the same time he can't help remembering that they get to raise their awesome little girl because someone else doesn't. It's not in his nature to dwell on such things, but he does think about them sometimes. Which is as it should be, really.

He finishes getting Zoe cleaned up and dressed and carries her out to the kitchen, where Gus is making breakfast. He sets her down and lets her toddle the last few steps.

At this age, birthday parties are more for the family's benefit than the kid's, but it's still gonna be awesome.

Current Mood: happy happy

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It's been a few days since the beginning of Zoe's illness, and he's honestly not sure what's worse - the feverish, fussy infant or her endlessly fretting father. It's not like neither of them know what they're doing, after all. They've certainly got enough people giving them advice.

"You seriously need to calm down."

Current Mood: tired tired

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He gives Gus the rest of the day to cool off, trying to fight off the incoming sense of panicky dread. Later that night, when it's dark and quiet and he knows he won't be able to get to sleep, he nudges open the door to their room - Gus's room, more properly, at the moment - and settles into his empty side of the bed.

"Gus. You awake?"

He doesn't wait for the reply but just goes right on talking.

"I was thinking about what you said, and you're right. I've kept a lot of things to myself and that's not fair. I want to try and fix it."

Current Mood: guilty guilty

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It's getting on towards evening, and Gus still hasn't returned. Shawn's changed into shorts and a t-shirt (Gus's, t-shirt, as it happens) and is curled up underneath a blanket on the sofa. The news is playing quietly on TV, but he's not really listening.

Behind him, Henry's standing at the window, watching the parking lot for the first sign of a familiar little blue car.

"You don't have to stay, you know."

Current Mood: numb numb

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It's a long, uncomfortably quiet drive back to the apartment. Shawn is slightly concerned when they pull up to the parking lot and the Blueberry is nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, he checks his phone - still no replies to his calls or texts. Wherever Gus is, he's in no mood for communication.

"Guess it's a good thing I remembered my keys, huh?"

Current Mood: worried worried

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The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, the traditional Christmas Eve snacks have been consumed, and Shawn is once again nestled on the sofa bed for the annual holiday TV fest. The Grinch, Charlie Brown, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.... all the classics.

All things considered, there's a lot to be thankful for this season.

Current Mood: loved loved

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It's mid-morning the next day by the time Shawn finally pries his eyes open and rolls out of bed. The other side of the bed is empty already, which isn't surprising. Gus has always been an early riser. His side of the sheets are still warm though. He hasn't been up long.

Yawning, Shawn scratches his head and shuffles to the bathroom.

Current Mood: sleepy sleepy

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There's a familiar smell in the air as Shawn lets himself into his father's house. After a minute of sniffing, he identifies it as the large chunk of animal being cooked to death on the grill.

"Hey, Dad. Nice apron."

Current Mood: chipper chipper

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No matter how often it happens, having a gun waved in your face is never easy.

Fortunately the cavalry had shown up just in time to subdue their suspect, who was on the verge of panicking and doing something entirely regrettable.

Shawn is mostly quiet on the trip back to the Psych office, aside from one salient question.

"How come debriefing is never as fun as it sounds?"

Current Mood: indescribable

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It's been a long, strange day. Shawn had pulled Gus away from his route to investigate an attempted horse-napping that had ended in the murder of a stablehand. They'd done the legwork, gotten some solid leads, and the police were following up on them when hey left for the day

"What do you think? Chinese for dinner tonight?"
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