Work Text:
1989
"Now listen up, Shawn, this is important," said Henry.
Shawn rolled his eyes; he always claims that it's important but when will Shawn need to know how to escape from a locked trunk? He could be watching Thundercats right now.
"One of the first symptoms of hypothermia is impaired judgment. This is why you need to know what conditions can cause hypothermia, what the symptoms are, how to prevent it and how to mitigate it before you ever set foot in a situation where you might be in danger."
Maybe if he explained to his dad just how unreasonable this lecture is, he could go watch TV? "We live in southern California! It never even snows here! Why do I need to know about hypothermia?"
"I'm glad you asked, Shawn. See, it's a common misconception that you need snow to get hypothermia. In fact, you can get it from any situation in which your core body temperature is depressed for a prolonged period of time-- such as by immersion in cold water. And, Shawn, cold water is readily available here in California."
Shawn let his breath huff out and began to pay attention. Clearly his dad wasn't gonna let this one go, but if he answers right the first time he's quizzed, he might still make it to Gus's house in time for afternoon cookies.
Now
"I can't drive us home like this, Shawn! We are covered in ocean water and it's a company car!" Gus says in as stern a voice as he can manage while standing sopping wet on the beach without his shoes.
"C'mon, Gus! Don't be the freezer-burned popsicle in the back of the fridge!" Shawn is, if at all possible, even wetter than Gus. He has a bit of seaweed over his shoulder that he hasn't noticed yet and he's hopping from foot to foot, trying to get warm.
"It's grape, Shawn! You know how I hate artificial grape flavoring!"
"Gentlemen!" interrupts the Chief. "If Detective O'Hara drives you home, will you stop talking?"
"Absolutely not, Chief! However, we will not be talking anywhere that you can hear us."
Chief Vick sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Good enough. O'Hara!"
"Yes, Chief?" she looks up eagerly from where she and Lassiter are playing the 'who has to do the paperwork' game. There is nothing quite like bringing down an international ring of jewel thieves to generate paperwork.
"Can you drive these two jokers home?"
A thunder crack drowns out Juliet's answer but her gestures towards her car are clear.
As Juliet turns onto Shawn's street, all the lights go out. "Aw, Shawn, it looks like the power is out at your place. Will you be okay?"
"No, Jules, I definitely won't be okay! I'll be frrrrrozen stiff by morning. My only hope is for you to take me to your bed and warm me!"
Juliet looks at him in the rear-view mirror; he is shivering even under a blanket and he looks like a drowned rat, but he doesn't need the ER. She grins at him, "I think you'll live."
"No, I won't! How can Gus and I mainline 'Invader Zim' if there isn't any power! Think of poor Gus!"
Gus clears his throat at Shawn.
"Ooooor you could take me to Gus's place! He has all of the Star Wars movies! We can have a sleepover!"
"No, I don't, Shawn! Because you haven't..." Juliet pulls into Shawn's driveway and he leaps out of the car. Gus lets his previous sentence trail off and asks, "Can you turn up the heat any more?"
"I'm sorry, it's already on full blast. He really shouldn't have left his door open, not with you two already drenched."
Just then Shawn runs out of his place with Gus's copy of 'Return of the Jedi' in his hand. He jumps into the car and slides across the seat into Gus. "Geez, guys, it's cold in here, we're going to turn into delicious detective popsicles. Can't the heat go any higher?"
"Well, someone left his door open, so no," says Juliet from the front.
Shawn puts on a shocked face, "Gusterbear, how could you! Do you want us to catch hypothermia?"
"No, Shawn, I want to go home and have that Star Wars marathon we were supposed to have last week!"
Shawn leans over to close his door and settles himself back against Gus's side. He gestures half-heartedly forward and mumbles, "home, Jules."
Juliet chuckles and says, "Alright then, to Gus's place."
Gus looks down to where Shawn is already buckled into the middle seat and has begun snuggling. He pokes him. "What are you doing, Shawn!"
"Ow, what was that for? And what does it look like I'm doing, my slightly soggy milkball? I'm stealing your body heat to better thaw my heart of ice! I figure it's the least you can do after you so inconsiderately left the car door open. And then poked me!" Shawn wraps himself further around Gus, octopus-like, and squeezes tightly.
"Shawn! This is highly inappropriate!"
"Cut it out back there," calls Juliet from the front without ever taking her eyes from the road.
"Aw, Jules! You don't mean that!" whines Shawn while tucking his head into Gus's shoulder.
"I really don't want to deal with the paperwork if you squeeze Gus to death," Juliet explains.
Shawn gives Gus another squeeze.
Gus hisses softly, "Shawn!"
Shawn sighs noiselessly and straightens up. He removes the leg that he had somehow slung over Gus's but he doesn't move an inch away from Gus or remove the arm slung over Gus's shoulders. "Jules, would you like to join us for our Star Wars marathon?"
"Thanks, but I really need to get back to the station. There's all the paperwork to be done. Not that I'm complaining that you helped us solve the case-- we never would have thought to investigate the 'Play with Dolphins for a Day' group in conjunction with that diamond smuggling ring if it weren't for you two-- and how did you figure that out, anyways?"
"It is all in a day's work for two such dedicated detectives as ourselves," Gus says, hoping the 'pride' was more obvious than the 'sheepish'. Shawn hmmms in agreement from where he'd let his head rest on Gus.
"Well, thank you both. I'm just sorry that you both had to end up soaked." She shakes her head briefly, "Anyway, it means that I'll be spending my Saturday night doing paperwork." Juliet pulls into the lot for Gus's building-- at least here the lights are still on. "We can get your vehicles from the beach tomorrow morning."
"Sure thing, Jules. But you're missing out on six fabulous hours of storytelling and ewoks!" Shawn blows her a kiss and loops an arm over Gus
"Maybe next week?" Gus offers.
She smiles up at him, "We'll see." As she pulls away, Juliet can hear the faint sounds of "It's really much closer to only one hour of ewoks, Shawn!" and "Thank goodness for that! Their beady little eyes freak me out."
"AAAAAAAAAAH!" comes a blood-curdling scream from the bathroom.
"Shawn!" Gus drops the wet clothes he is putting into the washer and runs to the bathroom where Shawn was supposed to be 'taking a warm shower is an important step of not becoming popsicles before watching Star Wars, Gus!'
"The hot water is icy cold! How can Lord Whithergill The Vee-Eye-Eye-th take a bath if the hot water is cold? His plastic will crack!" Shawn has a yellow rubber ducky in one hand and an extremely irked look on his face.
Gus scowls, "I am going to have to write a sternly worded letter to the super in the morning! The hot water heater was already on the fritz and it is extremely irresponsible that they did not take precautions prior to this storm hitting us in order to ensure the functioning of the hot water heater! And if we can't rinse the ocean water off, we can't get into my bed. I refuse to have my bed smelling like seaweed."
Shawn makes his eyebrows dance, "You know, it is recommended practice to warm up mild hypothermia victims by sharing body heat. And after the ocean tried to eat me today I refuse to wear the fishy pajamas."
Gus pulls a red terrycloth robe from the bathroom cabinet and throws it at Shawn. "Fine, Shawn. We can have a blanket fort in the living room instead."
"Will there be hot chocolate?" Shawn pulls on his robe then wraps Lord Whithergill VII in a hand towel and places him on the counter.
"With marshmallows," confirms Gus, holding out his fist to Shawn.
"You know that's right," agrees Shawn, bumping Gus's fist with his own.
Shawn pulls all the blankets and pillows in the apartment into a pile in front of the TV. A perfect memory is useful for more than just solving crimes. Shawn is surveying his fluffy domain when Gus hands him a mug.
"Let's do this thing?" Gus asks.
"Let's do this thing," Shawn affirms.
And, synchronized by years of practice, they throw back their hot chocolate, set their mugs aside, and dive into the blankets.
The resulting scrum is unimaginable. Cries of "Ow, my ear!" and "No, ow, my elbow!" and "Mine!" and "Come to me, Mr. Fluffikins Pillow the Twelfth!" and "My spleeeeeen!" echo through Gus's flat along with the sounds of fabric being flung about every which way.
Eventually Gus and Shawn reach a tenuous sort of peace (the sort which is caused by being tired from a long day of swimming with dolphins, chasing after jewel thieves, and being dunked in the ocean (this time without wetsuits)), each clutching a pillow to their chest and grinning madly at each other.
"Right, so that's settled, then," says Shawn.
"Absolutely," says Gus.
And from behind their pillows they each withdraw a remote and aim it at the TV. Shawn does a double-take. "Wait, how'd you get the remote? And what've I got instead?"
Gus beams, "I hid the real remote under the couch last night and put my parents' old one on the end table as a decoy."
Shawn tosses the non-functional remote over his head and sighs. "Fine, Tesla von Einsteinium, you can be The Remote Master tonight. But mark my words, I'll be the one in power next time! Bwahahaaa..." His evil laugh trails off as he snuggles into his pillow and throws a leg over Gus.
"I'm undefeated this month and you know it," says Gus. He hits 'play' and squirms around until he can shift Shawn's head onto his chest.
"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," they recite as the words scroll up the screen.