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Hi, i absolutely love your work. But can i have another shawn spencer oneshort please?

Hand Over the Evidence | Shawn Spencer X GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, minor limb severing, legal system, alcohol, guns, knives, blood, use of “y/n”

Word Count: Like 5900

A/N: I admittedly don’t know much about the law enforcement system so bear with me. I’m back back back again. My life literally did a complete 180, but I am back due to popular demand (aka like 3 people in my inbox). Love ya, mean it, here’s something I’ve been cooking up.

Summary: You’re a detective in Santa Barbara and you team up with the eccentric fake psychic Shawn Spencer to investigate a bizarre string of restaurant break-ins. The seemingly harmless incidents escalate when a severed hand is found at a high-end bistro, accompanied by cryptic napkin messages. While tensions rise among the team, the case takes a chilling turn, hinting at a calculated and sinister motive.

There was never a dull moment in Santa Barbara, at least not where you worked. As a detective with the Santa Barbara Police Department, you never got bored. Especially not with the eccentric Shawn Spencer always weaseling his way into your caseload. Is weaseling the right word? Considering you actually thoroughly enjoyed his antics, you’re not quite sure. They always kept you entertained. The jury is still out on psychics, but if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Even for Santa Barbara, this case was unusual. And you knew “unusual.” You formerly worked for the FBI as a criminal profiler, and if it weren’t for your father falling ill, you probably still would be. But you moved back home from Quantico and settled into a much lower stakes job working for the SBPD. Despite your background, this newest case definitely gave you a pause.

It was simple really. Just a string of break-ins in some of Santa Barbara’s premier restaurants. What stumped you was that there was nothing stolen or broken; the only sign of a break-in was the broken locks and the scrawled notes left on napkins.

“The feast is set, but the guests are missing.” You said, reading the newest napkin note.

“This is a waste of time.” said Detective Carlton Lassiter.

You looked at him quizzically. “I’m not so sure about that, Lassiter.”

He rolled his eyes. Lassiter rarely got along with anyone, let alone you. You beat his score on the Marksmanship Qualification Program by three points, and he’s yet to live it down.

“There’s clear intent here.” You said.

“Sure there is.” He replied. “The intent to make me waste my time.”

Juliet, ever the diplomat of the pair, offered another perspective. “It could be just someone with a grudge against these restaurants, like maybe a competitor trying to scare their rivals.”

“Or…” Shawn trailed off as he leaned dramatically against the doorframe. “...A ghost chef exacting revenge on the living.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “No one asked you, Spencer.” Shawn sauntered into the room, unfazed.

“I’m just saying,” Shawn continued, “if you put the napkins together, they could spell out an ancient recipe for vengeance.”

“Vengeance stew,” Gus muttered nervously, adjusting his tie.

You ignored them both, instead turning to Chief Vick. “This feels calculated. The phrasing, the escalation… This is building towards something bigger.”

Chief Vick looked skeptical, but sighed. “Keep me updated. I can’t justify allocating more resources to this until we have more to go on.”

Lassiter smirked as he left. “Don’t worry Bureau, I’m sure you’ll crack the code of the magical napkins before the lunch rush.”

You didn’t rise to the bait.

The next crime scene was no laughing matter.

Yellow tape stretched across the high-end bistro, chicly named La Table Éclair. The tables were overturned, chairs in disarray, and broken locks littered the floor. No one batted an eye at that when they realized what was in the center of it all. A severed hand, palm-up, on the mahogany bar.

“The hand that feeds will starve,” you muttered, reading the scribbled napkin next to it. “The ring binds no more.”

Gus took one look at the grisly scene and promptly fainted, crumpling into a heap at Shawn’s feet.

“Gus!” Shawn exclaimed, catching him with surprising ease. “Buddy! Stay with me. You’re too beautiful for the floor!” Your eyes were trained on the evidence, cameras flashing from the crime scene photographers just over your shoulder. Shawn set his best friend down gently before approaching to get a better look.

Despite the grim atmosphere, Shawn couldn’t resist leaning closer to the dismembered hand. “Well, look at you, Lefty,” he said, as if addressing an old friend. “You’ve really let yourself go. What happened? Bad breakup? Lost your grip on life?”

You could almost feel the warning look Juliet gave him, but you were too busy analyzing everything about the scene in front of you.

Gus started to come to, standing up slowly and trying to pretend like that never happened. You almost had to laugh; how many crime scenes had this poor man been dragged to? He stood next to Shawn, whispering. They did that a lot, you noticed.

You tried to look at Lassiter, in part to ask what he was thinking and in part to see if he realized just how wrong he was yet. Realistically, you knew better. Even when he knows he’s wrong, he rarely will admit it. He avoided your gaze. Shawn notices this and starts speaking loudly. “You know you’ve really gotta hand it to Detective Lethal Weapon over there. Look who was right all along, Lassie.” You smirked at his comment.

“Bag up the hand.” Said Chief Vick. “We’ll have Woody take a look at it.”

~

Back at the station, you and your colleagues stood in the autopsy room sharing theories.

“Clearly, this is the work of someone who couldn’t hand-le the heat in the kitchen. Look at the message! ‘The hand that feeds will starve?’ That is some classic chef drama. They are probably sautéing vengeance as we speak.” Shawn quipped.

“It’s obvious what is happening. These are just vandals who started with pranks and decided to up the ante for attention. Leaving the hand is just a sick calling card. Probably some wannabe gang trying to cause chaos.” Lassiter replied.

“I don’t know about that, Lassiter. It feels like whoever did this wasn’t just targeting the restaurant– they were targeting someone connected to it.” Juliet added.

Shawn rolled his eyes. “It seems like you are forgetting there’s a handless Joe walking around here, Lassie.”

“I think you mean a handless Jane.” Woody said as he entered the conversation. “This is clearly a ladies hand.” The team all turned to look at him as he continued. “This is classic intimidation. And the cut on the hand is jagged, probably done while the victim was still alive, and certainly not done by any professional. This is just like those old mob cases I read about! Except, with fewer italian accents and even more bistros”

“Wait!” Shawn said. “I’m getting a vision!” He said as he put his hand to his temple. He then looked at that hand, confused. He grabbed his hand with the other one and slammed it on the table. He then mimicked the motion of chopping it off. Lassiter rolled his eyes, and Chief Vick and Juliet looked at him with mild concern. You, of course, barely noticed, too lost in your own thoughts about the case.

“I’ve got it!” Shawn finally said.

“Spencer, if you say one word about the mob even once, I swear I will have you arrested for obstruction.” Lassiter replied.

Shawn ignored him. “It was-”

You interrupt. “What about the ring?”

Everyone paused. They turn to you like they just noticed you were even here.

“The ring?” Woody asked.

“Yes. Can I see it?” You asked him.

He seemed confused until it dawned on him that you are onto something. He grabbed the ring as you gloved up your hands, before handing it over to you.

You analyzed this ring. There was nothing particularly amazing about it. It was a simple gold band, delicate and feminine, with a square cut ruby gem. The gem was nothing to sneeze at, but certainly not your taste. You then noticed some engraving on the inside of the band.

“MK.” You said aloud.

“Who’s MK?” Juliet asked.

“Michael Keaton?” Shawn added, playfully.

“Hopefully it’s not Mila Kunis.” Added Gus.

“Will both of you just shut u-” Lassiter says before a loud beep interrupts him. Woody quickly runs over to the source of the sound, his computer.

“It looks like we have a hit on the fingerprints. This lovely limb belongs to none other than Isabelle Noir.” He said.

“Isabelle Noir?” Juliet asked. “The famous lockpick?”

“That could be the message the culprit is trying to send.” Chief Vick said. “The hand of a lockpick? Broken locks?”

“But what did Isabelle have to do with all of this?” Juliet asked.

Isabelle Noir was more than a lockpick, but a local legend. However, after serving her last bit of time she had been completely off the radar.

“If this involves Noir, there’s more than enough people who would like to take a shot at her.” Lassiter said.

Chief Vick folded her arms, her expression dark. “We need to figure out who would go to such extremes to send a message—and why now.”

“Maybe it’s a rival?” Juliet suggested. “Someone who wanted to take her spot as the best in the business.”

“Could be, but leaving the hand feels personal,” Lassiter interjected. “A rival wouldn’t need to make it this grotesque. It’s got vendetta written all over it.”

Shawn, who had been unusually quiet, snapped his fingers. “Isabelle isn’t the target! The culprit must be using her to get to someone else!”

Gus raised an eyebrow. “You mean like a partner in crime?”

“Exactly! Or an ex-partner in crime. What if MK doesn’t stand for a person, but a...place?” Shawn grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

Lassiter scoffed. “Oh, please, Spencer. You’re just throwing darts in the dark as usual.”

“Am I, Lassie?” Shawn replied, leaning casually on the examination table. “Think about it. Severed hand, cryptic messages, and a lockpick famous for slipping through people’s fingers—literally. It’s not about her. It’s about who she’s connected to.”

“Do you have anything resembling proof, or are we all just supposed to ride this train of baseless speculation with you?” Lassiter shot back.

Before Shawn could answer, Woody, who had been clicking through files on his computer, spun around in his chair.

“Shawn may be onto something. There was a known associate of Noir’s named Marvin Kale. He and Isabelle worked together on several heists about five years ago. Their partnership ended abruptly after a falling out. Word is, Marvin kept going while Isabelle...well, she didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Shawn asked.

“Didn’t want to. She turned herself in not long after, served her time, and vanished.” Woody said.

Juliet frowned. “And Marvin Kale?”

“Still active in certain circles. No arrests, but lots of rumors.” Said Woody.

“If this is about Kale, we need to track him down. Now.” Lassiter said commandingly.

“But where to start?” Said Juliet.

You looked up to see Shawn and Gus quietly exit the room, going unnoticed except for by you. You let them go, more focused on the case than anything else. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a grand opening of a new high end restaurant in Montecito tonight? Maybe it’s worth checking out.” You said.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Said Chief Vick. “What’s the name?”

“Monarch and King.” You replied.

“MK.” Lassiter added.

Chief Vick looked at her team. “We’ll be there. Detective Y/L/N, you have experience going undercover. You’ll be our covert officer. We’ll have eyes and ears inside the restaurant.”

“On it, Chief.” You replied. It had been a while since you went undercover, but you were excited to do it again.

“Do you think that’s the best idea?” Lassiter says. “Maybe I should be the one, Chief.”

“I’ve got this Lassiter.” You said confidently.

“We know you do.” Said Chief Vick. “Do us proud.”

~

This was the most exclusive event in Santa Barbara. The strings Chief had to pull to get you on the guest list must have been extensive. Of course it’s not you, it’s Rowan Blake. The name even sounded exclusive; like someone you have to pay to see. You put on your best attire, hoping that it was enough to at the very least go undetected. You were far from opulent, but you did clean up quite nicely, when you had the time to do so and a place to go.

Your taxi stopped, as did your racing thoughts. There was a time and a place to spiral, but this was not that time. You immediately became Rowan, and you thanked your driver with a generous tip.

The building was quite impressive; a mediterranean style like many buildings are here in Montecito. Stucco walls with soft shades of ivory and beige, ornate iron detailing, arched windows, dark wood. It was beautiful. What made it stand out the most though was a large carving in the top middle of the building, just above the grand double doors: The letters “MK.” You buried a smirk beneath your stoic expression.

As you approached the doors, the door attendant caught your eye. He looked young and nervous, like he didn’t expect to have such an important job. Poor thing, you thought to yourself. This is going to be easier than expected. You approached the desk where he stood and smiled.

“Rowan Blake?” You told him. He quickly scanned the names on the list in front of him, landing on your faux moniker. He gulped before looking up at you. “You may go in. Have a nice night.” He said with an awkward smile. You graciously smiled back and walked inside.

The interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Rich velvet curtains, polished marble floors, and intricate gold designs. There were subtle crowns adorning the walls, as well as portraits of supposed royalty. There was a large ballroom floor in the middle, likely just for this event, and plush leather chairs surrounding sturdy dark tables on the edges of the floor. Intimate booths with curtains lined the walls, as well as a large open bar. Chandeliers offered soft, low light throughout the room. You scanned the room, trying to memorize as many faces as you could while still maintaining the casual nature a typical guest would have. You walked confidently to the bar, trying to fit in as much as possible.

Once at the bar, you ordered a Vesper martini. You weren’t much of a drinker, at least not anymore, but you knew that one would take a bit to make. You listened in on the conversation nearby, but did not quite hear anything useful.

“Hello gorgeous.” A voice said behind you. Confused, you turned to face none other than Shawn Spencer. You tried to suppress your shock.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You said under your breath.

“The same thing you’re doing I presume.” He answered quietly.

You gave him a look. “Shawn-”

“It’s actually Montgomery Kinsington.” He interrupted.

You almost had to stifle a laugh. “...Seriously?”

“What?” He smirked. “Too fancy?”

He turned to the bar and called over the bartender. “Excuse me sir.” He said with an ambiguous and ridiculous accent. “I would like the Crown Jewel please.”

“Is that coming out of your pocket or Gus's?” You whispered. “That’s only the most expensive cocktail you and I have ever seen.”

He smirked once again, a Shawn Spencer special. “You know, it’s sort of like we’re on a date, Lethal Weapon.”

You returned the smirk at the nickname he had given you. “Not remotely. I’m here to solve a case. You’re here to wear a ridiculously flashy suit and order a $55 cocktail.”

“Who says you can’t do all of the above?” He smiled, grabbing his drink and sneaking off further into the party. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold in the grin that split your face.

After some scanning, you lock eyes with a man, sipping his drink. He smiled over his glass. You returned the smile. The man was decently attractive, tall with salt and pepper hair and some stubble along his jaw. His eyes never left yours as he took another sip, gesturing you over to him. During this sip, you noticed his ring. Gold with a red stone, albeit much more masculine than the one sitting in evidence currently. It certainly could be a coincidence, but your gut said to investigate, so you approached him confidently.

He smiled as you approached, shooing away the company he already had. When you got close enough to him, he leaned down to your ear so he could be heard over the music playing.

“And who may you be?” He asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You replied flirtatiously. At this, he chuckled lowly and placed his hand on the small of your back, lightly pushing you away from the rest of the crowd. You instinctively stiffened slightly, but allowed him to guide you wherever he wished to go, keeping your guard as high as it could be.

“How about if you tell me your name…” He said, lightly pushing you to a booth for more privacy. “...I’ll tell you mine.”

You smirked. “My name is Rowan. Rowan Blake.” You said.

He rested his head behind your ear. “That’s quite lovely. I haven’t seen you around, are you new to the area?”

You reached the booth and sat down. “Not so fast, you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

He grinned, sitting down and pulling the curtains closed. “I’m Mr. Kale, but I let pretty people like you call me Marvin.” He pauses while he takes another long sip of his drink. “I don’t believe we’ve met, have we? Are you new to the area?” “You are just full of questions, aren’t you… Marvin.” You replied coyly.

He chuckles. “It just seems like you’re not really here. Like you’re only observing and not participating.”

You grin. “You can say I’m just here for the entertainment. I’m not really in the business of entertaining myself, really.”

“Really? I find you quite entertaining.” He says. “So what’s your story?”

“Not much of a story to tell. I’m just here for some fun. But I have a feeling there’s more going on around here than meets the eye. What do you think?” You ask him.

Marvin leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low. “There’s always more than meets the eye, isn’t there? Some people can’t see it. They’re too busy looking at the surface, missing the important stuff.”

“Is that so?” You replied.

“Oh painfully so. But there are also those people like the two of us. Dancing around the truth, yet it is so deliciously obvious. People like us? We don’t mind a little game. It keeps things lively.” He answered.

You batted your eyelashes at him. “And what kind of game are we playing?”

Just then the curtains are yanked back. You both are startled and look at who ruined your conversation, only to meet the face of Shawn Spencer. Typical.

“This isn’t my booth! So sorry to interrupt you two.” He said.

“Not a problem.” Marvin replied.

Shawn shot you a knowing look before closing the curtains. You looked back at the man across from you, trying to get back to where you were.

“Let’s take this somewhere more private.” He said, getting up. He took your hand and helped you out of your seat before walking you back through a door on the side of the room. Alarm bells started going off in your head, but your search for answers muffled the sound.

The room was lit by a singular candle on a table sitting in the very center. Two chairs sat across each other, and the room smelled slightly of bergamot. Marvin led you in before shutting the door behind you.

“How did you know this was here?” You asked. While you tried to remain flirtatious, you feared that it came across as a bit fearful. Whether or not he caught it, you weren’t sure.

“Did I forget to mention?” He said. He raised your hand and gave a soft kiss to your knuckles. “This is my establishment.”

Your eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize.”

He chuckled at that. “There’s a lot to learn about me, Rowan.”

Illuminated by candle light, he poured two glasses of wine. You had enough sense to know that if you have any of that, he has to have some first. To reassure you, he took a sip from his glass. You followed suit, taking a much smaller sip.

“I must be honest Rowan. I would very much like to kiss you.” He said softly.

You tensed up internally, hoping that he couldn’t tell. “Well. What’s stopping you?” You replied.

He laughed softly before reaching up to cup your face. Your head started spinning. What’s going on? You thought to yourself.

Before you can even think, Marvin collapsed. You had to steady yourself on the table, fighting whatever was taking control of your system. Just then, the door swung open, and through the light flooding the room, you realized that you are not alone. A figure stood in the darkness the whole time. You fell to your knees, clutching the edge of the table for any sort of stability. In your final moments of consciousness, you realized that Shawn is who entered the room. You tried to muster the strength to warn him when everything goes black.

~

You woke up slowly, head heavy, to find yourself bound to a harsh wooden chair. You could feel rough rope digging into your wrists tied behind your back. It took a few seconds but you regained feeling in your shoulders, unfortunately. Every joint in your body hurt like hell, like you hadn’t moved in 10 years.

Again, you felt the presence of others, and you slowly lifted your head as much as you could to find two, also unconscious and bound to chairs surrounding a table. Across from you was Marvin and a woman you did not recognize. The woman was not bound by her arms, though they were tied behind her back, but instead bound around her chest and abdomen to the chair. She had dark, disheveled hair, and her head hung backwards over the back of her seat.

As you regained your strength, you were able to lift your head more, taking in the surroundings of the room you were in. It was elegant, but old and dusty, like it had been forgotten about for some time. You turned to your left and your stomach dropped. Another person was tied next to you: Shawn, still unconscious. The sight of him jump started you, and you started pulling at the rope holding you. You pulled with such force you almost knocked your chair down backwards, and your skin started to burn. You cursed under your breath.

“Giving up already, Detective?” A voice said from behind you. You stilled. Shawn started to slowly wake up, as did Marvin and the mysterious woman across from you.

You heard heels clicking on the ground, coming your way. Eventually, a woman walked into your line of sight. She looked polished, with a dark red gown and a modest updo. She smiled.

“The guests are finally arriving, but I didn’t expect to have you two here.” She said gesturing to yourself and Shawn. “What a lovely turn of events.”

“What is this?” You ask.

She giggled. “Well, it’s a feast, silly!” She said, hands clasped in front of her. You noticed her choice in jewelry. Gold band, red square cut stone. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Marisol Kane. It’s lovely to meet you, Detective.”

The woman across the table spoke up quietly. “Marisol, let these people go.”

“I don’t want to hear one word out of your whore mouth, Isabelle.” She replied, warmth suddenly gone.

“What is this about?” Marvin said, finally conscious.

“What is this about? This is about you stealing the woman I love and turning her against me!” Marisol yelled, brandishing a knife.

“Allow me.” Shawn quipped. You wished you could stop him but even with free arms there is nothing to stop that mouth from running.

“It starts with you, Isabelle Noir. You’re the stuff of criminal legend. The Picasso of lockpicking, except instead of painting, you were cracking safes and stealing hearts. And then, one day, you vanished. No goodbye, no farewell tour, just poof—gone. Everyone assumed you’d gone straight or, at the very least, decided to retire somewhere with a beach and a fruity drink. But no. You’ve been here. Hiding. Because someone made sure you couldn’t run.

And that someone? Marisol Kane. Marisol, your obsession with Isabelle is, how do I put this delicately, certifiable. You were her best friend, but secretly, you wanted to be so much more. And when you found out she said yes to Marvin—Marvin! Of all people—something in your brain just… snapped. You couldn’t stand the idea of Isabelle loving anyone else, especially not him.

So, what did you do? You decided to get back at Marvin for all the pain that he caused you. By leaving his fiancée’s severed hand at a rival eatery, adorned with the ring he gave her. You meticulously left a trail of breadcrumbs leading us all the way to Mr. Kale himself, hoping that the initials alone would be enough. You’ve been pulling the strings this whole time, letting him twist in guilt and regret while you’ve been keeping Isabelle locked away like some tragic fairytale villain. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?

No, you’re not just satisfied with Marvin’s misery. You want revenge. And what better way to get back at him than to kill the woman he loved, right in front of him? Let him watch as you take away the one person he couldn’t protect. It’s dark, it’s twisted, it’s, honestly, a little too on the nose, but hey, points for commitment.

But you forgot one teensy little detail. Me, Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. I knew your whole plan all along, and trust me, law enforcement is already on their way.” Shawn leaned closer to you and whispered. “They are on their way, right?”

Marisol slammed her knife on the table.

“That’s not all…” Continued Shawn. “The worst part is, no matter how this goes, Isabelle is never going to love you the way you love her.”

Marisol looked at him, engulfed in rage. “That’s enough. You think you know everything. But you don’t. Not yet anyway.” She took your chair and pulled you closer to her, picking up the knife and holding it to your neck.

Shawn’s grin dropped.

“You know how I feel, loving someone who does not feel the same.” She pressed the knife further into your skin. “Now you get to watch as they die.”

Your eyes widened and your life flashed before your eyes. Was this really your final moment?

“Don’t do this!” Shawn yelled.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Marisol replied.

Shawn paused. “Because you’ll never get away with it.” He said.

Marisol shrugged. “Oh well.” She began to push the knife further when Shawn spoke up again.

“Because what will it prove?”

Marisol laughed chillingly. “Not good enough, Spencer.”

You steeled your expression and prepared to greet death when Shawn spoke up one final time.

“Because if you hurt Y/N, you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, praying that you don’t find me.”

That gave everyone a pause, including you. Marisol loosened her grip on you slightly, before chuckling.

“Love is weakness, Shawn.” She replied.

Suddenly the doors swung open and police entered the room, led by Lassiter and Juliet. Marisol pressed the knife tighter to your neck, using you as a human shield.

“Put the weapon down now!” Lassiter commands.

Marisol refused, staring coldly at the weapon pointed directly at her.

“You don’t want to do this, you could walk away from this.” Juliet added.

Marisol laughed sadly, before looking over at Isabelle. Isabelle silently pleaded with her to put down the weapon. She did not.

“I was never going to walk away from this.” She murmured under her breath before slamming the knife into your shoulder. You barely registered the pain, just as you barely registered the sounds of gunfire and Marisol’s collapsing body. Her grip on the knife remained, and she yanked it out of your wound on her way down.

Everything started moving in slow motion. You could hear yelling. Was that Lassiter calling for paramedics? You couldn’t be sure. Your shoulder felt warm and wet, and then the pain set in. A loud noise ripped throughout the room, and it took just a moment to realize it came from you.

You looked at Juliet, your friend and confidant. You had never seen such concern across her face. She rushed over to you and untied you, gently lowering you to the floor. Your whole arm and chest felt like it was on fire. Shawn and Gus appeared next to you too, though you could barely see through the spots in your vision. How’d Gus get here? Am I dying? You thought to yourself. No. Not yet. You’re just in shock. Even in this state you had to be the voice of reason.

Juliet applied pressure to the wound. Shawn shouted at someone you couldn’t see, and Gus grabbed your other hand, holding it tightly. You could hear the other officers securing the scene, moving what you assumed to be Marvin and Isabelle out of the way.

“You are going to be okay, you can’t die on me yet.” Shawn’s voice cut through the noise. “Not when there’s so much left for me to tell you.”

It took everything in you to move your eyes over to meet his. He looked as if he was going to cry. You mustered out a faint. “Not… going… anywhere.”

As you slipped from consciousness, you saw the lights of the ambulance through a crack in the wall, and then nothing.

~

The antiseptic smell hit you first, then the faint beeping of the machinery you were hooked up to. You knew exactly where you were, Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital. You hoped you never got used to waking up in this fashion, head heavy and eyes blurred. Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the bland atmosphere and the warm sunlight coming in through the blinds. The room was standard and cold, but your eyes lit up when you saw who was there.

Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, and even Chief Vick, all lost in conversation.

“You know, maybe we should throw a big party. Maybe with a ‘Congratulations on Not Dying’ banner. Thoughts?” Shawn asked.

Gus rolled his eyes. “No, Shawn. You don’t just throw parties for someone in the hospital.”

“Why not? It’s uplifting! I’ll get balloons and a cake that says ‘Y/N, Please Never Scare Us Like That Again.’” Shawn replied.

“It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Juliet added.

Lassiter crossed his arms. “The worst idea he ever had was pretending to be a psychic.”

“That is your small-minded interpretation of my God-given abilities.” Shawn replied, mockingly offended.

“Here we go.” Gus said.

You stirred and the team turned to look at you. They sighed a collective sigh of relief.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Juliet said. You smiled weakly in reply.

“How are you feeling?” Shawn asked.

“They almost bled out after being stabbed in the shoulder, how do you think they are feeling?” Gus added.

“You gave us a real scare back there, Bureau. Next time, try not to throw yourself into danger like some action movie hero.” Lassiter said.

“Yeah Y/N, how dare you do something brave and selfless. Lassie would prefer you to run away screaming.” Shawn quipped.

“I’d prefer for you to not end up in the hospital.” Lassiter said, grumbling.

“Lassiter just means we’re all really glad you’re okay.” Juliet added.

You smiled. Chief Vick spoke up. “We’re really proud of your bravery, and we’re glad to see you back.” She turned to everyone else. “Let’s give Detective Y/L/N some space.”

As the team left, you mustered the strength to speak. “Hey Lassiter.” You said. He turned back to look at you. “Nice shot.” You said and he almost cracked a smile.

“Considering your score on the Marksmanship Qualif-” You continued.

Lassiter interrupted by rolling his eyes and swiftly walking out of the room. Even Chief Vick smirked a bit at that.

Gus and Shawn were the last to leave. They headed toward the door when Shawn suddenly stopped. Gus turned to look at him and Shawn gestured for him to go ahead. Gus looked back at you and then back at Shawn. “Don’t say anything stupid.” He said.

He just grinned and looked at the floor in return. Gus smiled at you before walking out of the room.

Shawn turned back to you, eyes still on the floor and hands in his pockets. He walked back to sit down next to you.

“So, what are all the things you haven’t told me yet?” You asked.

He finally looked up at you. “You remember that?” He asked back.

“Answer my question first.” You said.

He chuckled a bit. After a moment he finally spoke up. “You scared the hell out of me,” he said softly, his voice unusually sincere. “I thought I lost you back there.”

You began to speak but he stopped you and continued. “I’ve been doing this thing where I crack jokes and avoid feelings because, you know, feelings are terrifying. But seeing you like that, seeing you hurt, it made me realize I can’t keep avoiding this.”

He leaned closer, his expression raw and unguarded. “I’m in love with you. There, I said it. I love you. I love the way you see the world, the way you keep me grounded when my brain’s flying off in eight different directions. I love the way you call me out when I’m being ridiculous and how you secretly laugh at my jokes when you think I’m not looking, and-”

You smiled and interrupted him. “Shawn.”

He looked back at you, looking completely vulnerable. You didn’t mind it, seeing him this way. It was different.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I love you too.”

His face lit up and he let out a small, incredulous laugh. “You do?”

“Always have.” You admitted.

Shawn blinked, clearly taken aback. For once in his life, he was speechless. He ran a hand through his hair, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine, boyish grin.

"Wow," he finally said, sitting back slightly but still leaning close enough that you could see the sparkle in his eyes. "Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, I hoped. But hearing it? That’s...wow."

You chuckled softly, wincing a little at the motion, and Shawn immediately leaned forward, concern flashing across his face.

"Hey, hey, no laughing if it hurts," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Doctor Shawn prescribes...uh...smiling. Smiling’s safer."

"Smiling’s overrated," you teased, even as a small grin crept across your face.

"Not when you do it," he shot back, the flirtation in his tone genuine, not just his usual banter.

For a moment, there was silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Shawn reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing against yours on the bed.

“You know Gus sped me to the hospital in his work car? It may not look it but that thing can go pretty fas-”

"Shawn," you said.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me already."

His eyes widened slightly, but only for a second before he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was afraid to hurt you, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into it. His hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

When he pulled back, his smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it.

"Okay, officially the best day ever," he said, his voice breathless.

"Even better than the time you solved the case of the stolen pineapple?" you teased.

"Way better," he said without hesitation. "Though we might need to commemorate this moment with a pineapple smoothie. For tradition, obviously."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me now," he said, grinning. "Forever."

"Forever doesn’t sound so bad," you replied, and the way he looked at you in that moment made you feel like it really wouldn’t be.

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