"Christmas Fruitcakes"

Psych; ensemble; Rated G

"So, Jules," Shawn said, perching on the edge of her desk, "I was going to ask if you'd like to help me hang some mistletoe tonight, maybe roast some nuts, but I see you already have plans." His stupendous powers of observation had noticed the edge of a plane ticket, dated for that day, sticking out of some papers on her desk.

"Actually, Shawn, I do," she said with a tinge of "how does he do that?" in her voice.

He smiled. "I'm getting images - a stream of water. Someone peeing? No wait, just regular water. Fuzzy dice. Bad lounge music--"

"She's going to Vegas, Shawn," Gus said, walking up and effectively interrupting Shawn's monologue. "She told us last week, remember?"

Shawn gave him "the look." "Dude, I was on a roll," he complained, smacking Gus on the arm.

Gus took time to smile broadly at Jules, then hit him back.

The slap fest was on.

"All right," Lassiter called out in a loud voice. He stood in the entrance to the break room, printed flyer grasped tightly in one hand. If one looked closely they would see a photo of Miss December 1993 with Lassiter's face photoshopped on it. "Who's responsible for this?"

Shawn and Gus stopped, looked at each other, said (in unison), "Merry Christmas, Jules," and made a quick - and timely - exit.


Copyright December 2007 by Cait N.

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