Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Psychic in the City (Chap 2/2+7)

Title: Psychic in the City
Fandom: Psych, White Collar
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Peter, Neal, El, Mozzie, Diana, Jones with cameos from Henry, Juliet & Lassiter
Word Count: 1576
Rating: PG-13
Overall Summary: Shawn tags along when Gus goes to New York City for a convention. He takes the time to look up old friends.
Chapter Summary Shawn and Neal spend time at the museum
Notes: I honestly don't know the inspiration for this but I wanted to have the two meet as teens after leaving home. There are many conflicting dates regarding when Neal was born, but one of them only makes him a month younger than Shawn so I used it. I'd also like to thank my three betas snowflakie06, slytheringurrl and the_moogie

First Prologue Second Prologue Chapter 1

Shawn and Gus left the hotel at the same time the next morning and Gus didn’t even have to nag Shawn. Gus headed south a few blocks to his convention while Shawn went uptown to the address Neal had given him. He stopped for a smoothie and strolled up Broadway, enjoying the noise and bustle that came with a major metropolis. He passed some street vendors which reminded him to pick up something for Juliet. Something not knock-off.

He cut over towards the Hudson along 81st and did a double-take when he saw the house on the corner. He grinned. Of course Neal got himself a place in a classic brownstone mansion. He jogged across the street and up the front step.

The door was opened by a maid not long after he rang the bell. “May I help you?”

“I’ll get it.” An older black woman dressed elegantly came up behind the maid. She held a little pug in her arms. There was no doubt this was her home. “You must be Shawn. I’m June. Neal told me you were coming. He’s upstairs having breakfast.”

Shawn followed June up to a loft apartment and through to the terrace where Neal was sitting at a little table sipping coffee and nibbling on pastry, acting like he was born to the life.

“You certainly landed on your feet. This is awesome!”

“It was really right place, right time.” He noticed the cup in Shawn’s hand. “Pineapple?”

Shawn made a What-Do-You-Think face and Neal laughed.

“Okay, stupid question. It’s good to know these won’t go to waste.” With a flourish, he pulled a napkin off a plate to reveal pineapple Danishes.

Shawn flashed back to the last time he had eaten the pastry in New York. Not that happy a memory.

“You okay?”

“Hunh? Sorry. Just thinking about the last time I had these here.”

"The day you found out about me.”

“Hey, who’s the psychic here?”

“No one.” Neal stood. “Let me freshen up and we can head to the museum.”

Shawn noticed he was wearing khakis with his blue Polo shirt. “What, no suit today?”

“Not today. You’re getting Neal Caffrey: The Early Years.”

“If I’d known, I’d’ve grown my hair,” Shawn said as he followed Neal back into the apartment.

“I think it best the world doesn’t witness that again.”


They arrived at the Met after sauntering from Neal’s place through Central Park, exchanging tales they couldn’t share last night in front of Peter. Shawn stopped and looked up at the imposing façade of the museum. If he had to put into words what he was feeling, they would be awe and giddy – though he’d never admit it.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Neal was smiling. “I haven’t been here in years – at least not through the front door.”

“For obvious reasons. C’mon, let’s give Security palpitations.”

They jogged up the steps and stood to the side of the metal detectors to get hand scans due to Neal’s anklet. Neal called Peter and handed the phone to the guard in order to confirm the FBI was aware that a convicted forger was in the building and was being monitored. The guard gave them both a very thorough scan before letting them pass through.

As they headed up the main stairs, Shawn caught the guard’s reflection as he spoke into his radio, no doubt informing everyone else to keep a close eye on the two guys he just let in.

“C’mon, I know just where to start.”

“I thought you hadn’t been here for years.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know the floor plans.”

After seeing the Monet collection (where Shawn passed his pop quiz), they headed to the Fabergé exhibit where Neal was in his element.

“Only 50 were ever made,” he gushed about the eggs on display. “It took a team of artisans over a year to make each one.”

Shawn had to capture Neal in lecture mode, so he pulled out his phone and shot some video, focusing on Neal, not the room or exhibits.

After checking the highlights of the Renaissance collection, it was time for lunch. Afterwards they’d head to the MOMA. Shawn really wasn’t one for modern art, but he was enjoying himself so much and Neal just might give him a new appreciation for paint splatters and blank canvases.

As they were going down the steps of the main staircase, making plans for the rest of the day, an alarm sounded and the security gates closed. Shawn looked at Neal. This was so not good.


Shawn’s leg jiggled with pent-up energy. He wasn’t sure how long he and Neal had been sitting in the glorified closet once Security had gotten them. Neal was leaning back, appearing calm, but Shawn guessed this experience had him wound up inside.

The door opened and a man and woman walked in, obviously detectives. They almost made Shawn feel at home. The woman was tall and slim with long brown hair. She kind of reminded him of that detective on that TV show with the writer.

“Neal Caffrey,” she said. “This is quite the surprise. I couldn’t believe it when the call came saying you were in custody, didn’t even try to run.”

The other detective just looked smug, as if looking forward to the showdown.

“I didn’t run because I’m not guilty,” Neal stated calmly. “And you have me at a disadvantage, Detective…”

“Malone. You certainly have some big ones, announcing your presence to the guards.”

Shawn tried to hide a smile. She was like a female Lassiter! If not for Marlowe, he’d be trying to set them up.

“You find something funny about this?” She turned on Shawn.

“I find something amusing in just about everything,” he quipped. “In this instance, you remind me of someone I work with.”

“Really? Who might that be? One of your fences or contacts?”

Shawn’s scoff was so large, it was almost a guffaw. It was impossible to think of Lassie as a criminal. “Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police Department.”

“You’re a cop?” The other detective’s voice dripped with derision.

“He’s a consultant,” put in Neal. “Solved a number of big cases. The Yin and Yang murders? Shawn solved those.”

“She even wrote about me in her autobiography. I am a ‘thick-tufted boy genius who ice skates through life on polished blades of snarky eloquence’."

“Oh, she had you pegged.”

There were muffled voices from outside and the door opened to reveal Peter in his full FBI glory. He held up his badge. “Peter Burke, FBI.”

“Det. Briana Malone, NYPD. This isn’t a case for the Feds. There’s no need for you to be here.”

“Neal Caffrey is my responsibility and Shawn Spencer is a friend. I want to know the reason they are being kept here other than the fact they were in the building when the theft occurred.”

“The guards detained a known forger and notified NYPD. We only just arrived.”

“We were just finishing up the small talk,” Shawn informed him. “Told them of my work with the SBPD for references.”

“Quoting a serial killer is not the best character reference in this case,” Neal commented.

“Do you have security footage of them in the room?” Peter ignored Shawn and Neal.

“The cameras were down at the time of the theft,” the other detective admitted.

“So you have nothing.”

“What was taken?” questioned Neal.

“Like you don’t know,” the male detective muttered.

“Look, I might be able to tell you who might have done it,” Neal said as he made his case.

Malone looked at Neal, Peter and Shawn in turn, debating if telling her main suspect what he had supposedly stolen was a good thing. “The Antioch Chalice,” she answered, checking her notes.

“We weren’t even near that gallery, I swear to you, Peter.” Neal protested. “We weren’t even on that floor.”

“Except for Fabergé,” murmured Shawn.

“OK, fine. Except for the Fabergé. But that was on the other side of the museum.”

“We have a good case for doubt,” Peter stated. “They have nothing putting you in the vicinity at the time of the theft.”

“I have something for a slam-dunk case for innocence.” Shawn took out his phone and pulled up the video he had shot. “We thought we could use it to prove that we were here behaving ourselves. Didn’t think it would help save us from jail time.”

Peter took the phone from Shawn and looked at the video. “This is perfect. We can have the techs analyze it, get the time stamp and location. Send me a copy and I’ll pass it to Jones and Diana.”

Shawn typed in Peter’s email and sent him the video. He then noticed Malone was a little peeved at not being included and was about to turn into Mount St. Briana. He nudged Peter to have him handle the jurisdiction thing.

“Detective, I’ll have our techs put a rush on this and send you the results as soon as I get them.” Peter pulled out his business card.

“This is going against protocol, Agent Burke,” Malone said as she took a card from her jacket pocket.

“This isn’t an ordinary case.” Peter takes Malone’s card and looks over at Neal. The CI seemed to be asking questions strictly by expression. Shawn knew what Neal was asking because he wanted the same thing. Peter looked back at Malone. “There’s one more thing.”


SPN Dean Writing

Latest Month

July 2018
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Witold Riedel