Chapter Text
Shawn heard the car slow down before he saw it.
It’s been almost three months since Shawn ran away from home, and he hadn’t considered that he would have needed money by now. Yes, alright, he understood that money was important, and that jobs resulted in paychecks that offered some sort of stability. But when he’d been planning (okay, maybe just vaguely imagining) running away, he’d forgotten to account for the fact that he would need cash to keep away from Santa Barbara.
He couldn’t go back now, anyway. He wasn’t even sure his dad would take him back.
So, he’d checked himself out of the shitty motel he’d been staying the night in. It’d been a horribly hot day out when he’d left that morning, so now he’s sporting a crop top he knows Henry would hate.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a deep voice calls, sending a chill up Shawn’s spine in spite of himself. In spite of all his training. “Looking for a ride?”
His original plan when he’d left his motel room that day was to walk—somewhere. Somewhere that feels far enough away from that shitty house with the stupid roof, and the stupid easter eggs in the backyard, with that stupid car and the stupid trunk and his stupid dad— .
“Come on, honey. Sexy things like you don’t need to walk, all you gotta do is ask.”
Shawn knows it’s wrong. He knows this guy has to be a creep. He’s absolutely sure this guy isn’t sure how old Shawn is, and that he doesn’t care.
But the thing is, Shawn has no idea where he’s going. Where he is, even. It’s gotten dark by now, almost pitch black, and he doesn’t know the area. He’s lost, and out of money, and unarmed.
“Last chance. You gotta be needing something— I’ll pay you.”
Shawn’s stomach rumbles.
He takes a deep breath in and turns towards the car.
Okay.
Walking up to the now-stopped vehicle, he leans inside the open window and grins. It’s his most charming smile, and he feels weird using it for this. But hey , if it pays, it pays.
“Gonna let me in?” Shawn asks, smiling still as nauseatingly sweet as he can.
“ Sure, pretty boy,” the guy drawls, harshly brushing his thumb against Shawn’s bottom lip in a mockery of gentleness before unlocking the passenger door.
///
He stops doing it, as soon as he doesn’t need to anymore. Instead, he starts to stay in one place, to take whatever jobs he can—whatever can hold his attention long enough for his mind to turn off. Of course, it’s never long before he starts picking up patterns, solving cases made up of co-worker drama and whatever else that doesn’t matter. The perfect mind for the perfect detective that he’ll never be.
He finds his way back to Santa Barbara. Shawn thinks it's for the same reasons he can’t stop noticing details he doesn’t care about; it’s just part of who he is now. He couldn’t get the place out of himself, even after running away. And then—he decides to call in hints to the police. If he’s accepting that Santa Barbara’s a part of him, he might as well accept that he’s sort of a freak, right?
Well, because nothing’s ever interesting enough for him, Shawn ends up psychic detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department.