Pineapple and Caramel
It should have been a very awkward. Incredibly awkward. But kissing his best friend on the lips two seconds after rescuing him from a blazing inferno set by a madwoman felt completely natural to Shawn.
But all good things must end - and in this case, his already depleted supply of oxygen finally gave out. Then they stared at one another for a good ten minutes.
"You taste like blueberries," Shawn blurted out inanely and at last.
Gus frowned at him. "....You just carried me out of a burning building like a Disney Prince on steroids..."
"...Do you think anyone got that on film?" Shawn craned his neck, trying to see if there had been any witnesses to his heroics. "How does my hair look?"
Gus shoved him. "...And you're talking about blueberries! You screamed like Christina Aguilera in my ear."
"Dirty Christina or Burlesque Christina?"
"Christina being bitten by a werewolf!"
Shawn frowned. "Wait a minute, my chunk of marshmallowy goodness! You were the one who kissed me!"
"That was you!"
"Was not!"
"WAS INFINITY."
They sat silently on the curb for a good minute. "So where do we take this from here?" Shawn wondered.
Gus turned his head, cocking an eyebrow at Shawn.
Then they smiled at each other.
****
The ocean breeze wafted in off of the Channel Island and through Santa Barbara, into Shawn's living room and over the entwined limbs of the two men lying on the bed.
Gus lay on his back, an expression of full-blown pride upon his features. It lasted until Shawn yawned and wrapped an arm across his belly.
And then he said, "I'd kill for a sandwich."
***
Gus did the cooking - insomuch as putting together peanut butter and fluff sandwiches could be considered cooking. Shawn had torn through two of them with chocolate milk before Gus had finished his wilted spinach salad with grilled steak asade.
"Fluffernutters," Shawn declared as he wiped his hand on his Ghostbusters boxer shorts, "are the best post-sex food ever."
"For you. I'm not into being hopped up on sugar for hours," Gus remarked, picking over the same piece of arugula he'd been sizing up for a few minutes.
"Don't be such a Nurse Ratchet, Gus," Shawn finished off the last of his milk and tossed the dirty dishes into the sink. "Let's get back to bed - there's a Michel Bay movie on at three."
"Shawn, we've got to get up at eight..."
"And Jules will cover for us. She owes me after I covered for her she took a long lunch to see that guy she met through SingletonTown dot com. And I know the type of guys you meet through that thing. All hands," he shuddered.
Gus took another bite of his salad. "You've been with other guys?"
Shawn shrugged. "I'm a trisexual - I'll do anything once on a tricycle."
Gus shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Gus, you don't like hearing about my one-night stands with women," Shawn pointed out.
"Yeah, but..." Shawn kissed his brow.
"I love you, Muffin Man. You know I do."
Gus shrugged. "All right. I love you too."
Shawn probably knew that, and he also knew Gus' jealousy had been a bit of an issue before. Gus finished his salad and added his dish and cup of water to the pile of dishes. "Which Michael Bay movie?"
"Bad Boys II."
"Director's Cut?"
"That's what my DVR says."
Shawn grinned. "I'm making popcorn."
***
Juliet figured out what was going on about two weeks before Shawn realized she and Lassie had gotten together. She never stopped teasing him over his lack of observational power.
He had been a little distracted.
Eventually, they found a little house on the beach - close enough to allow Shawn to ride his bike along the coast every morning, and far enough away to make sure Gus wouldn't suffer from auditory seasickness. Gus did the decorating, and Shawn contributed two full sized arcade games (Galaga and Pac-Man).
A year into their relationship, Henry finally asked them if they were 'together,' complete with a raised eyebrow and furtive hand gestures over a Monday Night Football game.
Shawn's expression was completely incredulous. "You didn't get that when I kissed Gus at your Christmas party?"
"I thought you were drunk...not that there's anything wrong with....this...do you need another beer?"
Shawn took two.
**
Their daughter came to them through a beautiful teenager who had lost her life to a stalker (a stalker Shawn had killed with his bare hands); their son adopted from an agency in LA, the son of two ex-addicts. Gus knew immediately what sort of parent Shawn would be - spontaneous, innovative, and completely without order - and he knew immediately what sort of father he would be - cautious, ruled by logic, thoughtful. The children were in their forever-homes, placed comfortably between a man who was almost a child and a man who had not quite been a child. It was a match made of Skittles and pineapple and caramel, careful planning and spontaneous side trips.
Four years on, Shawn and Gus sat together under a beach plum tree in their back yard. Lassiter and Juliet were talking about baby names for their own child-to-be - Lin had her arms wrapped around Henry's as the older man was gave her a piggy back ride, and Chief Vick stood behind the grill with her husband, char-broiling big red hotdogs and small, charcoaled hamburgers. Bob sat with Buzz on the ground, trying to put together an extensively large jigsaw puzzle of two teddy bears having a picnic.
"That's so literal," Gus remarked, sitting down with his husband.
Shawn had a pineapple spritzer in his hand, leaning back in a deckchair, the wooden slats squeaking against his bare thigh. "Well Gus, four years into this, I think we're a family - not the Roseanne scream-and-throw-your-Correlle-Wear kind, but the good kind. The kind that you eat off the bare floor with."
Gus rose a brow at Shawn, and Shawn just smiled.
When they kissed the breeze kissed them back.