A/N- This is actually my first crossover fanfic, so this is going to be daunting! (However, it's not my first fanfic.)
Everybody always thinks The Mentalist and Psych are alike. That's what inspired this. I will make a clear distinction between the two, with a spot of fun. Enjoy!
Too Many Cooks
Shawn Spencer was frantically digging through his wardrobe. The chief had just informed him a week ago that his attendance at some fancy dinner was mandatory. He had protested, but she threatened to dock his pay. That was not cool. Therefore, here he was, three hours before the dinner, looking for a tie. He caught a glimpse of blue stripes. "Ha-HA!" Believing success was in his grasp, he pulled it out of the drawer with a flourish. His happiness was short-lived, though. The tie was, like, six inches long and from his childhood. Gus may have a spare I could borrow, he thought. He grabbed his cell and dialed his best friend. "Hey, dude!"
"Hey, Shawn. You ready for the dinner tonight?"
"Ah, yeah. That's why I'm calling. I don't have a tie… thingy."
"No. I need an actual tie."
"All right, I'll drop it off at your house. Is black good?"
"As long as it fits, Gus."
About a half hour later, Burton Guster arrived with the promised tie. "Aw, thanks, man! I knew there was a reason why I'm your friend."
"See you at the dinner, Shawn."
As Gus walked to his car, his cell phone rang. Why was Shawn calling him? "Dude, do you know how to tie this thing?"
Jane was watching the rest of his co-workers doing paperwork. They had nothing on their minds; he could tell. That was no fun. He instead turned his thought to the awards banquet tonight. Attendance was mandatory, even for consultants. He didn't mind going, but Minelli threw that last directive in for Jane's sake. "Hey, Cho?" His coworker looked up. "What time is it?"
"Time for you to get your own watch."
"Well, look at that. Cho made a funny."
"It's 5:30." The dinner was in three hours. He should think about getting ready.
"Go home and get ready," Cho told him.
"How did you know I was thinking that?" Jane asked.
"You've rubbed off on me, I guess. Go home." Jane willingly obliged.