Hey guys!

I just want to thank all of you again SO MUCH for your support with this story! I had so much fun writing it and hope you all enjoy the last chapter. Thanks for all the favorites, reviews and just for reading! I appreciate it more than you know :)

I might take a break from Psych for a little while but I will definitely be back with new stories for our favorite (fake) psychic :)

Thanks again, and this one is for all of you!

~cosette141


Gus let out a breath as he parked the Echo neatly in a parking space. He glanced over at Shawn who was looking through the window. It's been three weeks since Shawn had been released from the hospital, and although he worked hard to convince everyone of it, he still wasn't quite healed. As much as he tried not to, he still worried about his friend, worried about how Shawn couldn't quite erase a slight limp in his step or the fact that his hand nearly permanently resides over his ribs and the gunshot wound. Shawn walked slower and almost always avoided bending down. Both Gus and Henry, and even Jules, still tend to walk extra close to him, as if afraid he'd collapse right where he stood. Everything that happened, the whole memory of pulling Shawn out of the car was still… too fresh. Gus knew Shawn hated every second of their coddling so he did his best to keep it inside.

And today's trip was not helping.

Hopefully subtly, Gus looked over at Shawn, and, with his brows kneaded in uncertainty, he asked, "Shawn… are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, Gus," said Shawn, looking at him with an exasperated look. "You can stop asking. I'm beyond sure."

"But…" Gus bit his lip.

"It's gonna be fine, buddy." He flashed a grin.

Gus sighed nervously and got out of the little blue car. He didn't say anything when it took Shawn a bit longer to get out himself. Shawn's face was slightly pinched as he put a hand to his side but barely grimaced. So subtly that only someone looking for it would have noticed. It took Gus about every ounce of self control to keep himself from helping his friend. Finally out, Shawn shut the door heavily and leaned against it for a second. Gus pointedly looked away and pretended not to notice.

"This is the right place?" Shawn asked after a second, pushing himself away from the car, a little out of breath but seeming better.

"Yep," said Gus, shoving down his concern. "First National Bank."

They both looked up at the bank, which was Psych's actual bank. It was smaller than the… other one. Gus shook himself at the thought. Shawn started toward the double doors.

"Shawn…" Gus hurried after him. "But, you're… like, sure you want to—"

"Yes," said Shawn loudly, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes. "I highly doubt some crazy madman with a gun is going to shoot up this bank," he said with a pointed look toward Gus. "And even if one did," Shawn went on, "I'm covered." He lifted his button down shirt to reveal a bulletproof vest underneath. "See? I'll be fine."

Gus just shook his head as they walked inside. "I still think you're crazy."

They walked in. There was a short line of customers and a few tellers. They got in line. Gus sighed, looking around the room, paranoia chilling the back of his neck. But there was no madman, no gunfire. Just phones ringing and paper rustling and hushed conversation.

"You know,"said Shawn, "it's a lot more boring without the crazy gunman."

"Shawn!" chided Gus. "Don't even joke about that! What's wrong with you?"

Shawn just shrugged as they moved up in the line. "But you know what? It feels good. I think I might actually start participating in the finance of the business. It feels good." He breathed in the crisp air. "Hey, how much is even in our account?"

"I'm not telling you."

An open teller looked up and called, "Next," and Shawn and Gus walked forward.

"Hello," said Shawn with a cocky smile.

"Hi," the teller said.

"I'd like to deposit our business check," said Shawn happily.

The teller smiled. "Sure."

Shawn fished through his pocket and pulled out the check, handing it to her. He turned to Gus. "See? Painless. And now you can't tell me I'm not responsible anymore. So, ha."

"Actually…" said the teller, who had smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper and now held it up to Shawn. "This isn't a check. It's a coupon for jerk chicken."

Shawn pressed his lips together and Gus glared in the back of his head. "Oh."

Gus just shook his head. "You're an idiot."

They left the window and started back toward the door. Shawn looked back down at the coupon. "Well, it's still valid. You up for jerk chicken?"

Gus just grinned. "You know that's right."

Shawn squinted at it. "Buy two meals get the third free…" His head snapped up. "Sweet, I got just the thing." He pulled out his phone as he and Gus walked through the double doors and dialed a number on speed dial. He waited for a second until it picked up. "Aaron!" he exclaimed excitedly when it did. "Doc, perfect. You hungry?... What do you mean you're busy?" Shawn and Gus got into the Echo and Shawn listened to Aaron's excuse. He rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, reaching for the seatbelt, listening, and then he scoffed. "That guy will still have appendicitis in an hour… What if this time I made Gus pay?"

Gus rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I paid last time!"

"Gus just said he'd love to," Shawn told Aaron.

"Shawn!"

Shawn just smiled and leaned back into the seat. "Doc," he stressed, looking at the coupon again. "It's gotta be today! This expires on the tenth!" His face screwed up in confusion as he listened. "What do you mean today's the eleventh?"

Shawn's argument with the doctor continued and Gus used the distraction to look at his best friend beside him, see him bruised and tired but alive and laughing. No, he might never get Shawn to walk into a bank again, or the right one anyway, but he got something better.

This.

He turned his head back to the road and didn't even bother to hide the smile that brightened his face as he drove.