Disclaimer: I do not own Psych. I make no profit from this story.
A/N: Set after Season 1 episode 7 Who Ya Gonna Call? Gus suffers from Dissociative identity disorder or Multiple Personality disorder and he indulges in living out some long repressed desires as his alter ego. Some mature and disturbing stuff happens.
A/N: I don’t really know anything about psychiatry. My description of Gus’ condition may not be scientific at all.
A/N: I apologize for all grammatical or other errors. English is not my first language.
"Let's continue where we left off, Mr. Spencer." Dr Moore said.
"Um, yeah, where were we again?" asked Shawn, even though he knew the answer perfectly well.
Dr Moore gave him a look. "Mr. Guster's father walked in on you two."
Shawn sighed. He did not want to do this. Some memories were best hidden away, in a box with a big heavy lock; not forgotten, of course, because Shawn did not forget anything.
"This seems so pointless," he whined, "How is it going to do Gus any good, talking about some stupid stuff that happened a gazillion years ago?"
"Psychological disorders often have their roots in childhood experiences," Dr Moore said, a touch of exasperation in her voice. "Now, let's not waste any more time."
Shawn sighed even more deeply and began.
"You can't be the zombie, Gus." Shawn told his friend firmly. "Playing black zombies is offensive."
Gus considered this for a moment, it made no sense. Shawn and his ultra PC ideas usually did not.
"Why would that be offensive, Shawn? Can't a dead black man walk just as freely as a dead white man?"
Shawn threw Gus a Dude-don't-be-dense look.
"Because of Michael Jackson." he said, like it explained everything. Gus raised an eyebrow. "Thriller...zombies...hello? Its a stereotype."
"No, its not." said Gus.
"You know how in the movies they always show only black kids doing the thriller dance!" Shawn said, warming to his theme.
"That's because black kids are more athletic and can dance better." Gus said in a superior voice.
"White guys can do it just as well!" Shawn challenged, goaded. He put on a record and music filled the room.
"Well, shake it up baby, now, shake it up baby, twist and shout, twist and shout!" Shawn lip-synched, dancing in front of the entertainment system . "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon baby now, come on baby, come on and work it on out!"
Gus watched him critically. "Your steps are too slow." he commented. "You gotta move your legs faster."
"The legs are not what matters," Shawn said, who was no great dancer, "Its all in the hips. Watch the hips. Shake it up, baby!" he twirled and moved his hips with the beat of the song.
He through Gus a saucy look over his shoulder.
"That's not even the Thriller dance!" Gus exclaimed. His eyes clung to Shawn's ass. Shawn concentrated on shaking his booty, running his hands through his own hair in an exaggerated sultry fashion. "Stop that, Shawn!"
"I do it way better than you do!" was Shawn's protest. He stopped dancing and wiped the light sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"I do a great Thriller, and you know it." Gus told him. Shawn did know it and he decided to let this one go. Plopping down on Gus' bed, he announced, "We'll watch Ferris Bueller's tonight."
"We watched that last week." Gus said, sitting down beside Shawn." And the week before."
"Its like potato chips." Shawn argued, "Watching it just once does you no good."
"I veto against Ferris Bueller."
"Well, what's your suggestion?"
"Hmm, we could watch Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure."
"Good idea!" approved Shawn. "Those dudes are awesome."
So they popped the cassette in, and the movie came on.
"I am Bill S. Preston, Esquire!"
"I am Ted...hold on, Bill, here you take it... I am Ted 'Theodore' Logan!"
"Why does he call himself a square?" wondered Shawn.
"Not 'a square', Shawn, esquire. Its a title of respect." Gus explained.
As the movie progressed, Shawn said, "They are a lot like us, aren't they?"
"In some ways..." agreed Gus. They watched as Ted hit a medieval armor wearing man on the head with a heavy object to save Bill. The onscreen friends hugged. "We don't have a band though."
"They are best buds, they are going through all this trouble just 'cause they won't let Ted's father separate them." Shawn scooted near his friend and put an arm around his shoulder.
"If we were Bill and Ted, who do you think would be who?"
"I'd definitely be Ted, 'cause I am tall like him." decided Gus. "And you would be Bill, 'cause he is blond."
"Well, Alex Winter is better looking anyway." Shawn declared, though he secretly thought Keanu Reeves was pretty fine too.
"Hmm, he is kind of cute, but Keanu Reeves is more manly."
"Since I am so much more manlier than you are, I must be Ted."
"Puh-lease, Shawn, you make Michael Jackson look manly. You went through a whole box of tissues when watching Its A Wonderful Life."
"You faint when you cut your finger!"
"Fear of blood is a pathological condition, Shawn." Gus said with dignity.
On the screen, Bill and Ted were being rescued from a gruesome fate by Socrates and Wild Bill Hickok.
"Hey, what do you think would happen if our parents tried to separate us?" Shawn asked.
"Why would they do that?" asked Gus, surprised. "We are not failing history."
"What if...one of us moves away or something?"
"It would never happen. We made a vow, remember?" Gus said reassuringly, putting his arm around Shawn's waist.
"Yeah, to be best friends forever." They smiled at each other, their faces inches apart. "We'll have a truck-load of fun together, have all kinds of adventures, until we die in a flying-car crash in 2067."
Gus grinned and leant forward to brush his lips against Shawn's.
The boys jumped and looked up to see the frowning face of Mr. Guster.