Work Text:
“Okay! Now, we can start.” Shawn announced, walking into the living room with an entirely too large bowl of overflowing popcorn hugged in his arms.
“The finishing touch should be Mini Reese’s, but sadly tonight they are Mini-M&M’s… the only ones you had.” He sighed, plopping himself down on the couch next to Juliet. He cozied up in the mess of the pillows and blankets scattered around them, the lights dimmed low, and Four Weddings and a Funeral queued up on the TV.
“Well, they are the superior option.” Juliet corrected, her legs tucked under herself, adjusting her lounging position to lean over and grab a few pieces of popcorn, tossing them in her mouth.
“Hey, time and place. Those golden and chestnut nuggets will always belong.” Shawn raised a playful eyebrow at his partner, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and sinking into those old cushions.
“Just saying, the salty popcorn doesn't need all that salty peanut butter. The simple M&M is better, and don't fight me. I'm right.” She looked back, flashing an equally playful look.
“...Touché. Once again, you have turned me to the dark side. ” Shawn slinked his arm over her shoulders, nesting the popcorn bowl between them. “Speaking of: you're set on this movie? I couldn’t sway you toward The Empire Strikes Back? I’d even do The Phantom Menace, though Jar Jar Binks still gives me the creeps.”
“No, Shawn. Come on, it’s been forever since I’ve seen this! It's either this or Love Actually.”
“Making me choose between six different strange story lines and self-deprecatory British humor?” He poked, a smile stretching across his cheeks.
“I’ll put on Notting Hill if you're not careful.” She threatened, looking up with a teasing finger.
“Too many weddings and a depressing funeral, it is.”
“Smart man. Because either way, we are watching a Rom-Com Hugh Grant movie.” Juliet laughed, reaching up to kiss Shawn's cheek, a playful, quick acknowledgment. She sank back down, resting her head against his chest and holding the remote out, clicking play. She tossed the remote over to the side and popped a few more kernels in her mouth, making sure to nestle in a few perfect Mini M&M’s.
“Next week is definitely The Empire Strikes Back...” Shawn mumbled, giving Juliet a soft squeeze and watching the title card play. He shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, cursing that, indeed, salty peanut butter would have been too much for this salty snack. Damn.
- Now the crucial thing is you mustn't laugh. -
- OK, Right. -
- What do you think? -
- ...Divine. -
- Bit of a meringue? Ugh! Oh, don't worry. We’ve only just begun. -
“He's just so squirly– Like, cutely pathetic, you know?” Juliet mused, watching with a delighted smile. Her eyes danced over the screen, focusing on his oversized, flowy, floral shirt and adorable glasses.
Shawn cocked his head, watching the wedding dress-try-on scene with pursed lips. “Hmmm, as much as I love a set of blue eyes and a posh accent… Not my thing.”
“Oh? And what is your thing?” Juliet popped her head up, her eyes shifting between the screen and her partner.
“...Even with a long track record of brunettes… I think dangerous blondes.” Shawn looked in deep thought, but shinnied a smirk at Juliet as he finished talking.
“With posh accents and blue eyes?” She tacked on.
“That's a plus.”
“Well, I’m batting two out of three, so not too bad.... Do you know any home runs?” Juliet smiled, her attention now fully on Shawn, lifting herself off from lounging on him to sitting very close. His arm moved to rest on the back of the couch, his playful smile slowly dropping.
He paused. Yes, he does. Though it caught him by surprise, the ease with which the answer appeared.
“Wait! Dangerous blonde, blue eyes, and a posh British accent? It’s not that criminal art thief, is it? What's his name… Pierre Despereaux?” Juliet tilted her head, a smile squishing her cheeks as her eyebrows furrowed.
“Uh–”
“I'm right, aren't I? Shawn, you talk about him like an idol pop star. Your eyes lit up every time he's mentioned! You get all grinny– it's actually pretty cute.” She recalled, then watched as Shawn genuinely became embarrassed; his ears burned a soft shade of red.
“I don't think it's… ” Shawn looked to the side, the gears in his head turning.
“Don't think it's what?” Her face lost its smile in fear that she pushed a little too hard.
His gaze stayed away from her, his voice shockingly tender. “Would you be mad?”
“Be mad? What- No! Shawn, I hope you’re asking if I'd be mad because he's a dangerous criminal and not because… well, he's a man.” She added, her hand moving to rest on his thigh to comfort him.
Shawn chuckled with an exhale, watching her hand so gently rub his leg.
“Well, that part, yes. But uh–” His face crinkled, looking at the film. Mr. Grant’s nervous and frankly awkward love confession rang in his ears: stuttering through his words to his dark-haired American love as a last-ditch effort before she leaves.
Juliet watched his eyes move; they chaotically shifted around as he thought to himself.
It wasn't entirely new to be interested in another man. He did lots of experimenting in his early 20s, some embarrassing things with Gus as teens, had become very comfortable in himself, didn't mind playing up his flamboyance for laughs, and surely, there was some reason he kept annoyingly flirting with both of the Detectives in his life... Or found himself with a wandering mind during the nights after close encounters with dashing criminals. He wasn't opposed to definitives, but never felt a need to really dwell on it. To every beautiful man, there was an equally beautiful woman, one just much easier to talk to and date than the other. And though Juliet had teased him before about his "crushes", recent events just so caused this conversation to actually make him think.
A crush would explain the absolute electrifying buzz he felt around the James-Bond-like art thief, losing all cool composure, dropping everything on multiple occasions, and even aiding in a few more crimes than he would like to admit. He was stuck “pondering”, so to speak, especially if he was a more sophisticated man. Although, a more sophisticated man like Despereaux would have called this “cogitating”, with a soft smirk and a raised brow to top it off. He remembered that arrogant purr in that charming accent, how “fond” Despereaux would say he was of him, and how it made him giggle like a schoolgirl. His mind danced around all those sleek black leather outfits, perfectly combed hair, the hint of cigarettes, and the clean jasmine cologne that lingered on his person.
“Is it a crush?” He looked back at Juliet, who had been patiently waiting for him to speak first, just rubbing his knee.
“Might be. You know, it took me a long time to realize that the way I felt about my college roommate was way more than just friends.” She tacked on, smiling up at her boyfriend. She wanted him to come to his own natural conclusion, mostly because she already knew the answer. Almost everyone knew, except for Shawn.
He smiled back, though his face was still plastered with confusion. “He is pretty charming…”
“Admittedly. Handsome too.” She flashed a look, nodding him along.
“Very.” Shawn followed, looking at his popcorn bowl with a strange longing.
Juliet glaned to the TV at the sound of music; the characters delighted in a “Brigadoon”, as Hugh Mungo Grant (yes, that is his god-given name) mourned the recent marriage of his American girl. She quickly returned to her partner, expectant eyes raised as she realized this could be the moment she'd been waiting for.
“Let's just say, for a thought experiment, that Mr. Despereaux called you tomorrow. He has a paid ticket to London, a dinner at the Ritz, and a new fancy suit tailored just for you. He promises to serve expensive wines and to delight you with stories all night long. Would you drop everything and go?”
“Yeah,” Shawn said, like a duh.
She pushed him along with her words, patient yet forceful. “Okay. Now, sitting at dinner with him, how would you feel?”
“I would… I’d feel happy. Maybe a bit special.” He couldn't help the twinge of a smirk at his lips.
“Mmhm. And after all of this, as you stroll through dark London streets, he pulls you into a back garden and kisses you. Would you reciprocate?”
“I think you're getting your Hugh Grant movies mixed up. You think he's Juliet Roberts? Or am I Julia Roberts?” That question was sincere, his face weighing the choice.
“Shawn.” She warned, pulling his attention back.
He laughed, conceded, and left the decision for another time.
“I think so. I’d kiss him back.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His head nodded as he followed the drawn-out vowels, his confusion shifting into contemplation, then into pleasant fantasy.
“I think that's very reasonable.” She smiled, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “I hope you know, I am happy to hear that.” She spoke softly, keeping herself near.
Shawn froze for just a moment, looking at his partner as he processed. “You really wouldn't feel weird? Even if we cuddled on a bench dedicated to some guy’s dead wife?”
“Not at all. If I get to flirt with other random girls at some bar when we're together, you can kiss your complicated, other ‘Dangerous Blonde’.” She reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb rubbing against his scratchy stubble.
“You know I love you. You’re my person, Shawn. I know you will always come home to me, even if some world-renowned criminal tries to sweep you off your feet.” She teased, but her words were incredibly sincere. She was able to contain a tenderness so sweet it killed him every time.
He melted in her hand, gazing into sweet, pale blue eyes.
"I mean it. You don't think of me any differently for my sexuality; I feel no differently toward you. In fact, it's a bit of the opposite..." Her eyes twinkled. "Next time we're out, let's flip the table? I would love to watch you flirt with another man..." She smirked, her mind wandering just a bit. She would be lying to say the thoughts didn't excite her, and how her thoughts quickly snowballed.
"–If you're ready..." But it was important to tack on time, to give him space.
He chuckled in reply, still unsure, but his guard was down. He knew the term "bisexual" fit, and was indeed correct by all definitions of the word, but it still felt strange. The more he milled over, the more he realized that it did sound fun. Weird, but fun... The idea of Juliet watching him feel up another man made him feel... good? At least he allowed himself to space to decode the way he felt about countless men before, and especially his "other dangerous blonde", was definitely not completely platonic.
Juliet placed a soft kiss on his lips, another act of tender reassurance. He was so uncharacteristically quiet, and though she worried, she kept herself smooth and sweet.
"I love you." She said, with a tone that didn't ask for reciprocation.
"I love you too." Shawn couldn't help but smile, couldn't help but say it back. He would shout it from the rooftops if she asked. It was impressive how every worry he managed to have could be eased with her soft lips and sweet voice.
He gently moved the popcorn bowl to the coffee table and returned for another kiss, this time with his full attention. No distraction of a lingering British crush... The echoes of the film fizzled out, thankfully, at the most depressing part. As always, Juliet was the only thing that mattered; his arm moved from the back of the couch to her upper back, a hand resting on her waist. Her arms traveled to rest on his shoulders, with her wrists atop one another, delighting in his kiss. The hand on her waist gave her a gentle squeeze as the two naturally pulled apart.
“You know, I really think you’re the only dangerous blonde who's for me.” Shawn quipped.
“You don't think Despereaux could keep up with your strange sense of humour, as I can?” She gave him a raised brow, a hand moving to play with his short hair.
“I don't think I can keep up with his vocabulary.” He confessed, laughing as he kissed her again.
Juliet chuckled, her head nodding, trying to decide whether that was a compliment or a badly done compliment. Luckily, it didn't matter. She pulled Shawn in, guiding him on top of her so they both could lie down on the couch. Nestling herself under his arms, she looked up with a playful smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes. Shawn’s gaze widened; he scanned down her body, holding himself up on his forearms as he placed his legs between hers. Juliet’s hands wrapped around his neck, drawing him down for another kiss, but not before flirtatiously whispering:
“Should I put on Casino Royale then?”
“God. You know me too well… The magic words will always be 'Daniel Craig'.” He buzzed, pleasantly thinking of yet another dangerous blonde with blue eyes and a posh accent.
“I thought the magic words were 'I'm not wearing a bra’?” Her eyes narrowed, a leg wrapping around his.
“Both. Both are.” Shawn’s smile grew, and he bit his cheek as they looked at one another, sharing a frisky smile. He took the note, trailing kisses from her lips to her neck, mumbling sweet words that made her giggle. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, as the other grabbed the remote to hastily change their background noise.