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The lights were fluorescent and dimming. One above table 12 was flickering. The ceiling speakers played a low jazzy tune. And there was actually a surprisingly cool and somewhat modern jukebox over in a corner by the door that led outside to the indoor-outdoor patio. This place was nice. It was spacious. Booths and low-top tables covered a marbled wooden floor. Some sort of finishing glistened over the wood and made it all shiny. Which meant that it was easier to clean than places that had carpet everywhere, and restaurants with floors that look like they came out of a cement truck always ended up looking like they hadn’t even sweeped. The only downside to really glossy floors is that you either slip when there’s rain outside and water running down your legs; or that something sticky gets on the ground and every step you take after stepping into that mess sounds like ripping Velcro. Shawn already hated the weight of shoes and the feel of tight socks already. Why not have sticky floors to remind him how much he hates that he walks pretty much everywhere.
He clicked his tongue out in irritation before looking back at the wood of the table in front of him. He and Gus were the only ones with coasters against the table. Something that ran some disgust through him. The Gusters always used coasters at their house. So it was no astronomical thing that Gus was using one. But Henry and Madeline Spencer had always tried to get Shawn to use coasters as a kid. He did a great job of it once he was 13, and realized that having 6 glasses on his nightstand with no coaster or further cover was just not great for the grain of the wood. So, here’s to say that he had taken to using coasters. Even if he had to double up on the flimsy cardboard advertisements just to soak up half of the condensation.
Jules and Lassiter had somehow long since discarded even the little square napkins that were given to them when their table was first greeted with waters and their waitresses name; Maria. She was nice. A woman in her early 20’s, probably just working her job while she stayed in school. Shawn had met her before here. It was the one restaurant with a bar he felt safe enough in to enjoy sips of his sodas and juice-teas. So having seen her before, she was aware of the strange, but non-alcoholic concoctions he tended to order to satiate his thirst.
Now, that was one thing Shawn would always like about himself. That he never let himself get sucked into drinking.
He had a beer, once. When he was 17. But he woke up in Gus’s room with a large bruise on his arm and no hangover whatsoever. He had a feeling that his drink had been laced. With something. He had clearly gotten away from whatever the threat was, and found rejuvenation in the secrecy, privacy, and non-abusive comfort of his best friend’s home. And he didn’t want to test the waters in the future should he ever try and crave the taste of alcohol again. Let alone if he was of legal age to drink.
So Shawn didn’t drink. And he prided himself in his strength. When he was depressed or stressed and wanted something to indulge in and take the edge off, he would seek solace in the comfort of his own makeshift-apartment. Turn on the tv for reruns of Batman or clicking through episodes of goosebumps. Making himself a hot chocolate with a bit too much whipped cream. Yes, it was much better to relax in his own home and fall asleep with too much sugar in his teeth, rather than make a messy fool of himself in a public setting. He can make as much hot chocolate as he has available in his cupboards. But he can’t ’drink to his heart's desire’ without difficulty or scrutiny at a bar. Someone would need to cut him off at some point.
So he orders his own little slew of drinks that have no percentage of alcohol or any other substances/inhibitors. He’d rather wake up in the morning feeling like he regularly does after a good night of sleep, instead of waking up with a hangover that would, apparently, feel like one of his more minor migraines. But he didn’t want to feel that way at all.
Shawn stood up, his legs numb from having sat on them so long. Shawn sat across from Gus in their 4-seater booth. Both of them up against the window respectively. Juliet sat next to Shawn, on the outside of the booth; and across from Carlton who was steadily growing a foam mustache from the glass of beer in front of him. Gus had been sipping at a tall but single glass of wine all night -as he was playing their designated driver, despite that Shawn doesn’t drink; Gus doesn’t always trust him with his car. And besides, how will Gus get to work in the morning without his car all to himself?- while Carlton stuck to some of the harder liquors. Jules was simply happy with her little cocktail.
Shawn Spencer himself had ordered a Straw-Rasberry Lemonade drink. It was decorated with a lemon and a lime; and had a slight yellow-pink-red ombré. He even had a little orange coloured cocktail umbrella floating around in the ice. His glass was tall and full. He stirred the drink around with a skinny cocktail straw, but one that had more length than a typical one. It was one of his favorite NA-drinks at this restaurant. It was the Juniors-Starburst: the typical drink contained coconut water instead of lemonade, and a shot of vodka to mix with the standard fruit juices.
He continued to stir through his drink, deaf to what was being said around him as lights flashed before his eyes. Shawn had the habit of watching the world outside when in bars like this. It was simply engraved in his brain to take notice of all his possible surroundings. So, naturally, Shawn had been looking out through tinted glass into the parking lot when his stomach gave a squeeze and warned him of his bladder.
“Hey Jules, can you get up?” Shawn asked, untangling his legs and sitting them properly on the floor. “I need to get to the bathrooms.”
“Oh, yeah sure Shawn. Be safe.”
“I will. Besides, I trust the people who come here.”
“That’s good.”
“Shawn,” Gus interjected. “Can you get me a water on your way back? I think we should start cleaning up.”
“Yeah sure, I’ll find Maria and have her get waters for all of us.”
“Spencer.” Came Carlton’s gruff voice. “How about one more round?”
“Uh?” Shawn looked between Gus and Jules. Gus smiled politely and shook his head. Juliet just shrugged.
“Come on. Just order one more round. We could all use another round.”
“I’m not paying.”
“I’m sure as hell not paying, Spencer!”
“Why not? You’re the one who wants another drink-“
“Yeah but you’ve had more than any of us. I don’t think another one of you fireworks or whatever is gonna do any harm.”
“Carlton, usually I would tell you to mind your own damn business. But I’ll have you know, I’m more sober than Gus. I don’t drink. And I refuse to.”
“What? But you’ve been ordering those fruity drinks all night? Why are you lying? Just so you don’t have to pay? That’s low, Spencer..”
“You can call me Shawn while we’re not working. But ask Maria or even Gus. I’ve been ordering Junior-Starbursts. Not fireworks. There’s no alcohol in them, they’re basically garnished strawberry lemonades.”
Lassiter snapped his mouth shut. Looking to Gus. Gus only shrugged and began to have a silent conversation with Shawn past Lassiter’s shoulder. Gus nodded and slid Shawn’s drink over to Carlton.
“Have a sip. You should honestly finish it. It’s a lemonade drink and it’ll get some water in you faster than I can while I need the bathroom. So before I literally piss on this party, I’ll be there and back.” Shawn adjusted the bottom of his shirt and flared the flannel back around the front.
He carded his hands through his hair as he weaved through people as odd pop songs he never really took an interest in listening to filled up the majority of the noise he took in. He could hear his own stressed breathing as the bathroom door shut behind him. Music playing softly, but the rise and fall of his own lungs echoed in his ears as it bounced against tile and mirrors.
He finished his business quickly and washed his hands. Soap and water. Soap and water. He patted his face with his wet hands and moaned quietly into them. Why couldn’t Lassie just let things be? Shawn shook his face into his hands. Letting up only to turn on the sink again and style his hair back to its usual spiky style. He washed his hands one more time after fixing his flattened hair. Patting his face dry with cheap paper towels and running the material across his wet hands. No use in letting his hands get dirty again by touching his face, his hair, or using those stupid electric hand-dryers. Shawn knew germs like that. And he didn’t usually care. But he was already stressed and riled up. He didn’t want to risk getting sick or unwell in the future.
Shawn stopped back up at the bar to find Maria as she settled a large plate of fries in front of a customer. He waited as paitiently and politely as he could before her body turned towards him and he waved. That got her attention. She smiled and waved back.
“Can we get four waters over two my table?”
“Table 22? You got it.”
“Thanks. Do you guys seek water bottles or Gatorade at all?”
“We do. Do you need anything else?”
“No. Just one of each. Glasses of water for my table. And a to-go bag for four water bottles and four Gatorades. I want to pay for those to-go drinks as soon as possible. I need to make sure my friends get home and have something for tomorrow.
“No problem. $8 even. I won’t accept any more. You’re doing a good thing Shawn.”
“Thank you. And thanks.” His cheeks flushed with pink. He just didn’t want Carlton to be thrown into a raging migraine and take it out on everyone at the precinct tomorrow. Was that really such a good deed?
Who knows.
Shawn settled the money on the bag and then walked back to his table, Maria followed a few steps behind with a tray of water. A young man -Peter, Shawn noted that his name tag read- followed her with a doubles bag lump of what Shawn knew to be the quickly purchased hangover-remedy.
Juliet’s head was in her hand, elbow against table when he returned. The cups chunked down against the table loudly. Carlton mumbled angrily into his arms which he had pressed against the table. His eyes narrow as he watched Maria reach back to give his his water.
Shawn was digging in his pockets as he retrieved the last water from Maria’s tray. He settled $15 dollars in fives onto her tray in trade.
“Give five of that to Peter. He’s young, but I can tell he's smart.” Shawn winked in Peter’s direction as he took the plastic bags of plastic-bottled hydration from the teens hands. Peter was maybe 17-18 years in age. Neck and chin acne giving it away.
Shawn waved as both of them walked back up front to the bar, taking care of their respective tables.
“Gus. Are you ready to go?”
“Just need Maria to bring back the check. Looks like you took care of tipping her for me. Thanks.”
“It’s no problem dude.”