Gus glanced at the clock on his DVR when a knock sounded at the door, and upon seeing that it was already going on eleven o’clock at night, wondered what on earth Shawn could possibly want.

Sighing, he paused Chuck and got to his feet, moving to the door. If Shawn had some crazy idea that he was going to try to get him to jump on board with, he had another thing coming. He was watching the end of his show and going to bed. "What are you doing here, Shawn?"

"We’re going to have a Ferris Bueller’s Day Off marathon," his best friend replied, striding inside without waiting for an invitation.

"There’s only one of those, Shawn," Gus said, closing the door behind him and watching with vague annoyance as Shawn made himself at home, popping the DVD into his player and changing the settings before flopping down on the couch, distributing two plastic bags onto the coffee table as he descended.

"Of course there’s only one Gus. A marathon is defined as any event or activity that takes extra effort or endurance. This will be a marathon, dude. I plan to watch it at least four or five times."

"It’s Monday night Shawn. You can’t have a Ferris Bueller marathon at my house on Monday night. I have to get up for work tomorrow." No way, no how. There was no way he could allow Shawn to watch Ferris Bueller in his house. He’d never be able to resist.

"Oh, come on Gus! Live a little! You can sleep in tomorrow!" Shawn protested, and he had already begun emptying the bags onto the coffee tabletop.

"No, I can’t, Shawn. I’m behind on my route because of our last case. I have to be at work at nine sharp if I’m going to even begin to get caught up," he retorted peevishly and crossed his arms. "You can’t have your marathon here."

"Guus…" Shawn said, and his tone was whiny. Gus would have been unmoved if it hadn’t been for the faintly desperate, "Please?" tacked on to the end.

That was when he realized that the feast emerging from the plastic bags was KFC. And Shawn only got KFC when…

Sighing heavily, Gus sank onto the couch beside him. Damn. This definitely didn’t bode well for his route. Shawn immediately perked up, thrusting a box of chicken and an entire container of macaroni and cheese at him. "All thighs, extra-crispy," he said, and Gus’ annoyance quickly began to dissolve.

"I know you didn’t forget the honey."

Shawn snorted and tossed several packets at him. "Dude, do I look brain-dead? Of course I didn’t forget the honey." He settled back into the couch, a full container of mashed potatoes in his hands, already swathed with gravy. "All right. Got everything you want, Gussy?"

"I’m good. One question. Family or female?"

Shawn didn’t even look away from the television as he answered cursorily, "Family. Both of them." He pressed play and Gus put in one last thought as the warnings flashed across the screen.

"You’re helping me with my route tomorrow."

Shawn’s mouth twitched into a small grin and he nodded. "Sure thing, buddy."