(Desenvolvimento Pessoal) - Quarter Life Crisis

Quarter Life Crisis
A Psych Fanfiction
By Pookaseraph
Pairing: Carlton/Shawn (pre-slash)

Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be
Notes: My previous two stories are a part of this series, and will get numbers later. A series of
stories/chapters taking us from pre-slash to full on relationship.
Summary: Shawn has an introspective moment, and decides to make a move.
Part One.................................................................................................................. 3
Part Two.................................................................................................................. 8
Part Three ............................................................................................................. 12
Part Four ............................................................................................................... 17
Part Five................................................................................................................ 23
Part Six ................................................................................................................. 28
Part Seven ............................................................................................................ 35
Part Eight .............................................................................................................. 40
Part Nine ............................................................................................................... 44
Part Ten ................................................................................................................ 47
Part Eleven ........................................................................................................... 51
Part Twelve ........................................................................................................... 54
Part Thirteen ......................................................................................................... 59
Part Fourteen ........................................................................................................ 63
Part Fifteen ........................................................................................................... 66
Part Sixteen .......................................................................................................... 69
Part Seventeen ..................................................................................................... 72
Part Eighteen ........................................................................................................ 75
Part Nineteen ........................................................................................................ 78
Part Twenty........................................................................................................... 82
Part Twenty-One ................................................................................................... 85
Part Twenty-Two ................................................................................................... 88
Part Twenty-Three ................................................................................................ 92
Part Twenty-Four .................................................................................................. 96
Quarter Life Crisis Pookaseraph
Part One
Shawn always considered himself a bit of a 'Rules Girl' either that or lazy, he wasn't
always sure which. He just never had to do much work to get people to sleep with
him. Unless you counted smiling and saying 'hi' as work, which he didn't.
A smile, or a tilt of the head, occasionally they would even buy him a drink. He'd take
them home, or they would take him home, and he would enjoy himself. Women he
liked on the rebound. They threw themselves at him like a moth to a bad-boy, don't-
take-home-to-mother flame. And there were always men happy to take him home for
the night. It was easy.
Maybe it was a delayed 'quarter life crisis' or something. Shawn remembered Gus's
crisis with a mix of irritation and fondness. Sensible, snappy suits, sensible, safe job,
sensible, fuel economical car. Gus wanted that sensible life. Shawn just wanted to
ride his motorcycle and try something new.
And now here he was, over six months into a job (a personal record), a relatively
steady income, also a first, and he hadn't been evicted from an apartment in over
nine months, ok maybe more like eight, but that was a bit of a record too. If anyone
had asked Shawn would have to say that responsibility felt itchy.
But that responsibility didn't seem to bleed over into his personal life, if anything he
had gotten worse. He couldn't even be bothered to listen to some gorgeous girl for
the required hour or two to get her home with him. He got bored, noticed her too cute
charm bracelet or weird ufo earrings or she'd start talking about her job or hopes or
dreams or just about anything and Shawn would zone out. Charm usually kept him
out of a drink in the lap, but she certainly wouldn't go home with him after being
blatantly ignored.
He usually wound up thinking about cases, and wasn't that the worst, the reason
worked its way around his mind nagging, whispering, niggling until he realized it was
exactly what his father used to do. Be caught in a case, not listening about school or
personal problems or mom.
When he'd realized that he'd climbed on his motorcycle and was almost 10 miles out
of Santa Barbara on the 101 before he pulled over and stopped. A few deep, but
ragged, breaths later he realized if he skipped town Gus would be stuck with the
lease on the place and that wasn't fair to Gus. Damn but that responsibility thing
sucked.
It wasn't like the Santa Barbara police couldn't live without them. Vick had once told
him that crimes had been solved long before he arrived, and it was true, even if he
did occasionally phone in tips when he was bored, or the police here at a dead end,
or maybe if it was wednesday and he wanted something exciting on tv friday, like
news of an arrest in a big case.
Shawn knew Lassiter would be only too happy to see him leave and never grace the
hallowed halls of the station again. Not that Shawn hadn't given the blue-eyed
detective his fair share of tips. Back Bay killer, Vallery poisoning, and the damned
Vision break-ins which had started the whole 'psychic' thing. He probably could have
done it without Shawn's help, but hey, Shawn was a helper.
Shawn had heard it said that there was only one thing people really wanted from a
job, satisfaction. Shawn wasn't even really sure he got that, but somehow this job
kept him hanging on, much to Lassy's annoyance. Shawn especially liked it when
3
Lassiter got so angry his nostrils flared just a little. But the Head Detective had
proved himself to be a pal on occasion, got his bike out of impound, even vouched
for his helpfulness in front of a judge. They had been almost civil for weeks now.
Lassiter would never think he was psychic but that really didn't matter because
Shawn knew that deep down the Detective occasionally valued his input ...
It took Shawn several minutes on the same train of thought before his mind ground to
a screeching halt.
He had a crush on Lassiter.
"Huh," no one was around to witness the soft exclamation but it felt good to verbalize
it just then. It actually made a lot of sense really.
Shawn was always touching him, goofing off, showing off, he'd even danced for the
man and slouched on his lap, went to his civil war reenactment, solved a case for him
for no money and in secret just because he was down. Crap.
Shawn groaned and buried his head in his hands.
Fits of introspection were truly unbecoming. His dad had taught him every
observational trick in the book, he could tell if someone was lying almost instantly,
noticed a figure out of place on the back of a display rack, but that didn't mean he
had a lot of observational skills for what he was feeling. If anything his dad had
meant for him to suck it up and not feel anything. No whining, no crying, no carrying
on and no emotional shenanigans.
Shawn was at a complete and total loss. He was lazy about love, but frankly if sitting
on the man's lap in a half swoon wasn't enough to get his attention Shawn wasn't
really sure what he was supposed to try next. This was usually the point where he
was sent a drink by one of any number of bar patrons and Shawn settled in for the
night.
But that's not what happened, Lassiter just glowered and got even more annoyed
when Shawn solved a case. Was Shawn really going to have to *work* at it? How
annoying. Besides, the uptight, by the book, regulation detective was almost
definitely incurably straight.
Shawn climbed back on his bike and headed back towards home. Maybe it wasn't so
hopeless after all. Lassiter had tried to buy him a drink once, and said he was helpful
sometimes, he got his bike out of impound, and he went fishing with his dad, had
even commented he understood Shawn better from the experience. Besides, Lassiter
had said that Shawn astounds him. Obviously he'd just have to try to astound him
harder.
Introspection kept Shawn out of the police station for days, and when he finally did
get a case it was in the form of Jules, undercover at a college while Lassiter was off
on some special assignment. Jules he could handle, even if she did seem scarily
excited about that mani-pedi, but hey, he knew where she was coming from.
Eventually the crazy, revenge seeking best friend was arrested and Shawn was able
to go home and put the Wispy Sunny Pines behind him. Jules had managed to save
herself without his and Lassy's help but it was the thought that counted and Jules still
seemed a little shook up from the whole ordeal.
4
Shawn made it up to Jules and Gus the next day by buying heaps of Chinese food
and bringing it down to the station. He'd intended to share with Lassiter too, he'd
heard the Head Detective had been assigned to a ridiculous partner for the duration
of Jules' undercover work and was probably only too happy to have his old partner
back.
Lassy had made a half-hearted attempt to join the reindeer games but couldn't quite
manage it, so Shawn called after him and sent a fortune cookie flying his way. He
could almost sense the lightening of spirits. Not that Shawn actually believed in that
sort of thing, he had actually caught the straightening of drooped shoulders and and
wider and more confident step as Lassy returned to the desk.
Shawn pondered his options as he, Gus, and Jules finished up lunch, obviously first
and foremost he needed to get Lassy out of the office and somewhere to loosen up.
And if his experience was anything to go by, getting Lassiter a bit liquored up would
probably also help his cause. Besides, the Shawn Spencer charm had worked
wonders on dozens before, one more shouldn't be but so hard.
He glanced across the squad room again, catching Lassiter glaring at his computer
screen and gnawing on another half of his fortune cookie. Ok, maybe harder than he
thought.
Liquor, out of office, chatting, flirting ... Tom Blair's Pub might do it. He knew Gus
would be up for in, after he whined about being behind on his rounds for a little while.
Jules would be done her shift in a few hours, and so would Lassiter.
Shawn stood up and headed over towards Lassiter's desk. He considered working in
a bit of a sashay, but he knew in this case it wouldn't be worth the effort. Shawn
slouched down dramatically into the chair next to Lassiter's desk and waiting for the
detective to come to a boil.
"Spencer, what do you want?" He snapped.
"Well, Lassiter, it's the end of an awesome case. I figured you'd also want to
celebrate not being partnered with your least favorite person in the world any more,"
Shawn raised his voice so Jules could hear him, "You, Jules, Gus, and yours truly.
Tom Blair's after work."
Shawn didn't have to be psychic to see what would happen next. Jules stood up and
heading over to Lassiter's desk.
"That would be great, Lassiter!" Jules bubbled effusively. A quick glance as Gus
confirmed his friend was in, but a half raised eyebrow meant Shawn was in for a
grilling later. That was fair.
Lassiter looked incredibly pained at the prospect. Shawn leaned back in the chair
and tried to look nonchalant, reel him in.
"Fine!" Lassiter snapped, after a few moments, "Seven?" Shawn smiled and gave the
thumbs up.
"It'll be great Lassy! I'll buy you a scotch," Shawn returned to Jules' desk and
returned to his chinese food while Gus continued to watch with that curious
expression on his face.
"Dude, what were you thinking?" Gus hissed at him as they walked out of the station
and down the steps. "Lassiter hates your guts, do you really think he wants to have
drinks?"
5
"Lassiter does not hate my guts, Gus. He thinks I'm full of shit, there's a difference. I
hope."
"You hope?! Damn, Shawn, what is wrong with you? You were just walking through
that Sunny Pines case, you hardly used your 'psychic vision' at all. Jules is gonna
figure it out, and we're gonna end up in jail! Not my idea of a good time." Shawn had
to admit Gus had a point about the psychic visions.
Shawn sighed. Confess the crush, get wildly mocked. Don't confess and stew in the
impossible straightness that was Detective Carlton Lassiter.
Catholics are nuts, confession is not good for the soul.
"Dude, we're just going to get a drink, celebrate six months of cooperation between
us and the Santa Barbara Police Department, and see if Lassiter is at all capable of
loosening up!"
"Six months?" Gus stopped in his tracks at the foot of the stairs.
"Yeah, Six months since the chief had us work the McCallum kidnap/murder, last
week."
"This is a big deal, Shawn."
"I know, man, it's awesome. We should get a cake!" Shawn grinned and bounced
towards the Psychmobile, slid into the passenger side and waited for Gus to get in.
"Seriously, you've been working this job for six months?" Gus was starting to sound a
little worried.
"Dude, no, *we* have been working this job for six months! And it's sweet!"
Gus didn't even start up the car, he turned and faced Shawn.
"You realize this is the longest you've ever held a single job, Shawn?"
"Of course I do! The responsibility is all itchy. I think I might take a vacation, a week
or two, maybe go see Mom," Shawn trailed off at the look on Gus' face. He actually
looked a little freaked out. "What?"
"You've held a job, admittedly a job where you work whatever cases you want,
whatever hours you want, but a job nonetheless, for over six months. You described
the responsibility as 'itchy'. I'm creeped out Shawn. The last time you were this
cheerful I wound up at a gay leather bar in pants I have since *burned*, and I'm pretty
sure you ended the night in makeup," Shawn actually grinned, spending a moment
lost in the memory.
"Do you think Lassiter would wear pants like that?" Shawn tried not to look guilty that
he'd voiced the thought out loud.
"Oh my God, you have a crush on Lassiter," Shawn tried not to cuss. Who made Gus
all perceptive. "This is not happening. If you don't want to do the psychic thing
anymore, all you have to do is say so. If you want to ditch on the storefront, I'll find a
way to cover it. You don't have to screw up living in Santa Barbara just because
you're restless!"
"Gus, I'm not screwing up Santa Barbara, I just ... " Shawn sighed. Confession was
entirely against his better nature so he tended to avoid it at all costs. That meant at
this moment that he would have to settle for silence.
6
Gus didn't say anything for a while, eventually he just shook his head, started the car,
and headed off, presumably to the Psych office. Shawn kept his vow of silence for
almost two minutes before he started talking about how awesome the chinese food
was, and that they should totally order from them, but Gus was having none of it.
They got back to the office and Shawn settled in for whatever struck his fancy by way
of mindless computer games. Gus did all that mojo he did to get their tip check ready
for deposit. He was really nervous. Shawn considered placating his friend but 'no,
really, I have a crush on Lassiter, it wont screw up the business' rang pretty hollow in
his own head, so he didn't bother.
"I've gotta make some time on my rounds, I'm behind," Gus said as he stood by the
door. Shawn nodded and gave a wave. "Will you be here when I get back?"
"Of course!"
"You know, if you dated Lassiter, you'd have to tell him the truth about your psychic
visions."
"He already doesn't believe I'm psychic."
"Yeah, but you can't lie about things like that to people you're dating, Shawn."
Shawn made a loud scoffing noise and decided to play a round of freecell. Gus just
shook his head and went out the door. Shawn clicked on the radio to make up for
lack of ambient Gus-noise and tried to relax. Fifty-two wins later, Shawn remembered
that there are only so many games of freecell before you eventually repeat them and
he had already played most of them out. He switched over to minesweeper.
Shawn knew Gus was right, too. It was one thing to impress a one-night-stand with
your amazing psychic parlor tricks, but that wouldn't fly with Lassiter. And for a man
who had made his whole life based on the premise of flying by the seat of his pants
the prospect of letting that go until too late bothered Shawn. Of course, he was a
good six months too late to have legitimately come clean to Lassiter. The
responsibility thing was getting a lot more annoying than 'itchy', he wondered how
Gus could stand it.
Shawn made a resolution that if Lassiter wasn't entirely as straight, and if he was
interested in Shawn, and they were going to date, Shawn would tell Lassiter the truth,
maybe, from at least 20 meters, when Lassiter didn't have his gun ... maybe.
Resolve made to cross that bridge when he came to it, Shawn plotted the seduction
of Carlton Lassiter, now with more booze.
7
Part Two
Tom Blair's was already rocking when Shawn and Gus arrived at a little before seven.
It was easy to get a table though, it was the bar that was packed tight. Shawn and
Gus took up opposite sides of the table. A nice intimate booth, somehow he didn't
think Lassy would be up for a snuggle however.
"Don't do anything stupid, Shawn," Gus warned him.
"Gus, I solemnly swear I will not do anything more stupid than lying to the police
about being a psychic, and then playing the same lie for all it's worth for over six
months."
"Not funny, Shawn!"
Gus was probably about to protest more when Jules and Lassiter came in, scanning
the crowd. Shawn waved enthusiastically, grabbing Jules' attention. Lassiter
continued to look surly, but Jules maneuvered him over to the table. Gus might think
Shawn was dabbling in insanity but at least had Shawn's back enough to get Jules
sitting next to him.
Lassiter glared at the empty space next to Shawn looking like sitting next to the fake
psychic might actually be a deal breaker.
Shawn got up and valiantly offered the seat against the wall.
"Lassiter you can have the inside seat! I'll be happy to take a bullet for you in any
scuffle that might break out," Indecision warred on the detective's face but eventually
decided hidden from view won out over stuck in a booth by Shawn.
Their waitress finally showed up and drinks were ordered. Shawn fanned opened the
menu and pondered the merits of appetizers versus a full meal.
"Wings?" Shawn asked to the table at large.
"You know that's right," Gus agreed quickly. "Juliet?"
"Is the spinach dip any good?" Jules asked, staring at the menu.
"I've had better," Shawn answered honestly, "but it's good stuff." Jules nodded.
"Wings and spinach dip, Carlton?"
Lassiter glared at him spectacularly. "Sounds fine," he mumbled back.
Shawn didn't let his frustration bleed out visibly but really he was hoping that Lassiter
be at least a little bit more talkative. Maybe another drink or two would help.
"So, Mary Lou, any lingering effects from your extended exposure to the sisters?"
Shawn grinned at her.
"Very funny, Shawn. No ill-effects, but I am glad to be out of there, girls can be so
mean sometimes. Leaving that behind will be a relief."
"At least you didn't get axe murdered, that would've been not cool. Lassiter would
have needed a new partner and everything," Lassiter stiffened and had an even
deeper scowl on his face in response to Gus.
"Oh yeah! So, Carlton, what was the deal with the new special assignment partner?"
It was clear almost instantly that Lassiter would rather talk about anything but that,
but really the man needed to talk, and Shawn would consider it his mission for the
rest of the evening.
8
"Rookie Detective, she was either a heart attack or a law suit waiting to happen.
Turned out she went for the heart attack. That's where I was when you called about
O'Hara," The whole table was silent for a few seconds, maybe hoping the continued
silence would provoke more words from the tight lipped detective. Unfortunately, the
waitress returned with drinks, and by the time appetizers were ordered, Lassiter
seemed to have slipped back from the center of attention.
"Well, Carlton, let me say it's an honor to no longer be the last person in the world
you want to talk to, I think it's a step forward!" Shawn held his drink up for a toast.
Gus and Jules quickly touched their glasses to his, Lassiter finally joined them when
he realized Shawn wasn't going to give up until he did.
"Spencer, going up in that rating doesn't mean I actually want to spend time with
you," Lassiter growled. Shawn responded with a playful half-pout.
"I'll grow on you, Carlton, I promise!" He was pretty sure he heard a mumbled 'like a
fungus' from Lassiter's direction. He responded with a huge grin. "Aww, don't be like
that. I'm very lovable."
Gus sputtered a little on his drink in response, but Jules was grinning from ear to ear.
Getting Lassiter to loosen up and spill about his life was one of her life goals. She
would be entirely supportive of this de-shelling of Carlton effort.
Wings were consumed, more rounds were ordered. A few old cases were rehashed
and teasing was administered mercilessly where teasing was due. Lassiter did not
contribute much at all, but Shawn noticed that the detective actually had a smile on
his face by the end, and it probably wasn't just the liquor talking, because he'd only
had three.
Dinner was winding down and Shawn was plotting ways to flirt more with Lassiter but
was really coming up short. The man was an immovable stone.
"Jules, Lassy, it's been an awesome six months for Gus and me working with the
Police Department as Official Head Psychic," Lassiter twitched at the 'title' but
actually didn't snap to correct it, which Shawn considered a mild victory. "So, here's
to partnerships, and many happy future cases."
"Shawn, that's really sweet," Jules was obviously won over. Gus had that nervous
look on his face again. Lassiter looked like he was sucking a lemon.
"Spencer, the Santa Barbara Police Department is perfectly capable of solving cases
without your interference," Shawn pouted and tried to think of something nice to say.
"Carlton, you and Jules are awesome detectives, but that doesn't mean you couldn't
use a little psychic nudge from time to time!" Lassiter's face changed from sucking a
lemon to looking a little annoyed.
Shawn realized that he was a little stumped at this. It seemed like Lassiter might well
and truly not like him. A few weeks ago, tweaking the Detectives nose and getting
one of his trademark scowls was exactly what Shawn would have been aiming for,
but instead every scowl was a defeat, especially since he had previously been
smiling and enjoying himself.
When the check came, Shawn covered the whole thing and a good tip, feeling quite
virtuous.
"Juliet, I could drive you home if you'd like," Gus was in rare wing man form tonight,
and Shawn was a little grateful for that.
9
"Sure, Lassiter and I drove over together from work." The two of them headed off and
out of the Pub leaving Lassiter trapped in the booth next to Shawn.
"Want another round, Carlton?" Shawn grinned.
"That's not necessary, Spencer, I have an early shift tomorrow," Shawn nodded and
headed for the door. He'd just have to try again later. Maybe try cooking. Wasn't
there a saying about that being the way to a man's heart?
Shawn exited the booth and Lassiter followed close behind him. They made it out of
the parking lot together and we about to go their separate ways.
"Where did you park your death trap?" Lassiter asked, obviously not seeing the
motorcycle in the lot.
"Oh, Gus drove. I'm catching a cab, maybe walking," It was a nice night even if it was
rapidly getting colder it wouldn't reach anything like freezing. Shawn pointed himself
in the direction of his apartment and started walking.
He'd only taken a few steps when Lassiter called after him. "Spencer," Shawn turned
around confused. "I can drive."
Shawn bit down the snappy comeback about being proud Santa Barbara's finest
knew how to drive and decided to take the offer as it was given.
"Sweet, thanks, Lassy!" The look on Lassiter's face said he instantly regretted the
invitation. He didn't take back the invitation though, and Shawn climbed into the car.
He told Lassiter his address, hardly a mile away.
Shawn did his best to ride in silence, maybe Lassiter would at least appreciate that.
Shawn had bitten halfway through his lip by the time they were half way to his house.
"We should do this again sometime!" Lassiter grunted in response, not sounding too
enthusiastic. "Or I can cook!"
"Spencer, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to eat anything you would cook."
"Dude, come on! I'm an excellent cook. Anything you want! I won't take no for an
answer," Shawn was grasping at straws. "I'll eat it too, so you know I didn't poison it."
Lassiter finally reached the front of Shawn's apartment and he still hadn't answered
the question. Shawn supposed Lassiter probably wouldn't physically throw him out of
the car.
"Throw me a bone here, Carlton. If you don't give me a hint I will just have to Steak
and Potatoes it," Shawn could have probably just guessed something Lassiter liked,
various indian, chinese, and mexican food had been on Lassiter's desk at various
times when Shawn had visited the department, but there was not a man in the world
who didn't love steak.
"I'm ..." Lassiter trailed off, "Steak is fine. I'm allergic to mint, pineapple, and
strawberries."
Shawn nearly recoiled in horror. Lassiter was allergic to pineapple?! Talk about
relationship hurdles.
"Friday, around 9, I know you're off work late. Just bring yourself. It'll be sweet!"
Shawn sat, waiting for confirmation that Lassiter had agreed to his terms.
"I'll be there," he finally ground out.
"Apartment G. See ya friday, Carlton."
10
Shawn exited the car and did his best to put a little sashay in the walk, but he was
pretty sure Carlton wasn't watching. He opened the outer door to the complex and
turned around to see Lassiter waiting for Shawn to get through the door. Shawn gave
a half-wave and Lassiter drove off.
Shawn laughed softly and tried to figure out how he was going to jazz up steak and
potatoes to really impress him.
Shawn hummed all the way up the stairs to his apartment. Maybe not so hopeless
after all.
11
Part Three
Shawn wasn't much of a planner, and he never had been. But he was discovering an
untapped well of foresight for his dinner with Lassiter. He might be a bit unfocused,
but there were many lessons Henry Spencer drilled into his son: detective work, his
memory, and the proper planning for a cookout.
Henry's butcher was able to come through in the end and was able to provide a great
steak, well two, good color, nice marble, and Shawn decided that he was ready for
some serious grilling and set them aside for Friday.
The afternoon after the 'double date' at Tom Blair's Pub Shawn lounged in the Psych
office watching a previously tivoed morning news. Gus came in after work and an
intense round of foosball was had by all.
"Have you gotten over your weird crush on Lassiter yet?" Gus slouched down into his
chair, obviously deflated.
"Gus, it's not a weird crush. I know he's not my usual type but he's just ... mmm!"
Gus obviously didn't want to hear Shawn's observations on the appeal of Lassiter, he
made a disgusted face and shook his head. Shawn just grinned.
"Besides, I invited him over for a date this Friday."
"Shawn, you're nuts! He probably doesn't even realize it's a date."
"I see you've found the one flaw in my otherwise incredibly clever plan," Shawn
sighed. It was true. The effort would be wasted if Lassiter wasn't interested. "It's a
risk I'm willing to take, Gus. Besides, it's not like I'm going to jump him, it's just dinner,
maybe a few drinks."
"Shawn, you haven't been in a serious relationship for years, and you were never
very good at it when you *were* trying."
"You're right, I'm a horrible boyfriend. But I'm an excellent cook. All I need is a little
practice. Besides I ..." Shawn trailed off.
"Oh my God, you actually like him. This isn't just some horrendously bad idea crush,
you actually like him. You two have nothing in common!"
"We ... like fishing?"
"You hate fishing, Shawn."
"Do you think he likes motorcycles?"
"I doubt it."
"Ok, ok, we both like solving crime. And women, we both like women."
"I think that's another *huge* hurdle in your poorly thought through plan for dating him,
Shawn."
"Oh come on, Gus, stop being so negative. I have an awesome collection of skills
that are good for impressing men and women alike with my startling flexibility and
versatility. Lassiter just needs a little more time to fully comprehend exactly how
amazing I am."
"Just don't screw this up, Shawn. I like living in Santa Barbara."
12
"I wont, I promise." And Shawn was startled to realize he actually really believed
himself on this one.
Shawn continued to be just a little nervous for the two days, he didn't actively seek
out cases and none fell into his lap. Instead he spent the time wrapped up in playing
video games or watching sports of ESPN. Several times he had the urge to get out
and try to pick up something gorgeous and blonde but every time he got to a bar he
never seemed to manage the appropriate small talk to make any headway.
And thus Shawn was stuck with the moral conundrum: was it still cheating if the other
person didn't realize you were dating?
Thankfully Friday eventually arrived. Not that Shawn expected much, but he could at
least flirt with the detective shamelessly. One plus side of straight men is that they
never seemed to notice a little flirting, went right over their heads.
Shawn reflected on his own ridiculous taste in men. Usually, it someone wasn't
interested he would just move on, no harm, no foul. Shawn wasn't sure he'd invested
anything more than a smile in dating since ... well probably since he stole his dad's
car to try to impress a girl.
"I don't think stealing a car would impress Lassy," Shawn quipped to himself.
"Although he might handcuff me if I did ..." Shawn set that distracting train of thought
aside for some other time.
Shawn heated up the grill on the patio and finished up prepping the salad. Shawn
had decided that baked potatoes were mind numbingly boring and had decided to
prepare steak fries instead. Shawn set the fryer up on the patio as well so he would
have unrestricted access to both. Rack for draining fries, plate for resting the steaks.
Shawn's expectation that Lassiter would be alarmingly punctual was confirmed when
at exactly nine the doorbell rang.
Lassiter was wearing a deep blue shirt and khaki pants. Shawn had a soft spot for
that shirt, it did something gorgeous to Lassiter's eyes. He'd forgone tie, jacket, and
Shawn was glad to see: holster. His hair was still disturbingly impeccable and Shawn
had to resist the urge to muss it up. Shawn took in every detail, quickly and efficiently,
filing them away. Lassiter didn't seem to realize he was being checked out, he still
looked a little surly but offered up a bottle of wine, clutching it a bit like a shield.
"Lassy, welcome to my humble apartment. Come on it."
Lassiter's scowl deepened but he came inside the apartment and began to instantly
take in the room: exits, weapons, windows, obstacles, Shawn was familiar with the
checklist. Shawn pulled down two glasses and tried to remember where he would
have left the bottle opener. He then remembered he didn't have one and pulled a
swiss army knife out to serve as a corkscrew. Lassiter handed over the wine bottle
and let Shawn take care of the bottle.
Shawn poured two glasses and headed out towards the patio. "I'll get the steaks
started up."
The patio wasn't big enough for the grill, the fryer, Shawn and Lassiter so the
detective parked near the open door.
"It's a nice apartment," Lassiter finally offered. Obviously the detective was just as
bad at small talk as he had appeared at first glance.
13
"Oh, yeah. I picked it up when I came back to Santa Barbara. The parking is horrible,
but you can't beat the location."
"What's so special about the location?"
"Near the beach, far, far away from Henry's" Shawn smiled. That hadn't actually been
a consideration but he still loved the little apartment. Shawn let the steaks sit to grill
and started on the first round of frying.
"Spencer, you don't strike me as the cooking type."
"Carlton, I will have you know I have quite a bit of experience cooking all sorts of
things, I make a mean chicken tikka masala, flan, rack of lamb, beef lo mien, you
name it. But for tonight I have limited myself to rib eyes, fries, and a caesar salad. No
pineapple, strawberries, or mint. Scouts honor."
A quick look back inside the apartment showed Lassiter with a rather incredulous
look on his face. "You were not a scout."
"Junior Bobcats since I was eight." Shawn pulled the first round of fries out of the
fryer and while the oil came back up to heat he flipped the steaks. "Medium rare ok?"
Lassiter just grunted.
"How did you manage scouts if you wound up being stalked by a raccoon when you
went camping?" Of course Lassiter would remember that.
"Gus. He was much better at that camping thing. He protected me from the whiles of
the killer raccoon. Besides, what Henry failed to mention is that he was one tent over
with Annette who was screaming and hiding from a snake, so it's probably genetic."
"Annette?"
"My mom, she likes camping about as much as I do."
"You know, some people call their parents 'mom' or 'dad'." Shawn ignored Lassiter's
comment, focusing on the steaks and second round of fries. He set aside the steaks
to rest and pulled out the fries. Shawn turned off the grill and fryer and dragged the
food inside.
"Not at the Spencer house."
Shawn cleaned off the table and laid out silverware, dinner plates, salad plates, and
various fixings. Salad was retrieved from the fridge and Shawn directed Lassiter to
the table.
"We can start in on salad while the steaks are resting." Lassiter nodded and took a
seat across from Shawn. He was radiating enough tension that Shawn could swear
he could feel his own shoulders knotting up from the stress. "Relax, Carlton, I make
an amazing salad!"
Lassiter actually stared at the salad as though it might be slightly toxic. Shawn
actually forked a small pile of salad on to Lasstier's plate when he made no move to
serve himself.
"Spencer, why are we having dinner?"
"I thought that would be abundantly clear. Two coworkers share after dinner drinks, I
then invited you over for dinner, you accepted, and now we are eating dinner. You
even brought wine!" Shawn commended himself for his artful dodging of the question
and dug into his salad. Lassiter eventually followed suit.
14
"This isn't half bad, Spencer."

"Wait until you try the steak."
They shared a few minutes of eating in silence. Shawn was groping around for
anything to start a conversation. It was usually a lot easier than this, his dad had
always taught him to shut up and pay attention when someone was talking. Of course,
Shawn usually only applied that to people wanted to sleep with and it had certainly
paid off so far, but Lassiter was not one to take the conversation initiative.
Shawn tried to think up an innocuous question that didn't involve being stranded on a
deserted island and if Lassiter would make out with him. Gus was right, this dating
thing was hard work.
Shawn dished out the steaks and the fries, less than artfully arraigned on a festive
tangerine orange plastic plate. Lassiter looked slightly amused by the plates but said
nothing.
Shawn cut himself off a section and was pleased to note that his steak was perfect.
Lassiter also seemed suitably impressed with the steak. Shawn avoided a
celebratory fist pump and instead tried to think of something else to ask.
"You know, you truly are the king of stoicism, Carlton, but sooner or later I hope you'll
give it up so I can understand what makes you tick."
"Spencer, I don't know what strange reasons you have for this but I didn't come here
for an interrogation. In fact, I'm not even sure why I'm here. You have got to be one of
my least favorite people on the planet."
"Lassy," Shawn drawled the name, "Carlton, I'm just trying to be friendly."
Lassiter glowered but seemed to at least settle down slightly. Shawn was relatively
sure he wasn't getting up to leave because of the truly awesome steak.
"What do you do when you're not solving crime, playing golf, or reenacting the civil
war?" Lassiter glared. "I for one enjoy wake boarding, motorcycling, playing darts,
watching ESPN, cooking, watching old movies, solving crime, and, of course,
bothering Gus. But I will try anything once."
Shawn couldn't exactly be sure if it was his voice or what he was saying but Lassiter
seemed to still be annoyed with him.
"Can we try eating in silence?"
"I tried that once, it wasn't fun at all. Although Annette was always rigorous with the
no talking with food in your mouth rule." Shawn paused for a few seconds, enjoying
another bite of steak. "I'm an only child."
"I never would have guessed."
"I love pineapple, but I have a feeling you wouldn't share that love. It is a forbidden
love."
"Spencer, I do not believe for a second you are actually interested in any of the
answers to all your little questions."
"Carlton, I would listen attentively to anything you chose to say. But you are an artful
master of long silences, I'm just filling a need." Lassiter didn't answer. Shawn was
pretty sure he didn't say anything for at least a minute and it was really starting to
wear him down. "Ok, ok ... Gus said I needed to make new friends."
15
"What?"
"Gus. He said I needed to get out and make new friends."
Shawn commended himself for his artful use of mostly-truth. Gus had mentioned that
although there was no substitute for best friends who steal your Captain Delicious
mood-ring and get you into trouble and the Mexican border, they could both use
some additional friends. Of course, Gus had also insisted that Shawn had gone
entirely insane to try to date Lassiter so ... Shawn figured it just about evened out.
"You? You gave the toast at McNab's wedding. O'Hara has subjected me to a
recounting of some sort of manicure/pedicure thing you did with her last week."
"She was neglecting her cuticles."
"The entire department loves you."
"And yet here we are."
"It's because you want a 100 percent closure rate, I understand. I'm your one hold
out in your little fantasy land where tea leaves and palm readings solve crime."
"Now you do have a point," Shawn lowered his voice a little and spoke in a half-
whisper, "I find your resistance to my incredible skills and talents frustrating and yet
alarmingly enticing."
"I guess you'll just have to get used to being frustrated, Spencer."
"Yeah," Shawn was pretty sure he didn't sigh much more than usual, and went back
to his steak, slightly deflated.
16
Part Four
Shawn didn't exactly categorize last week's date as a 'disaster', that was a little
strong. But he was pretty sure that Lassiter was even less friendly with him now than
ever. Shawn knew Lassiter went through phases of annoyance. Generally he hated it
when Shawn showed up, but generally appreciated it when the case was finally
solved.
"You know it's only fair that you strike out every once and a while," Gus laughed at
Shawn's discomfort. The two of them were sneaking into the station to see if they
could pick up a case. Shawn's slightly deflated mood would probably be boosted by
clearing a case.
"Gus, I need support in my time of need here!"
"Whatever, Shawn, better you mess up now than later. At least Lassiter only hates
you as much as he always did right now."
Shawn was pretty sure he didn't dignify Gus with a pout but he couldn't be sure.
The chief caught sight of them almost as soon as they entered the station.
"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, what a pleasant surprise," she had that usual half-sarcastic
tone. "I have a case for you."
Lassiter looking extra-bonus-surly, Jules looking slightly embarrassed, add the info
on the police scanner from the way over. Shawn twisted and thrust his hips out, doing
his best psychic vision impersonation. He finished it off grazing his fingers across his
chest with a slightly moan. Everyone involved, other then himself of course, looked
even more uncomfortable.
"Strippers?" Shawn grinned widely when everyone else seemed once again shocked
by his amazing psychic visions. "Chief, we are so there!"
"Male strippers, Spencer," Lassiter smirked, obviously enjoying what he thought
would be Shawn's discomfort.
"Even better!" Gus actually hid his head in his hand. Juliet smirked. Lassiter glared,
probably from having his fun spoiled.
Lassiter had roundly refused to let Gus and Shawn tag along in the squad car, so
they two of them took the psychmobile instead.
"Really, Shawn, strippers, couldn't we have tried to land a different case?"
"Gus, as a former member of the brotherhood of strippers I am honor bound to solve
this case."
"Will you at least keep all your clothes on, please?"
"No promises, Gus."
Lassiter looked even more angry when usual when they pulled out of the car. Jules
had a look on her face that said she had never been to a strip joint before. Gus
looked vaguely nauseous.
The crime scene itself was around in the back alley. Shawn tired not to dwell on the
victim, probably not much older than eighteen, he would have been a casual worker,
probably looking for money for a bike or college, not a lifer. Gus didn't even take two
seconds to look at the body before heading back out of the alley. Shawn couldn't
blame him, the kid had the shit beaten out of him. It wasn't pretty.
17
The scene was pretty dirty, it was hard to say what was from the assault and what
was from any number of other illicit activities that took place in the alley. The first
interpretation was pretty obvious. Stripper-prostitute beaten to a pulp by angry client.
It didn't feel quite right though. Money, covered in blood and currently being put into
evidence bags had been on top of the victim, maybe thrown down casually after the
sex. It was just strange.
Shawn found Gus several minutes later, hiding near the entrance clearly warring over
whether or not to go into a male strip club or to loiter standing outside a male strip
club and could honestly not tell which was worst.
"Go wait in the car, Gus," Shawn offered. His friend didn't even say thank you
running off toward the car. Lassiter and Jules came up behind Shawn. Jules looked
amused, Lassiter looked odd, Shawn couldn't put his finger on it. "Well, lets go talk to
strippers!"
Shawn recognized the annoyed and sour look that crossed Lassiter's face at that
comment and Shawn grinned in response.
There was a small lunch crowd, mostly women and a few men enjoying the stage
show: a mostly naked man with a cowboy hat. Shawn couldn't help taking a look but
decided he didn't quite care for the muscles, wiry was better. A quick glance at
Lassiter saw the detective glowering slightly at the whole situation. Jules tried to
discretely take a peek at the stripper on stage and failed entirely.
Shawn swept the room taking in the details, cataloging them away.
"Shawn?" he spun around.
"Kelsey! Hi! Back from Vegas and set up a new show I see." Kelsey came up to him
and dragged him into a huge hug.
"You being here is a sign. I need someone to replace Kevin for the next night or two,
and here you are! Please, I'd do anything."
"Spencer, what the hell is going on?" Lassiter snapped.
"Lassy, Jules, this is Kelsey, the owner of this fine establishment, and my boss back
when I worked as a stripper in Vegas."
"You were a stripper, Shawn?" Jules asked, slightly awed.
"He's the best," Kelsey offered enthusiastically, "Don't tell the other's I said so, you
know how jealous boys can be."
Shawn nodded and noted that Lassiter seemed to have a look on his face that said
he had entered into the twilight zone.
"I knew the spirits had brought me here for a reason!"
"The Chief sent you!" Lassiter protested.
"She was a conduit for the spirits. Here I can solve crime *and* bring just a little more
joy and happiness to the world. Although I have to admit, I haven't really worked it for
a while ..."
"Go and take a shot at it, get you warmed up for this evening."
Shawn headed backstage and rifled through the few costumes the victim had
available and settled on the handyman get up. He made a quick catalogue of the
victims personal effects and a few quick questions to some of the other boys and
18
determined that he had no boyfriend but he had been chatting someone up at the bar
that night, no description was forthcoming. Shawn headed out towards the stage
passing Lassiter and Juliet on the way out.
"You're going to miss a great show," Shawn winked at them both.
In a lot of ways Shawn could have sleepwalked through his performance. Although
he had only worked in Vegas for two months he had really gotten the hang of it. Most
of the strippers Shawn had gotten to know mentioned they just put on a smile and
kept an eye out for whoever wanted to put money down their pants. Shawn of course
was cursed with noticing everything. He took it in, filed it away and knew he would be
able to recall any detail again.
Besides, it might have been worth it to put in a little extra effort if Lassiter was going
to watch but the man had retreated to interview other half naked men.
Shawn found his way back out to the dressing room after his tease, wearing only
underwear, plucking a few stray bills from where they had been tucked by various
appreciative ladies and gents. Lassiter and Jules were still there talking to another
one of the dancers. Jules blushed furiously when she caught sight of him. Lassiter
took a quick glance at what had distracted Jules but then turned back around. Shawn
shrugged and got back into his street clothes.
He snuck up behind Jules and Lassiter, whispering so they could probably barely
catch what he said, "It's different when you know the naked man isn't it?" They both
jumped, and he was pretty sure they both looked a little guilty. Shawn listened with
half an ear but the detectives had apparently finished with most of their questions
and were ready to leave in only a few more minutes.
Gus had not actually fled for the hills but he was hiding in his car. A quick conference
with Jules and there was an agreement to head back to the station.
"You know it's really not fair for you to do things like that to me!"
"Gus, don't be so homophobic, It's just some stripping, Lassiter went in. Besides,
check it out!" Shawn pulled out a fist full of cash and displayed it for Gus.
"You did not take off your clothes in there!" Gus protested.
"I did, and I'm going back this evening. Kelsey needed a hand."
The Chief was less than thrilled when Jules and Lassiter gave her an update on the
case.
"Mr. Spencer, you are a civilian, under no circumstances can I allow you to go
undercover like that!"
"Actually, Chief, there's not a whole lot of cover, that's sort of the point. Besides, I
made a personal promise to a fellow stripper. I have to deliver."
"Fine, Mr. Spencer, I can't actually keep you from taking a job." Lassiter actually
looked like he was about to argue.
"I feel it, Chief, the killer will strike again, and soon."
Shawn didn't really have much to go on here, he had a hunch. Shawn didn't really
believe in psychicness but he did believe in hunches. It was the one slightly wishy-
washy detective skill that Henry had allowed Shawn to indulge in. He trusted hunches.
Hunches solved most of Shawn's cases, or at least kept him looking for answers.
19
The killing was a strange mix of personal and impersonal and Shawn felt sure the
killer would feel the need to strike again.
"Lassiter, O'Hara, I want you there to keep an eye on things and make sure the
situation doesn't get out of hand."
Lassiter looked like he was going to protest, violently. Shawn contained his chuckle,
barely.
Gus dropped Shawn off in the evening. He was looking slightly green.
"I'll stay if you want, Shawn, but really I'd rather you count me out of this one."
"Gus, you are usually cool with my occasional fabulousness, but I release you from
your friend-ly duty, just this once."
"Thank you," Gus sounded more than a little relieved. After Shawn got out of the car
Gus gratefully sped off. He caught Lassiter's car out of the corner of his eye and saw
the detective step out glowering. He came up to talk to Shawn.
"Guster not with you on this one, Spencer?"
"Gus knows I'm fabulous. But knowing and seeing are two different things."
Lassiter looked sour again. Lassiter was dressed in what Shawn was now officially
calling his 'date shirt'. He might have more than one, but they were basically the
same shirt, a deep blue that made his eyes far too gorgeous. Shawn was glad for a
moment he could store that image away for later instead of openly staring to take in
his appearance. He was even showing off a little sternum bush. Jules stepped out of
her own car, just in jeans and a nice top, a good choice for her.
The two of them had already been briefed by Shawn about what to expect and
Shawn felt relatively comfortable leaving them to make their own way while he
headed back to the dressing room. He'd taken up the space left vacant by the victim,
the clothes fit Shawn, and if he looked a little like the kid he brushed it off. Nerves
were unbecoming of a Spencer.
Shawn's first act was military themed. Shawn lamented that the boots were not
nearly as comfortable as he had hoped and he wasn't quite sure what to make of the
fake dogtags but he could probably manage something.
Shawn's show went over as well as he was used to and he wondered why he had
ever thought he might not still have it. To be honest he channeled just a little bit of
this job every time he faked a psychic vision. The few times his field of vision crossed
where Lassiter was sitting he noted the detective was scanning the crowd looking for
perps, doing a fine job of paying attention to everything that was not Shawn. Jules
mostly seemed engaged by the show, although she did manage to tear her gaze
away and sweep the crowd as well.
Shawn did his own catalogue of the crowd. His first instinct was to search out which
customers would probably be the best tippers, based on dress and apparent interest,
he did that anyway, subconsciously, but he was also looking for something else
something intangible in the eyes of the customers.
After the sets the boys worked the floor and Shawn got up close with several
customers. Jules was well into her character and happily tipped for a lap dance from
one of the other strippers, bronzed and a little more built than Shawn. Lassiter
seemed determined to keep anyone from coming anywhere close to him and was
20
mostly successful. Shawn promised himself he'd get the detective a lap dance even if
it meant facing Lassiter's unrelenting ire.
Shawn's third set, and the one he had been looking forward to all day since he had
seen the costume. To call the costume a 'police uniform' would have been
overstating the coverage it provided. Shorts, a jacket, and of course nightstick,
handcuffs and (fake) gun and hostler. Shawn was pretty sure the combination was
working for him but he was pretty sure this was nothing like what Henry had in mind
when he said he'd hoped his son would wear the uniform.
Shawn pressed his luck on the floor later, getting well into Carlton's personal space
and administering a few choice shakes of the hips. Eventually a scowl sent Shawn on
to a customer more likely to enjoy and pay for his company. A few seats over was
another vaguely scowling customer and Shawn did his best to lighten his mood as
well. That one was far more responsive and seemed to get swept up in the pleasure
of Shawn's company. He didn't tip either and Shawn moved on getting the sort of
attention he was more used to but was eventually glad when the music wound down
and he could finish for the night.
Shawn changed back into his impeccable casual-chic and headed out to make sure
he had a chance to hit up the bar for a vodka soda before phoning Gus for a lift home.
That was when he noticed a sort of prickling in the back of his neck he associated
with being watched. He'd thought it must have been Lassiter but a casual glance
showed the detective was actually sweeping the rest of the floor, again avoiding
Shawn, looking out for anyone else who might be a threat.
No, Shawn's creepy-alarm had been fired by the other surly gentleman he'd given a
lap dance to. Eyes appraising and clearly interested in Shawn. If he were feeling a
little more dangerous Shawn might have let someone like that pick him, but he liked
to think he was just a little smarter than that now.
Shawn actually hardly was aware of the pleasantries that were being exchanged. He
was 'Dave' and he was quite awkwardly hitting on Shawn. Shawn might have found it
a little endearing, but something was off. A few discrete hand waves and he
Lassiter's attention. When Dave invited him outside he knew with the sort of crystal
clear certainty that would have made Shawn wonder if he was psychic if it weren't for
the fact he thought the whole idea was ludicrous.
Shawn followed Dave outside, feeling relatively safe and confident in the fact that
Lassy had his back. He hoped Lassy had his back. He couldn't hear the detective
and Shawn was preparing to get himself out of trouble if necessary.
"Could you ---? On your knees?" Dave looked half-hopeful, handing over a condom.
Shawn was half way down to the ground when his train of thought was interrupted.
"Freeze!" Shawn turned towards the sound of Lassiter and got squarely clocked in
the side of the head by what he could only assume was Dave.
He wasn't sure exactly how much time passed but when he regained his focus he
was actually staring up at the ceiling of the strip club with Kelsey and a bag of ice
looming over him.
"I called a bus," Lassiter explained, coming slightly into Shawn's field of view.
Shawn wasn't quite back to himself, so he said the first thing that came to mind:
"We're going to school?"
21
Lassiter shook his head, but looked slightly worried when continued to look up an him
earnestly.
"You all in there, Spencer?"
"I know this won't do anything for my reputation but I really didn't see that coming."
For a moment unconcerned with appearances of psychic-nes or looking cool.
Lassiter just smiled, shook his head and turned away. Shawn grinned back even
though the detective couldn't see him. After he was pronounced unconcussed, Gus
arrived and took Shawn home where he took a long deserved sleep.
If Shawn had actually been psychic, he would have known that Carlton couldn't
shake the thought of Shawn slowly peeling off a police uniform, bedroom eyes
inviting him in. He would have known that night when he washed away the weight of
a hard day at work Shawn danced behind his eyelids. And he would have known that
Carlton gasped out his name when he came and then watched the evidence swirl
down the drain.
22
Part Five
Shawn hadn't really expected otherwise, but things were awkward for the few days
following the cracking of the stripper case.
Gus hadn't even been there and he was acting stranger than usual. His residual
discomfort seemed to come from the knowledge that Shawn could have gotten the
crap beaten out of him and Gus wasn't there to help.
Jules mostly seemed to take things in stride, although sometimes Shawn caught her
staring at his ass, not that he could blame her. When he caught her, she would blush
bright red and then turn back to whatever she had been working on.
Lassiter was the one who had the most strangeness lingering from the case. He
wouldn't look Shawn in the eye (or butt for that matter). He didn't even whine about
Shawn hanging around at the station or tagging along on cases. The fire was missing
and Shawn found himself pushing even more than usual in an effort to bring back the
Lassiter he remembered.
Shawn couldn't be sure which but he was pretty sure Lassiter's silent avoidance was
either very, very good or very, very bad.
Either way Lassiter needed to be snapped out of it, hopefully with further teasing.
Shawn set to work trying to think up something devious to grab Lassiter's attention
because the stripping had clearly done *something* for the man, even if Shawn
wasn't sure what. All that remained was to drive the detective to an even farther level
of distraction.
Shawn tended to think he had a read on Carlton Lassiter, at least a little. So the
accidental revelation that he had a blog (discovered by a routine google search for
'Shawn Spencer') came as quite a shock.
Shawn read up on his favorite head detective and was delighted to discover that
Carlton seemed to have what might quaintly be termed a 'gun kink'. Which made the
appeal of a stripper-cop instantly obvious. Apparently there were very few things that
Lassiter found as sexy as a cadet emptying a clip into the center of a target.
Now, Shawn Spencer was no Academy cadet, but he was pretty sure he could
manage a rough approximatation. And he could arrange to show off his startling
competency if he was given half a chance.
The first step was relatively simple. A half-assed explanation to Jules and Shawn was
able to get some time down on the range. She just ate up the 'psychic vibes' that
Shawn desperately had to practice there. Getting down to the range at the same time
as Lassiter was slightly more difficult. Although the detective took some time down at
the range almost every day there was almost no rhyme or reason to it. Mostly he
headed down when he was particularly frustrated.
Some casual stalking provided the perfect opportunity. Wednesday, after lunch.
Lassiter was meeting his wife for lunch to go over some particulars of the divorce and
would be in quite a sour mood. And unlike most other times the detective was that
annoyed it would not be due in any part to Shawn himself.
So with the help of Jules, Shawn made it down to the range just before Lassiter
would be back from lunch. Jules didn't see the danger, as Lassiter wasn't around the
station and she set him up with target sheet and a spare handgun.
"Shawn, you don't have to be a good shot, you don't even carry a gun."
23
"Jules, I got punched in the head the other day," he started only half faking his
earnest tone. "Where would I be without you or Lassiter? Being the department
police psychic is risky."
"Oh for the love of Mike!" Lassiter growled from the entrance having caught the tail
end of the conversation when he came down to the range. "You are not the
department psychic. You are just a pain in the ass."
"Lassy! Pull up a lane!"
Shawn slid on his protective glasses. Lassiter shook his head and took his space in
the stall one over from Shawn. Shawn sent the target paper down his lane and
loaded the clip.
Buzz ducked his head down into the range, catching sight of Jules.
"O'Hara, phone call for you." And that would be Gus. The man did good work. Jules
looked nervous for a moment but went with McNab leaving Shawn alone with
Lassiter.
"Spencer, what exactly is it that compels you to be such a pain in my ass?"
"I think it's sad you don't feel the need to be a pain in my ass, Carlton. I think it would
be a meaningful step in our relationship."
Shawn thought he saw the flicker of a speculative look on Lassiter's face, but it
disappeared too soon to be sure. Lassiter shook his head and headed back to his
lane.
Shawn took a moment to aim and exhaled. Ten shots later he checked his progress,
quite pleased with himself. He called the sheet back and, human nature being what it
was, Lassiter had to check Shawn's work. Lassiter did a double take and then came
to stand behind Shawn.
"Do that again," Lassiter snapped, taking in ten perfect bullet holes, circling the
center 'x' in the target.
Shawn shrugged, loaded up a new target sheet and sent it back. He could feel
Lassiter's eyes boring into the side of his head as Shawn slide another ten bullets
back into the clip and then snapped the clip back in. The move was easy and
practiced. Henry had drilled proper gun handling into his son since he old enough to
hold up a gun. His first learning experiences were in this very room, standing up on a
foot stool so he was tall enough to see over the lane head. He could almost hear
Henry's instructions, grip firm but not too tight, don't hold your breath, don't breath out
all the way, line up the shot.
He'd been a little cocky the first round, this time he was more deliberate. He could
feel the heat radiating off of Lassiter, maybe a half foot behind him. He emptied the
clip slowly, each trigger pull a deliberate movement. Each shot sending a jolt down
his arms. Hot puffs of Carlton's breath hit the back of Shawn's neck between shots.
Shawn wished he was a mind reader so he could hear whatever thoughts were
racing through Lassiter's mind. Shawn's body thrummed with the proximity of the
detective.
When the clip was emptied, Lassiter leaned forward, bringing the paper back to
inspect another ten pristine bullet holes. His ear only a few inches from Shawn's
mouth. Shawn moved in closer and with a quick tug he pulled out the ear plug and
24
whispered. "I can do it again, if you'd like." He watched Lassiter swallow hard, and
then he nodded slowly.
Shawn smirked where Lassiter couldn't see him, drawing out a pencil and poking a
hole through the paper a few inches off from the center of the bulls-eye, he sent the
paper back out. He picked up the clip and began reloading. He did it one handed, just
to show off. Unfortunately he couldn't catch Lassiter's face to see if the effort was
appreciated. He snapped the clip back into the gun, swung the gun up again, and
fired.
Shawn slumped back when he finished, pressing up against Lassiter. Lassiter
reached up, subconsciously steadying the fake psychic, grasping him lightly around
the shoulders.
Things were going a bit better than planned. Shawn had imagined the best he was
going to manage was winding the detective up a little bit and sulking off to find
another way to demonstrate his prowess. Instead, he was beginning to wonder
exactly how far he could push his luck today. He turned around well in Lassiter's
personal space. Lassiter didn't pull back, instead he wet his lips.
Shawn tilted his head up and caught Lassiter's eyes widen slightly in surprise.
Neither of them moved for several moments breath mixing in the few inches between
their mouths, Lassiter's breathing quicker and shallower than usual. Shawn closed
the distance into a soft, chaste touch of lips. He took a moment to sound an internal
victory cheer that Lassiter was not nearly as straight as he'd originally feared.
Several things happened the instant their lips touched: Lassiter tightly grabbed
Shawn's hips and stepped forward, Shawn stepped back and found himself pressed
tightly against the lane head, Shawn wrapped a hand around the back of Lasstier's
neck, and Shawn moaned at the pressure as Lassiter pressed tightly against him.
Lassiter's mouth was forced harshly against Shawn's. The first kiss was entirely off
point, teeth clacked against each other and noses bumped. After a moment, Lassiter
broke off and tilted his head slightly and they tried again. Lips crashed together
nearly hard enough to bruise. Lassiter's tongue snaked into Shawn's mouth.
Shawn cursed his memory as each movement of lips and tongue distracted him from
the moment while it etched itself into his memory. Shawn's brain began to catalogue
the nuances of his taste, coffee, cinnamon, and the underlying taste that Shawn
would now always associate with Lassiter. Shawn wrapped his free arm around
Lassiter's back feeling the tension there.
After a few moments Lassiter eased off the pressure slightly but still continued the
harsh and needy kiss. The two of them had found a mutually agreeable rhythm and
Shawn had to use most of his willpower to keep his hands from heading somewhere
more dangerous, instead Shawn canted his hips so they were touching Lassiter's.
He could feel Lassiter's excitement, either from the gun show or from the kiss or from
Shawn flattened against him. Lassiter thrust shallowly, pushing Shawn backwards
farther and the counter dug into his back. Shawn let out a soft gasp into Lassiter's
mouth but they did not break the kiss.
Lassiter's fingers curled even harder into Shawn's hips, pulling Shawn closer. Shawn
laced fingers through Lassiter's hair, digging fingers into his scalp, holding him fixed.
He heard the clack of shoes coming down the stairs and tensed. He pushed Lassiter
away strongly.
25
"Jules is coming." Lassiter released Shawn's hips but otherwise seemed shocked still
and unsure what he was supposed to be doing. A few more well placed pushes had
Lassiter back in his own lane facing approximately the right direction and Shawn
leaning casually against his own lane, removing the spent clip.
Juliet came down the stairs looking slightly worried. Shawn focused on removing the
clip from his gun and he assumed Lassiter was doing something that looked vaguely
natural.
"Are you two being nice?" Shawn grinned and was glad she could not see his face.
"Oh come on, Jules, we're two grown men, we can go two minutes without jumping
down each other's throats!" Shawn was relatively sure he now knew the sound
Lassiter made when he was choking on his own tongue. "No need to babysit. I'm
sure Lassiter can keep and eye on me, make sure I don't violate any civilian safety
protocols."
Jules checked with Lassiter in the next lane over. "It's fine, O'Hara." She looked
between the two of them wondering what exactly was going on but realizing that they
two of them were entirely unlikely to cover for each other and wandered back up to
her desk.
Shawn listened to make sure Jules had disappeared and slid over to where Lassiter
stood, knuckles white from where his fingers were tightly gripping the platform in front
of him. Shawn figured groping someone less than a foot from a loaded weapon was
probably a bad idea.
"I've never done this before," Lassiter confessed. For a moment Shawn didn't even
realize what that meant. When he did, Shawn inhaled sharply. If he hadn't been
cursing his ill-advised crush on Lassiter he certainly would have started now. All sorts
of smart-assed comments came to mind and while Shawn searched for something
actually serious and comforting.
"I have to admit making out in a gun range is new to me too." The glare that Lassiter
responded with was nothing short of spectacular.
"You really can't be serious for even two seconds can you?"
"Only if I don't say anything," Shawn conceded. Lassiter glared at him with a
considering look on his face and Shawn couldn't deny he was already starting to find
it surprisingly arousing.
Shawn realized he didn't have the words to actually assure Lassiter of his intent,
Shawn wasn't completely positive of his intent himself. Even if he did have the words
there was no guarantee they would ring true rather than being tainted with his
unrelenting sarcasm. Instead he stepped back into the detective's personal space
and brushed his lips softly against Lassiter's half-frown.
He wanted to run his hands down Lassiter's arms, across his chest, his back, his butt,
cataloging every inch of the man. But instead, he reached up and cupped Lassiter's
face, running a thumb across his jaw line. Shawn couldn't say 'I'm serious' so he
kissed across Lassiter's mouth leaving a trail of soft kisses across his lips. He
couldn't say 'I want you' so he ran his tongue gently between lips, begging to be let
back in. He couldn't say 'You are amazing' so he moaned against Lassiter's open
mouth when the man responded to the kiss.
The kiss was slow and drawn out this time. More exploratory, less of a ravaging.
Even though Shawn was not much of a romantic he wished he could trick his mind
26
into remembering this as their first kiss. The light press of Lassiter's fingers on his
shoulder, the very soft moan he worked out of the detective when Shawn softly
nipped his lip.
Shawn pulled back, wondering if Lassiter would accept what Shawn couldn't say.
Lassiter looked a little dazed, but eventually he snapped out of it and set a more
focused eye on Shawn.
"I wish I'd known how easy it was to shut you up months ago." Shawn gave a toothy
grin in response.
"Lassy, Carlton, dinner friday?" Lassiter didn't move from where he stood, hands
resting on Shawn's hips.
"My God, we've already been dating for weeks!"
27
Part Six
Friday couldn't come too soon as far as Shawn was concerned. He'd run into Lassiter
-- Carlton -- exactly twelve times since Wednesday at the shooting range and each
time had been a trial of will. Shawn wasn't used to being so distractible. He still
picked up the little details that his brain insisted he file, sort, categorize and memorize,
he just didn't make the connections as quickly. That was a serious disadvantage and
Gus actually had to cover for him once when Shawn got distracted staring out a
window when he was supposed to be scouting for clues.
After Wednesday, he and Carlton were back on a similar footing as before the
'stripping incident'. The Detective was back to yelling and carrying on at Shawn's
antics. He'd even manhandled Shawn to keep him from running after (and harassing)
a witness. It had gone approximately as usual though; Shawn had wound up thrown
against a wall.
At first Shawn had been caught up in the familiarity of it. Lassiter was always
dragging him out of crime scenes or away from witnesses, Shawn would fight it, and
if he were entirely honest with himself he enjoyed the fight. But when Lassiter
dragged him out of the interview room and tossed his back to the wall, Shawn
actually had to stifle a moan.
He had always found their struggles deliciously charged and mildly frustrating, but de
didn't even want to begin to delve into why he suddenly found it so arousing. His
breath came in shallow gasps, his eyes were half-lidded and the look on Lassiter's
face told Shawn that Lassiter was feeling it too. Shawn wouldn't be held responsible
if the detective pushed him against another wall.
"Shawn?" Gus called after him, catching up to where Lassiter had dragged him.
"Gus, it seems we're not wanted here. We'll have to allow psychic vibrations to take
us down another path," he overplayed it slightly but was glad his voice sounded no
different from usual. Lassiter released Shawn, turning back to the interrogation room,
making no eye contact with Shawn or Gus.
A trip up the stairs and down the hall was walked in silence but as soon as they got
out of the station Shawn grinned.
"We've got to go talk to the victim's sister."
"Why?"
"Because Lassy can't actually be two places at once!"
"Shawn, you're completely insane today. Well even more insane that usual! Lassiter
is going to figure out your weird crush thing, he's not dense."
"Gus, don't be a marshmallow puff! He's already got it figured out. We even have
another date Friday!"
"Shawn, it's not a date if he doesn't realize it's a date. Although why he'd want to
spend more time with you is beyond me."
"Gus, I'm hurt! Besides, this time, he knows it's a date, I figure that makes it several
times more likely the evening will end up far more entertaining than last time."
"What?!" Gus stopped short at the car. Shawn tried to get in the passenger side but
Gus hadn't unlocked the door so Shawn made a show of trying to pry the door open
28
until Gus opened the doors. Shawn slid in and slouched back in the chair, hands
behind his head, grinning.
"Well, I mean it's not like Lassiter is a mind reader, but he's got it worked out now."
"Shawn, this better not be like that week where you convinced everyone you were
adopted and your real father was Pierce Brosnan!"
"First off, that show was amazing! And second, relax, Gus, if his tongue down my
throat was any indication I think we've moved past the awkward 'didn't know we were
dating' part of the dating!"
"Shawn, never say anything like that ever again!" Gus had that twitchy look about him
that he got whenever Shawn mentioned anything even vaguely gay.
Shawn slumped into his seat waiting for Gus to kick the car into gear so they could
continue their investigation far away from meddling detectives who didn't want their
help solving the case.
"You seriously made out with Lassiter?"
"I thought you didn't want to hear this, Gus."
"I don't! But I need to know if I need to start looking for a new job, somewhere far
away from here."
"Why does me making out with Lassiter mean you need a new job?"
"So you really did?"
"Yes, you never believe me, Gus! Yesterday, at the range. Excellent wing man work,
by the way."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this, Shawn!"
"You only did it because you thought he was straight, admit it," Shawn smirked.
Gus sighed, obviously admitting defeat.
"So, he still doesn't think you're psychic, he doesn't want your help at work, but he'll
make out with you and he's going to have another date with you?"
"Yup!"
"That's messed up." Shawn just grinned.
Shawn actually didn't expect Lassiter to come that evening. Earlier that day, Shawn
had 'psychically' provided a few key pieces of evidence and Lassiter had certainly
seemed irritated. He made the preparations for dinner for two anyway, wouldn't look
good if he assumed Lassiter wasn't coming and then he showed.
Lassiter was exactly twenty-eight minutes late, he hadn't changed, and he looked
incredibly irritated.
"Carlton, hi, I'll get everything finished up. Should be ready in ... ten minutes. I made
lasagna!"
Lassiter nodded, eyes sweeping over the apartment as if trying to decide exactly
what he was doing there.
"Drinks in the fridge, help yourself."
29
Shawn got plates, salad and bread to the table while Lassiter helped himself to a
beer. He dragged the lasagna out of the oven where it had been staying warm and
Shawn set it aside to it could cool to a palatable temperature. He could feel Lassiter's
eyes drilling into his back as he worked around the kitchen.
"Sorry I was late," he finally offered after a minute or so. "I had a lot of paperwork to
finish up."
"Hey, not a problem, detective is not a nine to five." It was clearly the right thing to
say because Lassiter relaxed visibly and took a long pull of beer, definitely more at
ease now.
Everything was ready to eat except the still-too-hot lasagna so Shawn grabbed a
beer for himself, trying to think up something to start a conversation. Lassiter would
probably be just as clammed up as last time. Shawn had seriously considered
making a list of things to say.
"Good work today." Ok, that was weird. Shawn turned to face Lassiter, confused at
why the detective had actually complimented him.
"Thanks, you too." Shawn wasn't lying, Lassiter had been pretty hot on his trail and it
was Shawn stealing quite a bit of his leg work that had made the connections
possible. Lassiter just shrugged. They descended back into silence.
"I'm sorry." Shawn arched his eyebrows in confusion, but Lassiter seemed to take it
as an indication to keep talking. "I -- haven't dated in a while, and I have no idea how
to date a man -- um, guy?"
Shawn smiled a little at Lassiter's little backpedal from calling him a man.
"I never really considered dating one all that different from dating the other. Dinner,
awkward conversation, maybe a movie, or a walk on the beach. End the night
wondering how much progress you made, lather rinse repeat."
"First dates --" Lassiter trailed off. Shawn wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to say.
"If it makes you feel any better we can officially call this date number three, third
dates are less awkward," Shawn gave a flirty wink.
"That doesn't make any sense, Spencer."
"Sure it does! And you really have to start calling me 'Shawn'. Date number one was
a double date at Tom Blair's, date number two was steak and awkward conversations,
I think we're set!"
"I don't want this to be a third date either," Lassiter sounded more than a little tense
at that.
"Hey, it's whatever you want it to be. Scout's honor. Lasagna should be cool enough
to eat now."
Lassiter grabbed a second beer and headed to the table while Shawn grabbed to
casserole dish and set it on the table. He cut himself a piece and then Lassiter did
the same. Shawn did a little silent victory dance, it had come out perfect.
"Seriously, Spen- Shawn, where did you learn to cook like this?"
Shawn gave his best thousand watt grin.
"I worked at a South American Club Med for three months. They need to be able to
cook everything there. Also this barbeque shack in Austin. All over really. It's fun.
30
Although I do like just picking up a sub or some chinese food as much as the next
guy."
"I hate cooking, never really had time to learn. College, then Grad School, and then
straight into the SBPD, it's not like you have a lot of time to learn something that
complicated."
"Too busy protecting and serving," Shawn grinned.
"I know you don't have a lot of respect for the job, Spencer, but --"
"Whoa, whoa, Carlton, I have nothing but respect for anyone who does something I
can't."
Lassiter looked confused for a second.
"You solve crime all the time, Sp-Shawn."
"No, I solve mysteries, and then I have a burger while someone else does all the
hard work."
Lassiter seemed to chew that over for a little while and make a sizable dent in the
side salad and his heaping square of lasagna.
"What do you want out of this, Shawn?"
"Hrm?"
"This. Why are you cooking me dinner? Why are we 'dating'?" Shawn could hear the
air quotes.
"Well ..." Shawn thought about what he was going to say for a moment. It's not that
he was incapable of honesty, he just really tried to avoid it. Honesty was so much
messier than telling a few lies. "I like you and I find you attractive."
"What?" Lassiter sounded more than a little incredulous.
That was why Shawn hated honesty.
"Honestly, Lassy -- Carlton, how many times have I said something about your hair,
your eyes, your jaw line? It's an unhealthy obsession."
"Are you serious?"
"I've seriously run out of seriousness. That was too much all at once." Shawn thought
about trying to keep up the earnest confessions but he found he really couldn't. It was
a curse.
Lassiter just shook his head and violently forked his salad. The conversation didn't
really get back on track for the rest of dinner. Shawn made a few comments about a
non-department case he was working but Lassiter didn't seem interested.
Eventually they finished dinner and Shawn hummed tunelessly while he cleaned up
and packed away leftovers. Eventually he wound up dancing slightly, wondering how
he was going to salvage another disastrous dinner.
Maybe Gus was right, maybe he couldn't do this 'dating' thing, maybe he just couldn't
do the dating thing with Lassiter. Everything he did seemed to irritate him. Shawn
didn't trust himself to trust Lassiter and there they were. Gus at least knew when he
was being serious, but it was only because when Gus asked 'are you serious'
anything other than 'I can't believe you fell for that' meant 'yes'. He grabbed another
31
two beers from the fridge and turned to offer one to Lassiter when he caught the
detective staring at him with nothing short of lust in his eyes.
Shawn didn't even figure out why for a half second when he realized he'd been
dancing. Obviously Lassiter really had enjoyed his lap dance last week.
If he was already that turned on by a little hip wiggling Shawn was pretty sure he
could get him into bed in under five minutes if he put his mind to it. He had to remind
himself that although getting Lassiter to bed was some sort of eventual goal he
should probably not push it if he was serious about this. He scratched the back of his
hand, feeling slightly itchy.
"The couch is more comfortable," he said, offering over the beer. Lassiter looked like
a terrified cornered animal. "For talking."
Lassiter didn't seem much more at ease but at least shuffled over to the couch and
wedged himself in a corner. Shawn just slouched down, considering turning on the
TV for a distraction but eventually decided against it.
"I was serious earlier," Shawn explained, trying to keep his eyes on Lassiter even
though the truth made him intensely uncomfortable. As pathetic as it seemed, two
dinners and a faux double-date was the most effort he had put into getting someone
into bed in years. He was probably going to send him home even though he was
desperate to see what the detective was hiding under button-downs and slacks. And
maybe he wanted to see if he could get Lassiter to pant out his name.
"How long does this seriousness last this time, Spencer?" Shawn shrugged, hoping
for cute or endearing or something. He was pretty sure he didn't quite manage it
because Lassiter was glaring again.
"I'll admit my inner depths are not usually immediately apparent, but that's no reason
to think I'm not serious. I don't make dinner for just anyone."
Lassiter chugged the rest of his beer and stood up abruptly.
"I should go."
Shawn felt the sting of that disappointment. But he nodded and headed to the door to
let Lassiter leave.
"Are you ok to drive?"
Lassiter shook his head no. "Probably not, I'll just take a walk for a while."
Shawn nodded. He sighed but decided to try his luck and brushed a soft kiss over
Lassiter's mouth. He was surprised when Lassiter immediately stepped forward and
began a full assault of his mouth. Shawn responded enthusiastically.
Lassiter maneuvered them so that Shawn's back was pressed up against the door.
The position was reminiscent of their hallway scuffle yesterday with the added bonus
of Lassiter pressed up hard against him and two hands keeping his face from moving
too much. Shawn moaned at the unexpected stimulation and his hands groped for
something to hold on to eventually settling on wrapping arms around Lassiter's waist
in a tight hug.
Lassiter was aroused, exhaling hot against Shawn's cheek and then inhaling sharply
through the nose while his tongue fought hard against Shawn's.
32
Almost as soon as Lassiter had started the kiss he stepped back. Shawn released
the detective when he pulled away and Lassiter's eyes darted guiltily to the door.
Shawn moved so that he wasn't blocking the door any more.
Lassiter had a backwards glance and a guilty look on his face. "I'll see you at work."
Shawn gave a little wave as he watched the detective scurry down the stairs and out
of sight. Shawn shook his head, closing the door, trying to figure out if that date was
a success or a failure.
Shawn had watched most of the channel 8 evening news when there was a knock on
the door. He ignored it, figuring it was probably a salesman or someone who wanted
to do upgrades or something. He changed his mind at the second knock and hoped it
was something at least a little important.
Lassiter stood at the door and instantly pushed his way through the door, latching on
to Shawn again. His hair had been mussed and his tie had been removed, his eyes
already dilated. Shawn barely had time to close the door behind the detective and
wonder what the hell had gotten into Lassiter.
They wound up against the breakfast bar in his kitchen, knocking over both stools.
Las- Carlton grabbed the hem of Shawn's shirt and started to yank the shirt over
Shawn's head. Shawn let go of Carlton long enough to let the shirt make it over his
head when Carlton began to run his hands down Shawn's chest, fingers slightly
curled so they raked from pecs down to abs finally gripping the top of Shawn's pants.
The way Carlton had positioned his hands Shawn couldn't get as close as he would
have liked, Shawn settled for dragging Carlton's head to his and offering his mouth.
Carlton took it greedily.
After Carlton didn't bolt for a few moments, Shawn moved his hands down and began
to unbutton Carlton's shirt. He responded by attacking Shawn's pant's fly and pushing
the jeans to the floor. Shawn let out a relieved groan, no longer constrained.
Shawn dragged Carlton's shirt down his shoulders. He was stopped by tightly
buttoned shirt cuffs. Whimpering in frustration he attack the buttons and the shirt fell
to the ground. He took in the sight of Carlton's bare chest, heaving quickly, thick
chest hair mostly brown but peppered with an attractive grey covered his pecs while
a sparser trail led Shawn's eyes dangerously downward.
Shawn took in every inch greedily and he knew he would be able to recall the sight
again with no difficulty. The thought made him moan and he moved in to attack
Lassiter's nipples with his mouth and run fingers across chest, stomach, and low
across his hips.
"Bed," Lassiter growled. Shawn grabbed Carlton by the belt and dragged him to the
bedroom. Destination reached, Shawn gave a final tug and fell backwards on to the
bed. Carlton managed to move quickly enough to not knock too much wind out of
Shawn.
Carlton took advantage of his position over Shawn and began to nip and suck at
Shawn's shoulder and collar bone. Shawn run fingers down Carlton's back and then
reached between their bodies to unbuckle his belt.
Shawn was a pretty observant guy but even he was at a bit of a loss as to how
Carlton wound up standing, arms crossed over his chest, at least three feet from the
bed as quickly as he did. Shawn groaned and tried to wind himself down a little. He
closed his eyes and called up his memories of the kitchen: three forks in the drying
33
rack, two yellow plates, one red, two clear plastic cups, one coffee mug, one knife,
one spoon, one wooden stirring spoon.
He opened his eyes. Carlton was still standing there in the same pose. Shawn was
pretty sure the detective was working on a heterosexual freak out the likes of which
Shawn had never seen and Shawn wasn't sure exactly how to defuse it.
He stood up and walked over, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. He ran
hands over Carlton's shoulders and arms, trying to loosen the tight knot he had
folded them into. He wasn't good at this, at giving comfort.
"What do you want out of this, Shawn?" The same question he'd asked earlier, and
Shawn was pretty sure he understood this time. He didn't have an answer though.
Tonight he wanted Carlton, beyond that he had no idea. He didn't even know how to
ask for a second date from someone. How could he ask for something so far beyond
that he didn't even have a word for it?
"Whatever you give me, Carlton." It hurt just to say and to voice it and to realize it
was entirely true. He didn't have words to express what it was he was searching for
from the detective, he just had to hope Carlton would figure it out as they went.
Something about what he said seemed to make Carlton relax and then wrap his arms
around Shawn's shoulders and trail a light kiss across his temple.
"Tonight, I want to make you feel good," Shawn whispered into his ear. Carlton
nodded, swallowing audibly, clearly nervous about what he'd just agreed to. Shawn
couldn't help it, he managed one of his best naughty smiles, beaming up at Carlton.
"Just say when."
34
Part Seven
Carlton woke up groggily to his cell phone ringing in his ear. It was his day off and no
one should be calling him this early in the morning. He made a grab for the phone.
"Lassiter." He answered the phone hoping it wasn't some sort of emergency.
"Carlton, it's Henry Spencer. You weren't on the docks at your usual hour, wanted to
make sure you were still going to make it."
"Henry, hi," Carlton groped for a good lie, "I was working later than I expected. I'll be
there by 6am." He hung up the phone and set it on the table, taking in his
surroundings. He was not in his room, he was not wearing any clothes, and he had a
naked Shawn Spencer snaking his arms around him and nuzzling into his shoulder.
Shawn let out a half-moaning whine when Carlton tried to pull away.
"I've got to go," Carlton protested.
"You are not running off to go fishing with my dad after all of that amazing sex!?" And,
wouldn't you know, that disbelieving whine was not sexy at all. "And for the record,
you are never to say the name Henry in this bed again ... ever."
"It's a deal. I'll be back before noon if you want." Shawn made a rumbling purring
noise of assent that made Carlton want to curl back up into bed and blow off fishing
with Henry Spencer. Instead he plodded towards the bathroom and tried to calculate
how much morning routine he had to skip to still be there by 6am.
A quick check of the medicine cabinets revealed a bottle of tangerine listerine and
Carlton smiled at that. He looked out into the bedroom where Shawn was curled up
hiding from the light being cast from the bathroom. Shawn was a tangerine kind of
guy. Carlton glared at the mirror, a tangerine kind of guy who had left a hickey on his
collar bone.
He was actually three quarters of the way through a quick shower when his brain
came screeching to a halt. He had just had sex with Shawn, gay sex, his first gay sex
ever. If he was honest with himself he knew this had been building for months. He
was drawn to Shawn and couldn't seem to stop himself. That more than anything
else terrified him.
He'd had some sort of fascination with Shawn from the moment they'd met and it had
only gotten worse over the intervening months. Personal space violations stacked on
top of too intimate touching that Carlton didn't seem to be able to force himself to
stop.
And now he was going to spend his entire morning with Henry Spencer. He rested
his head against the cool tiles of the shower and seriously reconsidered calling up
Henry to cancel.
Instead he finished showering, towel dried, and pulled on his clothes from yesterday,
thankfully mostly not wrinkled and not smelly, and dashed out the door.
He actually had his fishing pole in the trunk and made it to the dock with a good three
minutes to spare. Henry looked vaguely irritated and Carlton was automatically
defensive. He wasn't going to leave until 6am anyway and he hadn't been late, just
not early. And so while he might usually have offered up an apology he decided
against it. Instead he waved hello and hoped he didn't still smell like sex.
"Late evening?" Henry offered, vaguely sympathetic.
35
"You know how it is," Carlton lied a little smoother this time. Thankfully he knew that
Henry would not feel the need to continue the conversation once they actually got out
on the water.
Carlton tended to think of fishing as a quiet and relaxing hobby, a tradition instilled by
his grandfather. Not today.
Today his mind was cluttered with memories of last night. The feeling of Shawn
pressed against him hard, back to the counter. Whimpering and clawing at buttons.
Trying to open his shirt while simultaneously keeping his mouth pressed hard against
Carlton's. Added pressure only making Shawn moan harder, and Carlton wasn't
entirely sure where to categorize that in his strange and newly-slightly-gay head
space. He liked the feel of Shawn beneath him, the press of Shawn's thigh against
his cock.
His brain caught up with him again, screaming at him to stop thinking about having
sex with Shawn when he was sitting next to Henry. He actually had to concentrate on
fishing.
His mind drifted off again. Shawn spread out on top of russet red bed sheets
moaning and arching up as Carlton's mouth licked and nipped across tight pectorals
and abs. Carlton fumbling as he tried to figure out the mechanics of stroking another
man's cock while Shawn distracted him with a casual swipe of a thumb while he
worked Carlton's erection.
"You should probably choke up on the rod a little more, get a better grip." Carlton
flushed slightly red. He didn't even bother to argue. This had to have been one of the
stupidest ideas he'd ever had.
He'd been married, he'd had in-laws, he'd had sex with their daughter, but there was
something colossally different this time. He wasn't entirely sure he could sit here next
to Henry, fishing of all things, while thoughts of Henry's son pinned under him flitted
through his mind.
"Shawn hasn't been giving you too much of a hard time at work, has he?" Lassiter bit
his tongue slightly.
"No, not at work."
"I saw that case over at the strip club." Carlton realized this was some sort of
punishment from God for having sex with Shawn. Since that case every noise and
every hip-twitch from Shawn had driven Carlton to the most unprofessional
distraction imaginable, and now Henry was unintentionally causing Carlton to rehash
it in his mind.
"I think Spencer enjoyed that one just a little too much." He was pleased to realize he
could still manage to imbue his words with some sort of ire. Most of that feigned ire
dissolved when he remembered Shawn dancing with little more than a badge to
protect his modesty. He could almost accept that he was slightly gay now, but he
really needed to figure out how to purge those memories so he could get on with his
life without being in a constant state of semi-arousal from Shawn's presence or
memory.
Henry just shook his head. Carlton couldn't exactly be sure, he was hardly an expert
on Henry's emotions, but the older man seemed sad, maybe angry. It was hard to tell.
"He never takes anything seriously." Carlton knew that feeling. He'd been fighting
with that since he realized exactly how long he'd been lusting after Shawn. How do
36
you have a relationship, or whatever it was they were having, with someone who
can't take a single thing seriously?
"Well, he has been at the 'psychic' thing for over six months," Carlton found himself
retorting. Carlton took a moment to reflect on exactly how screwed he was if he was
already starting to defend Shawn's flakiness.
"Six months?" Henry seemed truly surprised by that. Carlton just nodded. "Wow ..."
Henry trailed off for several minutes and Carlton was all too happy to focus back on
fishing. "That's a first."
Carlton realized he'd actually known that about Shawn. He'd seen Shawn's record,
knew his employment history, six months of employment was a huge commitment for
him. And there is was again, another reminder of the the immaturity and the
irresponsibility.
Carlton was questioning his previously rigidly straight sexuality for someone who
would probably get bored in under a month, move on to something pretty, blonde,
probably something like O'Hara, and by then Carlton would have already invested
just a little too much energy and a little too much time and maybe a little too much of
his heart.
"... second date." Carlton's ears pricked up and he turned towards Henry.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said it would be a minor miracle if he would keep the job and manage a second
date." Carlton just looked confused. "He's incapable of working for anything. Second
dates are too much work."
Carlton just nodded, staring out across the blue water. Thankfully Henry had drifted
back into silence. He was lost in his own thoughts and probably wouldn't have
noticed anyway if the elder Spencer had started up another conversation.
Shawn might have been joking but he'd said last night was at least their third date.
He'd thought it was silly at the time, a transparent way to bring thoughts around to
sex. Shawn had been pursuing him for weeks. He almost turned to look Henry in the
eyes and tell him exactly that. The part of his brain that kept him from making a total
ass of himself managed to avoid actually saying it.
He spent the rest of the morning wondering if he could trust all these snippets of
information to prove that this was more than a passing interest for Shawn.
Carlton was pretty sure he'd passed into 'pretty gay' the moment he'd come to the
thought of Shawn's strip tease a week ago. The next day had been filled with the
abject fear that somehow someone would realize what he'd done. It didn't help when
he'd pressed Shawn against the rail at the shooting range, plundering his mouth,
aroused from the fear, from Shawn, and from the faint gunpowder smell. He'd gone
to Shawn's yesterday knowing that it was supposed to be some sort of date. That
he'd left and then come back expressly hoping for sex was really stretching it.
It anyone ever found out, he was taking his career in his hands. Oh, they couldn't fire
him, and O'Hara was pretty liberal, she wouldn't mind backing up a queer partner.
Being a gay cop was alright, as long as no one ever knew.
He could have picked any woman in the world to have a relationship and it wouldn't
cause half the problems Shawn would. Even sleeping with Lucinda had been less of
37
a bad idea than this. She'd started the relationship. He wasn't stupid enough to come
on to a younger, female, junior detective. He didn't even get a slap on the wrist when
Shawn outed them to the station house. If anything there'd been 'atta boys' that
weren't even appropriate or right.
Carlton didn't think he was unreasonable to feel the need for that extra assurance
from Shawn. Until this morning he wasn't even entirely sure it wasn't some sort of
strange practical joke. Shawn's sleepy and guileless curling up in his arms had done
more to placate that fear than anything from the night before.
Shawn made him smile. Shawn made him horny. Shawn seemed to understand
exactly what he was saying even when he couldn't figure out what he was saying.
Shawn just kept trying to win him over. Carlton hadn't felt this way in years, back
when he and Sam were still together, before the job and one too many missed
anniversaries drove her away.
Carlton liked to think he was logical and responsible, but he obviously wasn't
because he was getting antsy to leave this torturous bonding experience and get
back to whatever Shawn had promised with that purring growl of his.
After a few hours of awkward silence, they hadn't caught anything and Henry turned
the boat around and headed back in. That brought them back a good deal earlier
than Carlton had originally expected and he made it back to Shawn's apartment well
before ten. The door was locked, and so Carlton had to knock. A few seconds later, a
fully clothed Shawn opened the door and had a delighted and slightly surprised smile.
"You're extra early. I was going to make pancakes!"
Carlton didn't answer and just pushed his way into Shawn's personal space. Shawn
had already wrapped a hand around Carlton's neck and opened his mouth when he
got there. Carlton started walking Shawn backwards to the bedroom, Shawn seemed
quite willing, his kisses becoming more enthusiastic.
"Did I miss your post-gay-sex, heterosexual freak-out?" Shawn asked, puzzled.
"Yes. I had that this morning, on a boat."
"You had a freak out with my father? I think I should be really jealous here!" Carlton
laughed continuing towards the bedroom. They arrived and he pushed Shawn down
onto the bed.
"I swear I was just about to tell him I'd slept with you."
Shawn pulled off his shirt, fluffing his hair slightly. Carlton ran his eyes over Shawn
and took a moment to enjoy the hard planes of his chest. He ran his hands across
Shawn's stomach and felt him tense as he tried not to giggle. Carlton unbuttoned
Shawn's jeans and yanked them and the boxers down past Shawn's feet and onto
the floor.
"Don't do that, I want to be there when we tell him. It'll be awesome!"
Carlton was pretty sure he didn't want to analyze why he found more satisfaction in
being naked with Shawn, sweaty, sticky, and knowing he was going to have to take
another shower than he had in anything else in quite a long time.
Shawn seemed obsessed with cataloging every inch of him with eyes, lips, and
fingers, and Carlton was beginning to wonder what he'd gotten himself into because
38
it was well over two hours later and he was pretty sure he should at least pretend to
have a productive day off.
He seemed to have worn down and the frenetic exploration had settled to just a
gentle teasing of fingers along his sides. He had to give Shawn credit for at least one
thing: he was very good at sex.
"Lassy, you're too pensive. I've obviously not been doing my job properly."
"No it's ... this could destroy my career, Spencer."
"Shawn," he corrected.
"Not to mention that I wasn't gay a week ago."
Shawn stopped running his fingers across Carlton's stomach, and instead turned flat
on his back, lacing his fingers together across his chest. The carefree mirth that had
been there a few moments ago disappeared, but was quickly replaced again.
"Did you eat? I can make pancakes." Shawn got out of bed, displaying the perfect
broad toned shoulders and back, along with firm legs and ass.
"Spenc-Shawn." Shawn hunted for discarded boxer shorts, ignoring Carlton.
"Shawn?"
Shawn turned around, face blank.
"Shawn, come back to bed."
Carlton hadn't even begun to consider that Shawn actually might have his own
confusion about this but he couldn't even begin to figure out what they might be. And
whatever it was he clearly didn't want to talk about it, preferring to hide behind
making out and pancakes.
Shawn slid back into bed and Carlton kissed him softly.
"I'm not very good at this," he said it in his incredibly mock-earnest tone. Carlton
kissed him again, trying to figure out what he meant.
"Sex?"
"Way to mess with a guy's confidence!" Shawn snapped, but there wasn't any fire to
it, it was sassy and joking.
"I was going to disagree if that's what you meant." Shawn smiled and softly nipped
Carlton's lower lip. Carlton couldn't help but smile in response. "I'm not a mind reader,
Shawn."
"The after sex."
"Again, I think you're doing pretty well."
"No, tomorrow, next week." Shawn sounded like he was getting frustrated. Carlton
rested his head against Shawn's chest. So he was right, Shawn had turned his world
upside-down and was going to run for the hills. "I want to be, though. I've never really
done this before."
Carlton didn't have any words for exactly how messed up a pair they made.
39
Part Eight
Carlton stared in abject horror as Shawn hopped out of the car and spread his arms
wide. He wondered how exactly he let Shawn talk him into this.
"I'm really not sure I want to be here."
"Lassy! It's just the mall. Besides, it's totally my fault that heinously ugly shirt of yours
got accidentally ripped in that mild scuffle last night."
"You did that on purpose."
"Yes I did. It wouldn't unbutton fast enough."
"I'm not sure I feel comfortable going *shopping* with you, Shawn."
"Please, your fashion sense is way too hetero, but at least someone taught you to
dress in blue. We'll get you snazzy yet professional by the end of the day if it kills us."
"Shawn, you dress like a beach bum."
"But an incredibly sexy beach bum!" Carlton couldn't disagree with that. "Besides, I
totally taught Gus all there is to know about color coordination. His sales figures
thank me every month."
"I'm not buying anything pink."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Carlton glared at him. "Ok, yeah I would, you could work the
pink, Carlton. But first -- Smoothies."
Carlton was not the type to go to the mall, if he was lucky he managed to go only one
or two times per year to restock on whatever shirts he'd wore out. He wasn't certain
that he trusted Shawn on this either; Shawn wore red and pink and green and God
knows what else, and those were not the colors that cops wore.
Shawn sidled up to the smoothie cart where the girl behind the counter instantly
recognized him.
"Shawn! Hey! Pineapple smoothie?" Carlton glowered, the last thing he wanted was
Shawn dragging something pineapple flavored all over the mall. He wasn't interested
in hives.
"Nah, I'll have --" Shawn actually pondered, "ooo, mango!"
The smoothie was prepared, Shawn paid, and then dragged the two of them further
into the mall.
Carlton instantly gravitated towards the department store at the end of the mall but
Shawn caught him by the wrist and tugged him towards one of those specialized
boutique stores that he felt underdressed to even walk into.
"Shawn," he hissed in his ear, "your father is a detective, you know I can't shop
somewhere like that!"
"They do hetero-casual there too, it's not like the whole store has gay-cooties."
"No I mean --" Carlton tried to set aside the embarrassment. "It's not like clothing is a
large part of my budget. I could spend two months pay somewhere like that!"
"Oh!" Shawn stopped, looking considering for a moment. "Don't worry, I get an
employee discount!"
"How do you get an employee discount at a store you don't work at?"
40
Shawn just shrugged and winked.

They entered the store and Carlton waited to be set upon by every eager salesmen
ready to try to rake in some obscene commission. Instead they all seemed to flock to
Shawn.
"Hank, Marcus, and of course Sally. How've you been?" His voice held that half flirty,
half coy tone that Carlton found incredibly annoying, unless it was directed at him.
Carlton ignored them, taking in the walls and floor displays, relatively certain this
would be a huge waste of time. After a few moments, Shawn offered a casual, "We're
gonna look around!" and the sales staff dispersed back to their various positions,
fixing slightly out of place display items and waiting for anyone else to come into the
store.
Shawn led him to a wall containing a wide variety of shirts in various colors Carlton
considered 'over the top'. Shawn quickly grabbed and presented a pink shirt and
Carlton glared at him, not amused.
"Ok, ok, Jeez!"
In a few seconds, Shawn had loaded up Carlton's arms with shirts in burgundy, light
blue, darker blue, two shades of silver, one striped blue and a striped silver.
"Classic!" he exclaimed, clearly proud of the selection. Carlton checked the tags and
was surprised and more than a little intrigued that Shawn had only selected shirts in
his size. "We need to get you a new black and a new pinstripe."
Carlton was about to argue he wasn't going to pay an arm and a leg for suits here
that he was just going to have to take to a tailor anyway. Shawn was clearly in one of
his 'not listening' moods however when he stalked to the other side of the store.
Carlton took a few moments to try to organize the massive pile of shirts Shawn had
foisted upon him.
"I can take those for you, sir." The taller, male assistant, Marcus, Carlton thought,
offered. Carlton sighed and handed over the shirts, he could always get Shawn to
prune down the selection later. Shawn returned, holding out a very well tailored
jacket.
"Try this one on." Carlton did as he was told. The suit needed some adjustment in the
shoulders but otherwise fit wonderfully. Carlton shrugged off the jacket with some
reluctance, it was a nice piece of clothing. Shawn held out two suits, "Awesome,
right?"
Carlton nodded reluctantly.
Shawn raided the more casual parts of the store and for a moment Carlton was
worried he was going to have something he was used to seeing on Shawn set on him.
He was surprised when Shawn pulled out two pairs of jeans, several nice polos and
three short sleeved shirts all which were of reasonable colors that Carlton was not
terrified to wear. Shawn also produced a fist full of ties from God-knows-where all of
which Carlton found understated and appropriate for the office.
Shawn finally pulled out another pink shirt and pouted quite intensely.
"Fine, but it's the first thing to go when this rings up over my credit card limit!" Shawn
grinned and tucked it away with the rest of the clothes he had picked out.
41
Shawn shuffled Carlton over the to register and grinned as Marcus rung up the sale.
Carlton checked his watch to avoid watching whatever the insanely high bill was
going to wind up being. He was pretty sure less than twenty minutes had passed
since they'd crossed the threshold into this damn store and Shawn was already
working up to several mortgage payments worth of clothing.
"$786.43," Marcus announced the total and Carlton was completely poleaxed since
that was easily ten times less what he had expected. Carlton mutely passed over a
credit card.
"It's a small price to pay for fashion." Carlton actually agreed with Shawn on that one.
He signed for the clothes.
"And Mr. Spencer, if you would sign for your discount." Shawn signed a second slip
of paper with a brief flourish. Carlton wound up leaving carrying a half dozen bags of
clothes, feeling ridiculous and overburdened.
A few store fronts down from the shop, he opened one of the bags and checked a
hunch.
"Shawn this one suit was over a thousand dollars! How did the whole bill come to
under eight hundred?"
"I told you, Carlton, employee discount!" Shawn grabbed two of the lighter bags and
started to head off, only to stop and then turn around to face Carlton again. "We
should get manicures!"
"Absolutely not."
"You're no fun!" But Shawn was grinning anyway.
Far more challenging than the actual shopping, which Shawn had referred to as
'dude shopping', was actually convincing himself to wear any of the clothing. His tailor,
Antonio, had been quite surprised when Carlton had brought in the expensive suits
instead of his usual department store fair. He'd also noticed Carlton was less tense,
he told him to keep up whatever he was doing.
It was really Carlton's own business if the image that conjured up was of Shawn
licking his way down Carlton's chest.
The new suits, shirts, and ties sat segregated in his closet for over two weeks. They
weren't exactly gathering dust because Carlton found he picked them out almost
every morning only to put them back in the closet and don his old clothes.
Shawn made no comment on Carlton's continued choice of wardrobe in their bi-
weekly dates, but Carlton did occasionally worry that Shawn was going to do damage
to another one of his shirts if he wore a particularly ugly one.
He finally worked his way around to what had been bothering him for weeks one
evening over lo mien.
"How did you really get that employee discount, Shawn?"
"Is that really bothering you? Catholic guilt keeping you from profiting from what may
be my ill-gotten gains?"
Lassiter glowered, but was safe in the knowledge that if he said 'yes' or said nothing
at all, Shawn would eventually cave.
42
"First, Lassy, my father was a cop, so even at times in my life when opium smuggling
would have been far more profitable than teaching english as a second language I
did the latter not the former. Second, the answer to your question is nepotism. My
mom works there and I get her employee discount."
"That's it?"
"You thought I slept with someone, admit it."
Carlton knew he probably looked slightly guilty, because Shawn was right, he had
thought that Shawn might do something like that. Carlton nodded. He was pretty sure
Shawn would not be out of line being incredibly mad, but instead Shawn decided it
was an appropriate time to come over and straddle Carlton's lap.
Shawn leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Carlton, even if that was at one point a
valid method of acquiring a discount, it most certainly isn't any more."
Shawn ran his tongue across Carlton's ear and he pretty much didn't think about it for
the rest of the night.
The next day, Carlton donned his burgundy shirt and a coordinating tie, hiding them
under one of his older grey jackets. Of course, when O'Hara caught him coming into
the station that morning the first words out of her mouth were: "Is that a new shirt,
Lassiter?"
Lassiter just glowered, but that was mostly to keep him from smiling.
43
Part Nine
Carlton was surprised to realize he hadn't worked a single case with Shawn since
they started sleeping together. He didn't even realize it until Shawn barged into the
station and convinced the Chief to put him on a burglary case from some local
fashion firm.
Carlton would have been far too happy to let the case slide, knowing Shawn would
solve the damn thing and he could work on something more important. Of course, he
couldn't say that, the Chief would look at him funny and he'd have to explain his
cooled ire toward Shawn and it would be all downhill from there. Instead he resigned
himself to the fact he would have to work the case and then get shown up by Shawn
at the last possible moment. It was a curse.
He and O'Hara had headed off to interview various administrators and fashion
models who worked for the agency that had been robbed. There was a terrifying
quantity of scantily clad men and women doing God knows what and the whole thing
was making Carlton's head spin. He'd had a hard enough time the few minutes that
Shawn had dragged him shopping; the total fashion immersion had him reeling.
Dealing with a slew of underdressed, underfed females and over-tanned, over-toned
males wasn't his idea of a good time.
He let O'Hara take the lead on this one and she tackled it with all of her usual
exuberance. Carlton let his mind wander, something he had had little time for recently.
Between various cases and making time to see Shawn in a -- dare he say it --
'romantic' capacity, he hadn't had much time to consider the huge changes in his life.
Huge, gay changes.
Carlton hadn't been raised in the sort of environment where 'gay' was an okay
lifestyle choice. And, even as he thought it, his brain argued about it not being a
choice, a common line in the things he'd read on various studies on the topic, trying
to come to grips with why he couldn't keep his hands off of Shawn.
He'd started trying to rate the men he met, on a one to ten scale. He'd tried but
instead of one to ten his brain always came back with a question of why he'd want to
sleep with whatever guy he was trying to judge. It wasn't working. He'd tried to rate a
few women and usually managed to come to a number. Most of the girls here were
just a little too sickly but there had been some he'd honestly rated high marks, the
sort of women he was usually attracted to.
He pondered some of the various male models scattered about and couldn't bring
himself to rate them. He found it truly fitting that not only had Shawn turned his
sexuality on its head, he couldn't even get it turned properly on its head, just tilted
queerly towards Shawn.
And, of course, think of the devil, he sashayed in with an irritated Guster following
him. All of the various frantic movements of dozens of personnel ground to a halt
when Shawn walked into the room.
Carlton supposed he knew how they felt. A little piece of his brain ground to a halt
whenever Shawn entered the room now, it was very distracting.
Shawn made his rounds, hugging or shaking hands with just about everyone in the
room until he finally reached the local business manager, Georgette something-or-
other. Shawn, Guster, and the manager exchanged a few words back and forth.
Carlton had never really had the dubious pleasure of watching Shawn work a case.
44
The only times he'd actually seen Shawn do something that looked like 'work' rather
than erotic hip-wiggling was during that speed dating case. Shawn had asked
questions and got answers. It was the crazy psychic episode at the end that had
brought Carlton back to his senses. Shawn didn't do anything even vaguely
resembling detective work.
Whatever Shawn was doing with Georgette actually looked more like flirting and
Carlton tried not to be too annoyed. As part of their ongoing 'plea agreements' --
Shawn's words for trying to turn dinners and sex into a relationship -- Shawn had
agreed to exclusivity. When Carlton had tried valiantly to bargain for a little less
flirting, he discovered Shawn didn't actually know how to talk to someone without
flirting so he had had to drop it.
Carlton wasn't sure if it would be called a compromise or just an understanding, but
he was just a little terrified to discover that diners, movies, and orgasms with Shawn
made him far more willing to put up with some crap than he would have thought
possible.
He refocused his attention on the case since O'Hara might actually expect some
input from him when they were through with the interviews. The refocusing was made
easier by the departure of Shawn and Guster who had wondered off to God knows
where. The pair reentered just as Carlton and O'Hara were winding down their series
of interviews.
"Jules, Lassy, I'm sensing lunch!" Guster looked a little sour and Carlton wondered
what was on the man's mind to put that look on his face. "Unfortunately, I've been
channeling stick-thin models all morning, I might have to eat a half of a salad and
then go vomit."
Shawn actually did wind up eating a salad while O'Hara bounced leads and ideas off
the table at large. Carlton was doing his best to be attentive and productive but the
effort was thwarted by Shawn's foot snaking up Carlton's pants leg, distracting the
detective.
Carlton Lassiter was not a man to play 'footsie' with anyone, and although he felt
slightly guilty about it he moved his shod foot to press against Shawn's bare one.
Shawn seemed to know what was coming and managed to reposition himself and his
foot much farther up Carlton's leg. Carlton gave up the fight and Shawn quickly grew
bored of the taunting, returning to his salad.
His concentration finally returned when Shawn and Guster left slightly after lunch. He
and O'Hara returned to the station and waited for various prints and forensics to
come in so they could figure out where to go with the case.
Carlton spent the rest of his day trying to figure out what he was missing on this
murder case he'd been making no headway with. Hours ticked away, eventually
ending in quitting time. Carlton considered phoning up Shawn, telling him to be less
distracting the next time he came around but knew it would be a lost cause. Instead
he called Tim McNulty to get their next tee-time and went home to settle in with a
scotch and an old movie.
The next day, Carlton wasn't surprised when Shawn called, gasping out something
about psychic emanations and the dark souls of corporate saboteurs.
He and O'Hara made it to the building and Carlton had to wonder why Shawn
couldn't have brought his sideshow act to the station house. Instead Shawn made a
grand show of dragging the two detectives around the entire building and eventually
45
leading the chase to Georgette, the district manager, who had apparently stole
various designs because she was dating someone from a competing fashion firm.
She confessed to the whole thing and Carlton was only to glad to drag her out in
handcuffs and get back to the O'Brian murder, which had been harassing him for
several days.
With a little more digging the case of the fashion robberies became instantly clear, all
of the evidence had lined up, although little of it would be necessary given the timely
confession.
Carlton considered Shawn's tendency to wring out confessions later that evening.
Shawn was strangely good at getting them. Not that Carlton was surprised. There
was something about a man claiming to be psychic rattling off your crime in detail
that probably made you feel you had nothing left to lose by caving and admitting it.
And as much as Carlton hated to admit it, Shawn's cases always ended up textbook
perfect. Hunches confirmed with hard evidence, witnesses offering up something that
seemed unimportant but was eventually turned out to be meaningful. Shawn put
together great cases. Actually, Carlton usually put together the case, but Shawn was
a guaranteed arrest. And his arrests always led to convictions.
It was something Carlton had always found quite irritating when the psychic had
begun to work with the department. And whether it was the sex, knowing the case
was getting solved, or something else entirely, now Carlton was just glad get the
cases off the books.
Psychic. Carlton still didn't believe Shawn's wild story about mystical channeling of
the past, or cats, or whatever else he constantly pulled out of his ass. And yet Shawn
continued his prancing and dancing and wild flailing.
It was one of those subjects Carlton hadn't really broached yet and wasn't sure how
to.
He almost wanted to forget it, just go on not believing Shawn. Maybe it was all that
marriage counseling and acupuncture and everything else he'd tried to get back
together with Sam but Carlton was pretty sure he couldn't just let this huge, unspoken
*thing* keep going unasked.
Carlton was positive he wasn't going to like either answer.
46
Part Ten
Carlton had to admit that the situation he found himself in was actually becoming
something of a disturbing habit. He was in Shawn's apartment, helping clean up after
a fantastic meal. Shawn was humming tonelessly and dancing around the kitchen,
scooping up plates and dishes. Carlton was starting to fear for his sanity because he
was actually enjoying the humming. He felt less crazy about enjoying the hip wiggling
thing though, it was becoming a sort of occupational hazard.
Dishes finally pre-rinsed and stored in the dishwasher, Carlton turned to face Shawn
who was currently rearranging the clutter on the table back to the way it was before
dinner. Carlton took advantage of the distraction, grabbing Shawn soundly by the
hips and holding him in place. He brushed his lips against Shawn's jaw, just below
his ear and pulled Shawn into a hug from behind.
"Wonderful as always," he murmured in his ear. Shawn purred and turned what
should have been Carlton's advantage into a distraction, wiggling his ass up against
Carlton. Carlton growled and spun Shawn around, pressing him back against the
table.
Carlton threaded fingers through Shawn's hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Shawn
teased him and first lips nipping lightly against his own, denying him the chance to
deepen the kiss. Carlton let out a frustrated breath through his nose, and Shawn
whimpered lightly in response. Shawn pulled back but quickly moved back in planting
a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth and then began to tease the same corner with
the tip of his tongue.
Carlton's lips curled in a smile and Shawn pulled him in, opening his mouth to him.
Carlton ran his tongue across Shawn's, catching a hint of wine but mostly the
underlying taste that was simply Shawn.
Shawn was already wound up and was grabbing frantically for Carlton's belt before
he knew what was happening. He groaned a little but grabbed Shawn's hands lightly
keeping him from finishing his task. He stepped back and raked his eyes down
Shawn. Shawn was leaning back on the table showing off long, lean torso and
pushing his hips forward. Carlton could see the faint outline of hardness against
Shawn's jeans and had to swallow and remind himself he'd promised to not be
distracted tonight so he could ask the important question.
"I .." Carlton trailed off. A quick glance at Shawn confirmed he had snapped instantly
from aroused to cornered and half-scared. Carlton almost smiled when he realized
that Shawn was waiting for some sort of 'where is this going', 'do you love me' talk
and Carlton was none to pleased to feel he was playing the 'girl' at this moment. That
wasn't quite it, but it was close. They'd been in this weird relationship for just under
three months and he had to know the truth. "Shawn, you're not really psychic are
you?"
The change was extraordinary. Shawn stood up, crossed his arms over his chest,
and the look on his face was replaced with a slight frown. That was really the only
answer that Carlton needed, but he wanted to hear it from Shawn. He didn't answer
for a few seconds, obviously weighing his options.
"What if I really really am?" Shawn asked. Carlton looked him square in the eye trying
to gauge reactions.
47
"Then I will try my damnedest to pretend I actually believe you," Shawn's face lit up a
little at that.
"And if I really really ain't?"
"Ain't isn't a word," Carlton growled out automatically. Shawn didn't answer, waiting
Carlton out for his answer. "I'll be pretty damn mad," and it was the truth. The idea
that Shawn was leading on the Police Department, was leading on *him* was more
than he wanted to consider.
"Carlton, you don't give a girl a lot of incentive to come clean," Carlton gritted his
teeth, as though he could will Shawn to take this more seriously.
'Lie to me, lie to me,' Carlton repeated the mantra over and over in his head, hoping
Shawn would just say he was psychic. Carlton would pretend to believe him, drag
them both to the bedroom and fall asleep sticky and satisfied. It would be so easy if
Shawn would just lie to him.
"I'm not psychic," it wasn't a sucker punch if Carlton knew it was coming, but the truth
still hit hard.
"How?" if Carlton had to live with the knowledge that Shawn wasn't psychic, he had
to know how.
"My dad trained me, perfect photographic memory, deductive reasoning. He trained
me to be a detective. Trained since birth."
"You can't *train* a photographic memory!" he snapped. Pissed that Shawn wouldn't
even come up with a good lie.
Shawn closed his eyes, and brought two fingers to his temple. Carlton saw red.
"You had one of those blueberry scone things with your coffee for breakfast. You
always pocket too many napkins and that's the only thing you like from the bread
shop. In the morning you brought in the wife of the victim in the O'Brian case to go
back over something she'd mentioned earlier about an affair. You thought it sounded
sketchy the first time, it was even more sketchy the second time. You haven't found
anyone that looks good for the role of 'mystery lover' so you figured that might be a
dead end. The mercury poisoning still doesn't add up and the wife doesn't work
somewhere with it on hand," Carlton stared at Shawn, open mouthed.
He hadn't been anywhere near the police station all morning and had only breezed in
around lunch to sniff for cases and try to drag Carlton out for Indian food, and left just
as quickly. Shawn wasn't in the station for more than four minutes.
"The afternoon is more hazy, of course," Shawn continued, ignoring Carlton's shock.
"You visited the range, but only ran through three or four clips of ammo. I can smell
the residue on your wrist and the outside pocket of your briefcase is puffed up slightly
meaning you folded up your target sheets to take home, which you always do. Only
four papers means you were having a pretty good day which means you probably
made some headway on another case."
"Meredith case," Carlton mumbled, still stunned.
"And then you came here today, even though it's not on of our standing 'date night'
because you had to know about the 'psychic thing'," Shawn took his hand down from
his temple and opened his eye. He bit the corner of his lip, uncharacteristically cute
and vulnerable.
48
"No tricks?"
"Just a good memory."
"No inside source?"
Shawn shook his head. Carlton tried to take in the information. Shawn's information
was stunning. He hadn't mentioned the O'Brian case at all, Shawn would have only
had a few moments in the station over the last few days when material about the
case was laying around. He went to the couch and sat down. Shawn followed close
behind. He kept his distance though, clearly understanding that Carlton was in no
mood to be teased or prodded.
"Do you know who did the O'Brian murder?" Carlton asked. He wasn't sure if he
wanted Shawn to be as stumped as him or just get the case off the books and into
the closed column.
"Elaine Grant," The name hadn't even come up in his investigation, that was how far
he was from the doer if Shawn was correct.
"Wife of the victim's coworker?" Carlton asked, confused. That made no sense.
"O'Brian wasn't having an affair with another woman, he was having an affair with
Martin Grant. He was going to ask for a divorce, maybe get custody. No secret
boyfriend, no divorce, Elaine stays married and the paychecks keep coming in. She
works at a research lab a few miles out of town, and has unrestricted access to
mercury for all your handy poisoning needs."
It was clean, it made sense, he would have to confirm the details, but Shawn wasn't
usually wrong when he opened his mouth about these things. Carlton had missed all
the clues and yet Shawn had picked them up and managed to find something when
he had been spinning his wheels.
"So you're just a better detective than me."
He wasn't exactly sure what sort of response he would hope for in this situation.
Maybe he wanted a few sarcastic words from Shawn that would make smile and
forget for a moment how many cases Shawn had cracked that Carlton had already
arrested the wrong man and closed the books. If Shawn had decided take that
moment to offer something serious and earnest, a reassurance, Carlton might have
been able to believe him.
The only thing Carlton was not prepared for was silence. Shawn sat next to him,
staring at his hands, perfectly silent. As seconds ticked by, every moment became
the longest Carlton had seen Shawn not say anything other than when he was
asleep. No explanation and no apology was forthcoming, Shawn just sat.
"How can you just lie like that? All of the time, every day, you open your mouth and
all you do is lie!"
Shawn continued to stay silent. Carlton had never seen him act like this before. He
couldn't take the silence any more, he grabbed his coat, whispered a goodbye, and
stormed out the door.
Carlton was too angry to drive so he hoofed it to the beach and just started walking,
hoping that night air, surf, and sand might calm him a little. He should have realized it
was a lost cause, he never cared for the beach much anyway and it was only
Shawn's presence that made it enjoyable at all. He sat down heavy on the sand,
trying to clear his head.
49
He'd expected Shawn to rush to his own defense maybe brush it off as a joke that got
out of hand. Carlton knew that that was exactly what it was. Shawn had told the truth
almost a year ago, he did solve cases watching the news. Carlton had ignored him
and threatened to arrest him. Shawn had told one expedient lie, and now it was a
huge on. He wondered how many people actually knew Shawn was lying. He'd
caught some of his 'flirty banter' several times in the past, he always claimed to be
psychic with a little knowing smirk.
Carlton hadn't really believed Shawn months ago, on their first date, when he said he
didn't have a lot of friends, but he'd long since realized it was the truth. Shawn
wrapped people around him, they loved him and wanted to be close to him but there
was this wall that he'd never seen anyone get past. He imagined that Guster could
see through the charade and see the real Shawn. Hell, Shawn had shared a few
moments of that open honestly with Carlton.
No wonder Shawn said he wasn't very good at relationships. The wall was miles high
and tall. Carlton wasn't psychic, he couldn't hear was was rattling around in Shawn's
head, but he did know he'd asked for honesty and then had thrown the answer back
in Shawn's face. Carlton sighed, angry with himself. He wasn't used to be the
emotionally aware party in a relationship. He wasn't used to relationships in general,
but whatever had been building with Shawn seemed to qualify. But Carlton knew his
history with Shawn was too short to even have a clue what Shawn might be thinking
or feeling now.
Carlton set aside his ego. The cases got solved. They got solved by Shawn being
able to put more efficient and reasoned shoe leather to a case than Carlton. Maybe
Shawn was a better detective, but that was never what he wanted to be.
Carlton was far too smart not to realize that years of traveling cross country on a
motorcycle didn't hide someone emotionally well rounded and stable.
Shawn's motorcycle was gone when Carlton got back to his apartment. He waited
four hours for Shawn to get back before he had to go home to get some sleep so he
wouldn't be entirely useless tomorrow. He called Shawn's cell, left a message to call
him back, but couldn't do anything more that night.
He went home and went to bed, but he didn't sleep well at all.
50
Part Eleven
Shawn didn't really know what he was doing when he grabbed a few changes of
clothes and jumped on his motorcycle and just started riding. He had to ride.
He stopped in a bar, trying to take a few minutes and find someone who would be
only too happy to take home a flexible and willing fake psychic. Shawn hadn't even
gotten through the door when he turned around and just kept driving instead.
He wound up a few miles outside of the airport when he eventually picked up his cell
phone to make the call.
"Annette Spencer."
"Mom! Hi." Shawn paused for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts. "Are you settled
down somewhere?"
"I'm in L.A. for a few weeks, we're looking into some new models. Shawn, are you
alright?"
"Yeah, of course!" Shawn lied. "I'll be there in an hour or two."
He made the drive a little slower than usual; it was dark and it wouldn't do anyone
any good to get him spattered on some bridge over the 101. His mom was at the
door when he rang, opening it instantly and letting him inside.
"Shawn." She pulled Shawn into her arms and he sighed. He buried his head in her
dark brown hair and wondered what the hell he was supposed to say. "Did that
psychic thing bite you in the ass?" There was no snap and no accusation in the
question. Shawn nodded. "Well, stay as long as you need to. Although I would
appreciate it if you not explicitly confirm I'm protecting you from the law."
"Not the law," Shawn protested, not really having any idea how to express it. "Well,
kind of."
"You're wound up tighter than a drum, Shawn. Take a shower, relax. I have an early
morning but the clients can go to hell." She gave him a weak smile.
Shawn did what he was told. He washed the scent of the road from his hair and the
taste of Carlton's lips off of him, tried to clear his mind. It didn't work. Scenes of
Carlton, angry, irritated, and upset assaulted him, he couldn't forget them, couldn't
categorize them and sock them away. He couldn't ignore the way Carlton's back was
hunched when he stormed out of Shawn's apartment.
He came back into the living room, clean and changed, where his mother offered up
a drink and Shawn gratefully accepted, flopping down and running fingers through
still-wet hair. His phone rang. Caller ID said it was Carlton. He flipped the phone
closed and let the machine get it.
"Is that 'her'?" Annette asked.
"'Him', actually."
"Do I have to go find him and crack some heads?" She asked, soft yet serious.
Shawn shook his head 'no'. "It's my fault anyway."
Shawn tried not to consider exactly how much it was his fault. He curled up in his
mom's arms and felt sorry for himself.
He listened to Carlton's message that night as he curled up in his mom's guest bed.
51
"Shawn, it's Carlton ... just ... call?" Shawn didn't deserve the hesitant hopeful
wavering in Carlton's voice. He deleted the message and went to bed angry with
himself.
Shawn liked to think he was back on his feet the very next day. He went into work
with Annette and helped her critique the various modeling hopefuls to came through
the door in the humble hope of working for *the* Annette Spencer. Shawn didn't
particularly care for the work but like several things he'd never trained for, he was
good at this. He channeled a little more of his 'fabulousness' than usual and did his
best.
That night he went out with the intention of getting blissfully drunk. It didn't take much,
Shawn was a lightweight. He was into his second vodka soda when he was
approached by a cute and chipper blonde that reminded him of no one in particular.
"Hey!"
"Hi there."
"You all alone?"
"Certainly looks like it."
"No need to get snappy." She turned tail and left, leaving Shawn more than a little
confused. Snappy? Shawn wasn't snappy. He was charming and adorable. Anyone
would love to have him.
Shawn managed to be quite a bit more pleasant when he was next visited by a curvy
brunette, one drink later, who seemed quite interested in Shawn, or maybe just
getting Shawn alone. He couldn't be certain. It didn't really matter, even with his
senses slightly dulled Shawn could tell she was already thinking about Shawn under
her.
His mind was just dull enough where his brain was having difficulty taking in the
various visuals that were coming at him from every direction. Tomorrow morning he
might only remember three quarters of what had happened, but he was pretty sure
that would be too much.
She stayed with him for the three more drinks it took for his mind to shut down
enough to the point where he would probably only remember a tenth of the night. If
his comparison notes with Gus were anything to go by, that was about what people
with highly trained photography memories remembered in the morning, drunk or
otherwise.
She dragged him out of the bar and into a sporty convertible. It took them four
minutes door to door. She shoved him through the door and was working on his shirt
when Shawn's cell phone rung again. He checked the ID, Carlton again. He ignored it,
pulling off the girl's top. He couldn't even remember her name, couldn't even
remember if he'd asked, or if she'd offered.
The next few seconds saw the end of Shawn's shirt, flung half way across the room.
He wound up pressed down on the couch, straddled and running his hands over her,
through her hair, across her breasts, across her stomach.
She reached for his belt slowly unbuckling and then for the button on his jeans.
"Hang on, I should, uh, bathroom." He didn't really need to but he'd had so much to
drink his thoughts were too far gone to think and make out. She pointed and he fled
to the bathroom and took a few moments to collect himself.
52
He checked his cell, Carlton had left a message.

"Shawn ... it's um ... you know I'm not the talker in this relationship. Call."
Shawn splashed some cold water on his face. It didn't sober him but it did give him
some momentary focus. He left the bathroom, collected his shirt and belt, made his
apologies, and for the first time in many a year left a willing woman to spend the night
alone.
He called a cab, which took him back to his mom's.
His mom was lounging on the couch, sketching design ideas in one of her huge
notebooks. She raised a questioning eyebrow when he came in looking rumpled and
probably a bit sexed as well.
He fled to his room and showered and tried not to think about how much of Carlton's
trust he had violated in the last few days.
Annette was still awake when Shawn returned. He sat down next to her and tried his
best to explain exactly how stupid he had been and exactly how he'd thrown away
someone who cared for him and how he didn't deserve Carlton and that the man
should never *ever* forgive him.
Mom told him to go home, back to Santa Barbara, and to talk to his 'Carlton'. She
was a woman of tough love. Shawn ignored the advice, but he didn't get on his bike
and keep riding.
53
Part Twelve
Carlton was not sure if he was embarrassed or proud the fact that it took him almost
two weeks until missing Shawn was too much to bear.
There were certain things about his relationship with Shawn that he had really started
to grow accustom to. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss the sex. Shawn was
exuberant, confident and practiced in bed. He seemed to know what men liked in
general and what Carlton liked in particular and Carlton had grown accustom to
falling asleep with Shawn in his arms at least one or two times a week.
It was a little shallow, but he missed Shawn's cooking too. Shawn was a great cook
and there was something wonderful about getting spoiled with homemade chicken
tikka masala for lunch.
Mostly he just missed Shawn. His voice, his hip wiggling, his teasing of Guster, even
his flirting with O'Hara. He'd become a little more secure in the fact that Shawn
wanted him and was alright with the fact that O'Hara seemed to like flirting with him.
He missed rehashing cases or pursuits or joking about Carlton's 'fishing buddy'
relationship with Henry. His little one bedroom apartment he'd moved into after losing
his house seemed cramped again now that he was more used to Shawn's place.
He was irritable for no reason. Well there was a reason, but certainly not one he was
going to give the Chief when she asked why he was so 'cranky' lately.
It was with all of that in mind that he took a rather big step in his quest to find Shawn
and talk out this problem because Shawn was avoiding him quite efficiently. Carlton
went to go see Burton Guster to plead his case.
So Carlton stood outside of the door to Guster's apartment, at seven at night hoping
that the man was home. Carlton knocked, feeling like some cross between a boy on
prom night and a student sent to the principal's office.
"Lassiter?" Guster asked, he didn't seem confused, just surprised. "Come on in."
Carlton took in the apartment, nice one bedroom, clean and spartan.
"Do you know where Shawn is? Spencer. Do you know where Spencer is?" Carlton
wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be pretending or not. He was a mostly
straight cop looking for his boyfriend, he didn't even know where he stood.
"Detective, did you know that you can spend an extra fifty or a hundred dollars a
month for a month to month lease on some nicer apartments"
Carlton arched an eyebrow, confused by the non-sequitur, "I had no idea."
"See, men like us, we would never dream of a month to month lease. We pay
everything on time, we get good interest rates, excellent lines of credit. That's who
we are. For Shawn, he's willing to pay the extra dollars for the privilege of being able
to skip town on a moment's notice. That's who Shawn is," Guster sighed and
slumped down on a couch. Carlton had to admit he felt for the guy.
"So, he's run off then?"
"Yeah, he'll come back after he's tired of running. That's what he does," Carlton
almost wanted to snap at the kid. How could someone be friends with someone like
that? Instead he slouched down onto the couch himself.
"Did you know ...?" Carlton trailed off, unsure how to continued.
54
"About you and Shawn? Yeah, of course," That wasn't what Carlton was asking.
"No, you know he's not ....?" Carlton sighed again, "Of course you know he's not
psychic."
"Oh, Dude! That's what this is about?" Guster sounded frustrated, maybe a little bit
angry.
"Of course that's what this is about! It's illegal, lying to the police. At least he's never
been hindering. Dammit, Guster."
"Hey, man. I know it was stupid. I just meant Shawn didn't bother to tell me what the
fight was about. He didn't even tell me there was a fight. I get to the office after work
two weeks ago and it's locked with a little 'reply hazy ask again later' sign. That's
*my* hint something's wrong. And I haven't heard from him since."
Carlton stared at Guster opened mouthed for a few moments. Shawn had left Santa
Barbara without even telling his best friend he was leaving?
And after he was done having a few moments of pity for Guster his mind turned
quickly back to himself, wondering what on Earth he'd been thinking to fall for
someone so flakey. He'd thought Shawn was just hiding out, maybe just not
answering his phone or his door, maybe crashed at Guster's. He'd planned to talk
about why he'd behaved badly, maybe offer an apology, maybe hope Shawn would
offer one in return. Instead he discovered Shawn wasn't even in Santa Barbara any
more.
"Would Henry know where he is?" Carlton doubted it, but it was worth a shot.
"Even less likely than me knowing. Henry has no patience for Shawn's tendency to
fail at relationships. And even though he's not 'phobic he certainly doesn't like the
occasional man in Shawn's life."
Carlton clenched a fist, angry with Shawn, angry with himself and maybe just a little
bit angry with Guster.
"You can't tell me my only option is to wait around until he decides to come back and
grace us with his presence, Guster!"
"Gus," he corrected. "You're dating my best friend, you can't call me 'Guster' at the
very least you have to call me 'Burton'."
"I'm not dating your best friend any more ... Gus."
"Well then I'm certainly not going to help you find him if all you are going to do is tell
him you don't want to see him any more!"
"Of course I want to see him again. I'm angry, but that doesn't make me an idiot!"
Carlton slumped back into the couch and sighed. "I knew it was stupid and that he
was too immature. I fell in love with him anyway! I guess I really am an idiot."
Gus didn't respond for several moments and Carlton eventually glanced in his
direction to see him wide eyed and staring. When Gus noticed he was staring he
cleared his throat and started to talk.
"I'll be honest, Shawn is one of two places right now. He might be shacked up with
some random person he picked up in a bar, it's a strong possibility." Carlton gritted
his teeth. The idea that Shawn was two weeks out of a fight sleeping around hurt just
a little more acutely than he would have thought it would. "Or he's at his mom's, in
New York, which is less likely."
55
"Do you know how to check?" Carlton ran his hands through his hair and Gus picked
up his cell phone and picked one of the speed dials.
"Do you really want to know?" Gus asked, phone to an ear. "It might be easier if he
comes back and you don't know where he was."
"I have to know," Carlton answered. And that was his curse anyway, he always had
to know. That's what started this whole damn thing in the first place. Gus didn't
answer him, just held the phone to his ear.
"Mrs. Spencer! Hi, it's Gus. Is Shawn ... oh? ... yeah, that's why I'm calling. You see
he ... hang on," Guster took the phone down from his ear and cupped his hand over
the receiver. "Yes he's there," Carlton let out the breath he'd been holding. "You've
got to talk your way through his mother first though."
For a moment Carlton wondered if that was even worth it. He felt guilty for the
thought and eventually held out his hand for the phone. Gus passed it to him and he
readied himself to be royally screamed at.
"Hello?" he wished he didn't sound so nervous.
"Is this Carlton?" the female voice on the other end asked. Carlton couldn't tell how
annoyed she sounded because of the poor quality of the cell phone.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Call me, Annette, Carlton."
"Yes, ma'a ... Annette."
"I suppose I have only one question: What the hell did you do to him?" She didn't
sound angry but Carlton wasn't fooled, the yelling would be coming any minute.
"Um ... we had a fight?"
"No before that!"
"We were having dinner?" Carlton was pretty sure he didn't understand the question.
"What I mean to say, Carlton, is that my son is here, with me, helping me run my
business that he admittedly finds incredibly boring, not flirting with anyone despite
any number of offers, and generally moping about instead of being his usual cheerful
self. So I want to know what you did."
"I don't understand the question, ma'a .. Annette."
"Never mind," she sighed. "Hold on just a moment."
Carlton held, unsure of what exactly was going on. Gus was standing a few feet away,
looking vaguely hopeful in a way that made Carlton a little nervous. More than a little
nervous.
"Lassy?" and damned if that wasn't Spencer of the phone now. He just took a few
deep breaths, not sure exactly what to say.
"Shawn, hi ..." a pretty pathetic start. He tried to work himself up to something more
impressive but he was stumped.
"Carlton, I'm sorry," Carlton actually lifted the phone from his ear for a second and
stared at it, not quite sure he believed what he was hearing. "It was a stupid thing to
lie about." Shawn's tone was the same as it ever was, as though he was talking
56
about dinner, or going to a movie, or Gus being a semi-pro tennis player. Sometimes
it was a lie and sometimes the truth and he wasn't quite sure if he believed him.
"I reacted badly," Carlton conceded after a few moments. "I'm sorry."
"No you reacted like a person..." Shawn didn't say anything else. Carlton was at a
loss, Shawn was the one who filled up the empty silences between him. He glanced
at Gus hoping for some sort of encouragement. Gus actually started pointing and
flailing a little frantically when he noticed Carlton was looking for guidance, but
Carlton couldn't figure out what he meant by it. The silence stretched out ... longer
than was comfortable.
"Please come home," he finally blurted out and Gus sagged in relief.
"I ..." Shawn started, maybe at a bit of a loss for words. "I promised Annette I'd help
out this weekend. I'll be back monday or tuesday."
Carlton felt that maybe his heart had returned to a normal speed now.
"We still need to talk about this, Shawn." Carlton ignored the frantic waving Gus was
making in the form of an 'X' and shaking his head 'no'.
"I'll see you wednesday for date night, Carlton," Shawn shot back, sounding chipper.
Shawn hung up the phone and Carlton was amazing to note that now that Shawn
had hung up he had plenty to say. Carlton hung up the cell phone and handed it back
to Gus.
"Well?"
"He'll be back monday or tuesday," Carlton answered.
Gus grabbed Carlton and pulled him into a huge hug. Carlton tried not to pull away
and eventually managed to give Gus a little pat on the back in answer to the hug.
The next few days were torture but monday finally rolled around and a cell phone call
from Shawn placed his return to Santa Barbara at seven that night. Carlton managed
to restrain himself and arrive at seven thirty and was dragged into Shawn's apartment
with a very welcoming kiss. The kiss was followed quickly by a hug.
"Dude, I missed you!" Carlton smiled at the effusive greeting and Shawn wedged
himself under Carlton's chin and then proceeded to nip at his jaw.
Carlton felt his minimal resolve to have a serious conversation slipping. If Shawn
continued his current tactic they wouldn't have their conversation for days, maybe
weeks. So he was quite surprised when Shawn broke off his assault to put an arms
length between them.
"I'm an inconsiderate jerk." Certainly an interesting opening conversational gambit.
"Yes," Carlton agreed.
"I should have just told you the truth from the start, but I'm a horrible truth teller."
"Yes."
"You're an awesome detective, I respect you, and, and ..." Shawn's steamroller
speech came to an abrupt end. His eyes fixed somewhere in the middle of Carlton's
chest. After a few seconds, Shawn tilted his head back up and met his eyes. "I love
you."
"Shawn, I-" But Shawn kept barreling through whatever confessions were on his mind.
57
"I made out with someone, in L.A.. It was wrong and against the rules. You can start
being mad at me now." And then he just -- stopped. He stood there, looking half-
earnest and half-sultry and Carlton had absolutely no idea what to say.
"Don't ever do that to me again," Carlton snapped. The words were light but he
meant them, he could tell Shawn knew it too. He kissed Shawn on the temple. "I love
you."
"You shouldn't forgive me that easily," Shawn complained.
"It's my choice. Tell me about L.A."
Shawn told him the truth.
58
Part Thirteen
Henry was putting the finishing touches on the meatloaf that he was cooking for his
dinner with Shawn and Shawn's - dare he even think it - 'boyfriend'. They would be
arriving any minute now.
Henry was relatively certain that Shawn hadn't used that particular word for at least
ten years and back then it had been more to piss off Henry than due to any actual
care or consideration for the boy Shawn had titled thus.
Henry hadn't been a part of Shawn's life for many years, but since Shawn had
showed up on his doorstep about ninth months ago with the McCallum murder case
and a tale of being a psychic detective he hadn't given the impression of being
serious about a relationship. Shawn wasn't a serious person, job records and
relationship records certainly seemed to back that up. But now Shawn had thrown out
the word 'boyfriend' and Henry wasn't exactly sure what to do with it.
Henry was torn in between hoping this 'boyfriend' liked meatloaf and wondering if
Shawn had fallen for some sort of tanned, vegan, yoga-instructor who would be
offended by the very thought of the poor cow that had died for the privilege of being
turned into a tasty meal.
He was almost relieved when Detective Lassiter's red Crown Vic pulled up and
Shawn hopped out. Shawn had been pulling his leg, having somehow convinced
Carlton to join him for dinner and was looking forward to whatever awkward
discomfort he could cause for all involved. Shawn was acting like even more of an
idiot than Henry thought if he thought pissing off one of his police coworkers was
worth a little joke.
Shawn bounded up to the door and knocked enthusiastically. Carlton had caught up
behind Shawn by the time Henry reached the door.
"Good evening, father! We brought beer, and mango tartlets!" Carlton looked quite
uneasy, probably from Shawn's presence. "Ooo! Meatloaf."
And with that Shawn pushed through the door into the kitchen.
"Sir," Carlton offered a hand to shake and Henry took it, confused. He and Carlton
had been fishing at least a dozen times and Henry generally considered them to be
on a first name basis.
"Well, come on in, Carlton."
"Thank you, sir." And the Head Detective went into the house and found his way to
the kitchen.
Shawn offered up beers and then did that damn slouching thing on one of the dinner
table chairs. Carlton followed suit and took the chair next to Shawn.
Henry decided he might as well let Shawn have his fun right at the start, rather than
sit through an uncomfortable dinner where Shawn could giggle to himself over every
innuendo Carlton accidentally provided.
"So, Carlton, how long have you been dating my son?"
"Uh ..." The detective paused for a few seconds, and Henry was ready to start yelling
at Shawn for being such an ass. "I guess it's almost three months now."
Henry started choking on the swallow of beer he had taken. "What?"
59
"Two months, three weeks, and a day, actually." Shawn helpfully provided. Carlton
turned to Shawn, nodding with the assessment.
"Apparently you have a much better sense of humor than I had originally thought,
Carlton."
"Excuse me?" Carlton asked, looking honestly confused.
"Since Shawn managed to rope you in to playing along with this little joke," Henry
clarified.
"No joke, sir."
Henry took a few moments to process that. "Shawn, you've got to be kidding me!"
"Hey! You know, I thought you'd like him!" And Shawn sounded completely serious.
Shawn hadn't been able to say something completely seriously since well before the
arbor day back-hoe incident. He would laugh or twitch or admit he was just kidding,
but as the earnest silence ticked by and Carlton grew increasingly nervous-looking,
Henry had to admit that maybe he was telling the truth, just this once.
"Well, as you already figured, I made meatloaf," Henry was unsure what else he
could say.
"Sweet!" Carlton had on a strange half-smile from that.
Dinner progressed with even less conversation than usual. Henry's new-found
communication with his son usually revolved around cases that Shawn was working.
Shawn would swing by when a case was bothering him to get a second set of eyes or
probably just a grouchy dialogue with his father, it seemed to help.
Henry realized he had no idea if Carlton knew Shawn wasn't psychic. He knew
Carlton didn't believe, but believing and knowing were two different things.
"You know, I could go if I'm interrupting some father-son bonding I don't know about,"
Carlton finally offered.
"That's ok, Lassy, we pretty much always talk like this." Carlton shook his head.
"So, um ... how did you two..." Henry didn't think he even wanted to finish the
sentence. Shawn arched an eyebrow and Carlton looked up from his dinner. "Listen,
Shawn, the last time you brought someone home was never. You've never brought
someone home. So pardon me if I didn't think I would ever have this conversation."
"Dad, I was just waiting until I could get you the son you always wanted," Shawn's
voice was sarcastic, as usual, with most of the usual fire, but Henry was pretty sure
he actually meant it. Carlton looked down, awkward and embarrassed by what
Shawn had said.
Shawn might have been joking, but he had a sort of point. Head Detective, excellent
arrest record, Chief Fenich had always spoken highly of him, they even went fishing
together, Carlton was the picture of what he'd wanted for Shawn. And Henry wasn't
sure if he was supposed to be kicking himself or not, because he received exactly
what he'd always wanted, in a backhanded sort of way.
Henry didn't like his son's sexuality, didn't like his son's job, didn't like his son's
apartment, or his son's bike, or his son's clothes, but he couldn't exactly take back
the camaraderie he'd managed with Detective Carlton Lassiter just because he had
bad taste in men. Henry found himself pondering what exactly they saw in each other
and that led to the sort of thoughts that you never ever *ever* wanted to think about
60
your own son. Because Henry was having just a little bit of that 'my kid's growing up'
anxiety he'd heard so much about but had missed out on because before that instant
Henry wasn't sure if Shawn had grown up since he was twelve.
"So, how did you start dating. My last intelligence was that Shawn was nothing but a
pain in your ass." Henry tried not to look uncomfortable at what he'd just said. Shawn
and Carlton either didn't notice or didn't respond to the unintentional innuendo.
"I asked Carlton for drinks, and dinner, and then dates, we went from there." Henry
arched his eyebrows because that was just about the most unlikely story he'd heard
since the time Shawn had claimed the puppy had just climbed into the window and
Shawn had discovered it when he woke up. It had been the neighbor's, or course,
Shawn made up the most unbelievable stories and yet everyone seemed to believe
them.
"Seriously, Shawn, you want me to buy that?"
"I assumed you wanted the PG version, I didn't want to offend your straight-guy
ears!"
Henry couldn't fault that reasoning. The evening still had a unspoken strangeness,
but Henry was able to steer the conversation towards something he was quite
familiar with, Shawn's misspent youth. Shawn actually looked embarrassed by the
tales but Carlton listened with the sort of rapt attention that could only come from
someone pulling in high-power blackmail material or from actually caring.
Shawn and Carlton shared a few stories of the cases they had worked together,
generally revolving around how Shawn had harassed the detective or how Carlton
had tried to get Shawn thrown off the case. Henry found it was having a better time
than usual with his son on these dinners and that Carlton had more of a sense of
humor than he had originally given him credit for. Even if he couldn't understand the
connection he was warming up to the idea of Carlton as Shawn's boyfriend.
The same conversation threads continued through dinner and into dessert and for
the first time in weeks Shawn didn't make an excuse to bolt as soon as the last round
was consumed.
"Shawn, you want to get the dishes?"
"No," Shawn answered, as though the answer was obvious. "But I'll do it anyway.
Don't be too hard on Detective Lassiter."
Carlton sat up straight in his chair, snapping to attention and back on guard,
obviously realizing they'd reached the father-boyfriend talk part of the evening. Henry
got a final round of beers and indicated the front porch. Carlton headed out, looking
anxious. They sat at the table, reminiscent of the occasional freshly caught lunches
they shared.
"How many times have we been out fishing since you started dating Shawn?"
"Four." Carlton answered immediately, obviously it wasn't a difficult calculation for
him, maybe even something he kept track of.
"Does Karen know?" As much as Carlton occasionally thought that Karen Vick was
an odd choice for interim chief now more than ever he should be grateful she was in
that position rather than John Fenich. Fenich was old school, queer cop wasn't just
an oddity, it was an impossibility.
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"No, she doesn't." Carlton was silent for a few moments, obviously trying to figure out
what he wanted to say. "It's not -- It hadn't been serious. I know that for Shawn,
serious is hanging around for a second date. We're just getting over that first big fight
and --" Carlton sighed, leaned back and exhaled again, clearly exhausted.
"You had a fight?" Henry couldn't stop his curiosity, he transitioned instantly into cop
mode, Carlton became the suspect. Shawn's response to a fight was to run away, but
Carlton said they just had gotten passed it.
"Yeah the ... 'psychic thing'." Henry winced imagining that fight might have rivaled
any number of fights he and Annette had had over the job. "I'm divorced," Carlton
started up again. "Well, very nearly divorced. The job was always what came
between Sam and me. If I tell the Chief, if I file those forms, it's my career. It means
I'm putting Shawn above the job. I'm not there yet."
Henry wasn't sure what the appropriate 'fatherly' response was to Carlton's incredibly
brutal honesty. Henry was fighting with any number of responses. When 'Shawn's
boyfriend' was some fruity vegan yoga instructor who apparently was also closeted
Henry would have no problem telling Carlton exactly where to get off, and get out of
his son's life. Shawn had brought Carlton *over for dinner* and Carlton wouldn't even
tell his boss about Shawn.
But he was realistic enough to know that Shawn and Carlton would never have it
easy. It was Carlton's career on the line, he'd never make another promotion, not
matter good his stats. Hell it was Carlton's life on the line if he ever got partnered with
some homophobic jackass who didn't think backing up a queer was part of the job
description. At least for the time being Carlton had Karen and that cute, blonde
detective from Miami would would gladly back him up.
And so, stuck at an impasse, Henry responded with silence.
"Dreams of being Chief die hard." Henry knew that, had struggled with those feelings
on his own when he retired early. "It was everything I ever wanted since I was eight.
So it might not be today, but I need some time to wrap my brain around the fact that
I'm apparently gay, in love with your son, and ok with the fact that I'll never see Chief.
I know it's not the right answer, but there it is."
"If that was your answer, why did you come to dinner?"
"Because Shawn wanted me to."
Henry thought that made Carlton alright by him.
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Part Fourteen
Juliet was doing her best to enjoy her manicure-pedicure 'date' with Shawn. They had
started the tradition two weeks after the sorority not-a-suicide case when Shawn
asked her to join him because Gus was being a silly goose about proper footcare. It
had been a standing date every two weeks since then.
That was about the time Shawn stopped being as blatantly flirty and she had to
wonder if he'd picked up that she had a crush on Gus instead of the psychic. Shawn
had taken up some sort of mantle of 'girl friend' and been perfectly happy to go out
for manicures or to check out boys.
Right now they were about half way through the pedicure half of their mani-pedi and
she was dying to ask the question that had weighed on her mind for weeks.
"Shawn, is Gus seeing anyone?"
"Well, he's on his Wednesday rounds, so he's over at Dr. Mignotti's."
"You know I meant if he was dating someone!" she snapped, no fire, just frustrated
amusement.
"Of course I did, Jules, I'm a psychic! I was avoiding the question. I've got to protect
Gus from any non-serious inquiries. The last I heard you were looking at that cute
grad student at UC Santa Barbara."
"It's ... just ..." Jules sighed, trying to get her thoughts together. It wasn't as though
the crush was new. She just was feeling like maybe she should start doing something
about it.
"He is cute, Jules, but you don't get my help on a date with Burton Guster without
spilling a little."
"Fine! He likes comics, and he looks really cute in those suits and we just have a lot
in common. I've been thinking about talking to you about it for a while. But you're his
best friend!"
"I've gotta make sure you're serious, Jules. My psychic aura would be forever out of
whack if you two didn't work out. It would break up the crime fighting quartet!"
"I am serious!"
"Alright, alright. I believe you. I'll take some readings. Gus won't know what hit him."
"You're a great girl friend, Shawn." He made a sort of non-commital noise in
response that Jules wasn't sure how to interpret. "Oh, can we do office gossip now?"
Shawn gave a little chuckle, and nodded.
"There's an office pool running for why Lassiter isn't as cranky as usual. Most odds
are running towards a girlfriend. Some people think his wife took him back. But
people think he's dating me. It's not good for my reputation, Shawn! Or think that he's
taken up BASE jumping. Or that he won the lottery and is going to retire next month.
It's driving everyone crazy! How about you?"
"What about me?"
"Shawn, you're psychic. If you don't know why Lassiter has been so -- happy? --
lately then no one does."
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"Jules, lets be honest, I'm pretty sure Lassiter knows why he's happy, too. Maybe you
should ask him to put into the pool."
"Do you know or not?"
"Of course I know, Jules! But I have very strict rules about gambling for money. And I
may have been sworn to secrecy."
"By Lassiter?"
"Or by the spirits, I can't remember which."
"Shawn!" She whined out the name, heedless of the other customers who were
looking at her funny.
"I have wanted to share the source of Lassy's good mood, but it's a secret. You can't
tell anyone I told you." He said it in that sarcastic earnestness tone and Juliet found
herself nodding before she even realized exactly what it was she was agreeing to.
"Lassiter is in the throes of the sort of good mood that can only be had through very
regular, and very awesome sex."
"Shawn, that was everyone's guess already! You're going to have to do better than
that."
Shawn made a 'ok, ok, settle down' sort of gesture.
"Jules, I know this, not because the spirits tell me, but because I have it on very good
authority that I am the one responsible for the regular and amazing sex."
"You're sleeping with him?!" Jules hissed out. Shawn motioned for her to keep it
down. "What about not messing up your crime fighting quartet?"
"Well I guess it goes double for me, now doesn't it?"
"Shawn this is huge, I can't keep this a secret! I can't even ask Lassiter?"
"Relax, Jules, at least we can go on another double date now."
"You've been dating that long?" Everyone in the salon was staring at her. She shrunk
back into her seat and tried to concentrate on her pedicure.
Carlton didn't believe in psychics, never had, but he could *sense* O'Hara staring at
him. She'd been staring at him ever since she'd come back from some sort of nail
painting extravaganza over lunch and Carlton was not at all pleased to think about
what random lie Shawn had spun that had O'Hara that excited or whatever it was she
was right now.
That girl believed every word Shawn said.
He finally cracked a few hours later on the way to a crime scene.
"What in the name of Smith and Wesson had gotten into you today, O'Hara? Is the
back of my head that fascinating? I hope it's important because this lack of focus is
going to get someone hurt."
"Well, I take it back. You seem extra cranky today."
"O'Hara, we're driving to a double homicide, of course I'm 'cranky'!"
"But you've been so much less cranky lately!" she protested. Carlton wasn't sure if
she really had a point. Shawn had been gone for two weeks and he was quite a bit
64
angrier than usual, but it was true there was something about having Shawn in his life
that was considerably lightening his mood. "Shawn said it was because you and he
were dating."
"I'm going to kill him!" Carlton growled. He wasn't seriously, but he and Shawn had
only really discussed the idea of telling O'Hara yesterday. Of course, yesterday,
Carlton had agreed, but only on general principle. He didn't like to share his personal
life, and this part of it was exceptionally terrifying to Carlton.
"I'm sorry. I figured he was joking," O'Hara quickly apologized.
And there it was. She had given him a perfect way out: say nothing and delay the
inevitable who knows how much longer.
The car fell into silence and Carlton took a moment to consider Shawn. Shawn who
didn't touch him as much in public any more because Carlton was worried about
betraying his hand. Shawn who didn't visit Carlton at his new apartment because he
was worried someone might put two and two together and get the exact right answer
about them. Shawn who didn't complain when Carlton bolted from bed because he
was working tomorrow and didn't want to risk oversleeping and being late. Shawn
who let him mark every square inch of his body with bites or sucks but never
reciprocated anywhere someone might see on Carlton. Shawn who brought him to
meet his father.
He owed Shawn the truth, even if he didn't really owe it to O'Hara. He sighed.
"Shawn and I are dating." O'Hara made a disbelieving squeaking noise. "The only
reason I'm telling you is out of professional courtesy."
It was true, O'Hara might need to know. O'Hara opened her mouth, probably to ask
some incredibly invasive question.
"I don't want to discuss my personal life."
O'Hara managed to stifle herself for almost three minutes. "You two look really cute
together."
Carlton glared and O'Hara didn't mention it again.
65
Part Fifteen
Carlton had been only too glad to dodge O'Hara's repeated inquiries into the status of
his and Shawn's relationship and continue on with business as usual for the rest of
the day.
The argument that followed with Shawn, that evening, was incredible in its briefness.
Shawn had grudgingly apologized for the breach of confidence and Carlton had
caved almost instantly. Both of them were dealing with their own phobias and
relationship firsts and Carlton supposed they both deserved a little slack. Shawn had
no experience as anything but a one-night-stand or a dirty little secret and Carlton
could understand why Shawn was eager to share their relationship. Shawn never did
anything that would indicate anything other than professional disrespect in public, but
Carlton knew that act was wearing thin for Shawn.
That was probably the reason Carlton agreed to a 'double date' with Gus and O'Hara.
It was partially because he was becoming a bit of an embarrassing push over any
time Shawn actually asked for something. It was also partially because anyone who
knew them could write it off as a social business meeting of some kind.
So Carlton had shaved, left his gun and holster at home, donned a pair of jeans, and
headed out to O'Malley's, home of billiards and 'totally sweet cheese fries'.
Carlton didn't even realize how incredibly stupid it was to have signed up for several
hours of time in public with Shawn until Shawn showed up in one of the two or three
dress shirts he owned, the stripy blue one, and jeans so sinfully tight Carlton realized
he'd died and gone to some sort of delicious, tormenting hell.
Even worse, apparently Gus and O'Hara were newly bashful and were not being
nearly as talkative as usual. Carlton and Shawn were left to pick up the slack and it
was not good for anyone.
At first, everyone had been intent on acquiring supplies to play pool and a table to set
up beers and fries. Rounds were ordered and Carlton had hoped that would be
enough to break the thickening tension. Having made it clear that his relationship
with Shawn continued to be an absolutely no discussion zone, cut off from that topic
of inquiry, O'Hara seemed at a loss as to conversation starters. Gus was also
similarly blocked.
Shawn racked the pool balls and then broke, starting off a teams match of 8-ball, but
not starting up any conversation.
Carlton knew that Shawn was perfectly capable of having vaguely serious
conversations about any number of topics. In order to participate you just needed to
ignore the style and listen for the substance. He also knew that Shawn avoided
serious conversations like the plague and usually defaulted to lying about himself.
Apparently Shawn's conversational choice this time was instead to start lying about
Gus.
Shawn had started off with a few stories about Gus from childhood that were, if Gus's
expression was any indication, Shawn's typical response around girls Gus was dating.
At least O'Hara seemed to realize she should take the proclamations with a grain of
salt. The embarrassing stories about Gus lasted for one game, with Jules making the
winning shot almost entirely by accident. Jules racked up for the next game and
Carlton started off the second round.
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Shawn had just started into a story about Gus's unfortunate rotator cuff injury when
Gus finally interrupted.
"You know, I can take it from here, Shawn," he snapped. Gus that proceeded to
strike up a conversation about his comic book collection. Carlton thought it would
have been a kiss of death to all other conversation but O'Hara jumped in
enthusiastically.
Carlton turned to Shawn, confused as to what was going on. Shawn just rolled his
eyes.
"Comic book nerds," Shawn explained. "Something I always knew about Gus, and
never wanted to know about Jules."
"I was a bit of a fan myself," Carlton admitted. He'd often exercised his big brother's
prerogative to (temporarily) steal whatever comics his little brother brought home.
Carlton didn't buy them himself, however, that would have been a waste of money
that could have otherwise been spent entirely on candy.
"Not you too!" Shawn whined slightly, obviously unimpressed with being surrounded
by nerds.
"I'm surprised, Shawn. You strike me as the kind of kid who would have loved
comics."
Shawn took advantage of the fact it was his shot to distract Carlton by bending over
the pool table and showing off some ass. Shawn ran the rest of the pool table, and
sunk the 8-ball finishing their game before racking the balls again, and allowing Gus
to break this game.
"No comics allowed at the Spencer house. They provide a warped view of heroism
and crime fighting." Shawn didn't sound particularly bitter, just rattling off another one
of those facts about Henry that had slowly started to drive Carlton insane.
"To who? Ten year olds?"
"Yes, Carlton, to ten year olds." Shawn slid over to Carlton just before he went to
take his next shot, whispered in his ear. "Besides, cops are the real heros."
Carlton felt his chest tighten slightly from the honest and earnest tone. The distraction
caused him to completely scratch his next shot and he returned to sit next to Shawn
who offered up the goofy smirk that said Shawn knew exactly why he'd missed.
Carlton glowered slightly, knowing that was the reaction Shawn was hoping for from
him anyway.
O'Hara and Gus were now engaged in a deep conversation over Green Spirit versus
Red Phantom and seemed to be back on some sort of comfortable turf with each
other. Shawn looked pleased with himself obviously considering his part in the
double-date set up a victory.
Carlton wondered if it was alright to date Shawn and also think that his father had
done one of the most warped jobs of raising him Carlton could imagine. Carlton
moved his chair so he could press his calf against Shawn's. Carlton felt guilty for not
just drawing Shawn into a hug or kissing him right there, but a dark pool hall was
hardly an appropriate place for such displays.
Shawn rarely complained about the strange parenting skills of Henry Spencer, but he
knew they weighed heavily sometimes. This was not one of those occasions, as
Shawn seemed more involved in celebrating his victory on the O'Hara and Gus
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dating front. Carlton was glad for that at least, he felt a little ridiculous drawing out
Shawn's childhood explanations for some of the weird rules and punishments of the
Spencer household.
Carlton's mental wanderings were cut short by the sound of a scuffle breaking out at
the table next to him.
Before he had stock of the situation Shawn was already up on his feet, waving hands
between the two fighting men who had obviously taken offense with each other. The
two men took no heed of the fact that someone was trying to calm them down and
did there best to try to out maneuver Shawn, who was doing an excellent job of
keeping himself between them.
Carlton took a moment to consider it was a stupid move on Shawn's part and quickly
hopped to his feet trying to figure out how best to subdue the man closest to him.
O'Hara had made similar move towards the other brawler.
The one nearer to Carlton grabbed Shawn and chucked him out of the way. Shawn
was thrown off balance and knocked into the table they had been playing at,
scattering the pool balls across the table. Carlton's eyes followed Shawn for a half
second before he realized what he was doing, snapping his attention back to the
brawl.
A quick nod to O'Hara and they both made their moves on the men and were able to
drag them apart. Friends stepped in to take the task of calming down the men away
from O'Hara and Carlton. When he turned back to where Shawn had landed he saw
Shawn standing, slightly massaging his ribs, looking hardly the worse for wear.
Carlton went to check on Shawn, who was grinning like a loon. "Kiss it and make it
better?" he whispered. Carlton smiled slightly. Shawn waved O'Hara and Gus away
sending them back to whatever conversation they had been in the middle of before
the fight broke out. "You froze."
"How did you even notice." Carlton hissed.
Shawn gave him a look that clearly said that was a stupid question. Carlton looked
slightly chagrined and then nodded. Gus chose to re-rack the balls as Shawn had
managed to completely destroy the integrity of the game table by knocking into it.
Carlton wasn't even sure most would consider it 'freezing'; it was only a half-second
hesitation. But it was not something Carlton was prone to. Flinching, freezing, and
hesitating were the sort of actions that were drummed out of you by the academy or
your first months on the job or you didn't stay on the force.
O'Hara hadn't noticed, but Carlton knew it had happened. He couldn't shake the
uneasy feeling that it would happen again and Carlton had no idea what he was
supposed to do to prevent it.
68
Part Sixteen
Carlton was surprised by how horribly needy he was feeling after the near miss and
freeze up at the bar today. Shawn wasn't even hurt but he found himself dwelling on
might have beens. They had called it a night early and Carlton had headed home
since he had to get to work early tomorrow. Carlton called Shawn, just to check, he
told himself, but Shawn didn't answer.
Carlton was beginning to have just a little panic well up in his chest. The residual fear
for Shawn's safety had Carlton going out of his mind. He was ten minutes into
whatever movie was starting on Sleuth channel when he finally gave up on relaxation
and went to seek Shawn out.
He was surprised when a calm, yet adorably shoeless, Shawn answered the door to
his apartment after a single round of knocking.
"Carlton?" Shawn's voice was soft and confused. Stopping over uninvited and
unannounced was hardly like him.
"You -- uh -- didn't answer your phone." And now Carlton felt ridiculous. Running over
just because of a missed phone call.
Shawn patted his pockets, slightly confused look on his face. After a moment his face
cleared. "Oh yeah! I forgot my cell in Gus's car."
"I have no idea how you can have such a bad memory sometimes," he joked in
reponse. Carlton let out a sigh of relief but was still trying to figure out how to salvage
some manly dignity from running over to his boyfriend's house in a panic.
Shawn didn't seem to mind, not even teasing him. Instead wrapped a hand around
Carlton's wrist and pulled him inside. Carlton pushed the door closed and drew
Shawn into his arms. Shawn began to run a trail of soft, dry kisses along Carlton's
jaw line and then lightly kneading his back and shoulders.
Shawn maneuvered Carlton to the couch and they both sat down. Carlton pulled him
forward until Shawn got the message and curled up on his lap. Neither of them spoke
for minutes, something of a record for Shawn, and Carlton just ran hands over Shawn,
arms, shoulders, face, back, legs, just checking that everything was still there. Shawn
seemed to pick up on Carlton's mood and began to gently massage his scalp, trying
to relax the detective.
"You know, I never thought this would be a problem," Carlton mumbled into Shawn's
hair. Shawn's back straightened and Carlton had to wrap his arms around Shawn's
waist to keep him from bolting. "I'm not even done a complete thought!" Carlton
complained.
Shawn didn't answer, but he did relax a little slightly.
"As I'm sure you are aware, I've dated a partner before. It's never made me flinch,
never hesitate, never think twice. I wasn't even on the job, but my first instincts
weren't in the right place." Shawn tensed again, Carlton cursed the poor choice of
words. "I'm not supposed to worry about you. I could get O'Hara hurt."
"I can take care of myself, Carlton," Shawn groused. The irritation was slightly
undermined by the fact that Shawn was now nibbling his way across Carlton's ear.
"You'll always be a civilian," Carlton protested, brushing off Shawn's ministrations so
he could continue to actually concentrate.
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"Yes, Carlton, a civilian whose father thought that hand gun training, police academy
obstacle courses, sit-ups, pushups, and running were substitutes for summer camp."
Carlton's hands paused from there running over Shawn, realizing that Shawn had a
point. Shawn was in excellent shape, he just had to trust that Shawn actually knew
what he was doing under that flakey exterior.
"I'll still worry," Carlton felt the need to explain.
"As you would with all your cute, blonde, female junior partners, regardless of
whether or not you are sleeping with them." Shawn got up and began to drag Carlton
towards the bedroom. "Spend the night." Carlton was going to protest. "I'll set the
alarm for early, you can get out of here with enough time to get home and change for
work."
Shawn didn't even have to pout. Carlton caved and followed him to the bedroom. He
was too tired to do much more than strip and crawl into bed, and was glad when
Shawn seemed to be on the same page. That didn't stop Shawn from using him as a
human pillow as was often the case when they shared a bed.
Carlton drifted off to sleep with Shawn's head pressed against his chest, an arm
slung around Shawn's waist and the feel of Shawn teasing his chest hair with bored
fingers.
He woke a few hours later. A glance at the clock said it was a little after one in the
morning. Shawn was no longer draped over him. Instead he was stretched out next
to him, hands linked together across his own chest. It was the way Shawn laid when
he was trying not to move but too much energy or momentum made it almost
impossible.
"Shawn?"
"Did I wake you up?" Shawn mumbled, obviously tired.
"I'm not sure." Carlton wasn't actually sure what had woken him, he usually was quite
good about sleeping through the night. He pulled Shawn back into his arms and was
glad to find it relaxed him some. "Don't you usually sleep like the dead?"
"I'm not very good with sleeping with people."
Carlton chuckled, lightly running his hands across Shawn's chest and then peppering
a few kisses there for good measure. "Could have fooled me."
Shawn snorted. "I mean falling asleep with someone else in bed but without the aid
of exhausting and truly fantastic sex."
"Oh, it's just something you get used to with practice, like anything else." Carlton had
gotten out of practice, but after the last several months with Shawn, he was used to it.
Shawn nudged Carlton back to his side of the bed again and curled up again him. He
tangled himself back up against Carlton and then relaxed.
Carlton had almost fallen back to sleep when Shawn whispered softly: "I haven't had
any chances to practice before."
Carlton ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. He dozed off, wondering how he'd
managed to find someone so ... Carlton didn't even have the right words for Shawn.
The alarm blared, waking Carlton up at quarter 'til five. Carlton started to climb out of
the bed when Shawn began his morning routine of 'human octopus' refusing to let
70
Carlton leave. He was just about to protest when Shawn kissed him lightly on the
temple and mumbled sleepily in his ear.
"Have a good day at work, dear."
He'd said it with such sarcasm and a sleepy half-smirk on his face, but Carlton knew
he'd meant it. He also had a guess that Shawn had never said that to anyone else
before.
The pleasant hum of that morning greeting kept Carlton with a half-smile on his face
the whole day and everyone at work wondering what on Earth was wrong with him.
71
Part Seventeen
To say that Shawn tended to notice things would be an understatement. Sometimes
he tried to not notice things, just for the fun of it, but he'd never actually managed to
do it.
He had noticed Carlton was acting strangely almost immediately. It had started on a
Wednesday.
He'd called Carlton to ask the detective if he wanted to hit up his favorite Indian place
for lunch. Carlton had begged off. It was not unheard of for Carlton to have lunch
plans, usually with Jules or some of the other officers or detectives from the precinct,
it was part of being head detective. However, Carlton was the kind of man who tried
to explain his actions, and this time around he did not offer the identity of who he was
eating lunch with, and that was unusual.
Shawn had resisted the urge to tail the detective to lunch, mostly because Gus had
told him that was just a little obsessive, and besides wouldn't he rather go out for jerk
chicken anyway? Shawn had agreed and a good time had been had by all.
Shawn didn't think much of it until it happened again the next week. This time Shawn
had offered and invite on Monday to have Italian. Carlton had again begged off. This
time Shawn pretended he was hunting for cases and road down to the station. Jules
had volunteered that Carlton had headed out to lunch on his own, something that
raised several warning alarms with Shawn.
Shawn decided the next time it happened he was going to tail Carlton. It didn't come
to that before the next week. Thursday evening, date night, rolled around, and Shawn
was only to happy to see Carlton. He'd gotten used to the man being a part of his life
and tonight was 'order chinese and watch a movie' night. Carlton had shown up at
the door, slightly worse for wear than Shawn would have expected, and when Shawn
drew him in for a hug he caught a whiff of perfume. It wasn't Jules' and it wasn't the
Chief's, it wasn't Allen's, it wasn't any woman Carlton might have worked with. Shawn
figured Carlton had interviewed a female witness with no idea how to use perfume
and set it aside for the evening.
When the perfume made a return on next Tuesday evening's double date with Jules
and Gus, Shawn began to worry. Or maybe get more curious. He wasn't exactly sure
how to break down that emotion. Carlton been with a woman twice who was close
enough to leave the scent of perfume on his clothes. Later that night, when he got
Carlton home, he found the long, light brown strand of hair inside Carlton's jacket. He
hadn't been looking, honestly, but Shawn didn't have to be looking to spot that sort of
thing.
The next morning, after Carlton left, Shawn tried to sort through the data he'd
gathered. Gus often said that Shawn jumped to conclusions too quickly, but the fact
that he usually made it to the right conclusions tended to undercut Gus' argument.
Today his mind was jumping to the conclusion that Carlton was seeing someone else
on the side.
Shawn called Carlton just before noon to invite him back over for the evening,
intending to confront him. Carlton begged off claiming a pile of paperwork. The
outright lie stung. Shawn knew Jules had been planning on using the fact they were
low on paperwork to go out on a fancy date with Gus. Carlton was getting sloppy if he
thought Shawn wouldn't notice.
72
That night he did tail Carlton from the police station to a nice italian restaurant.
Carlton was wearing one of his nice suits, one that Shawn had picked out specifically
to compliment his eyes, and far nicer than was necessary for work. At the restaurant,
Carlton met up with a pretty brunette with long hair and set up at a private table in the
corner. Shawn didn't stay to watch the dinner unfold, feeling slightly sick.
Shawn wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling. Usually Carlton was the one who
had to coax out emotional admissions from Shawn. Carlton had to tease out of him
that Shawn hadn't really had this committed a relationship before and it was all new.
What Shawn knew was that he had wanted Carlton to be a permanent fixture in his
life, but that was clearly not mutual.
Shawn jumped on his motorcycle and started to ride. At first, he just drove around the
city. He couldn't call Jules or Gus, they were out on a dinner date, there was no way
in hell he was going to run it by his dad, and Carlton was the problem. Shawn was
feeling particularly friendless when he reached the city limits and kept driving.
He pulled over to a deserted strip of beach and climbed off his motorcycle, settling
down onto the sand and staring out across the waves.
Carlton had been seeing that brunette at least once a week for the last three or four
weeks. Carlton still hadn't told the Chief, or anyone other than Jules about their
relationship. He hadn't even really told Jules, Shawn had done that. Shawn had
dragged Carlton into their relationship. Carlton had never been gay and couldn't
make the leap to 'be gay' with Shawn. Carlton was seeing someone else on the side.
Shawn knew he was great in bed. He gave Carlton everything he could ask for and
plenty of things he didn't even know he should ask for, and Shawn was always up for
more. Carlton seemed happy enough when Shawn was pinned under him on the bed,
but when morning rolled around he scrubbed and bolted, leaving that part of his life
behind, wrapped up in Shawn's sticky bed sheets.
Shawn had never minded being used for sex before. He usually considered it an
honor.
Carlton was supposed to be different. Shawn had promised to try to make it
something more than that.
Seven and a half months into their 'relationship' and fourteen months into his job
seemed like a fine time to bring this disastrous experiment in maturity to an end.
Maybe he'd hop a cruise ship, find something tan and muscled to keep him warm out
on the ocean.
Shawn thought about ignoring his cell phone when it rang, loudly from his coat
pocket. It was going to be Carlton, but Shawn figured there was something to ending
the relationship officially and answered the phone.
"Hey, Lassy," Shawn answered, feeling particularly catty to have accidentally pulled
out that nickname.
"Shawn, I was --" Carlton started, and having obviously caught the bitter note in
Shawn's voice, he paused. "Shawn, are you alright?"
"Are you the psychic, now?"
"Where are you?" Shawn wondered why Carlton sounded so frantic, probably worried
he was going to do something stupid, or reckless to Carlton's career. Maybe he could
call the Chief, explain his very intimate knowledge of every inch of Carlton's anatomy.
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Shawn considered lying, but decided against it.

"Six and a half miles north of town on the beach."
"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right there."
Shawn didn't bother to acknowledge that he'd heard, just hung up, and chucked the
phone beside him on the sand. He pulled his knees up to his chest, listening to the
waves.
Carlton arrived approximately ten minutes later, he'd even popped the light on top of
the car. He shut it down and was out of the car next to Shawn in under a minute. His
breath was heavy and his face showed concern. The effect was slightly undermined
by the scent of that same damn perfume mixing in with the salt air.
"Shawn?" Carlton's voice was half panicked, half concerned. Shawn cursed the fact
that Carlton's presence made him want to curl up in the detectives arms and bare his
soul.
"Who is she?"
"Who?"
"Five-eight, shoulder blade length brown hair, wears the perfume you have all over
you." Carlton bent over and guiltily smelled his jacket. "The one you meet for lunch
dates and dinner dates and haven't thought to mention."
Carlton put a head in his hands, it was too dark for Shawn to get a good read on his
face.
"I'm sorry," Carlton whispered, voice sounding guilty. "I should have known I wouldn't
be able to hide it from you for long."
It had all been guesswork before that minute, to hear confirmation made Shawn's gut
twist. Carlton tried to wrap an arm around Shawn's shoulders. Shawn brushed him off,
standing, and turned his back to Carlton. Carlton leapt up after him, staying close.
"She's my divorce lawyer," Carlton's voice held a hint of pleading that surprised
Shawn. He turned to look Carlton in the face so he could gauge the truth of whatever
Carlton said next. "I had wanted it to be a surprise. After the divorce goes through I
can file the paperwork at work, emergency contact, next of kin, all of that. I know I've
put it off, but Sam and I are close to a settlement. It's still a week or two away but ...
I'll be a free man. Free to be with you."
Shawn felt like an idiot.
"You thought I was ...? Oh, Shawn." Shawn grabbed Carlton around the waist pulling
him in tight. Shawn wasn't entirely sure but he was pretty sure he made some sort of
sob of relief. Carlton ran his hands over Shawn's back, soothing and comforting. "I'm
sorry," Carlton whispered in his ear again. "That's the last time I try to surprise you."
Shawn laughed, pushing down on Carlton's shoulders until he sat back down on the
sand. He climbed on the detective's lap a proceeded to do something that should
have had them both arrested for indecent exposure and had both of them washing
sand out of places it didn't belong when they finally made it back to Shawn's
apartment to fall asleep in each other's arms.
74
Part Eighteen
Carlton had originally asked Shawn to go out to a restaurant in order to celebrate the
finalization of his divorce, but Shawn had insisted he would be far more comfortable
somewhere they could make out on top of the table. Carlton didn't push it, knowing
Shawn was still feeling a little raw and over-exposed from his freak-out when he'd
thought Carlton had been cheating on him.
Carlton wasn't pleased to have upset Shawn, but there was something about the
level of panic he'd worked from Shawn that made Carlton realize how incredibly
serious Shawn was about 'them'.
Instead Shawn had gone over to Carlton's. It was a milestone for Carlton. Starting
today he didn't give a damn who knew he was in love with Shawn, because Shawn
was a lovable guy.
Carlton had volunteered to cook for the occasion, but it actually wound up with
Shawn instructed Carlton to keep him from burning things. The phone ringing was
actually a welcome reprieve from the terrors of cooking.
"Lassiter," he answered, picking up the phone from the wall. Shawn took over the
cooking seamlessly.
"Carlton, don't you know how to answer the phone without snapping?" Carlton smiled
into the phone. His older sister, Kate, always had a way of channeling that 'maternal'
sound.
"Kate, hi." Shawn's ears perked up, obviously curious. Mostly Shawn was just nosey.
Carlton ran a hand under Shawn's shirt to tease at his stomach, trying to distract him
from listening in on the conversation.
"Just thinking of you, I know we're heading into wedding anniversary time and wanted
to make sure you were doing alright." Carlton blinked, it was already June and he
hadn't even thought about it. He hadn't seen Sam in months and hadn't thought of
her outside of the back and forth between lawyers as they finished the divorce
negotiations.
"Oh ..." Carlton finally responded. "We actually ... we got divorced today."
"Carlton! Why didn't you call? I'm sorry, I know you were hoping that --" Carlton had
to interrupt.
"Best for all involved." He'd tried to infuse this statement with some enthusiasm, to
convince Kate he was ok. Shawn had decided to lightly nip and his neck, though, and
it was too distracting.
"Carlton, you don't have to put on some stoic face. I know you're upset," Kate
sounded genuinely worried and Carlton felt like an ass.
He covered the phone with a cupped hand and hissed at Shawn, "Cut that out!"
Shawn pouted and went to pour a glass of wine for himself.
"I'm not sure what you need me to say, Carlton. But at least you are home moping
instead of out ..." Kate trailed off.
"I am not moping!" Carlton protested. Shawn snickered into his glass, enjoying
Carlton's discomfort far too much. He sighed into the phone, clearly he needed to put
his money where his mouth was. "I'll have you know I'm dating someone."
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"Really?!" Almost forty year old women should not be capable of making that
squeaking sound. It reminded him too much of O'Hara.
"No I figured making up a fake boyfriend would be so much easier than putting up
with your legitimate concerns."
"BOYFRIEND?!" And dear God her voice got even higher.
Shawn snickering as he stood over the cooking range didn't help. Carlton was pretty
sure he heard her from there.
"Yes, I'm dating a guy, his name is Shawn and he thinks your incredulity is
particularly funny."
"He's over now?" Carlton cursed his honesty. He knew where this conversation
would head now.
"Yes, he's cooking dinner. Actually, I was cooking dinner, but then you called."
"Can I talk to him?" Carlton winced and Shawn didn't even ask permission before he
was grabbing the phone from Carlton and slouching against his kitchen cabinets.
"Actually, Carlton was burning dinner. Your call was all that saved the poor chicken
cutlets from a fate worse than Emril."
Carlton tried to ignore the jab at his cooking and the slight fear at whatever Shawn
was going to say to his sister. Carlton pushed the anxiety down, Shawn probably
wouldn't say much that would be horribly embarrassing.
"Yes, 'Shawn', that's me." Shawn paused, clearly listening to Kate on the other end.
"We work together, I'm a private investigator." Well at least he hadn't said psychic.
"Eight months actually." Carlton was surprised to realize they really had been
together almost eight months now. Another pause. "Yes he's a horrible brother and
has no consideration for your curiosity about his personal life."
"You don't actually want me to tell you about our sex life do you?" And that was when
Carlton decided that Kate had gotten enough from Shawn, grabbing the phone back.
Shawn pouted cutely.
"I think that's enough." He'd spoken into the phone but looked Shawn straight in the
eye when he said it, making it clear that went for him too.
"Oh, come on, Carlton! You drop this colossal bombshell that you're dating some guy
and then expect me to drop it." She paused for a minute, probably considering how to
next attack the question. "Is he cute?"
Carlton sighed. Shawn had his back to Carlton, but he wasn't naive enough to think
that meant Shawn wasn't listening.
"He's adorable, and he knows it."
Shawn turned around and looked a little surprised at that. Carlton was glad to have
Shawn off balance for a change.
"Since when do you date guys? Even if they are adorable."
Shawn had recovered from the shock of being called adorable and was now putting
the finishing touches on the chicken Carlton had been trying to prepare.
76
Shawn pulled out tableware and began to plate the dinner. Shawn then decided to
start dancing around while settling the table. Thankfully Carlton had gotten used to
the antics and found them less distracting than he might have otherwise.
"Since Shawn, I guess."
Kate made one of those squeaking noises again. "That is so cute! I mean you
seriously ... with him?"
"Did you try to ask Shawn that, too?" Carlton asked, exasperated. His sister had
clearly gone off the deep end. "We've been dating eight months, draw your own
conclusions."
"Is it ...?" Kate paused, at a loss for words. "Is it serious, the two of you?"
"I love him." Kate didn't say anything for a few moments. During the silence, Shawn
came up and softly kissed Carlton. It took quite a bit of willpower for Carlton to
remember he was on the phone with his sister and now was not an appropriate time
to make out on the countertop.
"I love him, too, just so you know," Shawn said into the phone. Shawn nipped
Carlton's bottom lip and headed back to getting dinner ready to eat.
"Could you hold on a second, Kate?" Carlton didn't even wait for her answer, he set
the headset down on the table and stalked up to Shawn. He grabbed Shawn's hips,
spinning him around and then pushed his lips hard to Shawn's. Shawn whimpered
immediately and then began to grab at the back of Carlton's head and opened his
mouth. Carlton pulled away again, heading back to the phone.
Shawn pouted and flopped down heavy into his chair.
"Anything else? Shawn and I were about to start dinner." It wasn't that Carlton didn't
want to talk to Kate longer, and he was positive she would call back as soon as
humanly possible to try to catch Carlton while Shawn was not around.
"Have you told mom?" Carlton winced. That certainly killed the pleasant buzz from
Shawn pressed up against him.
"Not yet, I'm more scared of her than the Chief."
"Good luck, Carlton. I insist on meeting this 'Shawn' of yours as soon as humanly
possible! Have a good evening." Her last phrase had been imbued with just enough
innuendo to make Carlton slightly embarrassed.
"Goodnight, Kate." Carlton hung up the phone and slid into his seat across from
Shawn. The younger man had dinner laid out and drinks poured.
"Is your mother going to kick my ass for corrupting you?" Shawn actually sounded
genuinely worried.
"No." Shawn relaxed. "She's going to kick my ass for succumbing to temptation in the
first place." Shawn looked slightly mopey now. "Hey, worry about that later. You, me,
and slightly burned chicken piccata is where we are now."
77
Part Nineteen
Karen Vick was going over what she was going to say to Detective Lassiter in her
head. She hoped she had planned for every contingency, every bad response and
every possible protest. Carlton Lassiter was not an unreasonable man, but when it
came to the man's personal life it seemed things needed to be handled with kid
gloves.
She walked over to the door of the office and looked out over the bullpen. Lassiter
sat at his desk, O'Hara, Guster, and Spencer were crowded around as well, eating
what appeared to be italian for lunch, and making quite a bit of noise from their
conversation. Spencer had brought the food in celebration of another successfully
completed case. The kid was good, Karen had to admit that much.
Guster and Spencer had become a more frequent fixture in the office, mostly
because Guster was now dating O'Hara and tried to spend lunch at the station at
least two or three times a week.
"Carlton."
The detective looked up from his desk and Karen waved him into her office. Karen
was surprised when a slightly worried look crossed his face. He shared a quick
glance with Spencer as well and the rest of the table quieted down from their
commotion. Lassiter headed towards the office looking quite a bit like a kid heading
to the principal's office and Karen wondered if he was already bracing himself for
their conversation.
Carlton came into the office and Karen shut the door. Carlton took a chair and sat
uncomfortably.
"Carlton." The detective snapped up in his chair. "I know you've put a lot of time and
effort into making Head Detective, and in that vein there are certain behaviors that
even though I can't demand I certainly would like to suggest."
"Like what?" Carlton gritted the question out through his teeth, sounding quite
irritated. Karen was surprised, she hadn't expected this level of resistance from him.
"Well, the Fourth of July picnic will be in a few weeks, and as Head Detective I think
it's important you make an effort to attend."
"That's it?" His voice had the quality of a man who had just avoided a hanging. In fact
he was acting quite guilty, now that Karen thought about it.
"What did you think this was about?"
"My paperwork ...?" Carlton trailed off, uncertain.
"Is it new? I don't have any new paperwork. This isn't about Mr Spencer is it?"
"Actually, yes it is I --" Karen felt she had to interrupt.
"I thought you and Mr Spencer were working together much better."
Carlton surprised Karen by actually smiling, which worked its way into a chuckle and
then a full out laugh. After a few moments he collected himself and was just grinning.
"I'm confused, Detective."
"I thought everyone would know by now, but I have once again overestimated the
speed of paperwork."
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"What paperwork did you file then?"

"Change in my pension beneficiary, next of kin, emergency contact." Karen was sure
her confusion was played across her face. Most of that would have happened by
default with Lassiter's divorce. "To Shawn."
"What?" Karen tried to think of some reason why Lassiter would make Spencer his
beneficiary. "Why?"
Carlton threaded his fingers together and looked at them for a moment. "Every time a
cop tells me he's making that move into a serious relationship I tell him that he needs
to change his benefits, that he needs to make sure she's taken care of if something
unfortunate happens. And I'm the worst sort of hypocrite any time I say that now if I
don't --"
Karen wasn't entirely sure what on Earth Lassiter was talking about unless --
"You're in a serious relationship with Mr Spencer?" That's certainly what Lassiter had
just implied.
Lassiter didn't answer instantly and for a moment Karen was terrified that she'd read
too much into what he had said.
"Yes, almost eight months in to one actually."
Karen tried to process the new information about found that now that Lassiter had
confirmed a relationship she wasn't exactly sure how to file it. Mr Spencer always
seemed to do his worst to irritate Lassiter at every turn at work. Lassiter did nothing
but complain about Mr Spencer's interference in investigations.
Karen couldn't think of any moments she'd ever thought that the relationship between
the two was anything but an unprofessional dislike.
"And I'm getting sick of Henry harassing me to make an honest man of his son."
Karen sputtered slightly from the idea of Henry saying anything like that. Lassiter was
actually smirking slightly, at what exactly she could not be sure.
"You and Shawn are actually --" Karen wasn't even sure exactly what she was asking,
and she was positive she didn't really want to know the answer. "I thought you were
after my job, Carlton. This is the end of your career. You do know that, right?"
"Of course."
"And you still want to --"
"It's not a matter of 'want'. I've wanted to be Police Chief since I was a kid." Carlton
glanced out into the cage and Karen followed his gaze catching Spencer watching
them through the open blinds. O'Hara and Guster were also watching discretely while
pretending to eat. Lassiter turned back towards Karen. "There's something more
important to me than that now."
Spencer grinned at the back of Lassiter's head, as though he knew exactly what had
been said.
Karen wasn't certain how to respond. She hadn't been in Santa Barbara for the death
throes of Carlton's marriage or the start of his relationship with Berry. Even without
being there she heard enough of the gossip to know how many anniversaries
Lassiter had missed, how many times he worked double shifts on a tough case when
he was expected back home. Lassiter did all of those things that made him the
perfect candidate for Chief when he was older and had a few more years on the force.
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Karen didn't care who Lassiter spent his time with in his off hours, but he was
throwing away any chance of ever advancing again.
Karen felt a little embarrassed that she wondered if Spen- Shawn was worth it.
"This is the same man you were quite insistent needed to be cut loose a little over a
year ago."
"I don't enjoy discussing my personal life, and I don't think it's appropriate for us to
continue this conversation." Lassiter's demeanor had become chilly and Karen wasn't
sure if she should try to continue. Shawn seemed a strange choice for anyone to
throw a career out for.
"Lassiter, Carlton, you helped deliver my baby, say whatever you think needs to be
said, I'm just trying to understand here. From my perspective this is quite sudden."
"I --" Carlton paused. "I've already thought this through, Karen, quite a bit."
"Have you really? Carlton, I don't want you to throw away your career for ..." Karen
wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to finish the sentence. Most of the words
she could think of were not very polite. Shawn had been working for the Department
off and on for over a year and he was not someone she would think would ever work
in a serious relationship.
"For someone like Shawn?" Carlton sounded angry, and Karen could hardly blame
him, the thought sounded quite mean-spirited when Carlton had said it out loud.
"He doesn't seem like the kind of person you would --" Karen was now certain she
shouldn't have even started this conversation. She couldn't shake the feeling that
Carlton was throwing his career away for some bizarre midlife crisis. She couldn't
deny that Shawn was the type of man that would make you feel young again.
"Karen, I'm already dreading the moment I need to tell my Irish Catholic mother that
her beloved son is queer and dating someone who presents like an unemployed
delinquent. I have to tell her I'm throwing away my career for him. And I am ready to
face that."
Karen knew Brigid Lassiter, she was formidable, scary, and so Catholic it hurt. It
certainly said quite a bit about Carlton's commitment. That was when Karen realized
exactly what was bothering her. If it had really been eight months of a relationship,
Karen saw no reason to believe that Shawn was committed to Carlton. He flirted
shamelessly with almost any female he ran across. He was the sort of incorrigible
playboy your mother and your girlfriends warned you about.
"Mr Spencer doesn't exactly have a history of stability."
"I have a spectacularly failed marriage to my name, Karen."
"I just want to make sure this is something you are both serious about."
"I wouldn't be here today if I weren't already incredibly serious. And if Shawn were a
girl, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You'd have wished me well and asked
about the picnic again and I'd be back to lunch. I know this because I got to hear all
about your two minute conversation with O'Hara about Gus."
Karen wanted very badly for Spencer to be as serious as Lassiter obviously was.
"And regarding the Fourth of July barbecue picnic, Shawn and I will be there, and I
am pretty sure he's making these sweet and tangy meatball things that he still wont
tell me the recipe for. He says I wont eat them if I knew what was in them."
80
Karen nodded and dismissed Lassiter with a nod.

She watched him return to his desk and slide into his chair, looking slightly defeated.
Shawn reached across to Carlton and squeezed his hand. Carlton brightened
considerably.
Karen sat back in her chair, wondering when this mystical paperwork would arrive
and tried to decide how Carlton and Shawn had ever started dating in the first place.
After less than a minute's reflection she realized she didn't actually want to know.
81
Part Twenty
Shawn had not been to the annual SBPD Fourth of July picnic in over ten years. The
event had always been an exercise in frustration as a child: Henry's obsessive
attention to the grilling, everyone there speculating on Shawn's future in college and
the Academy, and, of course, the parental meltdown with whatever trouble Shawn
managed to get into with all of the other children.
This year he had cooked a honey baked ham (no pineapple, due to Carlton's allergy),
amazing meatballs, as well as preparing two different pies.
Carlton was currently carrying the ham while Shawn dragged everything else in the
sort of precarious balancing act that was expected of someone who had worked in
food service for too long.
He caught sight of Gus and Jules, already mingling. Shawn's goal was for Carlton to
be at least a little social. It wasn't that these were people Carlton didn't like, the man
just had a difficult time at these sorts of mingle and chat events. Shawn had been a
natural at these since late in high school and considered it his duty to walk Carlton
through it. Shawn had no delusions about Carlton actually enjoying himself, but he
hoped it wouldn't be as painful as usual.
Shawn also caught sight of the Chief, Mr Vick, and young daughter, Carly, greeting
everyone as they came in.
"Carlton, Shawn." She paused for a moment. "Lassiter did you buy a ham?"
"God, no! Shawn made it." Shawn might have beamed slightly, but he would deny it
later.
"You can bake, Shawn?"
"I made pies too! Apple and cherry."
Various foodstuffs finally set out, Shawn grabbed a beer and prepared to do his best
to mingle.
He was about to approach Francie, the very lovely Mrs McNab, when the Chief came
up to him with an intense look about her.
"Mr Spencer, a moment of your time."
"Of course, Chief, anything for you!"
She lead Shawn slightly further off from the crowds so they could continue their
conversation in private. Shawn was slightly on guard as he was relatively certain
what to expect from the conversation. Carlton had mentioned that the Chief wasn't
sure of Shawn's intent. Shawn knew it wasn't his responsibility to placate the Chief's
fears, but he wanted to make an effort for Carlton.
Of course, for Shawn, 'effort' was relative.
"I've been given the impression that you and Lassiter have been dating for over eight
months." That was a pretty strange conversational opener and Shawn had to wonder
what sort of answer she was expecting from it.
"So that's why we keep waking up in a naked tangle of limbs and arms!" Shawn was
certain his smart ass comment was worth the half terrified and slightly sick look that
crossed her face.
"Mr Spencer, I ..."
82
"You did want to know about our relationship," Shawn reminded her.
"What I wanted to be sure of was that Carlton is not throwing away his career for
some ... midlife crisis."
"Hey, I'm a fantastic midlife crisis!"
"Mr Spencer, do you have any appreciation for exactly how much of his career
Lassiter just sacrificed for you? Or is this just one of so many other things you have
no understanding of? It just rolls of your back, Mr Spencer, doesn't it?"
"Chief, I'll have you know I have a immense appreciation for Lassy's sacrifices on this
matter. I'll have you know he was able to set aside his attachment to the left side of
the bed *and* his intense love of cold maple syrup, both of which were relationship
sticking points for me."
The Chief had this incredibly disheartened look on her face.
Shawn wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He wasn't sure what he wanted to
say either. Henry never wanted to talk about Carlton unless it was about the fish
they'd caught or some case he'd solved. Besides, Henry's relationship with Annette
didn't exactly instill confidence Henry could speak on the subject. Jules would always
be Carlton's partner before she was Shawn's girl friend, they sometimes talked about
Carlton but only in terms of Jules' invasive personal questions to try to figure him out,
not about -- 'relationship things'. Shawn was routinely subjected to the status of Jules'
relationship with Gus, though. But Gus freaked out whenever Shawn started
questioning the relationship anywhere near him. Gus said things about 'not ruining
Santa Barbara for him'.
But now the Chief wanted him to talk. Shawn was a very chatty person by nature, but
not about anything as personal as *feelings*. Unless it was for Carlton.
"What if he real did make a huge mistake?" It came out in the sort of soft whisper that
Shawn never seemed to manage on purpose.
"It seems a little late for you to be reflecting on the potential impact on his career, Mr
Spencer!" The Chief had the tone she only seemed to use whenever Shawn was
making a complete ass of himself on a case.
"He's a great guy! He could meet someone pretty, blonde, he loves blondes. She'd
be more serious than me and have one of those careers you read about in serious
business magazines. They could have kids! She'd knit him golf club cozies, or
something. I --" Shawn was about to continue his train of thought rambling when he
brought himself back under control. He didn't look cool and he certainly didn't look
psychic, and the Chief would probably think he was about to have some sort of
psychic fit.
She had that slightly terrified look cross her face again and Shawn folded his arms to
his chest and looked down at his feet. After a half second he realized how vulnerable
that made him look and uncrossed his arms, trying to project some aura of 'cool' that
had been dulled by his outburst.
"Mr Spencer --" Shawn tried not to let it show that he was preparing for her scolding.
"He's already met her."
Shawn felt the ice cold chill of Vick's words down his spine and cursed his foolish
optimism. Carlton had sworn there wasn't anyone else, he'd said they were
something special and that he loved Shawn. He'd -- Karen interrupted his thoughts.
83
"Her name is Samantha Lassiter, and their divorce was finalized a little over a month
ago. And I don't have to be a psychic to know that you are the reason he's not still
just separated."
Shawn tried not to look like a twelve year old girl who just got passed a love note
from the cute kid who ate paste three seats down.
"The spirits aren't very helpful when it comes to love."
Karen patted him on the shoulder, making him feel quite a bit better. "About love?"
She asked, slightly teasing.
Shawn's eyes scanned the picnic crowd where Carlton was chatting up some of his
Civil War reenactor buddies. Shawn didn't care how goofy the grin lighting up his face
was at that moment. "Yeah, love."
Karen smiled and walked away, leaving Shawn temporarily at a loss for words.
84
Part Twenty-One
Carlton pulled out his keys and entered the apartment to find Shawn slouched on the
couch watching the evening news.
"It was the girlfriend's ex-boyfriend," Shawn shouted from the couch.
Carlton shook his head pulling off tie and jacket and leaving his briefcase on the
breakfast bar.
"I hope you don't think the Chief is going to pay you for that insight."
"Oh come on! Is 'my boyfriend told me so' not a good enough psychic tip off now?"
Shawn popped his head up from the couch to see Carlton, who was pretty sure his
frustrating day was written all over his face. Shawn beckoned him over, sat him down
and began to attack his back with the incredible precision of an occasionally-
professional masseur. "Bad day?"
"What gave it away?"
"You visited the gun range." Although Shawn occasionally joked that Gus was the
one with the 'super smeller', Shawn certainly had the nose for gunshot residue. But
Shawn was right, he had visited the gun range, and that had become a slightly rarer
occurrence since Shawn. He'd certainly reopened Carlton's eyes to many more
enjoyable ways to blow off a little steam. "That, and your birthday is nearly upon you."
"You're not planning some huge surprise party with felons are you?" Carlton wasn't
sure he could handle another birthday like last year. Between losing the house and
his mother's mysterious discovery of his separated status Carlton had more than
enough stress for what was supposed to have been a relaxing day of scotch and old
movies.
"If you must know, I was going to cook beef stew and rent some action movie where
everything blows up, unless you want to request something else."
"No, that sounds perfect." Carlton had to admit, Shawn certainly seemed like a mind
reader somedays. Unfortunately, he wasn't actually, and having serious discussions
with him was still a trial even after almost ninth months. Being a mind reader would
have made things much easier. "Can we talk about something?"
Carlton turned around to see Shawn with the face that Carlton occasionally
considered his 'terrified animal' face. The one that he wore whenever he was about to
run out the door in order to delay a difficult conversation. Carlton liked to think that it
showed some sort of character growth that Shawn just clenched his fists slightly and
nodded.
"It's nothing bad." Carlton felt he needed the preface. "At least I don't think it is --"
Shawn relaxed a little, seeming more at ease, trusting Carlton enough to take him at
his word. "Well, I mean--" Carlton stopped, slightly embarrassed.
"Not instilling me with a lot of confidence, Carlton."
"Sorry, sorry. Sam and I used to have a lot of fights about money so I don't like to talk
about it."
"Oh, ok. Dude, why didn't you just say so? Shoot!" Shawn's casual brushing aside of
the issue giving Carlton a little more confidence. He dove in.
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"I was just wondering how much you pay in rent." Carlton felt incredibly nosy for
asking, but it was an important part of his calculations. And he knew Shawn, he was
the type to randomly lock in some low rate because of some time he helped the
landlord or something, Shawn always seemed to know someone.
"Two thousand something, I don't really keep track."
"How do you eat?!" Carlton had promised himself this wouldn't devolve into a fight
and he found him breaking that promise to himself. "Don't think I don't know how
much money you make on cases. I know you don't work any other jobs. And the
beach front storefront must be pretty expensive, too." The 'Psych' office was prime
real estate.
"I thought you trusted me about not smuggling opium," Shawn complained, sounding
quite surly. Carlton had to admit the cop in him hated the answer. He trusted Shawn,
he really did. But his refusal to answer a simple questions raised every alarm bell that
was every trained into him.
Hell, it's what got Shawn into trouble over a year ago when Carlton first tried to pin
the stereo robberies on him. Standoffish, condescending and evasive behavior raised
red flags.
"I do trust you. I also have a right to comment on the fact that your lifestyle seems to
outpace your means and wonder how you afford it."
"It's just ... *things*" Carlton had to remind himself not to get mad. He also reminded
himself if Shawn actually did confess to something criminal Carlton wasn't exactly
sure what he was going to do about it. "Residuals mostly. I manage a Hip Hop band
from Thailand, shoe ads, royalties off the sale of Breebree tribal hats, those Listerine
things you put on your tongue. Nothing illegal."
"The breath strips?" Carlton was trying to decide if this was more or less believable
than solving crime while watching the local news.
"Dude, it was an awesome idea! I just -- have ideas sometimes, I live a charmed life."
Shawn seemed nervous and embarrassed, not a look he was used to seeing on
Shawn. "Alright, if you are newly convinced of the fact I'm not smuggling drugs, what
was the point of the questioning?"
Carlton tried to wrap his brain around this new information about Shawn. His brain
finally returned to his original train of thought
"The lease on the apartment I started renting after O'Hara's birthday party debacle is
going to be ending soon and I just thought maybe we could get a place together."
Shawn looked slightly ill. "Carlton, I -- Wow. Are you sure?"
"Of course." Carlton had been thinking about it ever since he'd realized he was going
to have to come out to be honest to himself and to Shawn. "It would mean a lot to
me."
Shawn was speechless for a few moments. He then pounced, pinning Carlton to the
sofa and leaned down for a crushing kiss. Carlton scrambled to get more comfortable,
accepting the overture for what it was, assent. Shawn had four buttons on he shirt
undone and was slowly licking his way down he chest when Carlton was able to tear
himself away.
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"The divorce finally solidified the property settlement on Sam and my old house, I
could probably afford to buy instead of just renting." Shawn immediately stopped his
assault on Carlton's chest and he tried not to be too disappointed.
"Buying?"
"I know first time home buying is daunting. I'm not an expert myself. I just thought --"
Carlton trailed off. Shawn was jittery again, and not from the recently aborted making
out. "If you don't want to that's alright, Shawn."
Carlton felt like an idiot. There was obviously something about the prospect of home
ownership that truly terrified Shawn. Or maybe just that level of relationship
commitment.
"I don't own things."
"You own a bike."
"Technically, it's Annette's."
"The big screen tv?"
"Furniture rental."
"The digital recorder thing."
"Rented from the cable company."
Carlton sighed. He remembered Gus's words months ago about how Shawn put a lot
of effort into being able to drop everything and leave at a moment's notice. Shawn
hadn't run away since then, but Carlton realized he might be pressing too much too
soon. He wanted the world with Shawn, but he'd probably have to settle for a small
island to start.
"Oh ... How about a little two bedroom apartment somewhere near the beach?"
"That sounds really nice."
"My lease is up in six weeks."
"Oh, dude, I almost forgot! I also invented George Foreman Grills."
"George Foreman Grills?"
"Yeah, you didn't think he actually invented it did you?"
Carlton didn't have enough time to question the last outrageous claim because
Shawn chose that moment to drag him off to the bedroom effectively ending any
productive discussion for the rest of the evening.
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Part Twenty-Two
Shawn sent Carlton off to work the next morning and bummed around his apartment,
vaguely tidying up. The whole place was over-cluttered. Shawn usually relied on the
fact that he moved every few months to cut down on the various knickknacks that he
accidentally accrued. A bigger apartment would mean Shawn could actually keep the
junk, but there was something that made him feel pressed to throw things away.
He was going to move in with Carlton. Shawn had never really lived with someone,
unless you counted trading sex for a place to live when he traveled around. This was
different.
And Carlton wanted to move in together, wanted to buy a house even. Carlton had
sometimes talked about the aggravation and hassle of the divorce and being forced
to move out of his own house. And he wanted to put himself into that again, for
Shawn.
Shawn's childish hesitation towards owning something seemed unimportant in the
face of that.
He picked up his phone and called Henry. He answered on the second ring.
"Hey, dad?"
"Shawn, is everything alright?"
"Oh, yeahyeahyeah, everything's fine. I was just wondering: how do you buy a
house?"
"You want to buy a house?"
"Yes!" Shawn paused. "No! I mean, Carlton wants to and I'm thinking about it."
"So you two are moving in together?"
"I know you always dreamed of walking me down the aisle for a white wedding, but
that's not a option, so the next logical step would be moving in, yes." Shawn was
thankful he didn't have any great attachment to the institution of marriage, and
likewise glad Carlton seemed to have gotten it out of his system after one go-round.
"That's a big step, Shawn." His dad had the condescending tone that drove Shawn
nuts.
"Yes, I know, believe me dad, the thought has not escaped me. I've stooped to
calling you, does that pass everyone's little seriousness tests?"
"Seriousness tests?"
Shawn couldn't have this conversation with Henry. At least Annette seemed to accept
that Shawn was serious without him having to make some oath or whatever else
seemed necessary for people to accept Shawn actually loved Carlton.
"You know what, never mind dad, I'll figure it out myself."
"Shawn, I'll help. You just need a direction. Go see what's out there, and what it costs,
then talk to Carlton about how much you can afford and where you want to live. It's
the financing and paperwork that takes a long time and is the hard part. We could talk
about it at dinner tomorrow."
Shawn had grunted an assent and headed out on his bike, cruising areas of the city
that might have houses. He would up collecting dozens of one page summaries,
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looking in windows, scoping out neighborhoods, cross-referencing them with the

crime statistics he had memorized, and making guesses at commuting times for
Carlton and to the beach front office for Shawn.
Around one he realized Carlton had called a few hours ago. Shawn listened to the
message asking if Shawn wanted to get lunch and instantly felt guilty for missing the
call. Carlton had called two more times but hadn't left messages.
Shawn called back just to apologize.
"Lassiter." Shawn smiled at his crisp answer.
"Hey, Carlton. Sorry I was out riding didn't hear the phone."
"Everything alright?" Carlton had that slightly concerned tone. It was fair, Shawn
didn't just hop on a bike and ride for no reason.
"Yeah, I'll see you for dinner right?"
"I'll be home before seven."
Shawn continued his quest for the prefect house, only ending a little after six when
he heading back to his apartment, with a pit stop to pick up something for dinner.
House fliers and dinner in one hand he went in the door where he found Carlton
pacing, beer in hand.
Carlton set the beer down instantly and pulled Shawn in to a fierce hug. Shawn
melted into the hug running his free hand against Carlton's back.
"What brought this on? Bad day at work?" Shawn tossed his collected fliers and food
on the breakfast bar so he could wrap both arms around Carlton. Shawn was quite
surprised, Carlton was not usually this needy.
Carlton pulled Shawn away, hands curled hard against Shawn's shoulders, holding
him at arm's length for a moment.
"I thought you'd run off again."
Shawn stood for a moment, trying to figure out why Carlton would think he had run off.
Shawn realized he had every right to have thought that, Shawn ran away. Running
away was something Shawn had a lot of experience with. Carlton had actually
probably gotten used to Shawn's disappearing acts after a tough conversation.
"No, I was ... driving around town." Shawn grabbed the fliers and held them out to
Carlton. "I was looking at houses that were for sale. I didn't know what our price
range is so I just sort of took one of everything. I went out to Carpinteria too, in case
you wanted to live near your mother. I know you like suburban, so I spread out,
looked all over. A lot were real run down. I know my dad likes that sort of thing, but I
guarantee I didn't inherit whatever makes men want to lay tile." Shawn had to stop
babbling so he clamped his mouth shut and waited for Carlton to say something.
"You were out all day looking at houses?"
"You were so excited about having a house again. You don't need to settle for a
slightly larger apartment." Shawn looked at his feet. This sort of thing made him so
uncomfortable. Opening your mouth and saying you wanted something made it real.
He'd hardly admitted to himself how much he'd wanted Carlton, and it was only after
they'd been dating for months that he'd said it out loud to anyone.
"Shawn, that's --" Carlton took the fliers and pulled Shawn in for another hug. "Wow."
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Shawn smiled into Carlton's neck, letting the warm feeling that fell over him linger. He
loved the surprised and awed tone of Carlton's voice and the fact that he had been
the one who put it there.
"I got sandwiches for dinner, since I didn't have time to cook." Shawn showed the
bag in his hand. Carlton smiled, kissed Shawn on the temple and went to the kitchen
to get plates, catsup and a beer for Shawn while Shawn pulled out the subs and fries.
Carlton took his own seat and unwrapped his sandwich.
"I haven't worked out any of the numbers since I thought we were going to look at
apartments, but I can figure that out this evening. In the meantime, tell me about the
houses you liked."
The rest of the evening was devoted to Shawn listing the various pros and cons of
the houses he had visited, eventually picking out a half dozen that both of them
agreed to check out the next free day they had.
Later that night when he curled up against Carlton and was about to drift off to sleep
he knew he had to say something more.
"Carly?" Shawn whispered. Carlton made one of his grumpy noises that Shawn knew
meant he preferred 'Carlton'. "I'm not going to run away again."
Carlton kissed him on the forehead and mumbled a soft response.
"I believe you."
Shawn's resolve to his former promise was tested almost instantly a week later.
Carlton and Shawn had picked a house, 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom (with a promise from
Henry to help repair some of the obvious warts, including a rundown bathroom), near
the beach. It was slightly more than Carlton had wanted to spend, but still in their
budget. Bank financing had been approved and it was time to put the final signatures
to paper and actually *buy* a house.
Shawn was in his living room, in a nice dress shirt and jacket, but wearing jeans,
pacing. He even stooped to fussing with his hair, which was quite atypical for him.
Carlton was watching him with a nervous worry.
"We don't have to buy the house, Shawn."
"Nonono, yes we do. Dude, it's an awesome house. It's perfect." Carlton didn't look
convinced. "Maybe I should have bought my bike from Annette as a warm up."
"Shawn, there will be other houses, we can wait a little longer, it's ok."
"Carlton Lassiter!" Carlton looked both terrified and amused from the use of his full
name. "Dude, Stop trying to talk me out this! Now, lets get in the car, go to the real
estate office, and then come home and have sex on the couch."
Carlton quickly glanced at the couch in a way that let Shawn know he was wondering
if he could get away with changing the order of Shawn's suggested tasks. Shawn
smirked and pushed Carlton out the door towards the car.
The ride over was silent with Shawn trying to stop the jittering of his legs while
Carlton drove.
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Nancy, the very nice real estate agent, who thought Shawn and Carlton were
adorable, greeted them with handshakes and led them over to her desk were far too
much official paperwork was stacked.
Shawn's knuckles were white from gripping the pen too tightly and he was relatively
sure he was leaving bruises on Carlton's shoulder where he clutched it for support.
Shawn signed on every line where Nancy pointed, feeling his freedom slipping away
but finding he didn't mind at all.
"That's everything," Nancy informed them, sounding quite perky. "Congratulations on
your new home!"
Shawn grabbed Carlton, pulling him into a tight hug as the ink dried on their future.
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Part Twenty-Three
Carlton glowered at the selection of pineapples sitting on display at the local
supermarket. Shawn had decided that making a household together meant that
Carlton should learn the ins and outs of the produce department, and so here Carlton
stood, left with a list and an assignment to locate fine examples of various fruits and
vegetables in order to satisfy Shawn's very picky standards.
It wasn't that Carlton particularly minded the produce department, but he was a bit
nervous about the impending 'Lassi-Spencer housewarming extravaganza' as Shawn
was calling it. Carlton used to be positive that meeting Shawn Spencer was the worst
moment of his life. But now Shawn was a part of his heart, and Carlton couldn't
imagine it any other way.
As of two days ago, Shawn and Carlton were completely moved in to their house.
Carlton had promised himself years ago he would never get this entangled with
someone again, the process of decoupling from Sam had proved painful and
exhausting, but Shawn made him want to try again.
Henry had guided Shawn through several pre-move-in renovations and Shawn had
worked some interior decorating magic. Carlton had fallen asleep with Shawn's arms
wrapped around him last night, in their own home, and Carlton prayed they would be
like that for the rest of their lives.
But, at this moment, he stood trying to find a good selection of mushrooms and
peppers for dinner tonight.
Carlton was all thumbs in the kitchen, college had transitioned directly into being a
cop, and you never had the time or energy to learn, if you couldn't cook it in boiling
water, Carlton didn't eat it.
Shawn packed him lunch three times a week now. It was repulsively domestic. Sam
had never been much of a chef either, she had her own 'power career' and neither of
them had ever had the energy to cook. If he was lucky throw something together and
broil it. It's not that it was bad, but Carlton was finding himself very, very spoiled now.
Carlton was picking his way through shallots 'very different from regular onions,
Carlton' when he caught sight of Sam herself pushing along a grocery cart. Her cart
was mostly empty, and what was in it was mostly prepackaged, although she did
have a quart of milk. It was almost a comfort that that hadn't changed.
He hadn't seen her in months. They hadn't met face to face during their final divorce
settlement, choosing to leave that to the lawyers. He was also unlikely to run into her
on the golf course or at a civil war reenactment, and she had gotten all the friends in
the divorce anyway.
Carlton's mind supplied him with a terrifying truth: he hadn't even been *gay* the last
time he'd seen her. Carlton was pleased to say that Shawn was having a soothing
effect overall because that thought didn't fill him with sheer panic, it just flitted through
the back of his mind, reminding him that he was a new man. He was still uptight, and
still wasn't chatty, but he was already starting to relax a little from the shock seeing
her had given him.
The old Carlton would have walked up and said hello, maybe made a fool out of
himself, maybe a little begging for her to come back. This Carlton wondered when
she had cut her hair and then went back to browsing over the potatoes.
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She noticed him a minute or two later. Carlton caught the surprised widening of the
eyes, she paused seeming to consider her options. He actually assumed she was
plotting an escape of some kind. He took pity on her, glanced up, caught her eyes,
and gave a little wave, heading back to his task. The last thing he needed was
ridicule from Shawn for not even finishing his trip through the produce aisle while
Shawn hit up every other section of the store without him.
And then Sam actually came over to say hello.
Carlton took a moment to take in the changes. She had cut her hair, he'd noticed that
first, a cute shorter cut instead of the shoulder length she had previously sported. It
might be the time with Shawn talking but he was pretty sure he noticed highlights and
low-lights too, 'to bring out the layers of blonde', and decided at that moment he may
very well have become incurably gay. She wore the same power suits she always
wore. Carlton was glad to discover he *hadn't* also learned anything about designer
fashion by osmosis, even if Shawn did see to it that he dressed a little better lately.
"Sam, hello. How have you been? You look great." It was a nice, polite, simple
opening gambit. A quick grab at whatever carrots and onions were available and
Carlton had finished his assigned shopping.
"Carlton, I didn't expect to see you in a supermarket of all places." Her voice was
curious, yet polite. Carlton almost laughed when he realized this was the most civil
words they'd exchanged in at least a year.
"It's a test. Shawn thinks that produce shopping it a skill that every man should have
learned before college and that I had better learn sooner rather than later."
Whatever Sam had been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of a man about
his height who wrapped a possessive arm around Sam's waist and kissed her cheek.
Carlton almost smirked at the flicker of irritation that went across Sam's face. She
hated that particular expression of affection.
"Carlton, this is Pete. Pete this is my ex-husband, Carlton." Carlton offered a hand
and they shook relatively amicably. Carlton found himself sizing up the other man
almost subconsciously. He certainly had a cuteness about him that was almost
boyish and an 'aww shucks' sort of smile. Light brown hair and dark brown eyes and
what may very well have been dimples. Carlton guessed that Pete was probably a
least a few years younger than him.
"Sam and I are getting married next spring."
Carlton realized instantly that this was probably a maneuver by Pete to irritate Carlton
and try to make him jealous. Sam had a moment where she obviously thought
Carlton was going to go ballistic. Carlton just shrugged.
"Pete's a detective, too," Sam added. The implication that he was a better boyfriend
despite the tough job wasn't lost on Carlton either. Well, if the kid wasn't jaded
already he'd get there eventually. Shawn understood his job a lot better than Sam
ever did, it was part of the reason they got along so well.
His thoughts to a snappy comeback disappeared as Shawn wheeled around the
corner pushing a massively laden shopping cart much faster than was strictly safe
almost crashing into the dried fruit display, but correcting with the sort of grace that
made you wonder if he hadn't meant to do that all along.
A litany of 'don't call me Lassy' ran through Carlton's head even though he knew
Shawn wasn't psychic.
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"Carlton, hey, did you finish with the produce? Let me see." Shawn took the basket
and ran through the selection putting a critical eye to each. He didn't seem to notice
the awkward silence that had stretched out between Sam and himself. Which meant
he had noticed.
"Shawn, this is my ex-wife, Sam, and her fiance Pete." Shawn looked up as though a
little surprised to even see people there.
"Oh, hi!" Shawn did his best blinding grin, but used the basket he was clutching to
avoid shaking hands. "You know, that's great, weddings are fun. Carlton and I went
to one just last year, big fancy shindig for the Attorney General's son."
Carlton glowered at Shawn for the half-lie. He couldn't even stand Shawn back then,
although the fact that case was the one that started to demonstrate that Shawn
would always happily violate Carlton's personal space was not lost on him.
"And that hot tub! Remember that hotel, Carlton?" Carlton realized that was the best
confession he would get from Shawn that he had hijacked the hotel room.
It actually took the very disturbed looks on Sam and Pete's faces to realize what
exactly Shawn was doing. He was being catty, and maybe a little bit jealous. Carlton
almost laughed at the idea of Shawn being jealous of anyone, but decided he could
play along a little he supposed.
"I remember that room service bill, and that we almost didn't make it to the wedding,"
Carlton responded. Shawn preened a little, making a slight purring noise. Pete made
a sound a little like he was choking on his tongue.
"So what do you do for a living, Shawn, was it?" Sam asked. Carlton could feel the
condescension radiating off his ex-wife, who was obviously irritated and snappy now.
Carlton sighed slightly realizing that Shawn would say something about being psychic
and his credibility with Sam would bottom out. It's not that he was ashamed of Shawn,
nothing of the sort, he just wished he had a more respectable job to impress Carlton's
few friends with, maybe something that would actually impress his ex-wife, make her
a little jealous.
Carlton was so busy brooding that he almost didn't catch Shawn's eyes sweeping
critically over Sam and Pete obviously catching every detail and preparing to stun
and amaze them with a little 'psychic vision'. Carlton braced himself.
"Actually I do a little bit of everything," Shawn demurred. "I used to be a personal
chef, but now I mostly just cook for myself and Carlton." Shawn curled an arm around
his wrist, lightly and possessively, positively radiating 'back off'.
"But mostly I'm a model you know." Carlton did sigh a little at that. Of course, Shawn
would resort to a little bit of lying. He caught the incredulous look on Sam's face and
knew the jig would be up shortly. The only modeling job he'd heard about was for
Shawn (very adorable) feet. Sam actually followed fashion and labels and designers.
She could almost certainly call his bluff.
"A model?" Sam filled the question with all of the condescension she used to save for
describing his job. She probably figured Shawn never worked at all, mooching off
Carlton.
"Oh, sure, I do fashion week in New York almost every year, Tokyo sometimes, or
Milan. Annette Spencer says it's not a show without me." Carlton was entirely
confused, he had no idea what Shawn's mother have to do with anything.
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"The Annette Spencer?" Sam actually sounded impressed.

"Mmm," Shawn purred a little. "Menswear, and of course swimsuits. I'm mostly retired
now, but every now and again she'll call and beg me to take another walk down that
runway, how can I refuse? Frankly keeping Carlton on his toes is a much more fun
and rewarding exercise anyway."
Carlton was not entirely sure what had just happened. Sam didn't offer up any other
questions and Carlton knew he could always ask Shawn later, because it had gone
over his head.
Sam apparently felt that she'd failed to call Shawn's bluff and was stunned into
silence. Carlton also noticed Pete eying Shawn critically, obviously trying to gauge
what made him model-material.
Shawn then concluded in a stage whisper: "Carlton, you totally won the new boy toy
lottery."
Carlton laughed and snaked a hand to grab Shawn's ass and drag him into a long
slow kiss. He really had to agree.
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Part Twenty-Four
Carlton was pacing the living room of his just purchased, newly renovated, near the
beach home. Shawn was uncharacteristically still, working in the kitchen, baking
cookies to 'make the neighbors like us'.
Carlton cast another look around the living room. Most of the furniture was from
Shawn's old apartment, although Carlton had insisted Shawn actually put down the
money to buy the furniture rather than keep it in a perpetual state of rented.
Every surface was covered in chaos. Chess board, magazines, weird toys that
Carlton still hadn't seen used as anything other than artful clutter. Those were all hold
overs from Shawn's original apartment. Carlton's contribution to the mess was
minimal, he was the type of man who kept everything in a neat order. The other
rooms reflected this more with their clean minimalism. None the less there were a
few fishing and gun magazines as well as pictures of him with O'Hara, or with Henry,
and a few family photographs.
Confident that the room was a neat as possible, he resumed his pacing.
"Carly! Dude, relax," Shawn commanded from the kitchen, "you're making me dizzy."
Carlton stopped for a few moments. But quickly resumed his pacing.
"Shawn, I'm nervous."
"You weren't this nervous when you met Henry."
"I had less than two hours from the time you asked me to go to the time we arrived at
his door. This is almost two weeks in the making. What if she doesn't like me?"
Shawn dropped everything he was doing and came around out of the kitchen to grab
Carlton into a hug.
"First off, Annette is an easy going and kick ass lady. Second, she thinks you must
be the most awesome man in the world if I did something as crazy as buy a house
with you. You already know she doesn't like your job, but the rest of you is amazing."
Carlton sighed, trying to calm down and relax, knowing Shawn was probably right
didn't change the nerves he was feeling. Shawn obviously valued Annette's opinion,
Carlton wanted hers to be favorable of him.
Shawn returned to the kitchen, still smirking at Carlton's discomfort.
The doorbell rang and Carlton glanced to Shawn.
"Oh, you should get it."
Carlton glowered and went to answer the door.
His first thought was that the woman on the patio had come to the wrong address.
She was very beautiful and didn't look old enough to have an almost thirty year old
son. Dressed in a snappy, yet professional dress, dark hair in the sort of crisp
perfection that Carlton had to admire, eyes a clear, warm hazel.
"You must be Carlton." She gave him a warm smile.
"Yes, hi, it's a pleasure to meet you ma'a- Annette." Carlton caught sight of a
compact rolling suitcase parked behind her and the bottle of wine in her left hand.
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"Shawn said you were having tuna." She offered him the wine and Carlton accepted
it mutely, still unsure what he was supposed to say. His mind caught up slightly,
reminding him she was a guest in his house.
"Please, come in." He did his best to usher her in without feeling like an idiot. He felt
under-dressed in khakis and buttoned shirt. "The guest bedroom is this way."
Shawn interrupted his train of thought by coming up and grabbing Annette into a hug.
He noted that Annette was hardly an inch shorter than Shawn and the resemblance
was certainly noticeable when he saw them side by side. Her proper exterior was
shattered by the bright grin on her face and the rib crushing hug she gave in return.
They released each other.
"Looking very together, Annette." Carlton was slightly confused by the greeting, but
brushed it off as another Spencer oddity.
"The house gorgeous."
"Henry helped get it ready to move in, some plumbing and painting and things."
"Well, you know Henry." After another about a minute taking in the living room, she
turned back to Carlton. "You were showing me to the guest room."
Carlton felt a little awkward but gestured past the kitchen towards the spare rooms,
and Annette followed his directions. Carlton was trying to find a conversation topic.
Unlike Henry, Carlton had no history with Annette so he wasn't sure how to talk to her.
He was about to leave her to start unpacking when she interrupted his departure.
"Stay a moment?" Carlton stood, wondering what sort of assessment Annette was
making. "I hope Henry doesn't give you too hard a time for dating his son."
"Henry and I go fishing at least once or twice a month. He says he's not going to hold
bad taste in men against me." Carlton grinned slightly. Over the months, Carlton had
become versed in Henry cutting sarcasm and knew Henry had grown to like him and
had secretly been thrilled at the fact the two of them were now publicly dating.
"I suppose, as an ex-wife, I should be bound to dislike you then, but you seem like a
great guy from all that Shawn has told me." Carlton stood stiffly, having no idea what
would make the best impression. "Oh, calm down, Carlton. You've met Henry. Shawn
had to get that care free attitude from somewhere, right?"
Carlton hadn't thought about it that way. He found he was instantly more relaxed.
He was saved by further chitchat temporarily by a knock on the door. He headed to
the front again to find Gus and O'Hara - Juliet - at the door, Gus looking impeccable
and together as always, Juliet was wearing a sun dress. He ushered them in and
they took in the living room. Neither had seen the house yet and were obviously
impressed.
"Carlton, this looks amazing!" Juliet was obviously in love and started to give herself
an unguided tour of the house, wandering off towards the master suite.
Gus stood beside Carlton, also impressed. "Dude, way to make sure a guy can't
compete. The house is awesome."
Carlton tried to think of an appropriate response and eventually found he channeled
Shawn slightly. "My boyfriend buys me nice things."
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Gus laughed and headed towards the kitchen where Shawn seemed to be finishing
up. Carlton went to find Juliet, make sure she didn't get lost. He found her ogling the
closet in the master bedroom.
"This is amazing, Carlton." Carlton just shrugged, but he certainly agreed with her.
One side of the closet was filled with neatly hung and pressed suits of Carlton's, the
other half a mishmashed jumble and shirts and pants stacked on racks. He knew
Juliet hadn't been referring to the shared closet space, but he marveled at it anyway.
The doorbell rang and Carlton headed out to greet his final house guest. Henry was
at the front door, wielding a fruit basket like a shield.
"Henry, come on in."
Henry didn't take any time to admire the house, he'd seen it several times in the last
few weeks when he was over helping with the repairs.
Annette had made her way back into the kitchen area when Carlton was hunting
down Juliet, they both caught sight of each other at about the same time.
"Henry."
"Annette."
"You look..."
"You look nice, Annette."
"I was going to say *you* look ... tanned."
"And exfoliated," Shawn interjected. "With pumice!"
"Shawn!" Henry looked slightly uncomfortable and Carlton tried to decide if he
thought he deserved it or not.
Carlton tried to ignore the image that popped into his head of what a much younger
Shawn must have been like. He'd seen pictures and heard stories, but something
about that moment made Carlton smile at the sort of kid Shawn must have been.
His heart fluttered slightly when he realized he could spend the rest of his life here,
with Shawn. It hadn't really sunk in until just that moment.
He reached over to Shawn, pulling his wrist lightly until Shawn came close enough to
pull in for a hug. He kissed Shawn's temple, spending a moment enjoying the heat of
the younger man pressed against him.
"I love you," Carlton whispered, too softly for the others to hear, "forever."
Shawn brushed a kiss across his jaw and came close enough to Carlton's ear to
whisper a response.
"I love you." Carlton smiled, loving the sound when Shawn said that. "We can start
breaking in rooms as soon as they all leave."
Carlton pressed his head into Shawn's shoulder and laughed; the first of many in his
new life with Shawn.
98

(Desenvolvimento Pessoal) - Quarter Life Crisis

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(Desenvolvimento Pessoal) - Quarter Life Crisis

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Quarter Life Crisis

Pairing: Carlton/Shawn (pre-slash)

"This isn't half bad, Spencer."

Shawn just shrugged and winked.

He checked his cell, Carlton had left a message.

Shawn considered lying, but decided against it.

"What paperwork did you file then?"

Karen nodded and dismissed Lassiter with a nod.

looking in windows, scoping out neighborhoods, cross-referencing them with the

"The Annette Spencer?" Sam actually sounded impressed.

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