Eggnog(ed), Psych FanFic
Master Fic List
TITLE: Eggnog(ed)
RATING: PGish
WORD COUNT: 814
CHARACTERS: Shawn/Carlton (established)
WARNINGS: Fluffy like WHOA. Presence of inebriated persons. Plus, there's some implied Carlton/Juliet, Shawn/Buzz, Gus/Mr. Vick...but mistletoe's involved...so it doesn't count. :)
SUMMARY: For psychflashfic's Challenge #17: Holiday Party. Shawn and Carlton have had a party.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas are the rights to this show (this is where it's implied that I don't already have them...).
Author's Note: I'm pretty sure NaNoWriMo exploded my brain. This is my way of easing back into fanfic. Also, it's not so much about a party as it is about the aftermath...hope that works!
Happy Holidays!
-----------------------------
Shawn was quite proud of the mess they'd made of the living room. Two years ago, the room had looked like it'd barely been lived in at all. But now...now it looked like a physical representation of a Good Time. Even the (usually very boring looking) potted plant in the corner was sporting several half-eaten candy canes. Shawn picked up a handful of tinsel and a stray sprig of mistletoe before he shrugged and let them drop back to the floor. Festive cheer always felt much more festive when it was staining the carpet and cluttering up the coffee table (he'd stick by that excuse in the morning, too).
Happily humming Feliz Navidad, Shawn moved into the kitchen to put the last of the eggnog and what was left of the one remaining cheese ball into the fridge. He left the dirty dishes stacked on the counter, knowing he'd only get yelled at if he even thought of touching the dishwasher (store a pineapple in there one time...), and moved on down the hallway, switching off lights as he went. When he reached his destination, Shawn stood in the bedroom doorway and grinned.
When he'd sent his pet detective to bed an hour earlier, he'd apparently thought the other man more sober than he actually had been (he'd been able to walk without the support of the wall, at least). Lassiter was sprawled on his side across the foot of the bed, one arm hanging off Shawn’s side of the bed, his legs hanging off his own. He'd managed to rid himself of his shirt but seemed to have only gotten as far as his left shoe beyond that. Even the Santa hat Shawn had forced on him hours ago ("You can still be a Grinch and play Santa, my little Scrooge") was still perched on his head (even if it was in danger of falling off at the slightest jostle). Shawn's grin widened as a particularly boisterous snore came out of the detective.
"Guess I should've warned him the eggnog was spiked..." Shawn muttered as he moved toward the bed and bent down to rid Carlton of his right shoe (he smothered a laugh at the reindeer socks he most definitely hadn't forced on the other man). By the time Shawn began working on the drunken man's belt, Lassiter stirred, mumbling something nonsensical about rabbits as the hat fell with a jingle and a thump over the other side of the bed.
"Spencer?" he slurred as Shawn successfully removed his pants. Shawn looked up to find bleary blue eyes aimed in his direction.
"Hello my little elf," Shawn said with a grin. "Get a little too holly-jolly?" With a groan, Lassiter rolled over on his stomach, burying his face in the comforter. Shawn was pulling off his own sweater when Lassiter's head popped up.
"Did I make out with O'Hara?" he croaked, sounding just a little terrified. Shawn couldn't help but chuckle as Carlton buried his face again (it wasn't often he truly saw the Head Detective blush).
"I don't think just a little tongue can really be called 'making out,'" Shawn offered in an attempt at comfort. "And besides, the mistletoe means it doesn't count. I mean, I had to kiss Buzz at least ten times because he kept wandering under it on his way to the kitchen and I'm pretty sure Gus and Mr. Chief locked lips at least once..." Lassiter's head shot up again, a scowl on his face as he watched Shawn step out of his jeans.
"You made out with McNab?" he growled. Shawn jumped onto the bed and rolled until he lay stretched out along Carlton's bare back.
"I kissed Buzz. You made out with Jules," Shawn clarified with a kiss to the back of Lassiter's neck. Carlton sighed and relaxed easily beneath him (one pleasant effect of too much eggnog, Shawn noted when no further mention of Buzz or Juliet was made).
"Hey Lassie?" Shawn murmured against his ear. He got a muffled grunt in response. "Not that I don't give you mad props for the new, inventive slumber style, but it's supposed to get below chilly tonight and I think it might be more comfy if we get under the comforter." Lassiter grunted again, but shifted out from under him. After a minute of twisting bodies and tugging at the bedding, Shawn found himself spooned up behind Carlton from his usual (and parallel) side of the bed.
"Did you drink plenty of water before you crashed?" Shawn asked. Carlton grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'not a freshman.' "Take any aspirin?"
"Shut up, Spencer," Carlton said around a yawn. Shawn smiled and tightened his arm around the other man's waist.
“Merry Christmas, Carlton,” Shawn whispered as he felt the other man relax against him again. A warm hand found Shawn’s and squeezed.
“Merry Christmas, Shawn.”
/end
TITLE: Eggnog(ed)
RATING: PGish
WORD COUNT: 814
CHARACTERS: Shawn/Carlton (established)
WARNINGS: Fluffy like WHOA. Presence of inebriated persons. Plus, there's some implied Carlton/Juliet, Shawn/Buzz, Gus/Mr. Vick...but mistletoe's involved...so it doesn't count. :)
SUMMARY: For psychflashfic's Challenge #17: Holiday Party. Shawn and Carlton have had a party.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas are the rights to this show (this is where it's implied that I don't already have them...).
Author's Note: I'm pretty sure NaNoWriMo exploded my brain. This is my way of easing back into fanfic. Also, it's not so much about a party as it is about the aftermath...hope that works!
Happy Holidays!
-----------------------------
Shawn was quite proud of the mess they'd made of the living room. Two years ago, the room had looked like it'd barely been lived in at all. But now...now it looked like a physical representation of a Good Time. Even the (usually very boring looking) potted plant in the corner was sporting several half-eaten candy canes. Shawn picked up a handful of tinsel and a stray sprig of mistletoe before he shrugged and let them drop back to the floor. Festive cheer always felt much more festive when it was staining the carpet and cluttering up the coffee table (he'd stick by that excuse in the morning, too).
Happily humming Feliz Navidad, Shawn moved into the kitchen to put the last of the eggnog and what was left of the one remaining cheese ball into the fridge. He left the dirty dishes stacked on the counter, knowing he'd only get yelled at if he even thought of touching the dishwasher (store a pineapple in there one time...), and moved on down the hallway, switching off lights as he went. When he reached his destination, Shawn stood in the bedroom doorway and grinned.
When he'd sent his pet detective to bed an hour earlier, he'd apparently thought the other man more sober than he actually had been (he'd been able to walk without the support of the wall, at least). Lassiter was sprawled on his side across the foot of the bed, one arm hanging off Shawn’s side of the bed, his legs hanging off his own. He'd managed to rid himself of his shirt but seemed to have only gotten as far as his left shoe beyond that. Even the Santa hat Shawn had forced on him hours ago ("You can still be a Grinch and play Santa, my little Scrooge") was still perched on his head (even if it was in danger of falling off at the slightest jostle). Shawn's grin widened as a particularly boisterous snore came out of the detective.
"Guess I should've warned him the eggnog was spiked..." Shawn muttered as he moved toward the bed and bent down to rid Carlton of his right shoe (he smothered a laugh at the reindeer socks he most definitely hadn't forced on the other man). By the time Shawn began working on the drunken man's belt, Lassiter stirred, mumbling something nonsensical about rabbits as the hat fell with a jingle and a thump over the other side of the bed.
"Spencer?" he slurred as Shawn successfully removed his pants. Shawn looked up to find bleary blue eyes aimed in his direction.
"Hello my little elf," Shawn said with a grin. "Get a little too holly-jolly?" With a groan, Lassiter rolled over on his stomach, burying his face in the comforter. Shawn was pulling off his own sweater when Lassiter's head popped up.
"Did I make out with O'Hara?" he croaked, sounding just a little terrified. Shawn couldn't help but chuckle as Carlton buried his face again (it wasn't often he truly saw the Head Detective blush).
"I don't think just a little tongue can really be called 'making out,'" Shawn offered in an attempt at comfort. "And besides, the mistletoe means it doesn't count. I mean, I had to kiss Buzz at least ten times because he kept wandering under it on his way to the kitchen and I'm pretty sure Gus and Mr. Chief locked lips at least once..." Lassiter's head shot up again, a scowl on his face as he watched Shawn step out of his jeans.
"You made out with McNab?" he growled. Shawn jumped onto the bed and rolled until he lay stretched out along Carlton's bare back.
"I kissed Buzz. You made out with Jules," Shawn clarified with a kiss to the back of Lassiter's neck. Carlton sighed and relaxed easily beneath him (one pleasant effect of too much eggnog, Shawn noted when no further mention of Buzz or Juliet was made).
"Hey Lassie?" Shawn murmured against his ear. He got a muffled grunt in response. "Not that I don't give you mad props for the new, inventive slumber style, but it's supposed to get below chilly tonight and I think it might be more comfy if we get under the comforter." Lassiter grunted again, but shifted out from under him. After a minute of twisting bodies and tugging at the bedding, Shawn found himself spooned up behind Carlton from his usual (and parallel) side of the bed.
"Did you drink plenty of water before you crashed?" Shawn asked. Carlton grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'not a freshman.' "Take any aspirin?"
"Shut up, Spencer," Carlton said around a yawn. Shawn smiled and tightened his arm around the other man's waist.
“Merry Christmas, Carlton,” Shawn whispered as he felt the other man relax against him again. A warm hand found Shawn’s and squeezed.
“Merry Christmas, Shawn.”
/end