Imposing on you a Happy Birthday! (rp for det_lassiter )

[dial_a_psychic]

There's one thing wrong with Carlton Lassiter's house.

It's perfectly well kept. Strictly clean, but not to the point of it looking like part of a General Hospital cheap scene. Who knows? They could be thinking about treating patients on their own homes now. With a spoonfull of sugar Lassie's place could be the perfect place.

Everything is clean

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[det_lassiter]

Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but Carlton was a little disappointed in the distinct lack of psychic presence at the station today. Today of all days.

O'Hara had apparently learnt her lesson and kept it lowkey. She couldn't resist the card and a small gift, and that was fine. It was nice, it was understated, it was free of Santa Barbara's worst turning up on his doorstep.

It was quiet.

He didn't want a big fuss made of him, but he'd prepared himself for it. It was like psyching yourself up for a big mafia bust and walking in on a kindergarten instead. Only, the kids would probably have had balloons, at least.

Opening his front door, his mind turned to just how he was going to spend his evening, seeing as this year he wasn't going to be packing his bags and going house hunting. It wasn't until he was hanging up his jacket that he realised that the tv was on. Cautiously, he moved to the front room, his hand hovering over his holster.

(ooc: So much love for that cake!!! Awesome! *g*)

[dial_a_psychic]

He heard Carlton's car engine in time. He double checked again his watch while opening the napkin that had been waiting for this moment in his jean's backpocket. It was beautifully spot on. Just a minute later than what he had predicted.

It was Lassie's fault for sure. He had probably stopped for gas, maybe a donut.

Turning his head to the front door he flashed his best 'good boy' smile. He haven't heard a 'Spencer!' yet. It was better to warn the owner of the house that there was no threat.

"Surprise!" He shouted in the front door's direction.

At least that was definitely more appealing than waking up in the hospital and looking like a colander.

(ooc: Heh! I'm glad you liked it. The photoshoping's not that good, but at least know it has the SBPD logo! XD)

[det_lassiter]

That was the word he'd been dreading, but expecting (looking forward too?), all day. He ducked out of instinct, casting around his hallway for any stray ex-convicts. Of course, there weren't any, but you don't get to be Head Detective without a healthy dose of paranoia.

Once he was satisfied that he was free of any unwanted surprises, he straightened up and followed the voice. He tried not to think about the fact that Spencer's presence wasn't unwanted.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded as he walked through the door, his attention instantly drawn to Shawn's feet on the coffee table. Again. And then to the cake sitting beside them. "How did you get in?"

[dial_a_psychic]

'I psychicly opened you door with my mind. It's a trick it took me ages to master and I use only in special occasions." Shawn said, briefly touching his head as if emphazising the psychic effect before returning his attention to the tv.

He continued changing the channels. After all, he'd already seen that 'Miami Inc' episode.

"Happy Birthday, Lassmature-hottie!"

[det_lassiter]

For a minute, he just stared at the self proclaimed psychic. There had to be a punchline. Some big explosion. Breaking and entering aside, this was far too understated for Shawn...

Slowly a smile began to spread over his face. This wasn't understated for Shawn, this was understated for him.

He moved over to the couch, unfastening his holster and leaving it on a lamp table by the door. He sat down next to the younger man and rather than shove his legs away, just tapped the back of his hand against his shin.

"Thanks." He nodded, glancing at him before turning to the TV.

[dial_a_psychic]

Shawn stared. He stared back. Stared back a lot.

Well, either this new decade was being incredibly zen on Lassie or he actually didn't complained at all. Didn't go any further in the subject of Shawn breaking into his house. Actually smiled and showed some affect-

Shawn stopped midthought before his brain imploded. Or did something equaly nasty.

"No biggies" He simply answered, glancing back at the screen while his hand instinctly caressed his chin.

"So... How's your b-day so far?"

[det_lassiter]

"Mostly uneventful." Carlton glanced back at Shawn's feet still on the table, maybe he needed to a little clearer afterall. "O'Hara got me a gun cleaning kit, McNab brought me an muffin with my usual coffee, I just had to take the candle out of it. Get your feet off my table. The Chief's daughter made me a card, how old do you have to be before you can color in between the lines?"

He turned back to watch the images on the TV feeling a little strange. It felt far too comfortable and domestic for him.

"What are you doing here, Shawn?"

[dial_a_psychic]

There it was. That little grumpyness between the lines made him feel so very relieved. At least Lassiter hadn't been abducted by aliens sporting an irish heritage body model.

That would suck for someone who's celebrating his birthday.

"I just thought it would be a good idea, you know, bringing you a little something. And since you're not big on public demonstrations..." He gestured towards the birthday cake. With his feet. Then he smirked smugly.

[det_lassiter]

There was going to be physical not-quite violence in a minute if Shawn's feet didn't move soon. He did at least spare a glance at the cake, though.

"But you are big on public demonstrations. I was expecting you to put extra effort into humiliating me today," he admitted.

"Unless... Do you have something else up your sleeve?"

[dial_a_psychic]

"You know, in times like this I'm really not surprised about how you made it to Head Detective." Shawn said as he bended to his side, reaching down as he blidingly fished under the couch.

He pulled out a little package, covered with little cartoonish pineapple wrap paper and handed it to the detective.

"I've seen deep inside of your soul. And I know that your deepest desire is to keep me quiet and still for a while."

[det_lassiter]

He looked at the package, then at Shawn. There was a little shiver running through him, and he told himself that it had nothing to do with being told that Shawn had seen inside his soul, because he didn't believe in that, not at all.

Which left talk of his deepest desires and the voice Shawn used as the only other possible reason for his reaction. Was that any better?

Tearing away at the ridiculous paper, it took a moment to realise exactly what he was looking at on his lap. Then it clicked into place; the ball gag first, then the restraints. His mouth dropped open, burning heat filling his face.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" He turned to Shawn. Suddenly, he could picture the psychic with the gag strapped into his mouth. Silencing him.

.... Oh.... Fuck.

[dial_a_psychic]

He leaned againt the back of the couch, his arm resting on the upper side of it.

Now, this was more like it. Exactly what he expected. The three stages of turning on Lassie: confusion, anger and horniness.

It was time to show him just how much that gag could help.

"Hey, if you don't like it I can always change it for some blue shirt. Maybe even an uglie tie to go with it. I mean, at first I thought 'why not?', that is part of his deepest desires after all. But well, you never know for sure. Maybe you're not totally aware of your own deepest desires. Maybe age is catching up on you and all you wanna do is go fishing..."

[det_lassiter]

There was still a good chance that this was a joke, and as soon as he showed any sign of actually admitting that the idea appealed to him, O'Hara and selected guests would emerge in shocked, embarassed, fake joviality. Well, maybe not the last bit, but only because there weren't that many places in his house that people could hide. It was part of his home security.

The idea did appeal, though. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Was Shawn serious about this? The very thought was just... stirring. Maybe he could test the waters a bit.

"Shut up." He barked out the command, rising to his feet and turning to tower over the psychic, clutching the gag and restraints. "And get your feet off my table."

[dial_a_psychic]

Shawn didn't move a muscle. An why's that? Because the game was clearly on.

He simply looked up at Lassie. The best way to fuel an aggresive man's fire was, well... being himself.

"Lassie, I would gladly remove my feet from your so very comfortable table. But man, I've walked through half Santa Barbara -okay, just the main avenue a few blocks from here, but that's a lot when you're just on your feet- to get those presents for you. So, really, I would remove myself, but I can't. Now, maybe with a little help..."

[det_lassiter]

"You bought those locally? With people watching?" His voice was a little higher than he would have liked and his eyebrows matched.

Okay, forget it. Now he was just angry. Spencer wanted help moving his damn feet, he could give him help.

Throwing the gifts to the side on the sofa, he bent over and pushed the table towards the tv so that Shawn couldn't bridge the gap with his legs.

"And if you've scuffed it you better hope you can find a French Polisher amongst your spirit buddies to help you fix it."

[dial_a_psychic]

His feet fell on the ground with a low 'thud!', but Shawn didn't showed any signs of noticing it.

"Lassie, Lassie. You're too materialistic." He tilted his head, pointing clearly at the table. "Now, do you think that anyone cares what I've been buying lately? Who I've been buying for? No. That's why because no one knows and no one cares."

He hooked his finger under the ball gag's harness, letting it hang there. "Now, if you don't like it you could have just said so. I can always give it back or... I could give it to someone a little bit less prude."