Fic: "Helium" by drovar - PG - Lassiter/Spencer
Title: Helium
Author: drovar
Pairing: Lassiter/Spencer
Rating: PG, nothing graphic.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of USA Network and the writers and producers of "Psych". This work is not for profit and is not a challenge to those rights.
Notes: A quick answer to Emily's helium challenge. Not beta'd just a quickie. A little funny, and a little sappy.
Summary: Lassiter gets stuck on cleanup detail, and he isn't happy about it.
Carlton Lassiter stooped and grabbed a fistful of streamers and confetti and stuffed it into a garbage bag, spilling half of the bag back onto the floor as he did so. He eyed the party leftovers sourly, stood and looked around the room. The basement was a mess, decorations hung askew from the walls, conical birthday hats, and cake encrusted paper plates covered the table and spilled over on to every flat surface in the room. The remains of an enormous birthday cake dominated the center of the table while colorful ribbons and shredded wrapping paper littered the whole area. A tank of helium sat in the back corner. It looked more like an army of angry chimps had trashed the place rather than a handful of 10 year olds.
Sighing mightily, Lassiter kicked a deflating balloon out of the way and went back to trying and mostly failing to pick up confetti. He still didn't understand how he'd gotten himself roped into clean-up detail for Juliet's niece's birthday party. He had planned to show up, drop off his gift, wish the birthday girl a "happy happy" and hit the door running. Oh, that's right that fake physic and all around pain-in-the-ass (and add-hoc party planner) Shawn Spencer had intervened and somehow volunteered Lassiter for cleanup duty. Juliet's sister had thanked him profusely while she, Juliet and Spencer had herded the kids outside for games and a petting zoo.
After overhearing Juliet discussing the party with co-workers Spencer had wheedled his way in by impressing Juliet's sister with his psychic dog and pony show, and arranged the whole thing. Muttering curses entirely inappropriate for his surroundings Lassiter began slogging his way through the mess. He'd hardly made any progress when Spencer came skittering down the steps covered in streamers with a party had askew on his head. He was balancing two plates holding enormous slices of birthday cake in one hand and a pitcher of iced tea in the other.
"Lassy, I've come bearing cakey goodness."
If looks could kill, Lassiter was sure his glare would have put Spencer six feet under. He went back to stuffing streamers into the bag.
"Oh come on Detective," Spencer said and cleared off two spots on the table, quickly stacking paper plates and plastic cups out of the way. "I saw you eyeing the cake."
Lassiter hesitated. Spencer set one plate down and speared the cake with a fork. He sat down and pushed the other plate across the table in Lassiter's direction.
"Caaaake," Spencer drawled. "Caaaake."
Shaking his head Lassiter squatted down in one of the ridiculously short chairs grabbed the fork and stabbed at the cake. He had to admit he was hungry and truthfully he had been watching the cake disappear with a little growl in his stomach. Not that he'd ever admit that to Spencer, ever.
"Can we at least eat in peace and quiet?" Lassiter asked and savored a bite of cake. He was surprised; it was good, rich and chocolaty without being overbearingly sweet as was the usual case with children's cakes. Spencer must have noticed his approval.
"Debartilo's," he said pointing his fork at his half-eaten cake. Lassiter nodded, recognizing the name of a high-end shop in one of Santa Barbara's trendier neighborhoods. Lassiter looked over at the huge empty cake pan, there was no way Juliet had managed that cake on the budget she'd planned, let alone everything else.
"I know the head pastry chef, nice guy, gave me a deal."
Lassiter stared at the other man. He'd heard that line more times than he could easily remember. "Do you know everyone?"
Spencer stopped eating long enough to flash a close-lipped grin. "Well, not everyone." He stopped again looking off into the distance as if pondering deeply.
"Just almost everyone."
"Less talk, more eat," Lassiter dug into his cake again.
Spencer nodded and produced two clean plastic cups and filled them with iced tea. They ate in silence quickly finishing off the cake and tea. Lassiter leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room; it was still in a hell of a mess. He stood and picked up the bag and turned to find Spencer holding a stack of cake encrusted plates and forks.
"You hold and I'll pitch," he said and motioned towards the garbage bag.
"You're actually going to help? You?"
"You didn't think I was going to leave you to bat cleanup alone did you?" Spencer asked.
"Well frankly yes."
"Thought never entered my mind." Spencer gestured towards the bag again. "Less talk, more trash," he added.
A few minutes later the room was spotless, opened presents were stacked to one side, two bags of trash sat near the bottom of the steps, and there was not a speck of confetti to be seen. Lassiter was about to grab the trash and head upstairs when he heard a soft whooshing hiss from behind him. He turned to find Spencer with his hand on the helium tank and the hose stuck in his mouth. Lassiter gave an almost involuntary eye-roll.
"As if you weren't juvenile enough already Spencer."
Spencer laughed in a high-pitched slightly scratchy voice. "Why Detective Lassiter, I have no idea what you mean."
"Dope, don't you know what that stuff can do you?"
Spencer took another hit off the tank. He dropped the hose and clasped both hands to his throat. "Ack, medic! Mayday!" He threw himself down on the long narrow sofa bounced off and rolled to the floor face up. "Quack, quack, quack, the duck is down, I repeat the duck is down!" He said in perfect imitation of a flustered Donald Duck.
Lassiter laughed in spite of himself. Spencer was a goof, but at least he was an amusing goof when he wasn't sticking his interfering psychic nose in where it didn't belong.
Spencer jumped up and pointed the hose towards Lassiter. "Your turn Lassy," he said, his voice still quavering high.
Lassiter took the hose in his hand like it was a live thing, eyeing it doubtfully. "Does it hurt?"
Spencer stared at him with wide eyes, started to speak, coughed once and spoke in his normal voice. "Carlton Lassiter, you mean to tell me you've never taken a hit off a helium tank? Where did you grow up, the Mongolian outback?"
"It's got your spit on it."
Spencer sighed, grabbed a napkin from the table and made a great show of cleaning the nozzle. He tossed the napkin on the table, handed Lassiter the hose again and sat down on the couch. "There, and no it doesn't hurt, it doesn't get you high, doesn't show up on any drug test and will not violate your standing in the policeman's union."
Lassiter looked around the room as if he expected a photographer from some scandal rag to show up mid-toke. He tentatively put his lips to the nozzle, and took a small hit. He tested his voice and then took a bigger gulp.
"I don't see what the big deal is Spencer, unlike you I sound perfectly normal." His voice squeaked high, sounding like a large demented cartoon mouse. Spencer roared with laughter.
"Mr. Spencer you have the right to remain silent, any odd squeaky noises you make can and will be used against you in whatever way I can," Lassiter added in a total deadpan. He joined Spencer in another round of laughter. He breathed deep, still chuckling and turned the helium off. Laughter was rare in his line of work, and rarer still since his separation. It felt good, even if it was with Spencer. Without thinking he sat down on the sofa next to the fake physic. It was a long moment before he realized how physically close they were.
"Lassy?"
"Hmm?" Lassiter replied. He turned to find Spencer's face suddenly awfully close, green eyes were staring intently into his own. At this range, he could see that Spencer's eyes were actually flecked with a subtle brown and that his chin was ghosted by a 5 o'clock shadow.
Before he could do more than utter an oddly pitched. "Uhhh…:" he felt Spencer's lips pressed to his own.
For a startled moment he responded to the kiss then seemed to realize whom he was kissing and drew back sharply, eyes wide.
"You kissed me," Lassiter said.
"Mmm-hmm," Spencer nodded and grinned. "Seemed liked the right thing to do."
"Wait, what?"
"The right man at the right time. Isn't that how the saying goes Lassy?"
"And I can assure you, this is neither of those things, Shawn Spencer."
"Uh-huh, then how come you're not running off in a full-bore linear heterosexual panic?"
"I happen to be very secure in my sexuality," Lassiter said refusing to draw away.
"Security, I love that in a man," Spencer said and leaned in again.
[end]