Spencerology
Title: Spencerology
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: R
Summary: Lassiter is watching Shawn. Shawn/Lassiter
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any related plots and characters. They are the property of others who, as I have previously stated, are not myself. I am merely writing this for fun, and have no intention of using it for profit.
Notes: LAST ENTRY OH HO HO. More tripe from me!
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
Detective Carlton Lassiter had officially had it. Shawn knew it when he saw him; he'd kicked his glare up in intensity, and it wasn't as though he'd really expected the man to forgive him for taking his car for a joyride. It wasn't like he hadn't needed it, though. If Gus's car hadn't broken down and they hadn't needed to get back to the crime scene as soon as they could... Of course, the fifty-minute trip around Santa Barbara afterwards hadn't been completely necessary. Gus had whined and complained a lot, too, and that usually was his indication that Hurricane Lassiter was headed his way.
He hadn't quite expected it to hit him with the force it had, though. Suddenly he was the one avoiding the detective rather than it being the other way around; he saw Lassiter when he was going to his favorite Thai restaurant, outside the Psych office, and even around the block from his apartment. Whenever he stopped at the station, Lassiter watched him. He was studying him, and even though Shawn was sure Spencerology was a very interesting subject, he couldn't help but feel that if it was the head detective studying it, it would not end well for him.
"It was pretty juvenile to pull that," Juliet had said. Shawn wasn't used to being reprimanded by her - she was supposed to adore him.
"If you would just do what was expected of you for once," Vick said, "Lassiter would probably lay off of you. At least for a little while."
"Just act normal," Gus had added bitterly when he finally got his car back. "Lassiter will just get thrown so far off course from what you do anyway, he won't know what to think."
He hadn't meant it seriously, but it was what gave Shawn the idea, in the end.
---
It began a week after the Spencerologist had begun his study, a day after Gus had made the comment. He saw Lassiter out of the corner of his eye when he went to get his morning coffee, and immediately made a show of it.
"Skim mocha latte with pineapple?" the barista said, smiling over the counter at him.
Shawn nodded. "Yeah, just the regular."
Normally, Shawn might have waited until he was in the privacy of his own home - or at least at the Psych office - to enjoy his drink the way he best liked to, but he knew Lassiter was watching him, and he didn't want to keep the show to himself. He never did, really, but Gus had insisted, because apparently it was "completely mortifying" to be seen in public like that.
Luckily, Gus wasn't around. Leaning against the window of the coffee shop, he pulled the top off of the latte and stuck his fingers directly into the whipped cream. He licked it off his fingers slowly, sinking low against the wall and moaning.
He might have been playing it up just a little.
He continued in the same fashion until he was out of cream. Then he began to drink it as though it was ambrosia and his ten best sexual encounters wrapped up into one delicious package.
When he finally tossed the cup into the nearest trash bin, he couldn't help but notice that Lassiter - who thought he was cleverly hidden behind a newspaper across the street, facing the other direction - had gone red in the ears.
---
Shawn hadn't expected the Spencer-watching to end after just one show. He also hadn't expected, however, to find a skim mocha latte with a hint of pineapple on Lassiter's desk the next day.
He had been about to turn away, wanting to avoid the Wrath of Carlton, but the smell of the drink lured him in. "Is that...?"
"What?" Lassiter said, looking up as though he hadn't even noticed Shawn enter. "Oh, the coffee? It's disgusting. You-" He faltered a moment. "Uh, you can have it. It's still got the whipped cream on it."
---
Making out with the barista behind the coffee shop hadn't been part of the plan, but Shawn wasn't too bothered by giving a show. Maybe if Lassiter thought his entire life was sex, he'd stop the watching.
"Jenny," he moaned when she pulled at his hair.
"Josie," she corrected, and then pulled him in for another kiss.
She had claimed she could unwrap a Starburst with her tongue earlier, and Shawn, despite having missed out on a demonstration, fully believed her. Unfortunately, she only had fifteen minutes to spare, and their session was cut short as she was called back into the building, her shift not yet over.
"I'll be done at eight," she said, straightening out her clothes. "Pick me up?"
"I'll be there."
---
Shawn was never late to a date. In fact, he tended to be early, if he could manage it. So, of course, he was confused when he found Josie already on her way out at five minutes to eight.
"I'll sorry, Shawn - something came up," she babbled, and then ran off to her car, speeding away before he even had a chance to say hello.
He watched after her for a minute, well aware that Lassiter was around and watching him. Apparently the detective had the sort of revenge in mind that he expected of himself.
He didn't care that Lassiter watched him as he walked away, head hanging. It was a punch to the gut and a complete cock block; he figured for that, Lassiter deserved a moment of glory and self-celebration.
"You win this one," he muttered into the air.
---
He could still see Josie in his mind, could almost feel her tongue in his mouth, on his neck, traveling down his chest...
He groaned and rubbed at his eyes. Well, at least if he couldn't get the girl, he could imagine he had the girl. His hand was a good friend - a little too familiar at times, but always there when he managed some social faux pas.
He sat heavily on his couch, rubbing at himself through his jeans. It had been two weeks since his last time in bed with a woman - too long, by his measure. He felt frustrated already, and wasted no time in unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down with his boxers, and taking hold of his dick.
He began slowly, gently, as he imagined Josie might. Her flirting had been subtle, and though he had caught on to it early, he had let it continue. At first, he had been seeing another woman - some talent agent or another who'd half-heartedly promised him a role in some big upcoming blockbuster for his time - anyway, and it had been cute.
He had himself hard in no time, and leaned back against the cushions. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander from Josie to other girls - Juliet, the other barista who worked in the mornings with Josie, Lassiter-
Lassiter?
He didn't have time to put the message together before he heard the pounding on his door.
Lassiter! He recognized the man's footsteps in the hall even through his fantasy. Well, either his footsteps of those of that guy down the street who catcalled every high school girl who passed his building, and it was a strange thing to actually hope it was Lassiter. The guy down the street smelled pretty bad.
He tried to pretend he wasn't there; he didn't dare make a sound, stopping the motion of his hand but not taking it away. The zipper- He didn't know if Lassiter's hearing was anything spectacular, but with those ears he had, he didn't want to take any risks.
"Shawn, I know you're-"
The bang of the door opening made Shawn jump up, cursing himself for not locking it, and then-
Face to face with Lassiter, whose vision quickly dropped from his face to his hand.
To his cock.
Shawn gulped.
"I- uh."
"Well said, Lassy." Shawn tried for casual, but the cracking of his voice gave him away as he quickly pulled up his pants, zipping them quickly. "So - did you get what you needed?"
"I-" Lassiter stuttered again, his face completely red. "You- How-?"
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Easily. Need me to teach you?"
Lassiter swallowed, turned on his heel, and left.
---
The next day, there was no Lassiter at his desk, but there was another latte.
Under it there was a note:
"These things are better than I thought."
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: R
Summary: Lassiter is watching Shawn. Shawn/Lassiter
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any related plots and characters. They are the property of others who, as I have previously stated, are not myself. I am merely writing this for fun, and have no intention of using it for profit.
Notes: LAST ENTRY OH HO HO. More tripe from me!
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
Detective Carlton Lassiter had officially had it. Shawn knew it when he saw him; he'd kicked his glare up in intensity, and it wasn't as though he'd really expected the man to forgive him for taking his car for a joyride. It wasn't like he hadn't needed it, though. If Gus's car hadn't broken down and they hadn't needed to get back to the crime scene as soon as they could... Of course, the fifty-minute trip around Santa Barbara afterwards hadn't been completely necessary. Gus had whined and complained a lot, too, and that usually was his indication that Hurricane Lassiter was headed his way.
He hadn't quite expected it to hit him with the force it had, though. Suddenly he was the one avoiding the detective rather than it being the other way around; he saw Lassiter when he was going to his favorite Thai restaurant, outside the Psych office, and even around the block from his apartment. Whenever he stopped at the station, Lassiter watched him. He was studying him, and even though Shawn was sure Spencerology was a very interesting subject, he couldn't help but feel that if it was the head detective studying it, it would not end well for him.
"It was pretty juvenile to pull that," Juliet had said. Shawn wasn't used to being reprimanded by her - she was supposed to adore him.
"If you would just do what was expected of you for once," Vick said, "Lassiter would probably lay off of you. At least for a little while."
"Just act normal," Gus had added bitterly when he finally got his car back. "Lassiter will just get thrown so far off course from what you do anyway, he won't know what to think."
He hadn't meant it seriously, but it was what gave Shawn the idea, in the end.
---
It began a week after the Spencerologist had begun his study, a day after Gus had made the comment. He saw Lassiter out of the corner of his eye when he went to get his morning coffee, and immediately made a show of it.
"Skim mocha latte with pineapple?" the barista said, smiling over the counter at him.
Shawn nodded. "Yeah, just the regular."
Normally, Shawn might have waited until he was in the privacy of his own home - or at least at the Psych office - to enjoy his drink the way he best liked to, but he knew Lassiter was watching him, and he didn't want to keep the show to himself. He never did, really, but Gus had insisted, because apparently it was "completely mortifying" to be seen in public like that.
Luckily, Gus wasn't around. Leaning against the window of the coffee shop, he pulled the top off of the latte and stuck his fingers directly into the whipped cream. He licked it off his fingers slowly, sinking low against the wall and moaning.
He might have been playing it up just a little.
He continued in the same fashion until he was out of cream. Then he began to drink it as though it was ambrosia and his ten best sexual encounters wrapped up into one delicious package.
When he finally tossed the cup into the nearest trash bin, he couldn't help but notice that Lassiter - who thought he was cleverly hidden behind a newspaper across the street, facing the other direction - had gone red in the ears.
---
Shawn hadn't expected the Spencer-watching to end after just one show. He also hadn't expected, however, to find a skim mocha latte with a hint of pineapple on Lassiter's desk the next day.
He had been about to turn away, wanting to avoid the Wrath of Carlton, but the smell of the drink lured him in. "Is that...?"
"What?" Lassiter said, looking up as though he hadn't even noticed Shawn enter. "Oh, the coffee? It's disgusting. You-" He faltered a moment. "Uh, you can have it. It's still got the whipped cream on it."
---
Making out with the barista behind the coffee shop hadn't been part of the plan, but Shawn wasn't too bothered by giving a show. Maybe if Lassiter thought his entire life was sex, he'd stop the watching.
"Jenny," he moaned when she pulled at his hair.
"Josie," she corrected, and then pulled him in for another kiss.
She had claimed she could unwrap a Starburst with her tongue earlier, and Shawn, despite having missed out on a demonstration, fully believed her. Unfortunately, she only had fifteen minutes to spare, and their session was cut short as she was called back into the building, her shift not yet over.
"I'll be done at eight," she said, straightening out her clothes. "Pick me up?"
"I'll be there."
---
Shawn was never late to a date. In fact, he tended to be early, if he could manage it. So, of course, he was confused when he found Josie already on her way out at five minutes to eight.
"I'll sorry, Shawn - something came up," she babbled, and then ran off to her car, speeding away before he even had a chance to say hello.
He watched after her for a minute, well aware that Lassiter was around and watching him. Apparently the detective had the sort of revenge in mind that he expected of himself.
He didn't care that Lassiter watched him as he walked away, head hanging. It was a punch to the gut and a complete cock block; he figured for that, Lassiter deserved a moment of glory and self-celebration.
"You win this one," he muttered into the air.
---
He could still see Josie in his mind, could almost feel her tongue in his mouth, on his neck, traveling down his chest...
He groaned and rubbed at his eyes. Well, at least if he couldn't get the girl, he could imagine he had the girl. His hand was a good friend - a little too familiar at times, but always there when he managed some social faux pas.
He sat heavily on his couch, rubbing at himself through his jeans. It had been two weeks since his last time in bed with a woman - too long, by his measure. He felt frustrated already, and wasted no time in unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down with his boxers, and taking hold of his dick.
He began slowly, gently, as he imagined Josie might. Her flirting had been subtle, and though he had caught on to it early, he had let it continue. At first, he had been seeing another woman - some talent agent or another who'd half-heartedly promised him a role in some big upcoming blockbuster for his time - anyway, and it had been cute.
He had himself hard in no time, and leaned back against the cushions. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander from Josie to other girls - Juliet, the other barista who worked in the mornings with Josie, Lassiter-
Lassiter?
He didn't have time to put the message together before he heard the pounding on his door.
Lassiter! He recognized the man's footsteps in the hall even through his fantasy. Well, either his footsteps of those of that guy down the street who catcalled every high school girl who passed his building, and it was a strange thing to actually hope it was Lassiter. The guy down the street smelled pretty bad.
He tried to pretend he wasn't there; he didn't dare make a sound, stopping the motion of his hand but not taking it away. The zipper- He didn't know if Lassiter's hearing was anything spectacular, but with those ears he had, he didn't want to take any risks.
"Shawn, I know you're-"
The bang of the door opening made Shawn jump up, cursing himself for not locking it, and then-
Face to face with Lassiter, whose vision quickly dropped from his face to his hand.
To his cock.
Shawn gulped.
"I- uh."
"Well said, Lassy." Shawn tried for casual, but the cracking of his voice gave him away as he quickly pulled up his pants, zipping them quickly. "So - did you get what you needed?"
"I-" Lassiter stuttered again, his face completely red. "You- How-?"
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Easily. Need me to teach you?"
Lassiter swallowed, turned on his heel, and left.
---
The next day, there was no Lassiter at his desk, but there was another latte.
Under it there was a note:
"These things are better than I thought."