FIC: Two Blind Birds on a Date (2/3)
Title: Two Blind Birds on a Date
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Carlton
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shawn is bored and Carlton is lonely and both of them are making Juliet's and Gus' lives miserable. To solve all of their problems, Juliet comes up with the idea of setting Shawn and Carlton up on a blind date. It's a recipe ripe for disaster unless the two stubborn men can settle their differences and give in to the sexual tension brewing between them.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: Sorry it has been so long. Severe writer's block on this chapter and live kept getting in the way. But I know you don't want to hear my excuses, so on with the story. I hope you all enjoy it.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: The Un-date
Shawn straightened his shirt, glancing in the reflective surface of the door to make sure he looked presentable. He had chosen a nice green button up shirt that complimented his eyes and dark blue, sinfully tight, jeans that showed off his ass. It was a bit underdressed for this type of place, but he was more comfortable like this. He hoped his date would approve. Some guys could be picky about their appearance.
Shawn sighed. That was why he hated blind dates. If he had met the person already, he would know what they were expecting out of him and what his chances were of getting lucky at the end of the night. Tonight, he had no idea if he would have any company other than his right hand (unless his left decided to get frisky). All he knew was that Juliet thought the guy liked him. Promising, but not a guarantee the night would go well.
The whole situation was made even more awkward by the fact that Juliet set this up. If it went badly she would feel guilty, which would make him feel guilty, so he would have to do his best to make sure this guy enjoyed himself. Even if it didn’t end up going anywhere.
Satisfied his appearance was perfect, he entered the restaurant. The place was fancy enough to have a maître d, which made it ten times more expensive than any other first date he had ever been on. He really hoped his date wasn’t cheap and he could convince him to pay for the meal. If not, he would have to stick to bread and water.
“Hi, Shawn Spencer? I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” As Shawn waited for the maître d to check the book, he let his gaze wander over the restaurant. He had spent the last few days racking his brains, trying to figure out who Juliet was setting him up with. He was assuming the guy worked at the station since it had to be someone both he and Juliet knew. He had made a list of the all the guys he had ever shown even a passing interest in, then removed anyone Juliet might not know or disliked. That list he narrowed down further after some research, removing any one who was happily in a relationship or otherwise busy tonight. That left three candidates: Jeff in forensics, George in accounting, and Morty, Woody’s lab assistant. None of them were currently in the restaurant as far as he could tell, nor did he see anyone else he recognized, but maybe his date was running late.
“Ah, Mr. Spencer,” the maître d said, regaining his attention. “Your date arrived an hour ago and has already been seated. Let me show you the way.”
Shawn glanced at his watch. 8:02. Either this guy was really eager to meet Shawn or he had a major thing about punctuality. He wasn’t sure either idea was comforting. He kept his eyes trained as he was led to the table and consequently saw his date before the man saw him. He faltered, wondering if this was a setup.
His date stood up when they reached the table and glared at him. “What are you doing here, Spencer?”
Shawn sighed. Nope, definitely not getting laid tonight. “Why, Lassie, is that any way to talk to your date?”
“Look, I don’t know how you found out about this, but you need to leave now, before my real date gets here.” Lassiter pointed a figure menacingly at him. “I do not need you scaring them off.”
Shawn put a hand to his heart. “Lassie, I’m hurt you would even think that.”
“You did it two weeks ago.”
Shawn waved a hand. “That was an accident and it never would have worked out anyway. She was married.”
Lassiter turned to the maître d. “Could you please have this delusional man escorted from the restaurant?”
The maître d calmly faced the irate detective. “Normally I would be happy to, but Mr. Spencer is correct. He is indeed your date for this evening.”
“There must be some mistake,” Lassiter said.
The maître d shook his head. “There is no mistake, sir. Miss O’Hara was very clear when making the reservation whom it was for.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lassiter snapped, pulling out his cell.
“Could you give us a minute?” Shawn asked the maître d, pulling out his own phone.
“Of course.” The man stepped away a few paces to give them some privacy.
Shawn didn’t waste time on pleasantries once his friend answered the phone. “What the hell, man? Lassiter’s my blind date!?”
“I take it things aren’t going well?”
Shawn glanced over to where Lassiter was hissing into his phone, presumably to Juliet. “Judging by his skin tone, I would put this at an eight on the Lassie Anger Scale.”
Gus hissed in sympathy. “I haven’t seen him that mad since you spilled coffee all over his freshly written reports.”
“That was an accident.” He had been snooping around for a case to solve and had knocked into the very full, very hot cup of coffee on the edge of the desk. “I did solve the case he was working on.”
“I don’t think that helped any.” Gus sighed. “Look, once Lassiter ditches you, why don’t you come over? No sense in ruining a perfectly good Friday night. I’ll order pizza and we can have a Knight Rider marathon.”
Shawn frowned. “You sound like you had this planned all along.”
“Pssh. No. Of course not,” Gus said, laughing nervously. “Why would I set you up on a date if I thought it was going to fail?”
Shawn gasped. “That is exactly what you did! Dude!”
“It was all Juliet’s idea!” Gus protested. “She’s the one with the crazy idea you two like each other. I personally think there is a better chance of Lassiter joining Greenpeace than ever going out with you.”
“Gee, thanks Gus,” Shawn said caustically.
“Come on, Shawn. It’s not like you actually like him.” There was a beat of silence as Gus waited for Shawn to agree. When he didn’t say anything, Gus said slowly, “Shawn, you don’t like Lassiter, right? Big angry detective, always trying to arrest you? Constantly trying to keep you off cases? Horrible at human interactions?”
Shawn glanced over at Lassiter. He had calmed down some but he was still clutching the phone in a white-knuckled grip. “He’s not that bad.”
“Oh my God, Shawn, what is wrong with you? You can’t like Lassiter!”
“It’s not like I chose to like him. It just. . . happened,” Shawn said, annoyed by how upset Gus sounded. What is really that horrible an idea? It wasn’t like Gus had the best track record himself; Lassiter was tons better than all the murderers his friend had flirted with over the years. “If you didn’t think I liked him, why did you even help set us up?”
Gus hesitated. “There may have been money involved.”
“Oh my God, you made a bet with Juliet. And you bet against me! What kind of friend does that?” It completely went against the friend code that Gus himself had established in the fourth grade and just recently had a meeting to go over the terms and conditions of (Shawn had tuned him out after the first few words and discreetly played Angry Birds on his phone until Gus was done). Granted, he had made plenty of bets against Gus over the years but his friend didn't know about that.
Probably.
“A practical one,” Gus said, not sounding in the least apologetic. “This date is doomed.”
Shawn huffed. “Well, I’m going to stay. This is probably the only way I’ll ever get on a date with him and if I know Jules she’ll convince Lassie to stay.”
“Fine. But when this all ends badly, remember you could have been watching Knight and K.I.T.T. and eating pizza.”
Tempting, but there was something else he would much rather have for dessert; something hot and long and attached to his favorite gruff detective. He might never get another chance to try to get into the Lassiter's pants, or (since he always believed in dreaming big, hopefully very big) the man into him. He ended the call and walked back to the table.
Lassiter was waiting for him, a sour look on his face. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.
“Excellent.” The maître d stepped forward and placed a menu in front of each of them as they cautiously sat down across from each other. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily.” The man nodded to both of them before quickly walking away.
Shawn picked up his menu and glanced at Lassiter curiously. “Bribery or blackmail?”
Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Did Jules bribe you to stay or did she blackmail you with something?” Shawn elaborated.
Lassiter scowled. “That is none of your business.”
Shawn nodded. “Blackmail then. Care to share? It must be something good to keep you here.”
“No.” Lassiter picked him his menu and stared at it intently.
Shawn pushed down the menu, forcing the detective to look at him. “Come on, we’re on a date. We’re supposed to be talking to each other. So, share.” He grinned. “I bet it’s something juicy.”
“No.”
Shawn shook his head sadly. “If this is how you treat all your dates, no wonder they all leave.”
Lassiter glared at him. “This is not a date.”
“Good evening, gentleman.” A fair haired young man approached their table. Shawn couldn’t help thinking he would have better luck with their waiter than his current date. “Can I start you off with any drinks?”
“Jack Daniels on the rocks,” Lassiter said immediately.
Shawn thought of his limited funds. No way was Lassiter going to help cover his share of dinner. “Just water for me, thanks.”
Their waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
Lassiter was staring intently at the menu again, ignoring him, so Shawn glanced over it himself. His hunch about the pricey-ness of the food was spot on, unfortunately, and he tried to hunt down the cheapest item on the menu.
“Don’t worry about paying for dinner.”
Shawn glanced up from the list of salads (icky rabbit food, but some had meat in them and they were considerably cheaper than the entrees). “Why? Are you offering to cover my share?”
Lassiter snorted. “Absolutely not. O’Hara offered to foot the bill for both of us.”
Shawn deflated a bit but quickly rallied when he realized what this could mean. “Did she give you a limit?”
Lassiter thought for a moment, then grinned evily. “No, she didn’t.”
Shawn laughed. “Sweet! We’ll get our revenge for setting this up and get to eat like kings.”
“At least I’ll get something good out of this evening,” Lassiter said, looking over the menu more eagerly.
Shawn tried not to take Lassiter’s comment too personally. He knew the detective didn’t like him but he was determined to change that over the course of dinner.
Their waiter returned and placed their drinks on the table. “Would you care to hear today’s specials?”
“That depends,” Shawn said, glancing over at Lassiter. “How expensive are they?”
It said a lot that his fake date with Shawn Spencer was not the worst date Lassiter had ever been on. That distinction would remain with the blind date with his own cousin before Lassiter was even out to his family. Add in the fact he got horribly drunk afterward and threw up on the church's nativity scene (the priest still said he was going to hell when he retold the story to his parishioners every year) and he doubted anything would beat that night.
Even so, it wasn’t even in the bottom five. The fake psychic had so far managed to keep the chattering to a minimum, likely because he was too busy stuffing his face with the obscene amount of food he had ordered. He felt a little thrill when he imagined O’Hara’s face when she saw the bill. It served her right for putting him in this situation.
He glared at Spencer as another piece of shell landed on his plate. “Would you stop flinging your food everywhere?”
“I think I have the hang of it now.” Spencer extracted the meat from what was left of the shell and dipped it into a small dish of butter. “For what it costs, I didn’t expect lobster to be so much work. It’s practically finger food.”
Lassiter agreed, which is why he had settled on a nice steak. Still expensive, but easier to eat. He removed the offending piece of shell and cut himself another bite. It was perfectly cooked and he made a note to come back here at some point on a real date.
Spencer cracked another lobster claw, thankfully keeping the explosion of shell contained to his side of the table this time. “You’re being awfully quiet, Lassie. Are you always like this on a date?”
“It’s not a date,” Lassiter said for the dozenth time. As if he would ever even consider dating the annoying psychic. He did have some standards.
“Then think of it as an un-date,” Spencer suggested.
Lassiter smirked. “I guess I can see you as the Mad Hatter.”
Spencer raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You know Alice in Wonderland?”
“It’s my nephew’s favorite book.” Lassiter frowned. “At least it was last time I saw him.”
“I didn’t know you had a nephew,” Spencer said. “You never talk about him.”
Lassiter shrugged. “I hardly see him now that my brother moved up to Sacramento.”
“Were you guys close?”
“Why do you care?” Lassiter asked suspiciously.
Spencer waved a shrimp liberally coated in cocktail sauce. A few drops splattered on the white tablecloth. “Jules talks about her family all the time but you never talk about yours. I was curious.” He somehow managed to get the smothered shellfish to his mouth without making any more mess.
Lassiter took a sip of his drink as he considered Spencer’s request. He wasn't ashamed of his family; he didn’t talk about them much because there wasn’t much to say. “My brother and I have never been close and Peter never seemed that thrilled to see me either.”
“Maybe because you’re not great with kids,” Spencer said with a smirk. “Juliet told me what happened with her nephews.”
Lassiter groaned. He was never going to live that down. “They should come with an instruction manual.”
“Kids are easy,” Spencer said. “Women are the ones who need the manuals. Hell, an entire book. It’s why I only date them half the time.”
It took a moment for Lassiter to understand what he was saying. “You’re bi?” he asked in surprise.
Spencer grinned. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I thought O’Hara might have told you your date was a woman,” Lassiter said. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised Spencer was bi; he flirted with almost everyone he met.
Including you, a little voice said in the back of his mind. He quickly squashed it.
“Is that what she told you?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lassiter considered lying but knew Spencer would somehow find out anyway. “No.”
Spencer’s grin widened. “See, I’m learning more about you already.”
Lassiter huffed. “It’s still not a date. Or an un-date,” he added quickly as Spencer opened his mouth to interrupt, “or anything else with date in it.”
Spencer tilted his head. “What is this then?”
“Dinner.”
Spencer nodded. “I can work with that.”
There were a few blessed minutes of silence while both men ate before Spencer spoke again. “Say this was a date.” He held up his hands to stall Lassiter’s protests. “Just hear me out a minute. You must have been pretty desperate to let Jules set you up with someone, so obviously your dates haven’t been going well.”
“You're here too,” Lassiter pointed out.
Spencer nodded. “True, mostly because I was curious who Juliet was trying to set me up with. I don't have any problem finding a date. It's trying to avoid them afterward that's the problem.”
“Can't settle for just one person?” Lassiter said nastily.
He was surprised when Spencer flushed slightly and looked away. “Something like that. Anyway, since we are both stuck here, you might as well get some practice.” He rubbed his hands together and looked eagerly at Lassiter. “Pretend I'm your date.”
“No.”
Spencer sighed. “Come on, Lassie. I can't help you if you don't cooperate.”
“Fine. You're my pretend date,” Lassiter said, putting great emphasis on the word 'pretend.'
“Good. Now, what do you tell people when they ask about your job?”
Lassiter puffed his chest out proudly. “I tell them I'm Head Detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department.”
Spencer grinned. “Couldn't just say you're a cop, could you? Not that your whole job title isn't impressive, so I'll let it slide. Next, what would you say is the best part about the job?”
“That's easy,” Lassiter said. “Catching scum bags and killers so they can experience the heavy hand of justice.”
“And?” Spencer sighed with disappointment when Lassiter looked at him blankly. “ People , Lassie. You catch scum bags and killers so they can experience the heavy hand of justice and to keep people safe. The women especially like it if you go the whole protect and serve route. Most of the guys too.”
“I thought you didn't know anything about women,” Lassiter said grumpily.
“I know enough to get them on a date with me,” Spencer said. “Now, what would you say was your most important case?”
Lassiter thought for a moment. He usually went with his arrest of Johnnie Malik, a key player in the drug trade. His arrest had disrupted drug trafficking in the area for months and led to several other arrests, b ut Spencer was going to want something more people oriented. “The Back Bay Killer.”
Spencer nodded approvingly. “Excellent choice. Now explain why.”
“He was a serial killer. Really gruesome murders too. Part of the reason he was called the Back Bay Killer was the symbols he would carve into the victim's backs. Though that didn't kill them. See, he had this hooked blade - ”
“Lassie, stop!” Spencer held up a hand, looking slightly green. “I know how he killed and that is definitely not something you discuss with your date over dinner.” He looked down at his plate and sadly pushed it away. “I guess at least you didn't draw a diagram like with the clown story.”
Lassiter was going to have a long talk with O'Hara about what was appropriate to share about one's partner, especially to an annoying consultant. “What would you say about the case th e n?”
“I would focus on your heroic rescue of the last victim.”
Lassiter frowned. “There were a dozen officers there that night. It's not like I took him down singlehandedly. I wasn't even the one that cuffed him.”
Spencer sighed and shook his head. “Again, people Lassie. You dove out into the middle of a fire fight to keep that young woman safe. Hell, you even got shot for it. Very impressive I might add .”
“It was just a graze,” Lassiter protested. “And any other officer would have done it.”
Spencer gave him a steady look. “No, they wouldn't have. Why do you think I always call you and Jules when I'm in trouble? I can count on you to save me even if it's dangerous.”
That was unexpected. He had assumed Spencer called him just to annoy him when he got in over his head. He hadn't realized it was because Spencer trusted him so much. He was getting very uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going and was glad when their waiter showed up.
“Did you enjoy the meal, gentlemen? Would you care to see the desert menu?”
Lassiter glanced at his plate, surprised so see he had finished his meal while they were talking. “It was very good, thank you.”
“Excellent, if a bit messy,” Spencer said, picking a bit of lobster shell off his shirt. “I would like to see the dessert menu. Do you have chocolate cake?”
The waiter handed over the menu. “We have a devil's food triple layer cake with a mousse icing topped with shaved chocolate curls.”
Spencer was almost drooling. “Yes, that. I want that.”
“Just coffee for me,” Lassiter said. He eyed Spencer with amusement as the waiter walked away. “I thought you lost your appetite.”
“Pssh,” Spencer said, waving his hand. “I always have room for cake.”
Conversation tapered off as they waited for dessert and Spencer tried to get as much shell off his clothes as he could. Lassiter almost told him about the piece in his hair but decided it would be more entertaining not to. It was a comfortable silence that Lassiter was reluctant to break, but after being interrogated for much of the meal he felt it was only fair he got to ask some questions. “What about you?” he asked once the waiter returned and Spencer started eating his cake. “What do you tell your dates about your job?”
Spencer scooped a bit of icing on his fork and slowly licked it off. Lassiter found himself distracted as he watched the pink tongue drag along the tines of the fork and almost missed his answer. “Depends on the person. Some I tell I'm a psychic for the SBPD.”
Lassiter jerked his gaze away and took a quick sip of his coffee. He gritted his teeth as he burned his tongue and ignored Spencer's smirk. “What about the rest?”
Spencer shrugged. “Some I tell I worked for NASA. Some I tell I toured with Twisted Sister. Sometimes I keep it simple and say I worked for the third richest man in the country.”
Lassiter snorted. “So you lie to them. Great relationship advice.”
Spencer shook his head. “It's not really lying, more stretching the truth. I was a janitor for NASA for three weeks.” He made a face. “Let me tell you, you do not want to be the one to clean out the simulators after the rookies get through with them. I hitched a ride with Twisted Sister between Albany and Detroit in '03 and lugged gear for two shows.” He grinned. “And I did work for the third richest man in the country but I'm not allowed to disclose any details from that time period.”
Lassiter knew from the background check he had done on Spencer when he was planning to arrest him that the man had had a lot of jobs but it seemed there were a lot more that never made it into the official record. “I'm surprised you've stuck with the psychic crap so long given your track record.”
“I've never had a job I liked as much as this one, and it's great being back home.” Spencer shook his head with a bitter smile. “Never thought I would ever say that when I left.”
Lassiter knew Spencer's parents had split while he was in high school. He guessed his home life hadn't been that great. He could certainly relate. He cleared his throat and looked down at his coffee. “I can understand wanting to run. My dad left when I was nine. My mom had to work two jobs after that and it became my job to watch after my sister and brother.”
“That's why you and your brother don't get along?” Spencer asked.
Lassiter nodded. “He's only two years younger than me and didn't like that I was in charge. I'm still close to my sister though.”
“The closest thing I ever had to a sibling is Gus. It's why I came back to Santa Barbara in the first place.” Spencer snorted. “God knows it wasn't to see my dad.”
“You get along better with him than I do my mother,” Lassiter said with a trace of bitterness. “She hasn't spoken to me since she found out about the divorce.”
Spencer tilted his head. “Does she have a problem with you being bi?”
Lassiter shook his head. “No, she's a lesbian so that would be hypocritical, b ut she's always wanted more grandchildren and she was pissed I never told her we split up.”
“You never can make parents happy,” Spencer said wisely.
“You know that's right,” Lassiter said. Spencer grinned suddenly, making Lassiter nervous. “What?” he asked slowly.
“We just had a meaningful conversation without insults or threats,” Spencer said. “Not bad for two people who hate each other on a not-date.”
“I don't hate you,” Lassiter said. “I find you annoying and childish and sometimes have the desire to strangle you, but I don't hate you.”
“Aww, Lassie.” Spencer wiped an imaginary tear away from his eye. “That was really sweet. You're such a softy.”
“I think this dinner is done.” Lassiter looked around for their waiter and jumped when he found the man right next to him. “Do you know how dangerous it is sneaking up on someone with a gun?” he snapped.
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “You brought you're gun on a blind date?”
“Of course. I didn't know what kind of crazy, desperate person O'Hara had set me up with.” He took the check from the waiter and winced. He was mad at O'Hara for setting this up but he wasn't sure if he was this mad. With a sigh, he pulled out his credit card along with the one O'Hara had given him for the meal. “Split it between both of these.”
“Of course, sir.” The waiter bowed and left.
Spencer looked at him curiously. “You're not going to make me help pay too?”
Lassiter waved his hand dismissively . “I know you don't have enough.”
Spencer nodded slowly. “I don't, but I thought you would have made me cough up what I had and threaten me later for the rest.”
“If it bothers you so much, you can pay me back,” Lassiter snapped irritably. In truth, he didn't know why he hadn't asked Spencer. It wasn't because he thought this was a date; he usually asked his dates to pay for their share of the meal, which for some reason made most of them upset. He felt it was only fair since they ate half of the food, b ut this time it hadn't even crossed his mind.
“Well, at least you got this part of the date right,” Spencer said. “A gentleman should always pay for the ladies meal.”
Spencer was not a mind reader, though times like this made Lassiter question it. “What if you're dating a guy?”
“Then you fight over it unless your planning on making it up to him later.” Spencer fluttered his lashes at him and Lassiter came to the conclusion Spencer didn't pay for many meals when he was with a guy. The thought left him strangely uncomfortable.
The waiter returned so Lassiter could sign for the check. Once he left, Lassiter threw some money on the table for a tip (more than he normally would because they had made a bit of a scene when Spencer had arrived) and nodded at Spencer. “Well, this wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be. Good night, Spencer.” Not waiting for the other man to respond or get up, he left. He wasn't fleeing because the un-date was drifting into uncomfortable territory, he just didn't see a reason to wait around when he had to be into work early the next day.
He was halfway to his car when he realized Spencer was following him. “What do you want?” he asked, turning to face him.
Spencer looked down and scuffed his shoe on the pavement. “I need a ride.”
“How did you get here?”
“I took the bus. And before you ask, they don't run this late.” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I was sort of hoping whoever Juliet set me up with would want to continue things after dinner.”
Lassiter sighed. “Fine. Get in. I'll drive you home.”
Spencer grinned and hopped into the car. “Thanks, Lassie.”
The ride to Spencer's apartment was unusually quiet. Spencer didn't say anything besides a few directions, spending the rest of the time staring out the window. After the chatterbox he had been during dinner, Lassiter found it very strange.
When he pulled up in front of Spencer's apartment building, the quiet tension in the car spiked. To distract himself, he glanced out the window at the building. “Nice place.” The area was a lot nicer than Lassiter had been expecting and the building looked well maintained.
Spencer shrugged. “I got lucky. Helped out the landlord with a problem tenant awhile back and he gave me a break on the rent.” He twisted in the seat to face him and smiled. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome,” Lassiter said.
Spencer glanced at him, than looked away. “Okaaaay, this is getting awkward, so I’m going to go.”
Lassiter nodded in agreement. “Good night, Spencer.”
“Good night, Lassie.” Spencer started to open the door, then turned around and kissed him lightly on the lips. Before Lassiter could react, Spencer pulled away and got out of the car.
Lassiter pressed his fingertips against his lips. “Don’t do it, Lassiter,” he muttered to himself as he watched Spencer walk up to his building. There was no way it could work out; this was Spencer for God’s sake. Sure, they had just enjoyed a fairly pleasant meal together but a relationship couldn’t be based on an uneasy tolerance for each other.
What about physical attraction? his mind supplied. He couldn’t keep denying there was something about Spencer that tugged at his libido and made him react less rationally at times. There were also the dreams and several jerk off sessions in his shower he tried to pretend never happened. If he wanted further proof, the kiss, though brief, had sent a jolt straight to his cock.
He wanted Spencer. Ignoring it hadn't worked, so maybe it was time to give him. Maybe after indulging for a night he could get the annoying psychic out of his system. It's not like he could expect Spencer to stick around for more than that anyway, even if he wanted to. Which Lassiter certainly did not. Spencer was annoying and childish and always had a stupid 80's reference and constantly showed him up with brilliant insights and a charming smile.
Lassiter forced his mind back on track. No, it would never work between them. One night to scratch his annoying itch then business as usual. Part of him realized he was just rationalizing his desire to screw his reservations and screw Spencer but the rest of him didn't care. He got out of the car and hurried up the walkway. “Spencer!”
Spencer stopped and turned around. “What is it Lassie? Finally giving in to my charms and good looks?”
Yes, that was exactly it, though Spencer had said it teasingly. Lassiter wasn’t about to admit that to him. In fact, he wasn’t sure what to say. Spencer was staring at him, confusion and, yes, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Lassiter stepped closer until they were almost touching. “If you’re going to give a good night kiss, do it right,” Lassiter said before bringing their lips together for a bruising kiss.
Spencer moaned into his mouth, hands clutching his shoulders. He ran his tongue along Spencer's lips and the other man immediately opened up for him, whimpering as Lassiter explored his mouth. Once hand wrapped around Spencer's waist to hold him close, the other slipped through his hair, tugging hard to get Spencer's mouth tilted at the correct angle. Spencer groaned and shuddered at the sudden pain and if anything became even more eager.
They eventually had to stop to breathe, parting only inches and staring into each other's eyes. They were still standing out in front of Spencer's apartment building where anyone could see them but Lassiter couldn't look away to see if they were being watched.
“Come inside?” Spencer asked breathlessly.
This time Lassiter didn't hesitate. “Yes.”
This ended up longer than I expected, so there will be one more chapter. I'm putting the final edits on it now and I'll post it in a couple of days.
Chapter 3
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Carlton
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shawn is bored and Carlton is lonely and both of them are making Juliet's and Gus' lives miserable. To solve all of their problems, Juliet comes up with the idea of setting Shawn and Carlton up on a blind date. It's a recipe ripe for disaster unless the two stubborn men can settle their differences and give in to the sexual tension brewing between them.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: Sorry it has been so long. Severe writer's block on this chapter and live kept getting in the way. But I know you don't want to hear my excuses, so on with the story. I hope you all enjoy it.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: The Un-date
Shawn straightened his shirt, glancing in the reflective surface of the door to make sure he looked presentable. He had chosen a nice green button up shirt that complimented his eyes and dark blue, sinfully tight, jeans that showed off his ass. It was a bit underdressed for this type of place, but he was more comfortable like this. He hoped his date would approve. Some guys could be picky about their appearance.
Shawn sighed. That was why he hated blind dates. If he had met the person already, he would know what they were expecting out of him and what his chances were of getting lucky at the end of the night. Tonight, he had no idea if he would have any company other than his right hand (unless his left decided to get frisky). All he knew was that Juliet thought the guy liked him. Promising, but not a guarantee the night would go well.
The whole situation was made even more awkward by the fact that Juliet set this up. If it went badly she would feel guilty, which would make him feel guilty, so he would have to do his best to make sure this guy enjoyed himself. Even if it didn’t end up going anywhere.
Satisfied his appearance was perfect, he entered the restaurant. The place was fancy enough to have a maître d, which made it ten times more expensive than any other first date he had ever been on. He really hoped his date wasn’t cheap and he could convince him to pay for the meal. If not, he would have to stick to bread and water.
“Hi, Shawn Spencer? I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” As Shawn waited for the maître d to check the book, he let his gaze wander over the restaurant. He had spent the last few days racking his brains, trying to figure out who Juliet was setting him up with. He was assuming the guy worked at the station since it had to be someone both he and Juliet knew. He had made a list of the all the guys he had ever shown even a passing interest in, then removed anyone Juliet might not know or disliked. That list he narrowed down further after some research, removing any one who was happily in a relationship or otherwise busy tonight. That left three candidates: Jeff in forensics, George in accounting, and Morty, Woody’s lab assistant. None of them were currently in the restaurant as far as he could tell, nor did he see anyone else he recognized, but maybe his date was running late.
“Ah, Mr. Spencer,” the maître d said, regaining his attention. “Your date arrived an hour ago and has already been seated. Let me show you the way.”
Shawn glanced at his watch. 8:02. Either this guy was really eager to meet Shawn or he had a major thing about punctuality. He wasn’t sure either idea was comforting. He kept his eyes trained as he was led to the table and consequently saw his date before the man saw him. He faltered, wondering if this was a setup.
His date stood up when they reached the table and glared at him. “What are you doing here, Spencer?”
Shawn sighed. Nope, definitely not getting laid tonight. “Why, Lassie, is that any way to talk to your date?”
“Look, I don’t know how you found out about this, but you need to leave now, before my real date gets here.” Lassiter pointed a figure menacingly at him. “I do not need you scaring them off.”
Shawn put a hand to his heart. “Lassie, I’m hurt you would even think that.”
“You did it two weeks ago.”
Shawn waved a hand. “That was an accident and it never would have worked out anyway. She was married.”
Lassiter turned to the maître d. “Could you please have this delusional man escorted from the restaurant?”
The maître d calmly faced the irate detective. “Normally I would be happy to, but Mr. Spencer is correct. He is indeed your date for this evening.”
“There must be some mistake,” Lassiter said.
The maître d shook his head. “There is no mistake, sir. Miss O’Hara was very clear when making the reservation whom it was for.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lassiter snapped, pulling out his cell.
“Could you give us a minute?” Shawn asked the maître d, pulling out his own phone.
“Of course.” The man stepped away a few paces to give them some privacy.
Shawn didn’t waste time on pleasantries once his friend answered the phone. “What the hell, man? Lassiter’s my blind date!?”
“I take it things aren’t going well?”
Shawn glanced over to where Lassiter was hissing into his phone, presumably to Juliet. “Judging by his skin tone, I would put this at an eight on the Lassie Anger Scale.”
Gus hissed in sympathy. “I haven’t seen him that mad since you spilled coffee all over his freshly written reports.”
“That was an accident.” He had been snooping around for a case to solve and had knocked into the very full, very hot cup of coffee on the edge of the desk. “I did solve the case he was working on.”
“I don’t think that helped any.” Gus sighed. “Look, once Lassiter ditches you, why don’t you come over? No sense in ruining a perfectly good Friday night. I’ll order pizza and we can have a Knight Rider marathon.”
Shawn frowned. “You sound like you had this planned all along.”
“Pssh. No. Of course not,” Gus said, laughing nervously. “Why would I set you up on a date if I thought it was going to fail?”
Shawn gasped. “That is exactly what you did! Dude!”
“It was all Juliet’s idea!” Gus protested. “She’s the one with the crazy idea you two like each other. I personally think there is a better chance of Lassiter joining Greenpeace than ever going out with you.”
“Gee, thanks Gus,” Shawn said caustically.
“Come on, Shawn. It’s not like you actually like him.” There was a beat of silence as Gus waited for Shawn to agree. When he didn’t say anything, Gus said slowly, “Shawn, you don’t like Lassiter, right? Big angry detective, always trying to arrest you? Constantly trying to keep you off cases? Horrible at human interactions?”
Shawn glanced over at Lassiter. He had calmed down some but he was still clutching the phone in a white-knuckled grip. “He’s not that bad.”
“Oh my God, Shawn, what is wrong with you? You can’t like Lassiter!”
“It’s not like I chose to like him. It just. . . happened,” Shawn said, annoyed by how upset Gus sounded. What is really that horrible an idea? It wasn’t like Gus had the best track record himself; Lassiter was tons better than all the murderers his friend had flirted with over the years. “If you didn’t think I liked him, why did you even help set us up?”
Gus hesitated. “There may have been money involved.”
“Oh my God, you made a bet with Juliet. And you bet against me! What kind of friend does that?” It completely went against the friend code that Gus himself had established in the fourth grade and just recently had a meeting to go over the terms and conditions of (Shawn had tuned him out after the first few words and discreetly played Angry Birds on his phone until Gus was done). Granted, he had made plenty of bets against Gus over the years but his friend didn't know about that.
Probably.
“A practical one,” Gus said, not sounding in the least apologetic. “This date is doomed.”
Shawn huffed. “Well, I’m going to stay. This is probably the only way I’ll ever get on a date with him and if I know Jules she’ll convince Lassie to stay.”
“Fine. But when this all ends badly, remember you could have been watching Knight and K.I.T.T. and eating pizza.”
Tempting, but there was something else he would much rather have for dessert; something hot and long and attached to his favorite gruff detective. He might never get another chance to try to get into the Lassiter's pants, or (since he always believed in dreaming big, hopefully very big) the man into him. He ended the call and walked back to the table.
Lassiter was waiting for him, a sour look on his face. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.
“Excellent.” The maître d stepped forward and placed a menu in front of each of them as they cautiously sat down across from each other. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily.” The man nodded to both of them before quickly walking away.
Shawn picked up his menu and glanced at Lassiter curiously. “Bribery or blackmail?”
Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Did Jules bribe you to stay or did she blackmail you with something?” Shawn elaborated.
Lassiter scowled. “That is none of your business.”
Shawn nodded. “Blackmail then. Care to share? It must be something good to keep you here.”
“No.” Lassiter picked him his menu and stared at it intently.
Shawn pushed down the menu, forcing the detective to look at him. “Come on, we’re on a date. We’re supposed to be talking to each other. So, share.” He grinned. “I bet it’s something juicy.”
“No.”
Shawn shook his head sadly. “If this is how you treat all your dates, no wonder they all leave.”
Lassiter glared at him. “This is not a date.”
“Good evening, gentleman.” A fair haired young man approached their table. Shawn couldn’t help thinking he would have better luck with their waiter than his current date. “Can I start you off with any drinks?”
“Jack Daniels on the rocks,” Lassiter said immediately.
Shawn thought of his limited funds. No way was Lassiter going to help cover his share of dinner. “Just water for me, thanks.”
Their waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
Lassiter was staring intently at the menu again, ignoring him, so Shawn glanced over it himself. His hunch about the pricey-ness of the food was spot on, unfortunately, and he tried to hunt down the cheapest item on the menu.
“Don’t worry about paying for dinner.”
Shawn glanced up from the list of salads (icky rabbit food, but some had meat in them and they were considerably cheaper than the entrees). “Why? Are you offering to cover my share?”
Lassiter snorted. “Absolutely not. O’Hara offered to foot the bill for both of us.”
Shawn deflated a bit but quickly rallied when he realized what this could mean. “Did she give you a limit?”
Lassiter thought for a moment, then grinned evily. “No, she didn’t.”
Shawn laughed. “Sweet! We’ll get our revenge for setting this up and get to eat like kings.”
“At least I’ll get something good out of this evening,” Lassiter said, looking over the menu more eagerly.
Shawn tried not to take Lassiter’s comment too personally. He knew the detective didn’t like him but he was determined to change that over the course of dinner.
Their waiter returned and placed their drinks on the table. “Would you care to hear today’s specials?”
“That depends,” Shawn said, glancing over at Lassiter. “How expensive are they?”
It said a lot that his fake date with Shawn Spencer was not the worst date Lassiter had ever been on. That distinction would remain with the blind date with his own cousin before Lassiter was even out to his family. Add in the fact he got horribly drunk afterward and threw up on the church's nativity scene (the priest still said he was going to hell when he retold the story to his parishioners every year) and he doubted anything would beat that night.
Even so, it wasn’t even in the bottom five. The fake psychic had so far managed to keep the chattering to a minimum, likely because he was too busy stuffing his face with the obscene amount of food he had ordered. He felt a little thrill when he imagined O’Hara’s face when she saw the bill. It served her right for putting him in this situation.
He glared at Spencer as another piece of shell landed on his plate. “Would you stop flinging your food everywhere?”
“I think I have the hang of it now.” Spencer extracted the meat from what was left of the shell and dipped it into a small dish of butter. “For what it costs, I didn’t expect lobster to be so much work. It’s practically finger food.”
Lassiter agreed, which is why he had settled on a nice steak. Still expensive, but easier to eat. He removed the offending piece of shell and cut himself another bite. It was perfectly cooked and he made a note to come back here at some point on a real date.
Spencer cracked another lobster claw, thankfully keeping the explosion of shell contained to his side of the table this time. “You’re being awfully quiet, Lassie. Are you always like this on a date?”
“It’s not a date,” Lassiter said for the dozenth time. As if he would ever even consider dating the annoying psychic. He did have some standards.
“Then think of it as an un-date,” Spencer suggested.
Lassiter smirked. “I guess I can see you as the Mad Hatter.”
Spencer raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You know Alice in Wonderland?”
“It’s my nephew’s favorite book.” Lassiter frowned. “At least it was last time I saw him.”
“I didn’t know you had a nephew,” Spencer said. “You never talk about him.”
Lassiter shrugged. “I hardly see him now that my brother moved up to Sacramento.”
“Were you guys close?”
“Why do you care?” Lassiter asked suspiciously.
Spencer waved a shrimp liberally coated in cocktail sauce. A few drops splattered on the white tablecloth. “Jules talks about her family all the time but you never talk about yours. I was curious.” He somehow managed to get the smothered shellfish to his mouth without making any more mess.
Lassiter took a sip of his drink as he considered Spencer’s request. He wasn't ashamed of his family; he didn’t talk about them much because there wasn’t much to say. “My brother and I have never been close and Peter never seemed that thrilled to see me either.”
“Maybe because you’re not great with kids,” Spencer said with a smirk. “Juliet told me what happened with her nephews.”
Lassiter groaned. He was never going to live that down. “They should come with an instruction manual.”
“Kids are easy,” Spencer said. “Women are the ones who need the manuals. Hell, an entire book. It’s why I only date them half the time.”
It took a moment for Lassiter to understand what he was saying. “You’re bi?” he asked in surprise.
Spencer grinned. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I thought O’Hara might have told you your date was a woman,” Lassiter said. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised Spencer was bi; he flirted with almost everyone he met.
Including you, a little voice said in the back of his mind. He quickly squashed it.
“Is that what she told you?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lassiter considered lying but knew Spencer would somehow find out anyway. “No.”
Spencer’s grin widened. “See, I’m learning more about you already.”
Lassiter huffed. “It’s still not a date. Or an un-date,” he added quickly as Spencer opened his mouth to interrupt, “or anything else with date in it.”
Spencer tilted his head. “What is this then?”
“Dinner.”
Spencer nodded. “I can work with that.”
There were a few blessed minutes of silence while both men ate before Spencer spoke again. “Say this was a date.” He held up his hands to stall Lassiter’s protests. “Just hear me out a minute. You must have been pretty desperate to let Jules set you up with someone, so obviously your dates haven’t been going well.”
“You're here too,” Lassiter pointed out.
Spencer nodded. “True, mostly because I was curious who Juliet was trying to set me up with. I don't have any problem finding a date. It's trying to avoid them afterward that's the problem.”
“Can't settle for just one person?” Lassiter said nastily.
He was surprised when Spencer flushed slightly and looked away. “Something like that. Anyway, since we are both stuck here, you might as well get some practice.” He rubbed his hands together and looked eagerly at Lassiter. “Pretend I'm your date.”
“No.”
Spencer sighed. “Come on, Lassie. I can't help you if you don't cooperate.”
“Fine. You're my pretend date,” Lassiter said, putting great emphasis on the word 'pretend.'
“Good. Now, what do you tell people when they ask about your job?”
Lassiter puffed his chest out proudly. “I tell them I'm Head Detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department.”
Spencer grinned. “Couldn't just say you're a cop, could you? Not that your whole job title isn't impressive, so I'll let it slide. Next, what would you say is the best part about the job?”
“That's easy,” Lassiter said. “Catching scum bags and killers so they can experience the heavy hand of justice.”
“And?” Spencer sighed with disappointment when Lassiter looked at him blankly. “ People , Lassie. You catch scum bags and killers so they can experience the heavy hand of justice and to keep people safe. The women especially like it if you go the whole protect and serve route. Most of the guys too.”
“I thought you didn't know anything about women,” Lassiter said grumpily.
“I know enough to get them on a date with me,” Spencer said. “Now, what would you say was your most important case?”
Lassiter thought for a moment. He usually went with his arrest of Johnnie Malik, a key player in the drug trade. His arrest had disrupted drug trafficking in the area for months and led to several other arrests, b ut Spencer was going to want something more people oriented. “The Back Bay Killer.”
Spencer nodded approvingly. “Excellent choice. Now explain why.”
“He was a serial killer. Really gruesome murders too. Part of the reason he was called the Back Bay Killer was the symbols he would carve into the victim's backs. Though that didn't kill them. See, he had this hooked blade - ”
“Lassie, stop!” Spencer held up a hand, looking slightly green. “I know how he killed and that is definitely not something you discuss with your date over dinner.” He looked down at his plate and sadly pushed it away. “I guess at least you didn't draw a diagram like with the clown story.”
Lassiter was going to have a long talk with O'Hara about what was appropriate to share about one's partner, especially to an annoying consultant. “What would you say about the case th e n?”
“I would focus on your heroic rescue of the last victim.”
Lassiter frowned. “There were a dozen officers there that night. It's not like I took him down singlehandedly. I wasn't even the one that cuffed him.”
Spencer sighed and shook his head. “Again, people Lassie. You dove out into the middle of a fire fight to keep that young woman safe. Hell, you even got shot for it. Very impressive I might add .”
“It was just a graze,” Lassiter protested. “And any other officer would have done it.”
Spencer gave him a steady look. “No, they wouldn't have. Why do you think I always call you and Jules when I'm in trouble? I can count on you to save me even if it's dangerous.”
That was unexpected. He had assumed Spencer called him just to annoy him when he got in over his head. He hadn't realized it was because Spencer trusted him so much. He was getting very uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going and was glad when their waiter showed up.
“Did you enjoy the meal, gentlemen? Would you care to see the desert menu?”
Lassiter glanced at his plate, surprised so see he had finished his meal while they were talking. “It was very good, thank you.”
“Excellent, if a bit messy,” Spencer said, picking a bit of lobster shell off his shirt. “I would like to see the dessert menu. Do you have chocolate cake?”
The waiter handed over the menu. “We have a devil's food triple layer cake with a mousse icing topped with shaved chocolate curls.”
Spencer was almost drooling. “Yes, that. I want that.”
“Just coffee for me,” Lassiter said. He eyed Spencer with amusement as the waiter walked away. “I thought you lost your appetite.”
“Pssh,” Spencer said, waving his hand. “I always have room for cake.”
Conversation tapered off as they waited for dessert and Spencer tried to get as much shell off his clothes as he could. Lassiter almost told him about the piece in his hair but decided it would be more entertaining not to. It was a comfortable silence that Lassiter was reluctant to break, but after being interrogated for much of the meal he felt it was only fair he got to ask some questions. “What about you?” he asked once the waiter returned and Spencer started eating his cake. “What do you tell your dates about your job?”
Spencer scooped a bit of icing on his fork and slowly licked it off. Lassiter found himself distracted as he watched the pink tongue drag along the tines of the fork and almost missed his answer. “Depends on the person. Some I tell I'm a psychic for the SBPD.”
Lassiter jerked his gaze away and took a quick sip of his coffee. He gritted his teeth as he burned his tongue and ignored Spencer's smirk. “What about the rest?”
Spencer shrugged. “Some I tell I worked for NASA. Some I tell I toured with Twisted Sister. Sometimes I keep it simple and say I worked for the third richest man in the country.”
Lassiter snorted. “So you lie to them. Great relationship advice.”
Spencer shook his head. “It's not really lying, more stretching the truth. I was a janitor for NASA for three weeks.” He made a face. “Let me tell you, you do not want to be the one to clean out the simulators after the rookies get through with them. I hitched a ride with Twisted Sister between Albany and Detroit in '03 and lugged gear for two shows.” He grinned. “And I did work for the third richest man in the country but I'm not allowed to disclose any details from that time period.”
Lassiter knew from the background check he had done on Spencer when he was planning to arrest him that the man had had a lot of jobs but it seemed there were a lot more that never made it into the official record. “I'm surprised you've stuck with the psychic crap so long given your track record.”
“I've never had a job I liked as much as this one, and it's great being back home.” Spencer shook his head with a bitter smile. “Never thought I would ever say that when I left.”
Lassiter knew Spencer's parents had split while he was in high school. He guessed his home life hadn't been that great. He could certainly relate. He cleared his throat and looked down at his coffee. “I can understand wanting to run. My dad left when I was nine. My mom had to work two jobs after that and it became my job to watch after my sister and brother.”
“That's why you and your brother don't get along?” Spencer asked.
Lassiter nodded. “He's only two years younger than me and didn't like that I was in charge. I'm still close to my sister though.”
“The closest thing I ever had to a sibling is Gus. It's why I came back to Santa Barbara in the first place.” Spencer snorted. “God knows it wasn't to see my dad.”
“You get along better with him than I do my mother,” Lassiter said with a trace of bitterness. “She hasn't spoken to me since she found out about the divorce.”
Spencer tilted his head. “Does she have a problem with you being bi?”
Lassiter shook his head. “No, she's a lesbian so that would be hypocritical, b ut she's always wanted more grandchildren and she was pissed I never told her we split up.”
“You never can make parents happy,” Spencer said wisely.
“You know that's right,” Lassiter said. Spencer grinned suddenly, making Lassiter nervous. “What?” he asked slowly.
“We just had a meaningful conversation without insults or threats,” Spencer said. “Not bad for two people who hate each other on a not-date.”
“I don't hate you,” Lassiter said. “I find you annoying and childish and sometimes have the desire to strangle you, but I don't hate you.”
“Aww, Lassie.” Spencer wiped an imaginary tear away from his eye. “That was really sweet. You're such a softy.”
“I think this dinner is done.” Lassiter looked around for their waiter and jumped when he found the man right next to him. “Do you know how dangerous it is sneaking up on someone with a gun?” he snapped.
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “You brought you're gun on a blind date?”
“Of course. I didn't know what kind of crazy, desperate person O'Hara had set me up with.” He took the check from the waiter and winced. He was mad at O'Hara for setting this up but he wasn't sure if he was this mad. With a sigh, he pulled out his credit card along with the one O'Hara had given him for the meal. “Split it between both of these.”
“Of course, sir.” The waiter bowed and left.
Spencer looked at him curiously. “You're not going to make me help pay too?”
Lassiter waved his hand dismissively . “I know you don't have enough.”
Spencer nodded slowly. “I don't, but I thought you would have made me cough up what I had and threaten me later for the rest.”
“If it bothers you so much, you can pay me back,” Lassiter snapped irritably. In truth, he didn't know why he hadn't asked Spencer. It wasn't because he thought this was a date; he usually asked his dates to pay for their share of the meal, which for some reason made most of them upset. He felt it was only fair since they ate half of the food, b ut this time it hadn't even crossed his mind.
“Well, at least you got this part of the date right,” Spencer said. “A gentleman should always pay for the ladies meal.”
Spencer was not a mind reader, though times like this made Lassiter question it. “What if you're dating a guy?”
“Then you fight over it unless your planning on making it up to him later.” Spencer fluttered his lashes at him and Lassiter came to the conclusion Spencer didn't pay for many meals when he was with a guy. The thought left him strangely uncomfortable.
The waiter returned so Lassiter could sign for the check. Once he left, Lassiter threw some money on the table for a tip (more than he normally would because they had made a bit of a scene when Spencer had arrived) and nodded at Spencer. “Well, this wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be. Good night, Spencer.” Not waiting for the other man to respond or get up, he left. He wasn't fleeing because the un-date was drifting into uncomfortable territory, he just didn't see a reason to wait around when he had to be into work early the next day.
He was halfway to his car when he realized Spencer was following him. “What do you want?” he asked, turning to face him.
Spencer looked down and scuffed his shoe on the pavement. “I need a ride.”
“How did you get here?”
“I took the bus. And before you ask, they don't run this late.” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I was sort of hoping whoever Juliet set me up with would want to continue things after dinner.”
Lassiter sighed. “Fine. Get in. I'll drive you home.”
Spencer grinned and hopped into the car. “Thanks, Lassie.”
The ride to Spencer's apartment was unusually quiet. Spencer didn't say anything besides a few directions, spending the rest of the time staring out the window. After the chatterbox he had been during dinner, Lassiter found it very strange.
When he pulled up in front of Spencer's apartment building, the quiet tension in the car spiked. To distract himself, he glanced out the window at the building. “Nice place.” The area was a lot nicer than Lassiter had been expecting and the building looked well maintained.
Spencer shrugged. “I got lucky. Helped out the landlord with a problem tenant awhile back and he gave me a break on the rent.” He twisted in the seat to face him and smiled. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome,” Lassiter said.
Spencer glanced at him, than looked away. “Okaaaay, this is getting awkward, so I’m going to go.”
Lassiter nodded in agreement. “Good night, Spencer.”
“Good night, Lassie.” Spencer started to open the door, then turned around and kissed him lightly on the lips. Before Lassiter could react, Spencer pulled away and got out of the car.
Lassiter pressed his fingertips against his lips. “Don’t do it, Lassiter,” he muttered to himself as he watched Spencer walk up to his building. There was no way it could work out; this was Spencer for God’s sake. Sure, they had just enjoyed a fairly pleasant meal together but a relationship couldn’t be based on an uneasy tolerance for each other.
What about physical attraction? his mind supplied. He couldn’t keep denying there was something about Spencer that tugged at his libido and made him react less rationally at times. There were also the dreams and several jerk off sessions in his shower he tried to pretend never happened. If he wanted further proof, the kiss, though brief, had sent a jolt straight to his cock.
He wanted Spencer. Ignoring it hadn't worked, so maybe it was time to give him. Maybe after indulging for a night he could get the annoying psychic out of his system. It's not like he could expect Spencer to stick around for more than that anyway, even if he wanted to. Which Lassiter certainly did not. Spencer was annoying and childish and always had a stupid 80's reference and constantly showed him up with brilliant insights and a charming smile.
Lassiter forced his mind back on track. No, it would never work between them. One night to scratch his annoying itch then business as usual. Part of him realized he was just rationalizing his desire to screw his reservations and screw Spencer but the rest of him didn't care. He got out of the car and hurried up the walkway. “Spencer!”
Spencer stopped and turned around. “What is it Lassie? Finally giving in to my charms and good looks?”
Yes, that was exactly it, though Spencer had said it teasingly. Lassiter wasn’t about to admit that to him. In fact, he wasn’t sure what to say. Spencer was staring at him, confusion and, yes, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Lassiter stepped closer until they were almost touching. “If you’re going to give a good night kiss, do it right,” Lassiter said before bringing their lips together for a bruising kiss.
Spencer moaned into his mouth, hands clutching his shoulders. He ran his tongue along Spencer's lips and the other man immediately opened up for him, whimpering as Lassiter explored his mouth. Once hand wrapped around Spencer's waist to hold him close, the other slipped through his hair, tugging hard to get Spencer's mouth tilted at the correct angle. Spencer groaned and shuddered at the sudden pain and if anything became even more eager.
They eventually had to stop to breathe, parting only inches and staring into each other's eyes. They were still standing out in front of Spencer's apartment building where anyone could see them but Lassiter couldn't look away to see if they were being watched.
“Come inside?” Spencer asked breathlessly.
This time Lassiter didn't hesitate. “Yes.”
This ended up longer than I expected, so there will be one more chapter. I'm putting the final edits on it now and I'll post it in a couple of days.
Chapter 3