PSYCH: From Beyond The Morgue (PG-13), Shawn/Lassiter.

[laytoncolt]

Shawn just wants to solve his latest case, but it isn't easy with Gus and Henry meddling in his love life, especially considering his love life consists of one bored workaholic detective on enforced leave.



back to part four

Gus had declined to come with him to the psychiatric ward, despite Shawn's appealing arguments of lots of crazy people in need of pharmaceuticals, and while Shawn wasn't strictly supposed to be here himself, he still managed to make his way alone to Holly's room while Juliet argued with her doctor about whether or not she should be allowed to leave.

Shawn had no doubts that Juliet would win the argument. It didn't hurt that Holly had a home to go to. Eveline wanted her to come back, and promised that she and Aldis would take the care of her she deserved. They were even going to give her a whole room, one she could have all to herself.

"Shawn," Holly greeted when he entered, giving a slight smile. "It's nice to see you. Have you been dreaming yet?"

"Not yet," Shawn said. "But probably just because I haven't slept."

"That's no excuse not to dream," she said.

Shawn sat down beside her on the bed. She was sketching out a half-formed face with her red crayon, it could almost be a self-portrait except for the lines around the eyes and forehead, marks of age and worry that were worn by Andie instead.

"Hey, you want to get out of here?" he asked.

Holly paused, glancing up at him. "That really depends," she said.

"On what?" Shawn asked.

"On where I'd go from here," she said.

"How about home?" Shawn asked. "Eveline wants you to come stay with her and Aldis."

"Eveline is nice," Holly said. "I didn't like her at first, because she was the reason I had to leave, but she was kind, and she has pretty things. I don't think she's going to like me, though. No one would, Harvey always said. People don't like crazy people. We make them uncomfortable."

"Maybe we're all a little crazy," Shawn said. "Maybe you're just more honest about it."

"You're honest," Holly told him.

"I spend most of my time lying, actually," he said.

"You tell the truth about the things that matter," Holly said. "You just need to tell the truth to yourself."

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said.

"There has to be a reason you're afraid to sleep," Holly said. "I had nightmares because I was afraid of ending up here. It's strange but since I got here I haven't been afraid of it anymore, and now I've been dreaming all the time."

"What do you dream about?" Shawn asked.

"Flying," Holly said. "In my dreams I always have wings."

"We should have a Red Bull together sometime, my treat," Shawn said.

Holly didn't catch the reference, and she looked over at Shawn with solemn eyes. "Do you really think it's going to be okay?" she asked.

"Life's a work in progress," Shawn said. "I think you'll get there."

"They're going to lock her up, aren't they?" she asked. "For what she did?"

"Yes," Shawn said. "She turned herself in, but you need to know that she loves you very much."

"Love is kind of terrifying," Holly said. "Have you ever noticed that?"

"It does seem to be a recurring theme," Shawn said.

Juliet came through the door, throwing an exasperated glance at Shawn before turning to smile at Holly. "You ready to go home?" she asked.

Holly carefully packed away her crayons. "I'm ready to leave," she said, but Shawn knew that didn't mean quite the same thing.

x x x x x x

It was nearing ten when Shawn ended up at Lassiter's door.

Shawn had gone with Juliet to take Holly home, but he could admit, if only to himself, that he really hadn't needed to stay as long as he had. Eveline took to Holly instantly, and she'd given her the largest room in the house. Aldis was so pleased he hadn't even glared at Shawn all that much when he called him Alfred, and Shawn was guessing optimistically that the strange way his lips had curled was evidence that he could smile after all.

That unlikely group of people seemed to fit together rather well, and Shawn had high hopes for their futures. Even Sani had stopped making pudding long enough to put a real dinner together, and she no longer seemed so ready to leave. Things were looking less pleasant for Andie, but it was of course a requirement for a happy ending that the villain meet a sad end, however reluctantly they were cast. Shawn supposed he should be grateful for all the victories he could get. If he started having sympathy for the killers too, then he wasn't ever going to be satisfied with the end of the case.

Shawn unlocked the door and disabled the security alarm before heading to the kitchen. He was pulling the tab on a Pepsi when Lassiter walked into the room and leaned against the doorway to watch him. He didn't look surprised to see him there, because Shawn knew if he hadn't known it was him he would have barged into the room with his gun already drawn.

"How did you get in?" Lassiter asked.

"Please," Shawn said, gulping down some of the Pepsi. "I've had copies of your keys for years."

"And the security system?" Lassiter asked.

"It's the first four digits of the serial number on your gun," Shawn said. "You could have at least used the last four digits. That probably would have taken me two tries."

Lassiter sighed, not bothering to throw something back at him. Shawn didn't think that was a good sign. "When you ran out earlier, I had this feeling I wouldn’t ever see you again," he said.

"This place is my home," Shawn said, setting down the soda and pushing away from the counter. "Not this home specifically, because your take on interior design leaves something to be desired and if I lived here there would be lots of cool things like beanbag chairs, and lava lamps, but what I mean is Santa Barbara. It's my home. I've been running away from it for years but I always end up right back here, because this is where my father is, it's where Gus is. It's where you are."

Lassiter stepped forward and leaned down to kiss him. "You scare the hell out of me, Spencer," he whispered.

"I have it on good authority that love is a terrifying thing," Shawn said. "Maybe we're supposed to be scared. It means it's real."

"I'm sorry about before," Lassiter said. "It's just, you do, Shawn, you scare the hell out of me."

"I think it goes without saying that I also find you utterly terrifying," Shawn said, kissing Lassiter again. "And you don't have anything to apologize for, maybe we just don't work well together. Maybe we work better against each other than together, with you as the police detective, me as the dashing psychic."

"You're not psychic," Lassiter said.

"But I am dashing," Shawn said. "What we've been doing works. Maybe we just need to keep work separate from this."

"I'm not sure I can," Lassiter said.

"You've been doing it all along," Shawn said. "I was the one causing problems. I shouldn't expect you to trust my every gut instinct. It isn't fair."

"I do trust you, Shawn, but I still need to do things my way," Lassiter said. "We can't list 'gut instinct' on an arrest warrant."

"How about 'psychic vision'?" Shawn asked wryly.

"You're not psychic," Lassiter said again.

"I never should have confessed," Shawn said. "Now I don't get to protest anymore that I totally am psychic, and it's just no fun."

Lassiter grinned. "It's only fair that I get to win just this one argument," he said.

"Okay," Shawn said. "But only because you wear smug so well."

Lassiter placed his hands at Shawn's neck, kissing him again as he gave him a little tug down the hall. He pulled to a sudden stop and Shawn lost his balance, crashing into him with a frown.

"Spencer," Lassiter said slowly.

"Yes, Lassie?" Shawn asked, putting one hand on the wall to catch his balance.

"Why is there a picture of Guster on my wall?" he demanded.

Shawn laughed and tugged Lassiter towards the bedroom by the hand. "Took you long enough to notice that," he said. "Good thing it isn't real, or you'd be out $8,000,000."

"You're taking it down," Lassiter told him firmly.

"I'll take it down when you take down yours," Shawn said, and kissed Lassiter gently.

"Deal," Lassiter said reluctantly. "But so help me if you bring a lava lamp into this house, Spencer-"

Shawn pushed Lassiter down on the bed and grinned. "A compromise, then," he said. "I'll settle for a beanbag chair." Then he leaned down, kissing the side of Lassiter's neck.

"Okay, but only one," Lassiter told him. He decided this was really the worst possible way to go about an argument, because he probably would have agreed to a lot more than that, if Shawn had asked for it.

x x x x x x

Lassiter rolled over, and was pleasantly surprised when his arm didn't find empty air. Despite Shawn's assurances that he was not a morning person, he almost always woke before Lassiter. Lassiter snuggled closer to the warm body, frowning when he slipped his hand beneath the sheet and found fur instead of Shawn's smooth skin.

His eyes shot open and he slipped back along the bed. His stuffed panda stared happily back, with its beady black eyes and his pink tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. "I'm gonna kill him," Lassiter hissed, pushing up from the bed to stomp down the hall.

Lassiter pulled open the door to the basement. Shawn was sitting in the middle of the floor, like a kid a candy store, and Shawn would know how to look like one, having worked at a candy store for a week. He was wearing jeans and Lassiter's old green 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' shirt, which he must have found somewhere down here. Lassiter went down the stairs and glared down at him. Shawn glanced up and grinned, obviously not picking up on Lassiter's homicidal mood.

How anyone believed the guy was psychic was beyond him.

Shawn held up a pair of maroon and blue pants, his grin so wide it almost split his face. "You have MC Hammer pants," Shawn told him. "I think I could die happy, right now."

"That can be arranged," Lassiter snapped, grabbing them back. "I thought we had a deal."

"We did," Shawn said. "As you can see, I haven't organized anything. In fact, I think it looks even worse now than it did before."

"That wasn't the deal, the deal was you weren't to come down here ever," Lassiter said.

"But it's awesome down here," Shawn said. "How come you never told me you were in your Glee Club?"

"How do you know about that?" Lassiter demanded.

"I read your yearbook," Shawn said. "I never would have thought you were so active in school, and who knew they had a 'most likely to be a police officer' category? They must have made it special for you."

"Out," Lassiter said, pointing up the stairs.

Shawn ignored him easily. "If you didn't want me to come down here, you would have locked the door."

"I did lock the door," Lassiter snapped.

"Huh," Shawn said. "I must have picked the lock then, but my defense stands. You know I can pick locks. If you really didn't want me down here you should have equipped it with a retinal scanner. I probably wouldn't have gotten past that."

"Shawn," Lassiter said resignedly, dropping to sit by him.

"I have a right to know these things about you if we're going to be a real couple," Shawn said. "Like the fact that you liked MC Hammer? We might need couples therapy to get past that one. That's almost as bad as Gus's brief but terrifying obsession with the Spice Girls."

"It's not like my past fashion mistakes have any bearing on my life now," Lassiter said. "Why are you so interested in this old stuff?"

"Because it's yours. Anyway, it's only fair," Shawn said. "You know all of my secrets."

"I do?" Lassiter asked.

"Well, yeah," Shawn said. "There's really only the one. Mostly I'm an open book."

"I don't believe that for a second," Lassiter said.

"Okay, so maybe I was the one that was obsessed with the Spice Girls," Shawn said. "But at least I never wore a mini skirt."

"We're all thankful for that," Lassiter said. He frowned as he noticed the dark circles under Shawn's eyes. He wasn't sure when the last time he'd actually slept was, but it definitely looked to be catching up to him. "You're still not sleeping."

"I slept," Shawn said evasively, "but I couldn't stand it knowing all this was down here; it's like Christmas morning! You know, your house would be a lot more fun if this stuff was upstairs."

"It's down here for a reason," Lassiter said, though he was not entirely sure what it was. Victoria had always kept their house like a model home. He was used to storing anything that didn't look like it belonged in a magazine out of sight. "I don't ever use any of it."

"Things don't always have to be useful," Shawn told him, spinning a trophy from some little league game or another in his hands. "And you never told me, what's the story with Eugene?"

"Eugene?" Lassiter asked.

"I named your panda Eugene," Shawn said. "I was sure that you'd neglected to name him yourself."

"There's no story," Lassiter told him. "I already said, I won it at a carnival."

"That raises so many questions. Firstly, you go to carnivals?" Shawn asked. "Why don't you ever take me out to carnivals? We never go anywhere fun. We always just go and look at dead bodies."

"Carnival, just the one," Lassiter said. "I wanted to play the game, I won, I got the panda and had no one to give to it. End of story."

Shawn frowned. "If that's the end of the story, then why do you still have it?"

Lassiter glared at him. "Why do you have to know everything?"

"Just wired that way, I guess," Shawn said. "Naturally curious. How about this, I'll tell you something you don't know about me, if you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I thought you were an open book," Lassiter said.

Shawn grinned. "I am, but it's a very big book."

"Why did you leave?" Lassiter asked. "The first time?"

"That, you should already know," Shawn said. "You met my father, right? Anyway, you're not doing it right. I said I'd tell you something you don't know. I didn't say you'd get to choose what it was."

"Okay, then," Lassiter said. "Tell me something. And it better not be Spice Girls related-I already know more than I wanted to about that."

"Okay," Shawn said. "For awhile, when I was younger, I actually wanted to be a cop. Wanted to be just like dear old dad."

"What changed?" Lassiter asked.

"I wanted to be a million other things, too," Shawn said, looking way. "It's your turn."

"There were actually, a few times, very few, and very brief, where I thought you might actually be psychic," Lassiter said, and winced.

"It was the dinosaur, wasn't it?" Shawn asked.

"Yeah, it was the dinosaur," Lassiter said.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Shawn said, pushing Lassiter down as he moved to straddle him. "I can be very convincing."

"Hey, Shawn?" Lassiter said, as he leaned up to kiss him.

"Yeah?" Shawn asked.

"You can have the panda, if you want," he said.

Shawn grinned, and laid his head on Lassiter's chest. "I thought you'd never ask."

Lassiter moved his arm around him, allowing himself a rare, genuine smile. "Shawn?" he said quietly, but there was no response. Shawn was sound asleep.

He leaned over to place a kiss on the top of Shawn's head. "It's all yours," Lassiter whispered.

x x x x x x

Shawn woke up wrapped in a beat-up Lone Ranger quilt, still in the basement. He frowned as he sat up, noticing that his Lassiter-pillow was gone. There was a note beside him: Got called in to tie up some loose ends and didn't want to wake you. XOXO Lassiter. Shawn laughed at the XOXO, and decided to hold onto the note for blackmail purposes.

He kept the quilt wrapped around him and went upstairs. Lassiter had taken the wanted posters down. They were sitting in a stack on the kitchen counter, with Burton "Buster" Guster on top. Shawn frowned when he saw what was sitting on the counter beside them, and let the quilt drop to the floor as he reached out to grab it.

It was Holly's diary, still unlatched. Lassiter must have found it in the car and left it here. Shawn reached for Lassiter's phone and dialed Gus. "Gus!" he said cheerfully. "Guess what? It's Monday, that's a Gus day, and I need a ride."

"I have to be to work in like an hour, Shawn," Gus said. "Take your motorcycle."

"Look out your front window," Shawn said. "You gave me a ride yesterday, remember? My motorcycle's still there. At least drop me off at your place. Right now I'm stranded at Lassiter's."

"You could take the bus," Gus said.

"And pay my fare in Skittles?" Shawn asked.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Gus said, long-suffering, before ending the call.

Shawn pulled on his Kangaroos and then one of Lassiter's suit jackets, because the weather was still strangely winter-like for Santa Barbara at this time of year, though the freak storm had passed them by. He grabbed Holly's diary and ran out to meet Gus.

Gus eyed him speculatively as he got in the car, taking note of the too large blazer and the 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' shirt. "I'm guessing things between you and Lassiter are back on track?" he asked as he pulled out into the street.

"Not really, I was just robbing the place," Shawn told him.

Gus snorted. "What's so important that I had to rush over here?"

"Don't tell me I interrupted you during your Sponge Bob time again," Shawn said, before slumping in the seat. "You can just drop me off with my bike."

Gus glanced at him, and then shook his head. "I still have some time. Where are we going?"

"Eveline's," Shawn said. "I've got something I need to give back to Holly."

Gus saw the diary and nodded. "I'm glad she didn't have to stay at that hospital," he said.

Shawn nodded, and tried not to think about how Andie did. "Yeah, I think she'll be all right now," he said. "And hey, no ghosts."

"There coulda been ghosts, Shawn," Gus said. "You don't know. They're everywhere."

"They could be in this car with us, right now," Shawn said wryly, and laughed when Gus tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"You laugh, but one of these times you're not going to have an explanation for something we see," Gus said.

"Well, when that happens, I'll start buying salt in bulk, but right now, let's just take a moment to reflect about how very right I was, once again," Shawn said.

"You were wrong about the butler," Gus said smugly.

"It was the maid. She's like a girl butler," Shawn said.

"They're completely different job titles, Shawn," Gus said.

"Really? What do you call a guy maid then? Or a girl butler, for that matter?" he asked. "Man-maid? Gutler?"

"It's still just maid and butler, or domestic aid, if you prefer," Gus said. "Which means you were wrong."

"Well, I may have been wrong, but at least my suspect was a living person," Shawn said. "You were wrong and your suspect was dead, so I think I still win."

Gus pulled to a stop in front of the gate, and it opened for them once again without prompting. He frowned. "They aren't expecting us this time," he said. "Say what you want, I still think there's something wrong with this place."

Gus pulled to a stop, looking nervously out the window. The clouds were dark grey, and Gus could have sworn they hadn't looked that way when they were still a couple of blocks away. "I'll just wait here," he said.

Shawn rolled his eyes and got out of the car. He was starting up the steps when he heard someone call his name. He frowned and started back down them, heading towards the side of the house.

"Shawn!" Shawn looked up to see Holly sitting about fifteen up on the limb of a large tree. She waved down at him. She was wearing a bright new blue dress and black Mary Jane shoes. Shawn thought she looked a little like Alice, returning from Wonderland.

"What are you doing up there?" he asked.

Holly carefully made her way down, using he tree limbs as deftly as if it were a ladder. "I used to go up there all the time," she explained. "I remember it being a lot higher than it is, but I suppose I was smaller then."

"How are you doing?" Shawn asked. "Do you like it here?"

"Very much," Holly said. "It's the same place it always was, only it feels like it's not. I think I like it better this way."

"I brought this back," Shawn said, and held the diary out.

Holly quickly took it from his hands, opening it as if to assure herself all of her words were still there. "Thank you," she said. "You're really very kind."

"It's yours," Shawn said. "You were right, it wasn't nice of me to take it in the first place."

"I know you were just trying to find out the truth," Holly said. "And did you?"

"Andie confessed," Shawn said. "Everyone knows the truth now."

"Even her, I suppose," Holly said. "I'm not so sure she did before."

"Have you seen her?" he asked.

"Yes," Holly said. "She's at the hospital, in one of those white rooms. She seems calmer. Maybe it was the same for her as it was for me. Maybe she realized it wasn't so scary after all." Holly snapped the lock on her diary closed. "Or maybe it's the drugs."

"Are you going to be okay?" Shawn asked her.

"Shouldn't you be telling me?" she asked. "Everyone seems to have their opinion."

"I really only care to hear yours," Shawn said.

Holly smiled. "I guess I don't know," she said. "But I'm better. How are you?"

"I'm better, too," Shawn said.

Holly nodded. "Does that mean that you're dreaming again?"

"I'm sleeping again, but I don't think I ever really stopped dreaming," he said.

"That's a good answer," Holly said, and smiled. "I should be going back inside, it looks like rain. You have a pleasant day, Shawn. Come again soon."

"Holly, would you do something for me?" Shawn asked.

"What is it you would like me to do?" she asked, holding her diary to her chest, like she was afraid he was going to ask for it back.

Shawn smiled as he stepped away. "Don't be so polite," he told her, before spinning on his heel to head back.

Slightly Later in 2009
(i.e. the next Wednesday)

Gus narrowed his eyes when he opened his door and found Shawn standing on his doorstep, hands clasped behind his back and trying to look innocent. It was never a good sign when Shawn didn't call first, it usually meant he wasn't going to take no as an answer for whatever insane idea he'd come up with this time.

"Shawn," Gus said warily.

"Good, you're dressed," Shawn said. "I was afraid I would find you in your pajamas again. And it's not that you don't look adorable in them, but we're kind of on a tight schedule. We have to be at my dad's in like ten minutes for dinner."

"I have today off from you, Shawn, it's Wednesday," Gus said. "You're not very good at following the rules."

"You say that like it's some new, surprising fact about me," Shawn said. "Come on, Gus! I need you as a buffer between Lassie and my father in case he goes all Super Dad again or something. I'd do it for you, you know I would. When you were having problems with your family last Christmas, I was right there with you!"

"You were the reason we were having problems!" Gus protested.

"That's really not the point," Shawn said. "The point is that I was there."

Gus sighed. He knew a losing battle when he saw one, and he figured it was best just to give in. "Fine, but I get shotgun," Gus said.

"It's a deal, buddy," Shawn said, and they stared at each for a beat, and then they both bolted for Lassiter's car.

Shawn made it to the door first, but Gus pushed at him and followed him in, forcing Shawn to the middle, so that he ended up sitting with the police radio between his legs. Lassiter watched this display rather calmly, and then heaved a sigh.

"Remind me again why it is I'm with you?" Lassiter asked.

"You're holding out for my Explosion Gigantesca de Romance royalties checks," Shawn said. "I promised you a house on the beach and a cherry red Ferrari."

"That show has a daily budget of two hundred dollars," Gus said, pushing Shawn a little further away to settle in the seat. "The only way you're buying a Ferrari is if it's made by Matchbox."

Shawn adjusted one of his legs abruptly, and Gus let out a yelp of pain before slapping Shawn in the shoulder. Shawn moved to strike back and Lassiter caught his hand. "Make no mistake," Lassiter said, "I will shoot you both if you harm a single speck of finish on this car."

Lassiter released Shawn's hand and pulled out into the road, pushing his sunglasses on with one hand while he steered with the other. Shawn noted that he was putting on his game face, the one he used when he was about to go round up a suspect, or visit his mother.

Shawn moved uncomfortably, jarring Lassiter every few moments. "Okay, let's go over the plan," he said.

"What plan?" Gus asked.

"The 'how to survive dinner with Henry' plan," Shawn said.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm gonna be fine," Gus said. "Mr. Spencer likes me."

"Why do you think you're here?" Shawn asked. "You're the designated buffer. That and I really could use some of those anti-anxiety pill samples. Tonight will go much more smoothly if we crush them up in my father's food."

"I didn't bring any samples, Shawn," Gus snapped. "And I don't give them out to people intent on illicit activities." Gus smiled angelically at Lassiter. "I'm very careful with my samples."

"Just keep them out of my food, and we're fine," Lassiter told him gruffly.

"Focus, people," Shawn said. "We're going into the lion's den here."

"Shawn, you're a grown man," Gus said. "You need to stop being afraid of your father."

"Oh, like you're not afraid of him," Shawn said. "When he grabbed you by the ankle you were screaming bloody murder."

"That's out of context," Gus snapped. "I thought he was Pennywise."

"So let me get this straight," Shawn said. "I'm too old to be afraid of my father, but it's perfectly acceptable for you to still believe a killer clown lives in the sewers, intent on eating you alive?"

Gus didn't meet his eyes. "Yes," he said.

"That's ridiculous," Shawn told him. "And everyone's afraid of my father. Even Lassie."

"I'm not afraid of Henry," Lassiter said, as he pulled into the Spencer driveway.

"What's with all this denial?" Shawn asked. "It's okay to admit to fear. My dad's a scary guy. If you go in there unprepared it's going to get us all killed."

Gus rolled his eyes and got out of the car. "We're going to dinner, not to war."

Shawn followed him out. "That's what you think now," he said. "But you're just blinded by the thought of dessert. He'll probably murder us both, and then give you a cupcake so that you'll swear in court you didn't see a thing."

"Sounds good to me," Gus said. "I won't have to listen to you two bicker anymore, and I'll have a cupcake."

Lassiter took off his sunglasses. "Wait a second," he said. "You're complaining about me and Shawn bickering? The two of you haven't shut up since we picked you up."

"That's not bickering," Gus protested. "It's witty banter."

"He's right," Shawn said. "We bicker, and Gus and I banter. The difference is the sexual tension." He started up the porch, and went inside without knocking. "We're here!" he shouted. He started for the kitchen and then pulled to a dead stop, causing Gus to bang into him and Lassiter to pause a step short of doing the same thing.

"There's cupcakes," Shawn said nervously. "This is not a good omen."

Henry had a cupcake tree, with neatly decorated cupcakes sitting in each tier. He'd no doubt ordered it straight from the Martha Stewart catalogue. Gus's eyes grew huge and he started towards them, but Shawn held him back.

Henry entered the kitchen from the other side. "You're late," he said gruffly.

"Blame Gus," Shawn said. "He made me waste like three minutes convincing him to come."

"I thought tonight it was going to be just the happy couple," Henry said.

"So you can interrogate us?" Shawn asked. "It's going to be a little harder with a witness, isn't it?"

Henry grinned wryly. "What do you think the cupcakes are for? Help yourself, Gus."

"Thank you, Mr. Spencer," Gus said, disentangling himself from Shawn's grip to make a beeline for the cupcakes.

"I knew it!" Shawn shouted. "You're like an evil, baking genius! You've probably dosed the frosting with truth serum."

Henry crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen sink. "You're not going to distract me this time. We need to talk."

Lassiter signed and nodded. "I know we do," he said. "And I know you're worried about my intentions, you're welcome to ask me anything that you-"

"Not you, you I trust," Henry said, turning to look at Shawn. "You."

"Me?" Shawn said.

"Here I am, wasting all this time worrying about your love life, when I should be worrying about your life," Henry snapped. "I heard about what happened at the Graves mansion. What the hell were you thinking, Shawn? Don't you ever learn?"

"I don't think I like where this is going," Shawn said to Lassiter. "Say something mean and overbearing so he focuses his attention back on you."

Lassiter shook his head. "I don't want to interrupt," he said, raising his hands as he stepped out of the line of fire.

"I'm really starting to suspect you're doing it on purpose," Henry said, leaning into Shawn's space. "You've had as many guns pointed at you in three years as I have in thirty."

"They're not always pointed at me," Shawn protested. "Sometimes they're pointed at Gus."

"Why do you say that like it's better?" Gus demanded through a mouthful of cupcake.

"This has to stop, Shawn," Henry said. "You need to stop and think before you go putting in yourself in these situations. Enough is enough."

"Hold on," Shawn said, holding out his hands. "This is not the way this is supposed to go, you're supposed to be harassing Lassie, not me!"

Lassiter crossed his arms. "Well, he's got a point, you know, you do that," he said. "You put yourself in danger. You called me this time, and I'm glad that you did, but you should have called me the moment you figured it out. We could have gone to Eveline's together."

"See?" Henry snapped. "If you don't listen to me, at least listen to Lassiter."

"But I don't listen to either of you!" Shawn protested. "It's a vital part of my personality. Gus! Help me out here!"

Gus was carefully unwrapping his second cupcake. "You don't listen to me, either," he said helpfully.

Henry turned back to Lassiter. "I know my son's a handful, believe me, so I want to thank you for looking out for him," he said. "I don't even want to think what might have happened if you hadn't shown up."

"Nothing would have happened!" Shawn said indignantly. "I'd already disarmed her! Lassiter looked really cool and all, coming to the rescue, but-"

"No thanks necessary," Lassiter said, as though Shawn hadn't spoken. "Though it is kind of like my new full time job."

"But-" Shawn started.

"Hey, imagine having to raise him," Henry said. "He was already climbing out of his crib before he was two years old, and things haven't gotten any easier since."

"If anything, I imagine they've gotten worse," Lassiter agreed.

Shawn, resenting that he was being ignored, walked away and sat down beside Gus. He glared over at his father and Lassiter, who had started trading tips on how best to handle him. "They're getting along," he told Gus. "This is like my worst fear come to life."

"I thought you wanted them to get along," Gus said.

"I wanted them not to kill each other," Shawn said. "But this is worse. Much worse. They're going to be friends."

"It is a scary thought," Gus agreed. "Mr. Spencer and Lassiter, joining forces."

"My life as I know it is over, isn't it?" Shawn asked, slumping dejectedly.

"Here," Gus said. "Have a cupcake."

The End.

the unofficial soundtrack for this fic: family affair by mary j bilge, drag by placebo, i touch myself by the divinyls, goodnight moon by shivaree, the moth by aimee mann, all 'cause of you by the 88, i got nobody waiting for me by m.craft, bittersweet by jaren, for your entertainment by adam lambert, tell him by vonda shepard, everything's magic by angels & airewaves

bonus track: dreamer by uh huh her