FIC: Fifteen Kisses (3/3) - Carlton/Shawn - PG-13 - Psych
Title: Fifteen Kisses (3/3)
author: PookaSeraph
pairing: Carlton/Shawn
rating: PG-13 (some cussing, several amounts of implied sex)
disclaimer: Not mine, Never will be
summary: 15 unconnected (somewhat AU) ficlets about my favorite couple. The crux of each is 'how could they have hooked up this episode'.
notes: These fics do not follow on each other even though I'm posting them as one fic. This was my way of saying a final goodbye to season 1 and welcoming in season 2. Posted in three parts, MWF this week in honor of the new season! Some of these are fluffy, one or two are angsty, all but one has a kiss, some make 'relationships', some make 'hook ups', the point was variety. New Psych so soon! unbetaed b/c I didn't have time! (Will do it tomorrowish)
11. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, Oops, He's Dead
Shawn was far too nosey to let such a perfect opportunity pass him by. When the crowd thinned slightly, he slid to where that weird leprechaun was guarding the questionnaires and quickly slid Lassiter's out of the stack, pocketing it.
He headed out leaving Gus to give his future date some of the sweetness. Shawn ducked out before Jules had a chance to maybe bring up the questionnaire match thing again.
Shawn leaned against the wall outside, watching the various speed daters exit, some paired off others still alone.
Name, age, address, nothing Shawn didn't already know. Shawn scanned down the form. Hobbies: Golf, cop movies, historical reenactment, and apparently pottery, huh.
His idea of a prefect date was dinner, ice cream and a walk on the beach. Shawn had never really figured Lassiter for the beach type though.
The biggest shock came from the answer to the question of whether or not Lassiter considered himself a romantic. In Lassiter's crisp, precise penmen ship was written 'There is nothing more romantic than nervous flutter from the beginning of a relationship or the casual and comfortable familiarity when the relationship goes on'.
Shawn smiled, he had no idea that such semi-sweet, romantic sentiments lurked in that grumpy exterior.
Lassiter exited the bar and saw Shawn slouching against the wall.
"Any 'psychic readings', Spencer? Or were you too busy flirting with O'Hara?" Shawn shot a confused look towards Lassiter, wondering what he was talking about, and then remembering the 'perfect match' he and Jules apparently made. Shawn noticed the change in Lassiter's appearance then: tie removed, top button unbuttoned, the hint of salt and peppered chest hair showing through the parted collar.
Shawn swallowed, trying to convince his mind to do something other than catalogue the relaxed and almost open picture Lassiter presented. He tried to remember what he was supposed to be thinking.
"Nah, dating Jules would be like dating my sister, my very hot sister, but none the less, not cool. Maybe more like a cousin, since I don't have a sister ... Did the chicks dig the sternum bush?"
Lassiter pulled the collar of his shirt closed and Shawn mourned the loss of the view. Lassiter's face seemed to admit that Shawn had been right about the chest hair.
Shawn took a step closer to Lassiter, flirting with the edge of his personal space.
"I thought you weren't going to take any fashion tips from me."
Lassiter looked irritated by the reminder.
"Hey it's nice, man. You should ditch the jacket too, though."
Lassiter just sighed, leaning back against the same wall as Shawn, almost shoulder to shoulder.
"I don't think so, Spencer."
Shawn plucked up his courage and pounced. Placing a soft kiss at the corner of Lassiter's mouth.
"What the hell was that?" Lassiter squawked. He didn't leave and he didn't kick the crap out of Shawn and that was good enough for him.
"I can absolutely guarantee you that you will get laid if you take off that damn jacket."
Lassiter stood wide eyed for a few moments before kicking into action. He shucked his jacket, draping it over his arm and then leaned in to Shawn, claiming his mouth.
Shawn moaned, thrusting his tongue out to meet Lassiter's. He ran his fingers up through Lassiter's hair, trying to tease it out of the ridged order it seemed permanently locked in. He tugged at Lassiter's lip with his teeth and moaned softly when Lassiter returned the favor a few moments later.
Lassiter broke the kiss and Shawn rested his head back on the cool brick wall of Shenanigan's pub. His eyes were dilated, soft, panting breaths played with Shawn's hair and warmed his skin. Shawn reached up to fiddle with the top button of Lassiter's shirt.
"You gonna take me home now, Detective?"
* * *
12. Cloudy With a Chance of Murder
Shawn had to enlist the help of Henry, Buzz, Gus, and Hornstock to get the bike actually out of the station and back on to the road. Shawn waved them all thanks and took a moment to run his hands over handlebars and seat, becoming reacquainted. The days of the trial where Shawn had been without transportation had been tense at best and Shawn was finally able to relax in the knowledge his bike was back in his hands, temporarily safe from rogue meter maids.
He was about to head out driving, maybe head to the mall and get picked up by something cute, when he thought better of it. Lassiter had glowered and shooed him away when he'd tried to approach to give a grudging thank you about the bike.
Shawn's resolve to thank Lassiter had been cemented and so Shawn worked his way to where Lassiter had parked, pulling his bike in front of his car so Lassiter could not leave without running over the bike. Shawn then hopped up on the hood of Lassiter's Crown Vic and leaned back to take a nap.
"Spencer, what the hell are you doing here?" Shawn woke up to Lassiter's voice growling near his ear.
"Lassy!" Shawn sat up grinning at the detective. "I just wanted to thank you for getting my bike back."
"Don't think I won't write you a ticket for parking your bike like that."
"Dude, I just wanted to make sure you didn't leave."
"Parking your butt on the hood of my car would have been enough."
"I'll keep that in mind for next time!"
"There wont be a next time, Spencer."
"Come on! Let me give you a ride! I have two helmets, their even Section 27802 compliant."
"Section ... Spencer did you memorize the vehicle code?"
"The vehicle code is boring. Come on!" Shawn slid off the hood of the car and straddled the motorcycle. He pitched his voice lower, looking up through long lashes. "I promise it's the best ride you'll ever have."
Shawn's heart hammered in his chest. He really didn't want to get the shit beaten out of him, but he was tired of waiting to find out if Carlton could only be flirty and all over him when he was three sheets to the wind.
Shawn couldn't read the look on Lassiter's face, but it seemed the detective was considering the offer.
Eventually he held out his hand. Shawn was confused for a moment, but quickly realized what Lassiter wanted, handing over a helmet. Shawn retrieved his own helmet and fit it snugly on his head.
He turned to Lassiter who was obviously trying to make that last step towards getting himself on the bike. He climbed on to the bike, putting a few inches between himself and Shawn's back.
Shawn repositioned Lassiter's legs so they would be comfortable and then grabbed his arms and pulled them around his own waist. Shawn started up the motorcycle and Lassiter tightened his hold on Shawn.
Shawn took them on an easy spin around the city, not pushing his luck and terrifying his passenger. After a few minutes, Lassiter snaked a hand up under Shawn's shirt.
"You don't have to go easy on me," Lassiter shouted in his ear, just loud enough over the roar of the engine. Shawn made a beeline towards his apartment.
Shawn parked and practically jumped off his bike, waiting slightly impatiently for Lassiter to get with the program. Lassiter put the helmet down on the bike and Shawn grabbed it, leading towards his apartment. When Lassiter didn't follow quickly enough, Shawn grabbed at Lassiter's waist and began to pull him along by the belt.
Lassiter pushed Shawn through the door of his apartment. Shawn dropped the helmets carelessly while Lassiter pushed Shawn farther into the room. Shawn wound up with his back pressed against his couch, hips thrusting forward while Lassiter wrapped a hand around the back of Shawn's neck.
Lassiter brought his mouth to Shawn's and Shawn instantly opened his own mouth eager to meet Lassiter. The kiss was harsh. Lassiter claimed Shawn's mouth, his tongue plundering. Lassiter nipped Shawn's lip, clawed his fingers down Shawn's front, pushing and claiming and demanding.
Shawn grabbed at Lassiter's hips but then quickly thought better of it, instead unbuckling the detective's belt and dropping it to the floor. Lassiter grabbed the hem of Shawn's shirt pulling it up and off in one swift motion. He stopped kissing Shawn and instead began to trail kisses down Shawn's neck, towards his collar bone and then working lower.
"Ca-Carly, I'm supposed to be thanking you."
"I believe I was promised the best ride I'd ever have." Shawn was pretty sure Lassiter shouldn't be able to make that growling sound. That voice was doing delicious things to Shawn's dick and he was only too happy to give Lassiter anything he asked for.
"Coming right up, Detective."
* * *
13. Game, Set ... Muuurder?
Carlton had to admit he needed a break from Henry Spencer and his rampant fishing obsession. Carlton had been out with Henry three times over the last weekend but was beginning to think there was a such a thing as too much relaxation. The concept would have been anathema to his grandfather but Carlton really had never been one take it easy.
He hasn't exactly earned that leisure time either, he'd nearly let Deanna Sertis' attacker go free and convict and innocent man again. He tossed his fishing pole into the car and stared out at the view from the Spencers' back hard, ocean, sand and clear skies.
Carlton didn't even notice that he had zoned out slightly until he head the loud clunk sound Spencer made by hopping up on the hood of Carlton's car.
"Spencer, get off my car."
Spencer leaned back on the car, clearly getting comfortable.
"But you just said you were beginning to understand me better."
Carlton glowered at Spencer who proceeded to knit his fingers together behind his head, clearly not going anywhere.
"I think I understand you plenty, Spencer."
"Oh?" Spencer sat up, still smirking and still sitting on the hood of his car. "Go on, dazzle me, Detective, maybe you're psychic, too, huh?"
Carlton shook his head slightly. He supposed he could give it a shot, anything to get Spencer off his car. Anything that wasn't violence, Vick had been sadly very specific about Carlton not using as much violence against Spencer.
"Lets see." Carlton couldn't say he'd given a lot of thought to Spencer and his various psychological foibles, he could always guess. That's all Spencer seemed to do. Besides Carlton knew a little from when he'd investigated Spencer for the stereo robberies. "Only child, class clown, solid B- student. Your father wanted you to be a cop just like him, but you either didn't want to or just didn't have that sort of discipline. The fact that you can't get up at 6am suggests the latter. You never seem to want for female companionship, and yet somehow you graduated high school a virgin. Now you are a constant pain in my ass, mucking around in my cases, because you want your dad to love you even though you're a bit of a screw up at heart."
Shawn made a sort of hissing noise. "Don't quit your day job, Lassy. C- for the effort, though."
Carlton wasn't entirely sure why he cared. Maybe it was a chance to peel away one of those layers of bullshit that seemed to perpetually surround Spencer. Even Carlton's time with Henry had only been slightly illuminating, enough to tell that the younger Spencer hadn't exactly followed his father's plans for him.
"Let's start with the positives: class clown? Absolutely. I was a well known and well loved class distraction." Carlton wasn't surprised by that at all. "Only child, of course, very obvious. And Henry always wanted me to be a cop. And as I told you so many months ago when we met, I did receive my diploma before I got my first piece of ass. That, Detective, is where your insight ends."
If Spencer was to be believed, and Carlton wasn't sure he was, that certainly left a lot about Spencer that Carlton would never have figured. Carlton joined Spencer on this hood of his car, if Spencer was going to open his mouth and say something truthful, Carlton felt it was his duty to watch.
"I'm not sure I believe you that the rest is false," Carlton challenged.
"Oh, Carly, how little you know." Spencer grinned and brought a hand up where he started ticking off points on his fingers. "Let's start from the top. I was the class salutatorian, which is very difficult if you're a B student. I actually did want to be a cop until I was about sixteen and between track, soccer and football, as well as the dozens of clubs I was in, no one doubted my dedication. I can't sit back and not solve crimes, Detective, any more than you could not try to stop a robbery or just accept a case going cold. The fact that it's a pain in your ass is a delicious bonus." Spencer hopped off his car. "Good effort, though."
Spencer pulled his bike off the curb where it was - very illegally - parked. Carlton got off the hood of the car and headed over to his car door. He tried to sort out all the information Spencer had given him and Carlton found himself trudging through it all trying to figure out how he might confirm it, one way or the other.
Spencer was now on his bike, helmet in hand, and Carlton had the sudden urge to write him a ticket. Carlton realized one thing Spencer hadn't confirmed, it seemed silly, but he felt honor bound to know the answer.
"Spencer, you didn't say whether or not you never lack for female companionship."
"Oh, right." Spencer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Half points on that one."
"Half points?"
Spencer leaned his bike towards where Carlton was standing and kissed him on the cheek.
"I like male companionship, too."
Spencer had his helmet on and was heading down the road before Carlton had a moment to collect his thoughts.
* * *
14. Poker I Hardly Know Her
Carlton dropped the few boxes he'd packed up from his home in the corner of his hotel room, frustrated beyond words. It was getting later in the evening and so tomorrow he'd have to call his realtor, break his lease agreement, pay a lease penalty, find something new that fit his standards and pay to get his furniture moved.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch, but Carlton didn't feel like taking care of that for the moment, instead he pulled off his shirt and belt, trying to find something mindless to watch on television.
Instead of relaxing and mindless entertainment he found the televised local poker tournament which apparently explained Spencer's absence from the station for the last few days.
He watched the highlights as Spencer worked his way through several tables to an eventual one on one showdown. Carlton had to admit it was impressive and if hadn't already been certain Spencer was not psychic he would have had his faith tested and Spencer seemed to know exactly everyone else's hands and how to bluff and truth his way through to the finals.
Spencer then managed to prove that his competition for the finals was cheating and win the tournament by default.
Carlton considered it a sort of fitting irony that Spencer had won a quarter million dollars and caught a criminal for Carlton's birthday while Carlton has lost his house and generally had a shitty day.
Hunger was eventually winning the war against irritation and apathy and Carlton was wondering where he should go for dinner when their was a knock on his door.
Carlton didn't think his criminals would be stupid enough to follow him to his hotel but he wasn't going to take any chances, gun drawn, he headed towards the door.
"Who is it?" Carlton called through the door.
"Room service," came the call from the other side of the door. Carlton wasn't taking any chances, getting his weapon from the night stand before he went to check the door. After a few moments the voice continued. "ok, ok! It's Shawn. Don't shoot me please."
Carlton sighed, set his weapon back down and opened the door. Spencer stood in the door frame with beer, a plastic bag that smelled remarkably like chinese food, a thin file folder and a small box.
"How did you find me?"
Shawn shrugged. "Lassy, how long have you known me?"
Carlton shook his head, disbelieving. Spencer was dressed in his typical beach bum casual but Carlton was distracted by the fake psychic's presence. The man was frustratingly gorgeous and everyone, including Spencer, knew it. Right now, however, he was obviously just here to annoy Carlton, not drive him crazy.
"What do you want, Spencer?"
"I brought kung pow chicken and beer."
Carlton decided that the beer might almost be worth it and let Spencer in.
Spencer was a whirlwind of activity providing Carlton with beer, chopsticks and a plate piled high with food and sat down having made his own pile of food. Carlton found himself sitting across from Spencer and groping for a conversational topic.
"Are you going to take some sort of vacation with your ill gotten gains? Maybe get out of my hair for a week or two at least?"
"What ill gotten gains?"
"You were all over the sports network, winning that poker tournament."
"Lassy, you were watching me on TV!" Spencer sounded far too thrilled and Carlton took a long swig of his beer. "Actually, no. I won that money for a client. But I do get some sort of bye in to the World Poker Derby, free trip to Vegas."
"Well at least that's something." Carlton wondered what sort of circumstances made someone gamble for someone else's money. He hoped Spencer at least got a fee for his fancy playing.
"Yeah, I can't go though." Spencer sounded morose.
"Getting your hair done that weekend?"
"Nah, Henry wont let me."
"Aren't you a little old be to grounded, Spencer?"
"It's a house rule, no gambling for money, it's a misuse of my abilities."
Carlton was shocked for a moment. He'd never directly asked Henry Spencer if his son was psychic, figuring he would lie or tell a half truth to cover his son's ass, he'd never considered the idea that Henry actually did think his son was psychic. Of course, Spencer could be lying.
"So what do you gamble for then?"
"Pride -- Getting out of chores -- Clothes -- Sexual favors -- I won a yacht once."
"A yacht?"
"It was really little." Carlton resolved to never play poker with Spencer. "Oh! That reminds me." Spencer pulled out the folder he had brought with him. "Your agent will let you out of your lease, no penalty. I have also located fourteen condos and single family homes in your price range in desirable geographic locations. Jimmy McKinney has promised to talk to you first thing tomorrow morning." Spencer pointed to a real estate card clipped to the top of the folder. "I have also convinced the lovely Juliet to *not* try to help you in your quest for a new place to live."
Carlton spent a few minutes flipping through the assorted papers Spencer had provided. Two bedroom places, all located in very low crime, family oriented neighborhoods, some of them for rents well less than Carlton was currently paying.
The tip hadn't quite payed out yet, but even if they didn't pan out it was still quite a bit more than he had expected from Spencer.
"Thank you." Carlton had never thanked Spencer for help on a case but he thanked him now.
"Dude, no problem. Oh! Sherman's March dvds." Spencer handed over the gift wrapped package.
Carlton tried not to think too hard on the fact that Spencer had just given him one of the more thoughtful birthday gift and dinners he'd ever had. Minus losing his house he wasn't having that bad a birthday, even with Spencer's presence.
Carlton tried to figure out how to get rid of Spencer before the normalcy and the date-like nature of the evening made Carlton do something he would regret.
Spencer sprawled out in his chair finishing up his beer. Carlton caught himself staring, but at least Spencer hadn't noticed.
"I'm gonna get my ass out of here before I wear out my welcome. But I'm always happy to spread the birthday cheer!"
"Don't worry about it, Spencer, your ass certainly spread cheer." Carlton's brain froze. He couldn't believe he'd just said that. Spencer and his damn -- *presence*.
Spencer looked almost as shocked as Carlton felt right then. Carlton grasped about for something to say to defuse the situation and wishing he could blame the one beer for his dull edged, knowing i would be a lie. That was about when Carlton caught the slightly embarrassed flush across Spencer's otherwise tan cheeks. Shawn stood quickly, making a grab for the now empty bag he'd brought the chinese food in, he balled it up and sped towards the door.
"Spencer?" Spencer turned around, looking almost nervous. "Shawn?" Spencer flushed even deeper. "Look, uh, I'm --"
"Honored, thrilled, not interested, yeah I get it." Spencer's words came out in a rush and Carlton was trying to sift through them but Spencer just kept talking. "I'm glad your birthday turned out ok and I'm gonna -- I'm gonna go."
Carlton was still sorting through what Spencer had just implied by the time the younger man was half way out the door.
"Shawn, wait." He obviously didn't want to but Shawn waited, standing just inside the door. "You're slipping, you only got two out of three."
Carlton advanced slowly while Shawn seemed to be coming to realize what Carlton said. By the time he reached Shawn, the younger man had closed the door and was up against the wall obviously watching for Carlton's move.
Carlton kissed Shawn, light, soft and almost chaste. Shawn returned the kiss after only a split second. Carlton lost track of hands and lips and groins as the thought that he might somehow manage to upgrade this birthday to pretty damn good if he could maneuver Spencer to the vicinity of the bed.
That was about the time Shawn pulled away.
"I --" Shawn actually looked down at his shoes. Carlton was pretty sure he'd never seen Shawn so flustered, so unsure, and so lost for words. "I really could give you a fantastic birthday, Carlton."
Carlton closed his eyes, flustered by how sultry Spencer sounded. Carlton was unsure what Shawn wanted, if Shawn wanted him to ask for it, Carlton would gladly beg.
Eventually he looked Shawn in the eyes. He was leaning back against the door frame, his breathing was shallow, his eyes were dilated but he still looked nervous and uncertain.
"Do you still love your wife?" Shawn blurted it out, quickly, the way you said something you had to talk yourself into asking in the first place.
Carlton stepped back. He and Shawn didn't have the sort of relationship where he would answer that sort of question. Relationship. Shawn wasn't just here to offer something transient, it seemed.
Carlton leaned in again, kissed Shawn's temple.
"You should go home, Shawn. We'll have dinner tomorrow, talk. Thank you for the birthday."
Shawn nodded, clearly only half satisfied. Carlton kissed him fiercely, almost wishing he was the sort of bastard who would take advantage of what Shawn had offered for the night. Shawn left and Carlton had a moment alone, a moment to think.
He thought about Shawn as he rinsed away a hard day's work in the hotel shower and he thought about Shawn when crisp sheets scratched across bare legs and chest, but he had a clean conscience and a date with Shawn tomorrow.
Not to bad a birthday after all.
* * *
15. Scary Sherry: Bianca's Toast
Carlton finally righted the fortune from the cookie Spencer had thrown him.
'He feels the same way'
Carlton glared at the fortune as if it would somehow explain to him why it wanted to torture and taunt him. His crush on Spencer was inopportune and unfortunate and not reciprocated and to have the damn cookie say otherwise was not exactly enjoyable.
That Spencer came up and hopped on his desk only a few minutes later did not help matters.
"Sooo," Spencer dragged the word out, annoyingly. "I'm now the second to last human person you want to talk to at any given time?"
"The one in last had a heart attack so you might get bumped back down again should she die."
"Hey, progress is progress, I'm not picky."
Spencer made a grab for where the fortune was sitting on the other side of his desk, leaving Carlton with an eye full of Spencer's chest and his mind warring between hope and fear that Spencer would wind up back in his lap.
Carlton didn't bother to try to get the fortune back. Spencer was slightly quicker than him anyway and it would just make him more excited.
"We should do the 'in bed' thing," Spencer said excitedly.
Carlton sat in shock for a few moments, running through the implication of what Shawn had just said.
"Excuse me?!"
"Where you add 'in bed' to the end of your fortune and make it naughty," Spencer explained. Carlton felt only slightly better. Spencer finally read the fortune, not out loud thankfully.
At first Spencer had an amused look to his face, clearly thinking highly of himself for stealing the fortune. A few moments later, however, Spencer seemed to be considering and then glanced up at Carlton.
Carlton tried to change the look on his face, knowing he failed and it was probably still set part fear, part excitement, part hopeful. Spencer caught the whole thing and all of a sudden Carlton knew exactly what it felt like to have Shawn Spencer see your crime and rattle it off in loving detail.
Spencer checked the fortune, as though to make sure he'd read it properly and then turned back to Carlton, obviously reading the same expression there as well.
Spencer pressed the fortune up against Carlton's chest with one finger and then slowly slid it up under his holster, leaving it there. He leaned in, slightly conspiratorially.
"Oh yes." Carlton was actually half thrilled to hear Spencer's voice crack, and then turn breathy and low. "We should definitely do the in bed thing."
Spencer then hopped of his desk and headed back towards O'Hara and Guster, slightly rubbing his ass on the way. Carlton wasn't sure if the gesture was for Spencer's benefit or his own but he the last week was suddenly feeling worthwhile and he was more than ready for quitting time.
author: PookaSeraph
pairing: Carlton/Shawn
rating: PG-13 (some cussing, several amounts of implied sex)
disclaimer: Not mine, Never will be
summary: 15 unconnected (somewhat AU) ficlets about my favorite couple. The crux of each is 'how could they have hooked up this episode'.
notes: These fics do not follow on each other even though I'm posting them as one fic. This was my way of saying a final goodbye to season 1 and welcoming in season 2. Posted in three parts, MWF this week in honor of the new season! Some of these are fluffy, one or two are angsty, all but one has a kiss, some make 'relationships', some make 'hook ups', the point was variety. New Psych so soon! unbetaed b/c I didn't have time! (Will do it tomorrowish)
11. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, Oops, He's Dead
Shawn was far too nosey to let such a perfect opportunity pass him by. When the crowd thinned slightly, he slid to where that weird leprechaun was guarding the questionnaires and quickly slid Lassiter's out of the stack, pocketing it.
He headed out leaving Gus to give his future date some of the sweetness. Shawn ducked out before Jules had a chance to maybe bring up the questionnaire match thing again.
Shawn leaned against the wall outside, watching the various speed daters exit, some paired off others still alone.
Name, age, address, nothing Shawn didn't already know. Shawn scanned down the form. Hobbies: Golf, cop movies, historical reenactment, and apparently pottery, huh.
His idea of a prefect date was dinner, ice cream and a walk on the beach. Shawn had never really figured Lassiter for the beach type though.
The biggest shock came from the answer to the question of whether or not Lassiter considered himself a romantic. In Lassiter's crisp, precise penmen ship was written 'There is nothing more romantic than nervous flutter from the beginning of a relationship or the casual and comfortable familiarity when the relationship goes on'.
Shawn smiled, he had no idea that such semi-sweet, romantic sentiments lurked in that grumpy exterior.
Lassiter exited the bar and saw Shawn slouching against the wall.
"Any 'psychic readings', Spencer? Or were you too busy flirting with O'Hara?" Shawn shot a confused look towards Lassiter, wondering what he was talking about, and then remembering the 'perfect match' he and Jules apparently made. Shawn noticed the change in Lassiter's appearance then: tie removed, top button unbuttoned, the hint of salt and peppered chest hair showing through the parted collar.
Shawn swallowed, trying to convince his mind to do something other than catalogue the relaxed and almost open picture Lassiter presented. He tried to remember what he was supposed to be thinking.
"Nah, dating Jules would be like dating my sister, my very hot sister, but none the less, not cool. Maybe more like a cousin, since I don't have a sister ... Did the chicks dig the sternum bush?"
Lassiter pulled the collar of his shirt closed and Shawn mourned the loss of the view. Lassiter's face seemed to admit that Shawn had been right about the chest hair.
Shawn took a step closer to Lassiter, flirting with the edge of his personal space.
"I thought you weren't going to take any fashion tips from me."
Lassiter looked irritated by the reminder.
"Hey it's nice, man. You should ditch the jacket too, though."
Lassiter just sighed, leaning back against the same wall as Shawn, almost shoulder to shoulder.
"I don't think so, Spencer."
Shawn plucked up his courage and pounced. Placing a soft kiss at the corner of Lassiter's mouth.
"What the hell was that?" Lassiter squawked. He didn't leave and he didn't kick the crap out of Shawn and that was good enough for him.
"I can absolutely guarantee you that you will get laid if you take off that damn jacket."
Lassiter stood wide eyed for a few moments before kicking into action. He shucked his jacket, draping it over his arm and then leaned in to Shawn, claiming his mouth.
Shawn moaned, thrusting his tongue out to meet Lassiter's. He ran his fingers up through Lassiter's hair, trying to tease it out of the ridged order it seemed permanently locked in. He tugged at Lassiter's lip with his teeth and moaned softly when Lassiter returned the favor a few moments later.
Lassiter broke the kiss and Shawn rested his head back on the cool brick wall of Shenanigan's pub. His eyes were dilated, soft, panting breaths played with Shawn's hair and warmed his skin. Shawn reached up to fiddle with the top button of Lassiter's shirt.
"You gonna take me home now, Detective?"
* * *
12. Cloudy With a Chance of Murder
Shawn had to enlist the help of Henry, Buzz, Gus, and Hornstock to get the bike actually out of the station and back on to the road. Shawn waved them all thanks and took a moment to run his hands over handlebars and seat, becoming reacquainted. The days of the trial where Shawn had been without transportation had been tense at best and Shawn was finally able to relax in the knowledge his bike was back in his hands, temporarily safe from rogue meter maids.
He was about to head out driving, maybe head to the mall and get picked up by something cute, when he thought better of it. Lassiter had glowered and shooed him away when he'd tried to approach to give a grudging thank you about the bike.
Shawn's resolve to thank Lassiter had been cemented and so Shawn worked his way to where Lassiter had parked, pulling his bike in front of his car so Lassiter could not leave without running over the bike. Shawn then hopped up on the hood of Lassiter's Crown Vic and leaned back to take a nap.
"Spencer, what the hell are you doing here?" Shawn woke up to Lassiter's voice growling near his ear.
"Lassy!" Shawn sat up grinning at the detective. "I just wanted to thank you for getting my bike back."
"Don't think I won't write you a ticket for parking your bike like that."
"Dude, I just wanted to make sure you didn't leave."
"Parking your butt on the hood of my car would have been enough."
"I'll keep that in mind for next time!"
"There wont be a next time, Spencer."
"Come on! Let me give you a ride! I have two helmets, their even Section 27802 compliant."
"Section ... Spencer did you memorize the vehicle code?"
"The vehicle code is boring. Come on!" Shawn slid off the hood of the car and straddled the motorcycle. He pitched his voice lower, looking up through long lashes. "I promise it's the best ride you'll ever have."
Shawn's heart hammered in his chest. He really didn't want to get the shit beaten out of him, but he was tired of waiting to find out if Carlton could only be flirty and all over him when he was three sheets to the wind.
Shawn couldn't read the look on Lassiter's face, but it seemed the detective was considering the offer.
Eventually he held out his hand. Shawn was confused for a moment, but quickly realized what Lassiter wanted, handing over a helmet. Shawn retrieved his own helmet and fit it snugly on his head.
He turned to Lassiter who was obviously trying to make that last step towards getting himself on the bike. He climbed on to the bike, putting a few inches between himself and Shawn's back.
Shawn repositioned Lassiter's legs so they would be comfortable and then grabbed his arms and pulled them around his own waist. Shawn started up the motorcycle and Lassiter tightened his hold on Shawn.
Shawn took them on an easy spin around the city, not pushing his luck and terrifying his passenger. After a few minutes, Lassiter snaked a hand up under Shawn's shirt.
"You don't have to go easy on me," Lassiter shouted in his ear, just loud enough over the roar of the engine. Shawn made a beeline towards his apartment.
Shawn parked and practically jumped off his bike, waiting slightly impatiently for Lassiter to get with the program. Lassiter put the helmet down on the bike and Shawn grabbed it, leading towards his apartment. When Lassiter didn't follow quickly enough, Shawn grabbed at Lassiter's waist and began to pull him along by the belt.
Lassiter pushed Shawn through the door of his apartment. Shawn dropped the helmets carelessly while Lassiter pushed Shawn farther into the room. Shawn wound up with his back pressed against his couch, hips thrusting forward while Lassiter wrapped a hand around the back of Shawn's neck.
Lassiter brought his mouth to Shawn's and Shawn instantly opened his own mouth eager to meet Lassiter. The kiss was harsh. Lassiter claimed Shawn's mouth, his tongue plundering. Lassiter nipped Shawn's lip, clawed his fingers down Shawn's front, pushing and claiming and demanding.
Shawn grabbed at Lassiter's hips but then quickly thought better of it, instead unbuckling the detective's belt and dropping it to the floor. Lassiter grabbed the hem of Shawn's shirt pulling it up and off in one swift motion. He stopped kissing Shawn and instead began to trail kisses down Shawn's neck, towards his collar bone and then working lower.
"Ca-Carly, I'm supposed to be thanking you."
"I believe I was promised the best ride I'd ever have." Shawn was pretty sure Lassiter shouldn't be able to make that growling sound. That voice was doing delicious things to Shawn's dick and he was only too happy to give Lassiter anything he asked for.
"Coming right up, Detective."
* * *
13. Game, Set ... Muuurder?
Carlton had to admit he needed a break from Henry Spencer and his rampant fishing obsession. Carlton had been out with Henry three times over the last weekend but was beginning to think there was a such a thing as too much relaxation. The concept would have been anathema to his grandfather but Carlton really had never been one take it easy.
He hasn't exactly earned that leisure time either, he'd nearly let Deanna Sertis' attacker go free and convict and innocent man again. He tossed his fishing pole into the car and stared out at the view from the Spencers' back hard, ocean, sand and clear skies.
Carlton didn't even notice that he had zoned out slightly until he head the loud clunk sound Spencer made by hopping up on the hood of Carlton's car.
"Spencer, get off my car."
Spencer leaned back on the car, clearly getting comfortable.
"But you just said you were beginning to understand me better."
Carlton glowered at Spencer who proceeded to knit his fingers together behind his head, clearly not going anywhere.
"I think I understand you plenty, Spencer."
"Oh?" Spencer sat up, still smirking and still sitting on the hood of his car. "Go on, dazzle me, Detective, maybe you're psychic, too, huh?"
Carlton shook his head slightly. He supposed he could give it a shot, anything to get Spencer off his car. Anything that wasn't violence, Vick had been sadly very specific about Carlton not using as much violence against Spencer.
"Lets see." Carlton couldn't say he'd given a lot of thought to Spencer and his various psychological foibles, he could always guess. That's all Spencer seemed to do. Besides Carlton knew a little from when he'd investigated Spencer for the stereo robberies. "Only child, class clown, solid B- student. Your father wanted you to be a cop just like him, but you either didn't want to or just didn't have that sort of discipline. The fact that you can't get up at 6am suggests the latter. You never seem to want for female companionship, and yet somehow you graduated high school a virgin. Now you are a constant pain in my ass, mucking around in my cases, because you want your dad to love you even though you're a bit of a screw up at heart."
Shawn made a sort of hissing noise. "Don't quit your day job, Lassy. C- for the effort, though."
Carlton wasn't entirely sure why he cared. Maybe it was a chance to peel away one of those layers of bullshit that seemed to perpetually surround Spencer. Even Carlton's time with Henry had only been slightly illuminating, enough to tell that the younger Spencer hadn't exactly followed his father's plans for him.
"Let's start with the positives: class clown? Absolutely. I was a well known and well loved class distraction." Carlton wasn't surprised by that at all. "Only child, of course, very obvious. And Henry always wanted me to be a cop. And as I told you so many months ago when we met, I did receive my diploma before I got my first piece of ass. That, Detective, is where your insight ends."
If Spencer was to be believed, and Carlton wasn't sure he was, that certainly left a lot about Spencer that Carlton would never have figured. Carlton joined Spencer on this hood of his car, if Spencer was going to open his mouth and say something truthful, Carlton felt it was his duty to watch.
"I'm not sure I believe you that the rest is false," Carlton challenged.
"Oh, Carly, how little you know." Spencer grinned and brought a hand up where he started ticking off points on his fingers. "Let's start from the top. I was the class salutatorian, which is very difficult if you're a B student. I actually did want to be a cop until I was about sixteen and between track, soccer and football, as well as the dozens of clubs I was in, no one doubted my dedication. I can't sit back and not solve crimes, Detective, any more than you could not try to stop a robbery or just accept a case going cold. The fact that it's a pain in your ass is a delicious bonus." Spencer hopped off his car. "Good effort, though."
Spencer pulled his bike off the curb where it was - very illegally - parked. Carlton got off the hood of the car and headed over to his car door. He tried to sort out all the information Spencer had given him and Carlton found himself trudging through it all trying to figure out how he might confirm it, one way or the other.
Spencer was now on his bike, helmet in hand, and Carlton had the sudden urge to write him a ticket. Carlton realized one thing Spencer hadn't confirmed, it seemed silly, but he felt honor bound to know the answer.
"Spencer, you didn't say whether or not you never lack for female companionship."
"Oh, right." Spencer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Half points on that one."
"Half points?"
Spencer leaned his bike towards where Carlton was standing and kissed him on the cheek.
"I like male companionship, too."
Spencer had his helmet on and was heading down the road before Carlton had a moment to collect his thoughts.
* * *
14. Poker I Hardly Know Her
Carlton dropped the few boxes he'd packed up from his home in the corner of his hotel room, frustrated beyond words. It was getting later in the evening and so tomorrow he'd have to call his realtor, break his lease agreement, pay a lease penalty, find something new that fit his standards and pay to get his furniture moved.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch, but Carlton didn't feel like taking care of that for the moment, instead he pulled off his shirt and belt, trying to find something mindless to watch on television.
Instead of relaxing and mindless entertainment he found the televised local poker tournament which apparently explained Spencer's absence from the station for the last few days.
He watched the highlights as Spencer worked his way through several tables to an eventual one on one showdown. Carlton had to admit it was impressive and if hadn't already been certain Spencer was not psychic he would have had his faith tested and Spencer seemed to know exactly everyone else's hands and how to bluff and truth his way through to the finals.
Spencer then managed to prove that his competition for the finals was cheating and win the tournament by default.
Carlton considered it a sort of fitting irony that Spencer had won a quarter million dollars and caught a criminal for Carlton's birthday while Carlton has lost his house and generally had a shitty day.
Hunger was eventually winning the war against irritation and apathy and Carlton was wondering where he should go for dinner when their was a knock on his door.
Carlton didn't think his criminals would be stupid enough to follow him to his hotel but he wasn't going to take any chances, gun drawn, he headed towards the door.
"Who is it?" Carlton called through the door.
"Room service," came the call from the other side of the door. Carlton wasn't taking any chances, getting his weapon from the night stand before he went to check the door. After a few moments the voice continued. "ok, ok! It's Shawn. Don't shoot me please."
Carlton sighed, set his weapon back down and opened the door. Spencer stood in the door frame with beer, a plastic bag that smelled remarkably like chinese food, a thin file folder and a small box.
"How did you find me?"
Shawn shrugged. "Lassy, how long have you known me?"
Carlton shook his head, disbelieving. Spencer was dressed in his typical beach bum casual but Carlton was distracted by the fake psychic's presence. The man was frustratingly gorgeous and everyone, including Spencer, knew it. Right now, however, he was obviously just here to annoy Carlton, not drive him crazy.
"What do you want, Spencer?"
"I brought kung pow chicken and beer."
Carlton decided that the beer might almost be worth it and let Spencer in.
Spencer was a whirlwind of activity providing Carlton with beer, chopsticks and a plate piled high with food and sat down having made his own pile of food. Carlton found himself sitting across from Spencer and groping for a conversational topic.
"Are you going to take some sort of vacation with your ill gotten gains? Maybe get out of my hair for a week or two at least?"
"What ill gotten gains?"
"You were all over the sports network, winning that poker tournament."
"Lassy, you were watching me on TV!" Spencer sounded far too thrilled and Carlton took a long swig of his beer. "Actually, no. I won that money for a client. But I do get some sort of bye in to the World Poker Derby, free trip to Vegas."
"Well at least that's something." Carlton wondered what sort of circumstances made someone gamble for someone else's money. He hoped Spencer at least got a fee for his fancy playing.
"Yeah, I can't go though." Spencer sounded morose.
"Getting your hair done that weekend?"
"Nah, Henry wont let me."
"Aren't you a little old be to grounded, Spencer?"
"It's a house rule, no gambling for money, it's a misuse of my abilities."
Carlton was shocked for a moment. He'd never directly asked Henry Spencer if his son was psychic, figuring he would lie or tell a half truth to cover his son's ass, he'd never considered the idea that Henry actually did think his son was psychic. Of course, Spencer could be lying.
"So what do you gamble for then?"
"Pride -- Getting out of chores -- Clothes -- Sexual favors -- I won a yacht once."
"A yacht?"
"It was really little." Carlton resolved to never play poker with Spencer. "Oh! That reminds me." Spencer pulled out the folder he had brought with him. "Your agent will let you out of your lease, no penalty. I have also located fourteen condos and single family homes in your price range in desirable geographic locations. Jimmy McKinney has promised to talk to you first thing tomorrow morning." Spencer pointed to a real estate card clipped to the top of the folder. "I have also convinced the lovely Juliet to *not* try to help you in your quest for a new place to live."
Carlton spent a few minutes flipping through the assorted papers Spencer had provided. Two bedroom places, all located in very low crime, family oriented neighborhoods, some of them for rents well less than Carlton was currently paying.
The tip hadn't quite payed out yet, but even if they didn't pan out it was still quite a bit more than he had expected from Spencer.
"Thank you." Carlton had never thanked Spencer for help on a case but he thanked him now.
"Dude, no problem. Oh! Sherman's March dvds." Spencer handed over the gift wrapped package.
Carlton tried not to think too hard on the fact that Spencer had just given him one of the more thoughtful birthday gift and dinners he'd ever had. Minus losing his house he wasn't having that bad a birthday, even with Spencer's presence.
Carlton tried to figure out how to get rid of Spencer before the normalcy and the date-like nature of the evening made Carlton do something he would regret.
Spencer sprawled out in his chair finishing up his beer. Carlton caught himself staring, but at least Spencer hadn't noticed.
"I'm gonna get my ass out of here before I wear out my welcome. But I'm always happy to spread the birthday cheer!"
"Don't worry about it, Spencer, your ass certainly spread cheer." Carlton's brain froze. He couldn't believe he'd just said that. Spencer and his damn -- *presence*.
Spencer looked almost as shocked as Carlton felt right then. Carlton grasped about for something to say to defuse the situation and wishing he could blame the one beer for his dull edged, knowing i would be a lie. That was about when Carlton caught the slightly embarrassed flush across Spencer's otherwise tan cheeks. Shawn stood quickly, making a grab for the now empty bag he'd brought the chinese food in, he balled it up and sped towards the door.
"Spencer?" Spencer turned around, looking almost nervous. "Shawn?" Spencer flushed even deeper. "Look, uh, I'm --"
"Honored, thrilled, not interested, yeah I get it." Spencer's words came out in a rush and Carlton was trying to sift through them but Spencer just kept talking. "I'm glad your birthday turned out ok and I'm gonna -- I'm gonna go."
Carlton was still sorting through what Spencer had just implied by the time the younger man was half way out the door.
"Shawn, wait." He obviously didn't want to but Shawn waited, standing just inside the door. "You're slipping, you only got two out of three."
Carlton advanced slowly while Shawn seemed to be coming to realize what Carlton said. By the time he reached Shawn, the younger man had closed the door and was up against the wall obviously watching for Carlton's move.
Carlton kissed Shawn, light, soft and almost chaste. Shawn returned the kiss after only a split second. Carlton lost track of hands and lips and groins as the thought that he might somehow manage to upgrade this birthday to pretty damn good if he could maneuver Spencer to the vicinity of the bed.
That was about the time Shawn pulled away.
"I --" Shawn actually looked down at his shoes. Carlton was pretty sure he'd never seen Shawn so flustered, so unsure, and so lost for words. "I really could give you a fantastic birthday, Carlton."
Carlton closed his eyes, flustered by how sultry Spencer sounded. Carlton was unsure what Shawn wanted, if Shawn wanted him to ask for it, Carlton would gladly beg.
Eventually he looked Shawn in the eyes. He was leaning back against the door frame, his breathing was shallow, his eyes were dilated but he still looked nervous and uncertain.
"Do you still love your wife?" Shawn blurted it out, quickly, the way you said something you had to talk yourself into asking in the first place.
Carlton stepped back. He and Shawn didn't have the sort of relationship where he would answer that sort of question. Relationship. Shawn wasn't just here to offer something transient, it seemed.
Carlton leaned in again, kissed Shawn's temple.
"You should go home, Shawn. We'll have dinner tomorrow, talk. Thank you for the birthday."
Shawn nodded, clearly only half satisfied. Carlton kissed him fiercely, almost wishing he was the sort of bastard who would take advantage of what Shawn had offered for the night. Shawn left and Carlton had a moment alone, a moment to think.
He thought about Shawn as he rinsed away a hard day's work in the hotel shower and he thought about Shawn when crisp sheets scratched across bare legs and chest, but he had a clean conscience and a date with Shawn tomorrow.
Not to bad a birthday after all.
* * *
15. Scary Sherry: Bianca's Toast
Carlton finally righted the fortune from the cookie Spencer had thrown him.
'He feels the same way'
Carlton glared at the fortune as if it would somehow explain to him why it wanted to torture and taunt him. His crush on Spencer was inopportune and unfortunate and not reciprocated and to have the damn cookie say otherwise was not exactly enjoyable.
That Spencer came up and hopped on his desk only a few minutes later did not help matters.
"Sooo," Spencer dragged the word out, annoyingly. "I'm now the second to last human person you want to talk to at any given time?"
"The one in last had a heart attack so you might get bumped back down again should she die."
"Hey, progress is progress, I'm not picky."
Spencer made a grab for where the fortune was sitting on the other side of his desk, leaving Carlton with an eye full of Spencer's chest and his mind warring between hope and fear that Spencer would wind up back in his lap.
Carlton didn't bother to try to get the fortune back. Spencer was slightly quicker than him anyway and it would just make him more excited.
"We should do the 'in bed' thing," Spencer said excitedly.
Carlton sat in shock for a few moments, running through the implication of what Shawn had just said.
"Excuse me?!"
"Where you add 'in bed' to the end of your fortune and make it naughty," Spencer explained. Carlton felt only slightly better. Spencer finally read the fortune, not out loud thankfully.
At first Spencer had an amused look to his face, clearly thinking highly of himself for stealing the fortune. A few moments later, however, Spencer seemed to be considering and then glanced up at Carlton.
Carlton tried to change the look on his face, knowing he failed and it was probably still set part fear, part excitement, part hopeful. Spencer caught the whole thing and all of a sudden Carlton knew exactly what it felt like to have Shawn Spencer see your crime and rattle it off in loving detail.
Spencer checked the fortune, as though to make sure he'd read it properly and then turned back to Carlton, obviously reading the same expression there as well.
Spencer pressed the fortune up against Carlton's chest with one finger and then slowly slid it up under his holster, leaving it there. He leaned in, slightly conspiratorially.
"Oh yes." Carlton was actually half thrilled to hear Spencer's voice crack, and then turn breathy and low. "We should definitely do the in bed thing."
Spencer then hopped of his desk and headed back towards O'Hara and Guster, slightly rubbing his ass on the way. Carlton wasn't sure if the gesture was for Spencer's benefit or his own but he the last week was suddenly feeling worthwhile and he was more than ready for quitting time.