FIC: "Right Place, Wrong Time" by Regann - PG-13/R - Shawn/Lassiter (19/21)
Title: Right Place, Wrong Time (19/21)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Sorry about the wait! RL sucks?
Summary: 17-year-old Shawn has a fake ID burning a hole in his pocket, a college party to crash, and a mission to stop being the only virgin in his senior class. Unfortunately, there's this big-earred, good-doing grad student by the name of Carlton who catches him in the act. The unfair nature of cosmic humor being what it is, thus begins something that'll come back to haunt them both over ten years later -- when an adult Shawn Spencer decides to give psychic investigation a try.
Past Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
Right Place, Wrong Time (Part 19)
After the rather ignoble end to their first acquaintance, Shawn figured that there wasn't much else that Carlton could do to hurt him any more than he had with that breakup speech -- until he woke up all alone the morning after Lassy's birthday.
There was a note, at least; Shawn found it on the breakfast bar that separated his living room from his kitchen, starkly white against the dark countertop. He spared a moment to wonder where Carly had found the paper in his place and to admire the detective's crisp, bold penmanship before he finally read the short letter. Apparently, Lassy had enjoyed himself the night before but he had a lot to do and a lot to think about and thought that they should take a few days to "put events in perspective." But he did promise to call in a day or two and had at least signed his name.
It was like he was seventeen years old again: Shawn spent the morning moping around his house, pretending to straighten up and do other useful things when all he really did was think unhappy thoughts. At first, he was just pissed at Carlton for taking off before he woke up but the more he thought about it, the more his anger faded. As much as he hated to admit it, taking a few days wasn't such a bad idea; Lassiter wasn't the only one who needed to do some thinking.
Because it had seemed like such a distant goal, Shawn hadn't thought much about what would happen after he actually got Carly in bed again. But he'd done it and now the future loomed ominously because he wasn't even sure of what he wanted, let alone of what might actually happen. The simple fact -- one that left him uncomfortable even if it was the god's honest truth -- was that there had to be something else coming. Shawn might've been perfectly willing to just sleep with everyone else in the world but this thing was different and even he knew that there was more to it than that.
It was a scary, sobering realization for Shawn since he'd never taken the time to care in the past. Oh, he'd liked almost everyone he'd ever slept with but it had always been a wispy, transient kind of feeling, the same way he'd profess to liking a bubblegum pop song on the radio, one forgotten as soon as the radio station went to a commercial break. But the one thing he'd never been able to do was forget Carlton and now it was so far past possible he didn't want to think about it. And there was no way that Shawn would be satisfied with just one night of great sex, or even a string of them -- another surprising twist.
It was all adding up to him wanting something that suspiciously sounded like a relationship and that was another huge first for Shawn and that was scary as hell for someone who'd always considered a second date too much complication for his life.
By the time Gus came to pick him up for work that morning, Shawn was actually grateful for the few days' grace that Carlton had asked for.
"You didn't call," Gus said accusingly as soon as he arrived.
Shawn rolled his eyes. "You said you wouldn't answer," he reminded him.
"Like you don't know better," Gus replied.
It didn't take his best friend long to figure out that Shawn was a little off that morning; as soon as they reached the Psych office, Gus was bursting to ask the questions that must've been running through his head the entire drive over.
"What's up with you?"
Shawn sighed and sank into his desk chair. "Stuff," he said evasively.
That only earned him a suspicious look and a frown. "Stuff with Lassiter?"
Shawn deliberated for a minute and then decided on the truth. "Yes."
Gus sighed, frown deepening. "What happened?"
"He spent the night," Shawn told him bluntly. "What do you think?"
His friend must've sensed his unusual reluctance to talk about his sexual exploits because Gus stopped asking questions after that, even though Shawn caught him staring at him a few times over the course of the day. Shawn ignored him and busied himself with whatever ridiculous task he could find which whiled away the morning hours. After lunch, he had to deal with a visit from Henry who came by to chat about the end of the Peterson case one more time.
Later that afternoon, Kiki -- the young daughter of Mr. Soong, the owner of a small Chinese restaurant from around the corner -- came by, begging him to use his psychic skills to find her missing puppy. With Gus gone, nothing to do and a soft spot for kids with pets, Shawn agreed and ended up spending several hours traipsing up and down the beach with a ten-year-old in search of her six-month-old Labrador before they located him begging for scraps from a hot dog vendor who was glad to see them lead the dog away.
Several days passed in the same kind of lazy directionless way, though Shawn didn't find himself looking for lost dogs or doing free cases anymore. Halloween came and went without too much fanfare from either Gus or Shawn, though the discount sales on November 1st roused Shawn enough that he made a sweep of them and filled the office with half-eaten bags of every kind of candy imaginable.
Mostly, he loitered around his office and surfed the web, idly finding himself drawn to travel sites for far-off places like Buenos Aires and Sun City and Amsterdam -- a sure sign he was growing more antsy by the day. He took it as a sign that he needed some fresh air and headed out to do a little beach combing.
When he finally made it back to the office, Gus had returned from working at his real job and was giving him those looks again, the same ones that had been irritating him for almost a week now.
"What?" he asked, feeling those dark eyes boring into the back of his head while he watched TV.
"You really like him, don't you?" Gus asked, far too seriously for Shawn's liking.
"Cato? Yes, he's my favorite '60s superhero sidekick, way cooler than Robin's pansy ass."
But Gus wouldn't be distracted. "I mean Lassiter, Shawn. You knew that."
"Maybe I just don't want to have this conversation again," he sniped.
Gus sighed. "What if I have something different to say?"
"You mean, other than This is a bad idea, Shawn! or Don't do this! or Have you lost your mind? or something else along those lines?" Shawn feigned surprise.
"Actually, yes," Gus admitted. He paused, as if searching for words. "Look, I think we've established how I feel about this."
"We have."
"But you know that...I'd learn to be cool with it," Gus continued. "If it was really what you wanted to do. I'd -- deal."
"And what brought on this change of heart, Burton?"
"What do you think?" Gus asked. "Look at how you've been since -- you know. It's like we're in high school again and you just stopped going to classes because you're so hung up on the guy."
"Oh, this is completely different," he disagreed even though he didn't quite believe it himself.
"Yeah, right." Gus gave him a look that said the same thing. "It's exactly the same and you know it."
Shawn shrugged.
"I'm just saying...if you think you can actually make this work, go for it. It's not like you haven't been in love with the guy for years."
Shawn winced. "Can we not use the L-word, Gus?" he asked. It was a terrifying word, one he'd never used in connection with himself and anyone other than his mother and Gus -- and the latter had only been in his head.
"The L-wo...you mean, love?" Gus asked. At Shawn's uncomfortable expression, he laughed, shaking his head. "Get over it, man. I've been with you since the beginning and if it ain't love, I don't know what it is."
The certainty in Gus's voice made Shawn antsy all over again and he suddenly felt the need to clean out the office refrigerator -- an impulse he'd never had in his whole life before that moment -- if only to escape Gus's gloating, knowing expression. He settled for bouncing a balled-up piece of paper from his legal pad off Gus's forehead, grinning when his friend glared at him from around his laptop screen.
The tension around the office eased considerably after their conversation, so much so that things started to feel normal again, with the notable exception that Shawn was still avoiding the police station. Carlton had called him once but he'd chickened out of answering. Lassy hadn't bothered leaving him a message and Shawn hadn't dared to return the call blind. He decided to wait until he was absolutely sure of what he wanted to do before he actually spoke to Carlton again.
Recovering his equilibrium and needing less time for his thoughts, the lack of cases to solve was starting to bother him -- one of the reasons that he was absurdly glad to see Juliet in her undercover get-up at the office when he and Gus returned from their racquetball game. And while he did find Juliet channeling her Mary Lou character rather alarming, he was glad that it was a case in which Lassy was not involved.
The fact that it involved Scary Sherry and Wispy Sunny Pines almost made him change his mind but Shawn sucked it up as best he could -- little girl screaming and panicking aside -- and dedicated himself to helping Jules solve her solo case. He was glad he did, too, when his investigation made him realize that Juliet was in serious trouble from the admittedly clever machinations of Alice Bundy, the bereaved best friend. If he hadn't been so focused on Jules's life or death situation, he might've been hurt by Carlton's very irritated and very rude greeting when he called him for backup.
Shawn was a little more forgiving of him the next day when he heard the whole story about what Lassiter had been dealing with during his temporary reassignment. He wasn't sure if it was funny or sad that Monroe and several other detectives had expected Lassy and Goochberg to hit it off famously; from what he heard, Goochberg was a pretty vile woman and, while Shawn acknowledged that Carlton had his foibles, he was usually decent, honest and fair, if a little -- rigid, traditional, tense and a few other stodgy things.
Maybe it was that undeniable urge to come to Lassy's defense in the face of the office gossip or the immediacy of the danger that Juliet had been in from Alice or maybe it was even because Shawn figured things out better when he didn't have time to think about them; whatever it was, Shawn was surprised to realize that he'd come to several conclusions sometime between "Mary Lou" showing up at his office and he, Gus and Jules' celebratory lunch at the station.
He didn't want to admit it but part of it was also because of his now-days-old conversation with Gus. No matter what Shawn might have said to the contrary, Gus was one of the very few people whose opinions actually mattered to him. Separation might've been a factor as well and, though Shawn admitted that he'd never given much credence to the idea that absence made the heart grow fonder, his was certainly done good by his first real view of Carlton after so long apart.
It felt -- nice, he decided, to know what he wanted and how he wanted to get it but it was a revelation that could've come at a better time, especially since it was the middle of the day, he was sitting in the middle of lunch with his buddies and Lassiter was in the middle of a meeting with the Chief.
Even the end of said meeting didn't change the fact that there was no way he could talk to Carlton any time soon and that, for someone who was as impulsive as Shawn, was like torture, especially since he still wasn't even certain of what Carly would be saying back.
Shawn just hoped that a smile and the fortune cookie could say what he couldn't.
**
Long after he'd eaten the sugary crisps of cookie and stuffed the tiny slip of paper into his jacket pocket, the fortune in the cookie that Shawn had given stayed on Carlton's mind.
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
If he believed in fortune telling any more than he did in Shawn's supposed psychic ability, he might've considered it a sign; but since he didn't put credence in any sort of supernatural crap, he only considered it a very uncomfortable coincidence. It was exactly the kind of coincidence that gave people shivers up their spines and turned normally logical people into the types to read their horoscopes or avoid black cats but a coincidence nonetheless.
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
It was still very -- coincidental.
As if his day hadn't come with enough nasty surprises. Carlton was genuinely horrified and mystified that anyone who knew him would think that he had anything in common with that nightmare known as Goochberg. It seemed inconceivable that people who'd known him for years on the force could see any similarity between them. To know that they did -- that the Chief, Karen, with whom he'd thought he'd developed a rather friendly working relationship -- was a blow. Carlton had always known that his professionalism could be off-putting to his coworkers but he'd never thought it was quite so detrimental.
But as much as that realization did actually disturb him, Carlton knew he was using it as yet another reason to avoid thinking about Shawn -- ironic, because he still managed to think about Shawn constantly when he wasn't thinking about him. As much as he hated to admit it, Carlton had panicked when he'd woken up next to Shawn the day after his birthday -- just as he'd feared he would. It hadn't only been because he'd made the exact mistake he'd been trying to avoid, either.
Carlton had been to enough sessions of therapy to know that good sex never solved anything unless bad sex had been the problem in the first place. In all other cases, sex -- good or bad -- could help or hinder equally and tended to make already complicated situations even messier. None of that changed the fact, though, that sleeping with Shawn had illuminated a few things for Carlton and that had been the crux of his panic.
More than any conversation he'd had with Shawn or himself, something about that night had finally made it feel real -- that Shawn was Spencer was Shawn, that these two people were one in the same, one annoying but endearing teenager who'd charmed him out of his good sense who'd grown up into an equally annoying but endearing man who continuously drove him out of his right mind.
Once again Carlton had promised himself that he'd take the time to figure it out, only to studiously ignore it. Shawn's silence had only reinforced the excuses he'd come up with on his own. After all, it wasn't as if Shawn had shown much interest past wanting to get him in bed. Now that he'd accomplished that, Carlton didn't find it all that difficult to believe that Shawn Spencer was probably done with him on a personal level.
Except...
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
Carlton didn't quite believe that, as much as it would've made his life easier. Because if there was no future, then there was nothing to decide, except for how to stay away from Spencer as much as possible. And, in some part of him, Carlton wished it was that easy, that he could write off months and years of longing and go back to being the regular stiff who was pining for his ex-wife and failed marriage.
The truth was he hadn't given much thought to Jenny since the anniversary of their separation and even then Shawn had been on his mind.
He could keep ignoring it, or continue to write it off, or make the rational decision he had so long ago and not pursue it, or...
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
For the third time in as many weeks, Carlton found himself standing in front of Shawn's apartment. He'd delayed the inevitable by stopping to shower and change after his shift but he still ended up right where he wasn't sure he wanted to be.
Given the amount of courage and determination he'd had to drum up to knock on Shawn's door, it was a great disappointment to Carlton when no one answered. Sighing, and faintly disbelieving of his luck, Carlton left the building, on auto-pilot as he started his car and drove toward his new house.
It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, having to move out of his house, but he still preferred his old home to the new one. Still, he'd been lucky to find something relatively similar about a mile closer to the station. It wasn't ideal but it would do.
As he rounded the corner and slowed to pull into his driveway, his eyes widened at the sight of someone sitting -- lounging -- on his front steps. Even if he wasn't close enough to make out all the features of the lounger's face, he'd have recognized the slouch anywhere.
"Shawn," he said, loud enough to be heard, as he climbed out of his car. "What are you doing here?"
"Shouldn't that be obvious?" Shawn asked, perched up on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him.
Carlton conceded the point. "Maybe the better question would be how do you know where I live?"
"Psychic, remember?" Shawn reminded him.
Carlton snorted, coming to rest at the bottom of the steps, just about where Shawn's sneakered feet rested. "Hardly."
He pretended to be offended. "That hurts, Carly." Carlton just glared until Shawn gave up his silence. "Okay, fine. I wanted to -- well, talk, I guess."
To say that he was surprised was an understatement. "Talk?" he echoed, the nervousness churning back up inside him.
"Or we could just have sex again," Shawn offered quickly.
Part of him wanted to accept very badly but Carlton knew that it wouldn't resolve anything; falling into bed together had never resolved any of the issues that existed between them. "Talking -- sounds good."
Shawn sighed, looking entirely too dejected for someone who'd just been agreed with. "Somehow, I knew you were going to say that."
Carlton was about to say something about Shawn's obvious reluctance to talk even though it was his idea when Shawn shifted, drawing himself up into a sitting position -- and giving Carlton a clear view of Shawn's shirt.
Whitesnake.
"Interesting wardrobe choice," he noted dryly, acknowledging his own recollections of the past, ones that Shawn seemed to think he'd forgotten wholesale.
Shawn looked down at his shirt before throwing Carlton a weak smile. "Call it a good luck charm. It was very lucky the last time I wore, if you recall." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Carlton didn't know if Shawn realized that he'd unwittingly confirmed what Guster had told him about the shirt -- a fact that made something like guilt crawl through his veins. If Guster had been right about that, was he also right about the damage that Carlton had inflicted on Shawn? "You really haven't worn it since then?"
Shawn shrugged. "It's a good thing I kept my girlish figure, isn't it?"
"So Guster was right." he said quietly, automatically, for himself and not Shawn.
Shawn heard, though, and his eyebrows rose questioningly. "About?"
He hadn't meant to break his confidence with Guster about their conversation. "He said..."
"What?" Shawn wanted to know, a note of alarm in his voice. "When?"
Carlton didn't want to get into what he and Guster had actually discussed but he did have some questions about the past, some of which had been raised by that same conversation. He decided to risk it. "He implied...that I hurt you...in the past."
Shawn turned away, ducking his head so Carlton could no longer read his face. "And he said this when?"
"A few weeks ago."
After a moment, Shawn turned back to face him, shaking his head. "It looks like old Gussypants has had a lot to say lately," he snorted.
Carlton shot him a confused look, one that asked for clarification.
Shawn complied, waving a hand as if to dismiss Guster's words. "He had some stuff to say to me, too. Some of it was about you -- not that he's ever really been silent on that subject."
Carlton couldn't help the alarm that he felt rising, alarm similar to what Shawn must've been feeling a moment earlier. "Care to fill me in?"
Shawn gave him one of those unreadable looks. "Not particularly."
Carlton rolled his eyes at Shawn's petulant tone. "You do know that 'talking' isn't just moving your mouth and letting sounds fall out, right? There's usually an actual point to what's being said."
"Which is why I prefer sex," Shawn explained.
"Shawn..." Carlton said warningly, leaning against the porch railing.
"Therapy really has ruined you," he declared but caved after another pointed look. "Okay, fine." Instead of launching into an answer, Shawn paused, eyes fixed on some point out toward the horizon where the sun was starting to set behind the quiet houses of the neighborhood. Carlton waited in silence.
Shawn's face was unnaturally serious, almost blank. "Gus seems to think that I'm in love."
Carlton wasn't sure what to say but his heart was hammering in his chest. "Oh?"
"...and have been since I was, oh, seventeen." Shawn continued, as if he was discussing the weather. "Which is rich coming from him since he once said I couldn't commit to someone long enough for the beer buzz to wear off. Shows how much he knows."
Not certain on how to untangle the mess of information and half-truths in what Shawn had said -- nor sure of how he felt about them -- Carlton slowly eased himself down on the step beside him. "And that means...what?"
"Exactly," Shawn told him, the laughter in his voice shaky and forced.
There was only a few inches separating them; Carlton had to fight the urge to reach out and use touch to bridge the awkward communication gap between them but he knew where it would lead. Everything he'd had in his head when he'd knocked on Shawn's door had disappeared with the reality and he was groping to find his words. "So Guster's mistaken then?"
There was no immediate answer and Carlton found himself waiting again. He risked a glance at Shawn who was still watching the setting sun with the kind of dedication he rarely displayed, complete with furrowed brow and unnatural stillness. Carlton couldn't help but remember sitting on another porch with Shawn, doing much the same thing and he wondered how much more coincidence he could experience before he had to start thinking of better explanations.
Finally Shawn spoke. "Gus is a pretty smart guy, you know."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Perceptive, too. A little gullible but generally sharp."
"Which means?"
"It means..." Shawn broke his gaze on the sky and glanced toward Carlton, their eyes meeting for a moment before Shawn looked away again, eyes falling to his feet. "...what you think it means, I guess."
Carlton almost couldn't fathom the implications of Shawn's roundabout admission. That Shawn was in love with him, had been for all those years -- it was unbelievable. But then again, it wasn't; hadn't he been haunted by it himself, unable to forget it, even after Jenny? Only Shawn re-entering his life had shaken those memories' hold -- but that had been for reasons he hadn't fully understood at the time.
He'd never done casual, not even when he'd been a clueless 25-year-old who'd let himself make a series of bad decisions that had ended with Shawn's broken heart. That had been his biggest fear when he'd made the same bad decisions all those years later and had realized that what he felt for Spawn Spencer went beyond simple physical attraction because Spencer had seemed to do nothing but engage in endless flirtations and one-night stands.
But maybe that had been because -- of him.
There were so many things that Carlton wanted to say and do at that moment but he settled for something safe. "I think it means that Guster's right."
"Yeah?" Shawn glanced his way, the ghost of his usual charming smile playing on his lips.
"Yeah."
"I think it means that Gus has seen The Way We Were way too many times but, you know, whatever floats your boat, Carly."
"And I think it means that Guster's sharp enough to be right about other things, too," Carlton ventured. "Which means I owe you an apology -- several, in fact."
"No need to go all sappy on me," Shawn hastened to say, finally turning to face him, hand raised in a staying motion. "That's all in the past now."
Carlton saw the echoes of the eager, painfully hopeful teenager in Shawn's obviously-learned nonchalance. "I still owe them to you," he said. "But...thanks."
Shawn grinned, throwing his head back in what could only be called a thoroughly flirtatious manner. "Well, all part of my ingenious and nefarious plan to keep astounding you."
He smiled in response. "You don't have to try nearly so hard."
"You think this is me trying hard?" Shawn asked. "You ain't seen nothing yet!"
Carlton snorted, shaking his head. "I was afraid of that."
"Speaking of seeing..." Shawn glanced around, then leaned in close. Carlton mimicked the movement until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Unless you want to put on a show for the neighbors, I think we outta continue this conversation inside."
"Oh?"
He nodded. "And by 'continue,' I mean have sex, of course."
Carlton was already standing. "Of course."
Shawn scrambled to his feet, deliberately brushing against Carlton as he headed up the stairs. "Come on," he urged, gesturing at the doors with both hands. "Open sesame!"
At that moment, Carlton didn't care who saw him lean over and kiss that smug smile off that self-satisfied face, especially given the whimper it coaxed from Shawn's throat.
When he pulled away, Carlton realized that Shawn had somehow managed to steal his keys from him. "Shawn!"
"You were taking too long," he laughed, as he deftly unlocked the locks on the heavy front door. When the tumblers released, he pushed the door open with an air of supreme satisfaction, a glazed, intent look in his eyes. "I believe we have some christening to do."
**
To Be Continued...
Author: Regann
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Sorry about the wait! RL sucks?
Summary: 17-year-old Shawn has a fake ID burning a hole in his pocket, a college party to crash, and a mission to stop being the only virgin in his senior class. Unfortunately, there's this big-earred, good-doing grad student by the name of Carlton who catches him in the act. The unfair nature of cosmic humor being what it is, thus begins something that'll come back to haunt them both over ten years later -- when an adult Shawn Spencer decides to give psychic investigation a try.
Past Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
Right Place, Wrong Time (Part 19)
After the rather ignoble end to their first acquaintance, Shawn figured that there wasn't much else that Carlton could do to hurt him any more than he had with that breakup speech -- until he woke up all alone the morning after Lassy's birthday.
There was a note, at least; Shawn found it on the breakfast bar that separated his living room from his kitchen, starkly white against the dark countertop. He spared a moment to wonder where Carly had found the paper in his place and to admire the detective's crisp, bold penmanship before he finally read the short letter. Apparently, Lassy had enjoyed himself the night before but he had a lot to do and a lot to think about and thought that they should take a few days to "put events in perspective." But he did promise to call in a day or two and had at least signed his name.
It was like he was seventeen years old again: Shawn spent the morning moping around his house, pretending to straighten up and do other useful things when all he really did was think unhappy thoughts. At first, he was just pissed at Carlton for taking off before he woke up but the more he thought about it, the more his anger faded. As much as he hated to admit it, taking a few days wasn't such a bad idea; Lassiter wasn't the only one who needed to do some thinking.
Because it had seemed like such a distant goal, Shawn hadn't thought much about what would happen after he actually got Carly in bed again. But he'd done it and now the future loomed ominously because he wasn't even sure of what he wanted, let alone of what might actually happen. The simple fact -- one that left him uncomfortable even if it was the god's honest truth -- was that there had to be something else coming. Shawn might've been perfectly willing to just sleep with everyone else in the world but this thing was different and even he knew that there was more to it than that.
It was a scary, sobering realization for Shawn since he'd never taken the time to care in the past. Oh, he'd liked almost everyone he'd ever slept with but it had always been a wispy, transient kind of feeling, the same way he'd profess to liking a bubblegum pop song on the radio, one forgotten as soon as the radio station went to a commercial break. But the one thing he'd never been able to do was forget Carlton and now it was so far past possible he didn't want to think about it. And there was no way that Shawn would be satisfied with just one night of great sex, or even a string of them -- another surprising twist.
It was all adding up to him wanting something that suspiciously sounded like a relationship and that was another huge first for Shawn and that was scary as hell for someone who'd always considered a second date too much complication for his life.
By the time Gus came to pick him up for work that morning, Shawn was actually grateful for the few days' grace that Carlton had asked for.
"You didn't call," Gus said accusingly as soon as he arrived.
Shawn rolled his eyes. "You said you wouldn't answer," he reminded him.
"Like you don't know better," Gus replied.
It didn't take his best friend long to figure out that Shawn was a little off that morning; as soon as they reached the Psych office, Gus was bursting to ask the questions that must've been running through his head the entire drive over.
"What's up with you?"
Shawn sighed and sank into his desk chair. "Stuff," he said evasively.
That only earned him a suspicious look and a frown. "Stuff with Lassiter?"
Shawn deliberated for a minute and then decided on the truth. "Yes."
Gus sighed, frown deepening. "What happened?"
"He spent the night," Shawn told him bluntly. "What do you think?"
His friend must've sensed his unusual reluctance to talk about his sexual exploits because Gus stopped asking questions after that, even though Shawn caught him staring at him a few times over the course of the day. Shawn ignored him and busied himself with whatever ridiculous task he could find which whiled away the morning hours. After lunch, he had to deal with a visit from Henry who came by to chat about the end of the Peterson case one more time.
Later that afternoon, Kiki -- the young daughter of Mr. Soong, the owner of a small Chinese restaurant from around the corner -- came by, begging him to use his psychic skills to find her missing puppy. With Gus gone, nothing to do and a soft spot for kids with pets, Shawn agreed and ended up spending several hours traipsing up and down the beach with a ten-year-old in search of her six-month-old Labrador before they located him begging for scraps from a hot dog vendor who was glad to see them lead the dog away.
Several days passed in the same kind of lazy directionless way, though Shawn didn't find himself looking for lost dogs or doing free cases anymore. Halloween came and went without too much fanfare from either Gus or Shawn, though the discount sales on November 1st roused Shawn enough that he made a sweep of them and filled the office with half-eaten bags of every kind of candy imaginable.
Mostly, he loitered around his office and surfed the web, idly finding himself drawn to travel sites for far-off places like Buenos Aires and Sun City and Amsterdam -- a sure sign he was growing more antsy by the day. He took it as a sign that he needed some fresh air and headed out to do a little beach combing.
When he finally made it back to the office, Gus had returned from working at his real job and was giving him those looks again, the same ones that had been irritating him for almost a week now.
"What?" he asked, feeling those dark eyes boring into the back of his head while he watched TV.
"You really like him, don't you?" Gus asked, far too seriously for Shawn's liking.
"Cato? Yes, he's my favorite '60s superhero sidekick, way cooler than Robin's pansy ass."
But Gus wouldn't be distracted. "I mean Lassiter, Shawn. You knew that."
"Maybe I just don't want to have this conversation again," he sniped.
Gus sighed. "What if I have something different to say?"
"You mean, other than This is a bad idea, Shawn! or Don't do this! or Have you lost your mind? or something else along those lines?" Shawn feigned surprise.
"Actually, yes," Gus admitted. He paused, as if searching for words. "Look, I think we've established how I feel about this."
"We have."
"But you know that...I'd learn to be cool with it," Gus continued. "If it was really what you wanted to do. I'd -- deal."
"And what brought on this change of heart, Burton?"
"What do you think?" Gus asked. "Look at how you've been since -- you know. It's like we're in high school again and you just stopped going to classes because you're so hung up on the guy."
"Oh, this is completely different," he disagreed even though he didn't quite believe it himself.
"Yeah, right." Gus gave him a look that said the same thing. "It's exactly the same and you know it."
Shawn shrugged.
"I'm just saying...if you think you can actually make this work, go for it. It's not like you haven't been in love with the guy for years."
Shawn winced. "Can we not use the L-word, Gus?" he asked. It was a terrifying word, one he'd never used in connection with himself and anyone other than his mother and Gus -- and the latter had only been in his head.
"The L-wo...you mean, love?" Gus asked. At Shawn's uncomfortable expression, he laughed, shaking his head. "Get over it, man. I've been with you since the beginning and if it ain't love, I don't know what it is."
The certainty in Gus's voice made Shawn antsy all over again and he suddenly felt the need to clean out the office refrigerator -- an impulse he'd never had in his whole life before that moment -- if only to escape Gus's gloating, knowing expression. He settled for bouncing a balled-up piece of paper from his legal pad off Gus's forehead, grinning when his friend glared at him from around his laptop screen.
The tension around the office eased considerably after their conversation, so much so that things started to feel normal again, with the notable exception that Shawn was still avoiding the police station. Carlton had called him once but he'd chickened out of answering. Lassy hadn't bothered leaving him a message and Shawn hadn't dared to return the call blind. He decided to wait until he was absolutely sure of what he wanted to do before he actually spoke to Carlton again.
Recovering his equilibrium and needing less time for his thoughts, the lack of cases to solve was starting to bother him -- one of the reasons that he was absurdly glad to see Juliet in her undercover get-up at the office when he and Gus returned from their racquetball game. And while he did find Juliet channeling her Mary Lou character rather alarming, he was glad that it was a case in which Lassy was not involved.
The fact that it involved Scary Sherry and Wispy Sunny Pines almost made him change his mind but Shawn sucked it up as best he could -- little girl screaming and panicking aside -- and dedicated himself to helping Jules solve her solo case. He was glad he did, too, when his investigation made him realize that Juliet was in serious trouble from the admittedly clever machinations of Alice Bundy, the bereaved best friend. If he hadn't been so focused on Jules's life or death situation, he might've been hurt by Carlton's very irritated and very rude greeting when he called him for backup.
Shawn was a little more forgiving of him the next day when he heard the whole story about what Lassiter had been dealing with during his temporary reassignment. He wasn't sure if it was funny or sad that Monroe and several other detectives had expected Lassy and Goochberg to hit it off famously; from what he heard, Goochberg was a pretty vile woman and, while Shawn acknowledged that Carlton had his foibles, he was usually decent, honest and fair, if a little -- rigid, traditional, tense and a few other stodgy things.
Maybe it was that undeniable urge to come to Lassy's defense in the face of the office gossip or the immediacy of the danger that Juliet had been in from Alice or maybe it was even because Shawn figured things out better when he didn't have time to think about them; whatever it was, Shawn was surprised to realize that he'd come to several conclusions sometime between "Mary Lou" showing up at his office and he, Gus and Jules' celebratory lunch at the station.
He didn't want to admit it but part of it was also because of his now-days-old conversation with Gus. No matter what Shawn might have said to the contrary, Gus was one of the very few people whose opinions actually mattered to him. Separation might've been a factor as well and, though Shawn admitted that he'd never given much credence to the idea that absence made the heart grow fonder, his was certainly done good by his first real view of Carlton after so long apart.
It felt -- nice, he decided, to know what he wanted and how he wanted to get it but it was a revelation that could've come at a better time, especially since it was the middle of the day, he was sitting in the middle of lunch with his buddies and Lassiter was in the middle of a meeting with the Chief.
Even the end of said meeting didn't change the fact that there was no way he could talk to Carlton any time soon and that, for someone who was as impulsive as Shawn, was like torture, especially since he still wasn't even certain of what Carly would be saying back.
Shawn just hoped that a smile and the fortune cookie could say what he couldn't.
**
Long after he'd eaten the sugary crisps of cookie and stuffed the tiny slip of paper into his jacket pocket, the fortune in the cookie that Shawn had given stayed on Carlton's mind.
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
If he believed in fortune telling any more than he did in Shawn's supposed psychic ability, he might've considered it a sign; but since he didn't put credence in any sort of supernatural crap, he only considered it a very uncomfortable coincidence. It was exactly the kind of coincidence that gave people shivers up their spines and turned normally logical people into the types to read their horoscopes or avoid black cats but a coincidence nonetheless.
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
It was still very -- coincidental.
As if his day hadn't come with enough nasty surprises. Carlton was genuinely horrified and mystified that anyone who knew him would think that he had anything in common with that nightmare known as Goochberg. It seemed inconceivable that people who'd known him for years on the force could see any similarity between them. To know that they did -- that the Chief, Karen, with whom he'd thought he'd developed a rather friendly working relationship -- was a blow. Carlton had always known that his professionalism could be off-putting to his coworkers but he'd never thought it was quite so detrimental.
But as much as that realization did actually disturb him, Carlton knew he was using it as yet another reason to avoid thinking about Shawn -- ironic, because he still managed to think about Shawn constantly when he wasn't thinking about him. As much as he hated to admit it, Carlton had panicked when he'd woken up next to Shawn the day after his birthday -- just as he'd feared he would. It hadn't only been because he'd made the exact mistake he'd been trying to avoid, either.
Carlton had been to enough sessions of therapy to know that good sex never solved anything unless bad sex had been the problem in the first place. In all other cases, sex -- good or bad -- could help or hinder equally and tended to make already complicated situations even messier. None of that changed the fact, though, that sleeping with Shawn had illuminated a few things for Carlton and that had been the crux of his panic.
More than any conversation he'd had with Shawn or himself, something about that night had finally made it feel real -- that Shawn was Spencer was Shawn, that these two people were one in the same, one annoying but endearing teenager who'd charmed him out of his good sense who'd grown up into an equally annoying but endearing man who continuously drove him out of his right mind.
Once again Carlton had promised himself that he'd take the time to figure it out, only to studiously ignore it. Shawn's silence had only reinforced the excuses he'd come up with on his own. After all, it wasn't as if Shawn had shown much interest past wanting to get him in bed. Now that he'd accomplished that, Carlton didn't find it all that difficult to believe that Shawn Spencer was probably done with him on a personal level.
Except...
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
Carlton didn't quite believe that, as much as it would've made his life easier. Because if there was no future, then there was nothing to decide, except for how to stay away from Spencer as much as possible. And, in some part of him, Carlton wished it was that easy, that he could write off months and years of longing and go back to being the regular stiff who was pining for his ex-wife and failed marriage.
The truth was he hadn't given much thought to Jenny since the anniversary of their separation and even then Shawn had been on his mind.
He could keep ignoring it, or continue to write it off, or make the rational decision he had so long ago and not pursue it, or...
The heart is wiser than the intellect.
For the third time in as many weeks, Carlton found himself standing in front of Shawn's apartment. He'd delayed the inevitable by stopping to shower and change after his shift but he still ended up right where he wasn't sure he wanted to be.
Given the amount of courage and determination he'd had to drum up to knock on Shawn's door, it was a great disappointment to Carlton when no one answered. Sighing, and faintly disbelieving of his luck, Carlton left the building, on auto-pilot as he started his car and drove toward his new house.
It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, having to move out of his house, but he still preferred his old home to the new one. Still, he'd been lucky to find something relatively similar about a mile closer to the station. It wasn't ideal but it would do.
As he rounded the corner and slowed to pull into his driveway, his eyes widened at the sight of someone sitting -- lounging -- on his front steps. Even if he wasn't close enough to make out all the features of the lounger's face, he'd have recognized the slouch anywhere.
"Shawn," he said, loud enough to be heard, as he climbed out of his car. "What are you doing here?"
"Shouldn't that be obvious?" Shawn asked, perched up on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him.
Carlton conceded the point. "Maybe the better question would be how do you know where I live?"
"Psychic, remember?" Shawn reminded him.
Carlton snorted, coming to rest at the bottom of the steps, just about where Shawn's sneakered feet rested. "Hardly."
He pretended to be offended. "That hurts, Carly." Carlton just glared until Shawn gave up his silence. "Okay, fine. I wanted to -- well, talk, I guess."
To say that he was surprised was an understatement. "Talk?" he echoed, the nervousness churning back up inside him.
"Or we could just have sex again," Shawn offered quickly.
Part of him wanted to accept very badly but Carlton knew that it wouldn't resolve anything; falling into bed together had never resolved any of the issues that existed between them. "Talking -- sounds good."
Shawn sighed, looking entirely too dejected for someone who'd just been agreed with. "Somehow, I knew you were going to say that."
Carlton was about to say something about Shawn's obvious reluctance to talk even though it was his idea when Shawn shifted, drawing himself up into a sitting position -- and giving Carlton a clear view of Shawn's shirt.
Whitesnake.
"Interesting wardrobe choice," he noted dryly, acknowledging his own recollections of the past, ones that Shawn seemed to think he'd forgotten wholesale.
Shawn looked down at his shirt before throwing Carlton a weak smile. "Call it a good luck charm. It was very lucky the last time I wore, if you recall." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Carlton didn't know if Shawn realized that he'd unwittingly confirmed what Guster had told him about the shirt -- a fact that made something like guilt crawl through his veins. If Guster had been right about that, was he also right about the damage that Carlton had inflicted on Shawn? "You really haven't worn it since then?"
Shawn shrugged. "It's a good thing I kept my girlish figure, isn't it?"
"So Guster was right." he said quietly, automatically, for himself and not Shawn.
Shawn heard, though, and his eyebrows rose questioningly. "About?"
He hadn't meant to break his confidence with Guster about their conversation. "He said..."
"What?" Shawn wanted to know, a note of alarm in his voice. "When?"
Carlton didn't want to get into what he and Guster had actually discussed but he did have some questions about the past, some of which had been raised by that same conversation. He decided to risk it. "He implied...that I hurt you...in the past."
Shawn turned away, ducking his head so Carlton could no longer read his face. "And he said this when?"
"A few weeks ago."
After a moment, Shawn turned back to face him, shaking his head. "It looks like old Gussypants has had a lot to say lately," he snorted.
Carlton shot him a confused look, one that asked for clarification.
Shawn complied, waving a hand as if to dismiss Guster's words. "He had some stuff to say to me, too. Some of it was about you -- not that he's ever really been silent on that subject."
Carlton couldn't help the alarm that he felt rising, alarm similar to what Shawn must've been feeling a moment earlier. "Care to fill me in?"
Shawn gave him one of those unreadable looks. "Not particularly."
Carlton rolled his eyes at Shawn's petulant tone. "You do know that 'talking' isn't just moving your mouth and letting sounds fall out, right? There's usually an actual point to what's being said."
"Which is why I prefer sex," Shawn explained.
"Shawn..." Carlton said warningly, leaning against the porch railing.
"Therapy really has ruined you," he declared but caved after another pointed look. "Okay, fine." Instead of launching into an answer, Shawn paused, eyes fixed on some point out toward the horizon where the sun was starting to set behind the quiet houses of the neighborhood. Carlton waited in silence.
Shawn's face was unnaturally serious, almost blank. "Gus seems to think that I'm in love."
Carlton wasn't sure what to say but his heart was hammering in his chest. "Oh?"
"...and have been since I was, oh, seventeen." Shawn continued, as if he was discussing the weather. "Which is rich coming from him since he once said I couldn't commit to someone long enough for the beer buzz to wear off. Shows how much he knows."
Not certain on how to untangle the mess of information and half-truths in what Shawn had said -- nor sure of how he felt about them -- Carlton slowly eased himself down on the step beside him. "And that means...what?"
"Exactly," Shawn told him, the laughter in his voice shaky and forced.
There was only a few inches separating them; Carlton had to fight the urge to reach out and use touch to bridge the awkward communication gap between them but he knew where it would lead. Everything he'd had in his head when he'd knocked on Shawn's door had disappeared with the reality and he was groping to find his words. "So Guster's mistaken then?"
There was no immediate answer and Carlton found himself waiting again. He risked a glance at Shawn who was still watching the setting sun with the kind of dedication he rarely displayed, complete with furrowed brow and unnatural stillness. Carlton couldn't help but remember sitting on another porch with Shawn, doing much the same thing and he wondered how much more coincidence he could experience before he had to start thinking of better explanations.
Finally Shawn spoke. "Gus is a pretty smart guy, you know."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Perceptive, too. A little gullible but generally sharp."
"Which means?"
"It means..." Shawn broke his gaze on the sky and glanced toward Carlton, their eyes meeting for a moment before Shawn looked away again, eyes falling to his feet. "...what you think it means, I guess."
Carlton almost couldn't fathom the implications of Shawn's roundabout admission. That Shawn was in love with him, had been for all those years -- it was unbelievable. But then again, it wasn't; hadn't he been haunted by it himself, unable to forget it, even after Jenny? Only Shawn re-entering his life had shaken those memories' hold -- but that had been for reasons he hadn't fully understood at the time.
He'd never done casual, not even when he'd been a clueless 25-year-old who'd let himself make a series of bad decisions that had ended with Shawn's broken heart. That had been his biggest fear when he'd made the same bad decisions all those years later and had realized that what he felt for Spawn Spencer went beyond simple physical attraction because Spencer had seemed to do nothing but engage in endless flirtations and one-night stands.
But maybe that had been because -- of him.
There were so many things that Carlton wanted to say and do at that moment but he settled for something safe. "I think it means that Guster's right."
"Yeah?" Shawn glanced his way, the ghost of his usual charming smile playing on his lips.
"Yeah."
"I think it means that Gus has seen The Way We Were way too many times but, you know, whatever floats your boat, Carly."
"And I think it means that Guster's sharp enough to be right about other things, too," Carlton ventured. "Which means I owe you an apology -- several, in fact."
"No need to go all sappy on me," Shawn hastened to say, finally turning to face him, hand raised in a staying motion. "That's all in the past now."
Carlton saw the echoes of the eager, painfully hopeful teenager in Shawn's obviously-learned nonchalance. "I still owe them to you," he said. "But...thanks."
Shawn grinned, throwing his head back in what could only be called a thoroughly flirtatious manner. "Well, all part of my ingenious and nefarious plan to keep astounding you."
He smiled in response. "You don't have to try nearly so hard."
"You think this is me trying hard?" Shawn asked. "You ain't seen nothing yet!"
Carlton snorted, shaking his head. "I was afraid of that."
"Speaking of seeing..." Shawn glanced around, then leaned in close. Carlton mimicked the movement until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Unless you want to put on a show for the neighbors, I think we outta continue this conversation inside."
"Oh?"
He nodded. "And by 'continue,' I mean have sex, of course."
Carlton was already standing. "Of course."
Shawn scrambled to his feet, deliberately brushing against Carlton as he headed up the stairs. "Come on," he urged, gesturing at the doors with both hands. "Open sesame!"
At that moment, Carlton didn't care who saw him lean over and kiss that smug smile off that self-satisfied face, especially given the whimper it coaxed from Shawn's throat.
When he pulled away, Carlton realized that Shawn had somehow managed to steal his keys from him. "Shawn!"
"You were taking too long," he laughed, as he deftly unlocked the locks on the heavy front door. When the tumblers released, he pushed the door open with an air of supreme satisfaction, a glazed, intent look in his eyes. "I believe we have some christening to do."
**
To Be Continued...