Five Steps to a New Home, Psych FanFic
Master Fic List
TITLE: Five Steps to a New Home
RATING: PG-ish
WORD COUNT: ~900
CHARACTERS: Shawn/Carlton
WARNINGS: None that I can think of.
SUMMARY: "It's a gradual process, Shawn moving in with him."
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: If wishes were TV ownership rights, this Beggar would ride...or something... :/ I don't own it. Let's just go with that.
Author's Note: This one's been sitting in my notebook for a few months now. I figure it's fermented enough and it's about time I posted it.
-----------------------------
It’s a gradual process, Shawn moving in with him.
It starts with a toothbrush. Subtle enough, really. It’s even Carlton who buys it (because it’s not his fault it’s cheaper to buy the things in a package of two). He likes the way Shawn grins the morning he hands it to him and the way Shawn’s eyes light up when Carlton tells him there’s room on the sinktop for two (he doesn’t even bother to point out he was talking about the toothbrushes when Shawn tugs him close and sets out to prove it).
-----------------------------
His DVDs migrate over one-by-one. There are always vague promises to grab them ‘next time,’ but after the tenth one joins the pile, Carlton casually starts adding them to the shelves that hold his own.
-----------------------------
The first ‘major’ leap comes three months into the relationship.
“Lassie, I can’t make it to dinner tonight,” Shawn says in a sad tone over the phone. Carlton stares down at the carrots he’d just begun to wash.
“Why not?” he asks, trying not to sound upset (it’s just dinner, after all, and it’s not like they haven’t already shared the meal twice so far this week). Shawn heaves a sigh down the line.
“The laundry room in my building is busted, Gus changed his locks and refuses to answer my calls, Henry and I aren’t talking…again…and the nearest laundromat I can find that isn’t going to charge me three bucks just to dry my clothes is all the way across town. Plus, I’m literally out of clean underwear.”
Carlton’s upper lip curls slightly in disgust. “You’re wearing dirty underwear?”
“Ew! Dude, that’s gross!”
“But you said…oh.” Carlton feels his face flush as he thinks about Shawn walking around with no underwear on (why he’s also wearing sweatpants in Carlton’s mind’s eye is something the detective refuses to dwell on while standing alone in the middle of his own kitchen).
“You can do laundry here,” he blurts out in the middle of his distraction. There’s silence for a moment.
“Seriously, Lass? If this is just about dinner, I can save the laundry. You don’t have to let me do it there just so I’ll eat with you.” Carlton rolls his eyes and sets the carrots on the cutting board. Leave it to Shawn to be reluctant to use his things when he’s actually offering.
“Bring your laundry, Shawn.”
If Carlton notices the extra pairs of boxers and socks that appear in the top drawer of his dresser, he doesn’t comment. And if Shawn smiles when he finds empty hangers and space made in the closet, he keeps it to himself.
-----------------------------
Four months in and Shawn’s out of town on some sort of roadtrip (Carlton will never admit to seeking Mr. Guster out for assurances that this sort of behavior is normal in Shawn). Carlton lies awake the third night in a row, wondering how he’s forgotten how much he hates sleeping alone.
The phone rings at 2 a.m. and Carlton’s heart pounds (because he knows no good calls come at 2 a.m.).
“I can’t sleep,” Shawn says simply once Carlton’s worked up the nerve to pick up the phone. Carlton breathes a sigh of relief as he sinks back into his pillows. (He knows he should work up a lecture on Shawn calling him in the middle of the night, but he can’t seem to find the energy.)
“Why not?” he asks. A familiar sigh makes him sport a half-smile.
“The bed’s lumpy, the sheets are itchy and the piano bar two doors down keeps playing the same damn song.”
“Don’t Stop Believing?” Carlton guesses.
“Chapel of Love.”
Carlton winces in sympathy. “Ouch.”
“I mean, there are like five hundred people in this town…they can’t all be getting married…” Carlton drifts a bit as Shawn rants on. Who would’ve thought he’d ever find Shawn’s voice relaxing?
“I think I’ll be back in town on Monday,” Shawn says around a yawn. Carlton bites back his own. “Can I cook you dinner? Maybe bring over a movie?” Carlton smiles wider in the dark.
“Yeah; I’d like that.”
-----------------------------
Shawn breaks his leg on a case two months later (somewhat amusingly, it happens while they’re investigating a murder in a local theater). Shawn checks himself out of the hospital and grabs a cab before Carlton can get away from the station. He’s angry, at first, when he gets to Shawn’s apartment (is it so hard for Shawn to wait on someone to help him out?), but it’s when he’s standing in the middle of Shawn's nearly empty living room that his detective skills finally kick in and the truth hits him.
Shawn won’t meet his gaze, swinging absently on his crutches as he stares at the floor. His expression tells Carlton he thinks he’s in trouble (five seconds ago, he was). Carlton sighs and walks over to him. Shawn tenses under the hand Carlton slides behind his neck, but at least he finally looks up at him.
“Let’s go home, Shawn,” Carlton whispers. It takes a moment (one in which Carlton is most definitely not nervously awaiting a reaction), but the grin he eventually gets rivals the one Shawn gave him on Toothbrush Day. Carlton’s grinning as well as Shawn pulls him in by the collar for a kiss.
“You know,” Shawn murmurs against Carlton’s lips. “There’s room on these crutches for two…”
/end
TITLE: Five Steps to a New Home
RATING: PG-ish
WORD COUNT: ~900
CHARACTERS: Shawn/Carlton
WARNINGS: None that I can think of.
SUMMARY: "It's a gradual process, Shawn moving in with him."
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: If wishes were TV ownership rights, this Beggar would ride...or something... :/ I don't own it. Let's just go with that.
Author's Note: This one's been sitting in my notebook for a few months now. I figure it's fermented enough and it's about time I posted it.
-----------------------------
It’s a gradual process, Shawn moving in with him.
It starts with a toothbrush. Subtle enough, really. It’s even Carlton who buys it (because it’s not his fault it’s cheaper to buy the things in a package of two). He likes the way Shawn grins the morning he hands it to him and the way Shawn’s eyes light up when Carlton tells him there’s room on the sinktop for two (he doesn’t even bother to point out he was talking about the toothbrushes when Shawn tugs him close and sets out to prove it).
-----------------------------
His DVDs migrate over one-by-one. There are always vague promises to grab them ‘next time,’ but after the tenth one joins the pile, Carlton casually starts adding them to the shelves that hold his own.
-----------------------------
The first ‘major’ leap comes three months into the relationship.
“Lassie, I can’t make it to dinner tonight,” Shawn says in a sad tone over the phone. Carlton stares down at the carrots he’d just begun to wash.
“Why not?” he asks, trying not to sound upset (it’s just dinner, after all, and it’s not like they haven’t already shared the meal twice so far this week). Shawn heaves a sigh down the line.
“The laundry room in my building is busted, Gus changed his locks and refuses to answer my calls, Henry and I aren’t talking…again…and the nearest laundromat I can find that isn’t going to charge me three bucks just to dry my clothes is all the way across town. Plus, I’m literally out of clean underwear.”
Carlton’s upper lip curls slightly in disgust. “You’re wearing dirty underwear?”
“Ew! Dude, that’s gross!”
“But you said…oh.” Carlton feels his face flush as he thinks about Shawn walking around with no underwear on (why he’s also wearing sweatpants in Carlton’s mind’s eye is something the detective refuses to dwell on while standing alone in the middle of his own kitchen).
“You can do laundry here,” he blurts out in the middle of his distraction. There’s silence for a moment.
“Seriously, Lass? If this is just about dinner, I can save the laundry. You don’t have to let me do it there just so I’ll eat with you.” Carlton rolls his eyes and sets the carrots on the cutting board. Leave it to Shawn to be reluctant to use his things when he’s actually offering.
“Bring your laundry, Shawn.”
If Carlton notices the extra pairs of boxers and socks that appear in the top drawer of his dresser, he doesn’t comment. And if Shawn smiles when he finds empty hangers and space made in the closet, he keeps it to himself.
-----------------------------
Four months in and Shawn’s out of town on some sort of roadtrip (Carlton will never admit to seeking Mr. Guster out for assurances that this sort of behavior is normal in Shawn). Carlton lies awake the third night in a row, wondering how he’s forgotten how much he hates sleeping alone.
The phone rings at 2 a.m. and Carlton’s heart pounds (because he knows no good calls come at 2 a.m.).
“I can’t sleep,” Shawn says simply once Carlton’s worked up the nerve to pick up the phone. Carlton breathes a sigh of relief as he sinks back into his pillows. (He knows he should work up a lecture on Shawn calling him in the middle of the night, but he can’t seem to find the energy.)
“Why not?” he asks. A familiar sigh makes him sport a half-smile.
“The bed’s lumpy, the sheets are itchy and the piano bar two doors down keeps playing the same damn song.”
“Don’t Stop Believing?” Carlton guesses.
“Chapel of Love.”
Carlton winces in sympathy. “Ouch.”
“I mean, there are like five hundred people in this town…they can’t all be getting married…” Carlton drifts a bit as Shawn rants on. Who would’ve thought he’d ever find Shawn’s voice relaxing?
“I think I’ll be back in town on Monday,” Shawn says around a yawn. Carlton bites back his own. “Can I cook you dinner? Maybe bring over a movie?” Carlton smiles wider in the dark.
“Yeah; I’d like that.”
-----------------------------
Shawn breaks his leg on a case two months later (somewhat amusingly, it happens while they’re investigating a murder in a local theater). Shawn checks himself out of the hospital and grabs a cab before Carlton can get away from the station. He’s angry, at first, when he gets to Shawn’s apartment (is it so hard for Shawn to wait on someone to help him out?), but it’s when he’s standing in the middle of Shawn's nearly empty living room that his detective skills finally kick in and the truth hits him.
Shawn won’t meet his gaze, swinging absently on his crutches as he stares at the floor. His expression tells Carlton he thinks he’s in trouble (five seconds ago, he was). Carlton sighs and walks over to him. Shawn tenses under the hand Carlton slides behind his neck, but at least he finally looks up at him.
“Let’s go home, Shawn,” Carlton whispers. It takes a moment (one in which Carlton is most definitely not nervously awaiting a reaction), but the grin he eventually gets rivals the one Shawn gave him on Toothbrush Day. Carlton’s grinning as well as Shawn pulls him in by the collar for a kiss.
“You know,” Shawn murmurs against Carlton’s lips. “There’s room on these crutches for two…”
/end