(Not So) Perfect Day, Psych FanFic
Master Fic List
TITLE: (Not So) Perfect Day
RATING: PG-ish
WORD COUNT: 900-ish
CHARACTERS: Shawn/Carlton (established), Juliet, Karen
WARNINGS: Fluff.
SUMMARY: For psychflashfic's Challenge #8: Bad Day. A bad day in the life of Carlton Lassiter.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: I follow the Psych writers on Twitter now...but I still don't own the show.
Author's Note: Unlike my contribution to the last challenge, this one really is a flashfic. Between writing/proof-reading/editing...it took me about an hour to finish. The original ending wasn't nearly as fluffy, but after having had a bad day myself, I needed it. :)
-----------------------------
It started with a fight at half past midnight. Shawn decided to wait until Carlton was shutting off the bedside lamp to say, "Oh, by the way Lassie, I won't be around for a couple weeks. Road trip! Leaving tomorrow."
It quickly spiraled into an argument on responsibility and trust and why Carlton had to be such a controlling asshole and Shawn had to be such a flighty child.
Carlton insisted on sleeping on the couch.
-----------------------------
"Jeez, Carlton." Carlton's headache doubled at the sound of his partner's voice. He knew, logically, she was well-meaning, but sometimes he really just wanted her to leave him alone. "You look like crap. Is your back giving you problems again?"
"Not as much as my head is with you blathering away," he grumbled. He realized it was the wrong thing to say about the time the files she slammed onto his desk knocked over his cup of coffee...into his lap.
-----------------------------
O'Hara was still glaring at him every time he looked at her when a call came over the radio for a disturbance at a diner. They were closer than any patrol car so Carlton turned the Crown Vic around while his partner called in their response.
It seemed like his good deed for the week: taking care of a petty squabble so some uniform wouldn't have to miss his lunch break. He was feeling pretty decent about it; right up until one of the perpetrators (a man who towered over Carlton and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds) managed to slam him into the counter, aggravating the injury the couch had given him the night before. O'Hara managed to subdue the guy while Carlton caught his breath and fought the urge to pass out.
At least the glare finally softened into a sympathetic wince.
-----------------------------
"Lassiter, I'm missing reports for your past three cases," Vick said as she passed his desk on her way to her own. Carlton stood stiffly and followed.
"Chief, I put them on your desk yesterday afternoon," he told her as she sat down. She glanced up at him.
"Well if you did, they're not here now. I need copies before you leave today." Carlton gaped at her. "Is there a problem, Detective?"
"IT took my computer for a checkup," he said. "My backup copies are on it." Vick was barely paying attention, shuffling papers on her desk.
"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she told him absently.
-----------------------------
It was after ten by the time Carlton managed to leave the station. Vick had been gone for hours when he finally put the requested reports on her desk.
He was halfway to his apartment when his tire blew. He briefly contemplated giving up and just sleeping in his car on the side of the highway for the night. Ultimately, his aching back reminded him he couldn't take another night without his mattress and he got out of the car, cursing as he dug through his trunk for the spare.
-----------------------------
Carlton was considering the probability he would fall asleep if he attempted to soak in a warm bath before bed. At the rate his day had gone, he was almost positive he'd drown.
He climbed up the front steps wearily, resigned to going inside and passing out in bed...alone. "Perfect end to a perfect day," he muttered as he sorted through his keys.
Carlton paused as soon as he spotted the man sitting against the wall outside his door, a duffle bag beside him. Shawn looked up at him over his drawn-up knees and Carlton found his eyes locked with the younger man’s. It took him a moment to finally step forward with his keys.
"You could've broken in," he said matter-of-factly as he unlocked the door. Shawn stood, brushing himself off.
"I'm trying this new thing," Shawn informed him. Carlton looked at him expectantly. "It's called 'gaining trust.'" Shawn grunted in surprise as Carlton suddenly slammed him against the wall, kissing him hard.
"Rough day at the office, Honey?" he gasped when Carlton finally backed off an inch. Carlton scoffed and dropped his forehead to Shawn's shoulder.
"Sweetheart, you have no idea," he murmured in response. Shawn’s arms came up around him and Carlton felt some of the tension finally leave his shoulders. After the day he’d had, he didn’t think he would have lasted two weeks without Shawn.
Shawn pressed a kiss to his temple before he pushed him back, taking his face into his hands as he looked Carlton over. He frowned, sighed, and gave Carlton a light kiss on the lips.
“I told you sleeping on that couch would make you miserable all day,” he said fondly, stroking Carlton’s bottom lip with his thumb. A part of Carlton flared up in indignation at the comment, but he could feel Shawn’s other hand slip down to rub at a particularly troublesome spot on his back and the detective found himself too busy melting to really mind Shawn giving him an I-told-you-so. Sneaky bastard.
Carlton frowned when Shawn slid away from him, bending down to grab his duffle. “Come on,” Shawn said, offering Carlton his free hand. “You need one of my world famous rub downs.” Shawn tugged him through the door. “I’ll even do your back!” Carlton grinned and kicked the door shut behind them. He could always yell at Shawn when he felt better.
/end
TITLE: (Not So) Perfect Day
RATING: PG-ish
WORD COUNT: 900-ish
CHARACTERS: Shawn/Carlton (established), Juliet, Karen
WARNINGS: Fluff.
SUMMARY: For psychflashfic's Challenge #8: Bad Day. A bad day in the life of Carlton Lassiter.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: I follow the Psych writers on Twitter now...but I still don't own the show.
Author's Note: Unlike my contribution to the last challenge, this one really is a flashfic. Between writing/proof-reading/editing...it took me about an hour to finish. The original ending wasn't nearly as fluffy, but after having had a bad day myself, I needed it. :)
-----------------------------
It started with a fight at half past midnight. Shawn decided to wait until Carlton was shutting off the bedside lamp to say, "Oh, by the way Lassie, I won't be around for a couple weeks. Road trip! Leaving tomorrow."
It quickly spiraled into an argument on responsibility and trust and why Carlton had to be such a controlling asshole and Shawn had to be such a flighty child.
Carlton insisted on sleeping on the couch.
-----------------------------
"Jeez, Carlton." Carlton's headache doubled at the sound of his partner's voice. He knew, logically, she was well-meaning, but sometimes he really just wanted her to leave him alone. "You look like crap. Is your back giving you problems again?"
"Not as much as my head is with you blathering away," he grumbled. He realized it was the wrong thing to say about the time the files she slammed onto his desk knocked over his cup of coffee...into his lap.
-----------------------------
O'Hara was still glaring at him every time he looked at her when a call came over the radio for a disturbance at a diner. They were closer than any patrol car so Carlton turned the Crown Vic around while his partner called in their response.
It seemed like his good deed for the week: taking care of a petty squabble so some uniform wouldn't have to miss his lunch break. He was feeling pretty decent about it; right up until one of the perpetrators (a man who towered over Carlton and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds) managed to slam him into the counter, aggravating the injury the couch had given him the night before. O'Hara managed to subdue the guy while Carlton caught his breath and fought the urge to pass out.
At least the glare finally softened into a sympathetic wince.
-----------------------------
"Lassiter, I'm missing reports for your past three cases," Vick said as she passed his desk on her way to her own. Carlton stood stiffly and followed.
"Chief, I put them on your desk yesterday afternoon," he told her as she sat down. She glanced up at him.
"Well if you did, they're not here now. I need copies before you leave today." Carlton gaped at her. "Is there a problem, Detective?"
"IT took my computer for a checkup," he said. "My backup copies are on it." Vick was barely paying attention, shuffling papers on her desk.
"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she told him absently.
-----------------------------
It was after ten by the time Carlton managed to leave the station. Vick had been gone for hours when he finally put the requested reports on her desk.
He was halfway to his apartment when his tire blew. He briefly contemplated giving up and just sleeping in his car on the side of the highway for the night. Ultimately, his aching back reminded him he couldn't take another night without his mattress and he got out of the car, cursing as he dug through his trunk for the spare.
-----------------------------
Carlton was considering the probability he would fall asleep if he attempted to soak in a warm bath before bed. At the rate his day had gone, he was almost positive he'd drown.
He climbed up the front steps wearily, resigned to going inside and passing out in bed...alone. "Perfect end to a perfect day," he muttered as he sorted through his keys.
Carlton paused as soon as he spotted the man sitting against the wall outside his door, a duffle bag beside him. Shawn looked up at him over his drawn-up knees and Carlton found his eyes locked with the younger man’s. It took him a moment to finally step forward with his keys.
"You could've broken in," he said matter-of-factly as he unlocked the door. Shawn stood, brushing himself off.
"I'm trying this new thing," Shawn informed him. Carlton looked at him expectantly. "It's called 'gaining trust.'" Shawn grunted in surprise as Carlton suddenly slammed him against the wall, kissing him hard.
"Rough day at the office, Honey?" he gasped when Carlton finally backed off an inch. Carlton scoffed and dropped his forehead to Shawn's shoulder.
"Sweetheart, you have no idea," he murmured in response. Shawn’s arms came up around him and Carlton felt some of the tension finally leave his shoulders. After the day he’d had, he didn’t think he would have lasted two weeks without Shawn.
Shawn pressed a kiss to his temple before he pushed him back, taking his face into his hands as he looked Carlton over. He frowned, sighed, and gave Carlton a light kiss on the lips.
“I told you sleeping on that couch would make you miserable all day,” he said fondly, stroking Carlton’s bottom lip with his thumb. A part of Carlton flared up in indignation at the comment, but he could feel Shawn’s other hand slip down to rub at a particularly troublesome spot on his back and the detective found himself too busy melting to really mind Shawn giving him an I-told-you-so. Sneaky bastard.
Carlton frowned when Shawn slid away from him, bending down to grab his duffle. “Come on,” Shawn said, offering Carlton his free hand. “You need one of my world famous rub downs.” Shawn tugged him through the door. “I’ll even do your back!” Carlton grinned and kicked the door shut behind them. He could always yell at Shawn when he felt better.
/end