FIC: two of the seven Five Things meme
The meme responses for lunarwolfik are finished, hallelujah glory. I'm gonna give them a PG rating and warn you all of some slashiness, but you were expecting that from me, right? *grin*
By the way, these total a whopping 3,369 words. I am dead serious people. That a LOT more than I intended when I started out. I blame Ashley, because I can.
Let's begin.
Five superpowers the Psych cast doesn't have
1. Juliet O'Hara
Juliet is more certain that Shawn's lying than even Lassiter. It's not exactly fair, her secret advantage over him. She can hear it, between the walls of her mind, the way Lassiter sometimes wants to kidnap Shawn and leave him in the middle of a desert somewhere. Or lock him in a cell in the unused area of the PD basement. Or handcuff him to a chair. Or-
Juliet shakes her head and turns her focus away from her partner. His mind was a very interesting place, but sticking around too long makes her twitchy and want to visit the gun range.
Anyway, she knows Shawn is lying because every time he speaks, his mind screams something different, contradicting him on every level. It's how she knows the smiles and flirtations are just tools to make his ends meet. She knows his secret.
She doesn't go looking into Shawn's mind a lot. It's very loud and angry in there.
2. Burton Guster
Gus learned about Shawn's "abilities" when they were young and, like most young kids did, got into a fight. Shawn fought dirty and grabbed Gus's wrists, pinning them behind his back and forcing Gus to his knees in the harsh gravel.
Then Gus's glove slipped and the warmth of Shawn's hand touched his skin and Gus screamed as his mind was bombarded by images and thoughts and fears and secrets and loneliness. Shawn dropped Gus and bolted.
For the rest of the day, Gus saw the world through someone else's eyes. Everything stood out and stayed in his mind, a swarm of information buzzing behind his eyes. It hurt.
It took a week before Shawn walked next to Gus again after school as they headed home. Shawn and Gus, they both were cursed and they had an understanding. That was more powerful than any normal friendship could be.
3. Shawn Spencer
Lassiter walks cautiously into the darkened hallway and the next thing Shawn knows is there's a gunshot and Lassiter's on the floor, hand on the dark purple stain on his blue shirt and Shawn shakes his head sadly, snapping his fingers.
Reset.
Shawn tells Lassiter not to go in, faking a psychic vision of gunshots. Lassiter growls and ignores him, banging the door open. It's five seconds before Shawn flinches at the gunshot again- yet not 'again', his body has no memory of what his mind does- and Shawn closes his eyes and snaps his fingers.
Reset.
Lassiter manages to shove Shawn off his arm and Shawn doesn't even give him the time, snapping his fingers again before he's through the door.
Reset.
Jumping thirty seconds back so soon gives him more time. He's annoyed at Lassiter (or he will be in forty seconds) so he decides Lassiter needs to repay him for the things he's not actually done. Shawn grabs Lassiter by his grey suit coat and pulls him down for a sharp, punishing kiss that, not for the first time, Lassiter isn't going to remember.
Unfortunately, just as Lassiter gets with the program, Shawn figures it out. Snap.
Reset.
Shawn swipes Lassiter's gun and whacks the taller man upside the head with the butt of the pistol before walking forward to take the murderer out himself. He'll regret it later. No amount of resets is gonna make Lassiter happy about this.
Or maybe there is. Shawn has all the time in the world to find out.
4. Carlton Lassiter
A mob leader, Emilio Tervai, asks Lassiter if he realizes his own strength, that he is a god in a human shell.
Lassiter just thinks of the hundreds of people dead because of this man and wraps the man in an air-tight, hollow ball of steel. He lifts it with a twirl of his hand and tosses it over the dock's edge. See how much Tervai enjoys death-by-strangulation when he's breathing nothing but carbon dioxide in a metal coffin.
-
Months later, he's pulled aside by the Chief, the man who found him and took Lassiter out of his old world with the gangs and turf wars and Irish versus Hispanics. Where Lassiter was king.
"Beverley’s computer just fried, Captain."
Lassiter's eyes are cold steel as he nods. "I heard about that."
"Funny how a super-magnetic charge hits his workstation after he stiffed you your credit in the press conference," the Chief says quietly, arms crossed, fingers drumming on his bicep.
"Karma is a vengeful mistress," Lassiter replies, shrugging. The Chief holds his stare for a long time.
"Remember, Carlton- just because you've got saddled with the powers of a god doesn't make you a god."
Lassiter hates hearing that damn comparison.
-
The new Chief Vick is walking around, greeting everyone. She comes to Lassiter's desk last. "I've heard a lot about you from the former Chief, Detective Lassiter."
He smiles thinly, spinning a coin in his hand. As she watches it whirl around the desktop in a smooth dance, never ceasing in it's blurred, erratic path, he sees a flash of fear in her eyes.
Good.
-
Shawn Spencer wears a silver-plated, steel bracelet on each wrist. Lassiter can feel it like he can feel the support beams in the concrete walls, the screws in the ceiling light, the gears ticking in the clock on the wall.
He could have Shawn hanging from his arms, three feet off the ground in a half a second with a set of specially-crafted handcuffs. No one would be able to do a thing about it either. Unlike Spencer, Lassiter has real powers.
But Lassiter just trails the liar with his eyes as he examines the crime scene, always able to feel the intricate and fashionable chain on Spencer's wrists like a silk ribbon on a present.
Lassiter does nothing. Gods are all-powerful, but only exercise that power when it is needed.
So he waits.
5. Karen Vick
Karen Vick is in her mid-forties, so she's learned to deal with what she accidentally sees. Some of it's pretty entertaining, actually. She watches as one of the rookie cops hides the hazelnut flavoring in the back of the cabinet when he sees Lassiter coming to the break room. She knows McNab is panicking over losing his engagement ring; he's pacing in the men's room, on the verge of tears as he pulls at his hair.
Karen never goes out for lunch. She sits in her office with the lights off and blinds closed and just watches the world around her.
O'Hara goes down the basement to sit in the empty interrogation rooms and slip off her high heels, wincing in pain. Williams and Bryant sneak up to the roof at lunch to have a smoke. Lassiter's using double his allotted time at the gun range and she's worried he's gonna snap soon. Speaking of Lassiter snapping, Karen spends a few minutes squinting through brick and wood and glass to see Guster keeping lookout at the door to the evidence room. Karen leans forward and focuses. Shawn's inside, reading over the documentation for the current case.
Karen smiles and closes her eyes, leaning back in the chair. Her head is tilted back and she can see the blue of the clear sky above her.
Five times Shawn almost told Lassiter his secret, but didn't
1.
Shawn's been soaked with rain for ten minutes and he hated Gus quite a bit at this point. Gus abandoned him at the coffee shop when he saw the weather report and said he has to get his reports to take home before they closed up. Shawn scoffed, calling Gus a wuss and stayed, savoring his latte and biscotti.
And then, as luck would have it, the storm did come. And it was a huge one. The manager shooed people out, told them to go home, for goodness sake, home. And Shawn was stuck in the rain before he even got a chance to flirt with the waitress in lieu of giving a tip.
Home was on the other side of town and Shawn had left his cell at home. No calling Gus. All the stores were closed.
And, to round off the perfect day, the rain was destroying his suede jacket.
Shawn pulled up his collar, hunched his shoulders against the downpour and lightning with his hands in his pockets. He started walking.
Within fifteen minutes, he was freezing, soaked to the bone, miserable, and lonely and not even a fourth of the way home. The storm showed no signs of letting up and no buildings showed any signs of opening a door to him.
Shawn stopped at a four-way, waiting for the light to turn so he could continue his march when some lucky bastard with an umbrella crossed over to his side. Shawn sighed and stared at the inky grey sky.
"Spencer."
Shawn blinked and turned around. Under the black umbrella was Detective Lassiter, standing straight and tall and dry with a black coat swinging around, just below his knees. He looked like a beacon against the storm.
"De-Detective." Shawn winced at his teeth chattering and grit his jaw.
Lassiter's face was completely blank as he looked Shawn up and down, calculating. "Isn't your apartment thirty minutes away from here?"
Shawn laughed, a little hysterically. "If you're driving, yeah, maybe."
Lassiter nodded, frowning as if this was a critical clue in one of his cases. Shawn saw the light turn from the corner of his eye and felt tempted to go, but Lassiter's eyes caught his and he stayed frozen in place.
"Seems strange," Lassiter said quietly, barely audible over the rain, "That a psychic would be caught in a torrential downpour without an umbrella."
Shawn shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"
Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Maybe the truth would be nice."
Shawn smiled weakly because his brain was frozen and he didn't have anything to say to that. And telling the truth seemed like a fair idea. "The truth is stranger than fiction," Shawn started.
Lassiter sighed and beckoned before Shawn could say anything else. "Come on. I'm on my way back to the station. You can call for Guster there."
Shawn froze a bit, surprised, before walking carefully forward. Lassiter pulling a random act of kindness was unexpected to say the least. Lassiter nodded slightly and lifted the umbrella a bit to more properly cover both of them. "You sure?"
"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't serious, Spencer." Lassiter tilted his head backward, down the sidewalk. "This way. Stay close."
Shawn cautiously wrapped one hand around the umbrella, right below Lassiter's hand, which was warm and dry and a almost liquid heat spread through Shawn, not enough to fight off the damp chill, but enough to be comforting.
"Thank you," Shawn murmured. Lassiter looked at him sideways and nodded again before steering them away and down the road.
2.
He'd known Lassiter for a year before he suggested it. They were on a stake-out, Shawn was propping his feet up on the dashboard and lacing his hands behind his head. Lassiter glared at him for a moment before turning to watch the warehouse, sipping his coffee. It was a comfortable silence for once, neither attacking each other. Juliet would be so proud of them.
"You know," Shawn said, killing to moment, "I'm a little surprised I'm not thrown out on my ass right now." He looked sideways at Lassiter. "Having a good day?"
Lassiter shook his head slightly, licking his lips as he put his coffee in the cup holder. "As long as you're not bothering me, I don't care." He looked at Shawn. "Don't be too loud, remember this is a discreet operation, and no visions."
Shawn snorted. "Like you believe me anyway."
Lassiter turned in his seat to look at Shawn, mouth open. "What does that mean?"
Shawn rolled his eyes. "Have you ever taken my abilities seriously in the, what, sixty-something cases we've worked on together?" Shawn grinned. "Come on, Lassie, how's about we don't play. I have no one here to perform for."
"You can't just-!" Lassiter rubbed his eyes. "You cannot just stop after a year of this."
"Why not? You gonna get whiplash or something?"
Lassiter growled and slumped back in his seat. "I might."
Shawn snickered. "Hard to believe it's been a year." He stared out the window for a few minutes, smiling softly. It was a comfort, having a place to go where his freak show powers could be put to use. Lassiter still snapped and attacked, yeah, but they had a... thing. Shawn trusted Lassiter on some level. Lassiter knew Shawn was bullshitting everyone, but also knew he was useful. It was weird, the mix of antagonism and understanding, but it worked and that was all that really mattered.
Shawn hummed for a moment, deciding, before, "Hey, wanna know how I do it?"
Lassiter pulled a double-take. "What?"
"You know, my psychicness. We both know it's a cover. I'm offering you an explanation. You've only been trying to figure-"
"No way in hell, Spencer."
Shawn blinked. "That was... not the answer I was expecting." Lassiter leaned over and whacked Shawn in the shoulder. "Ow, man, what the heck?"
"A year, Spencer. I've been working on this for a year. You are not taking it away from me." Lassiter snapped. "Understood?"
Shawn stared for a moment, then beamed. "Yeah, okay."
3.
Sometimes, it's all Shawn can do to not break and tell Lassiter everything he wants to know. The man deserved to know. His life was detective work and Shawn singled him out to wind him up and drive him crazy. It was wrong. Shawn wasn't so emotionally screwed up that he didn't know that.
Sometimes Shawn pushed too much and he knew it. Lassiter's in one of his carefully hidden rages, stalking around, away from the SBPD bullpen and out of sight of his peers. And Shawn was well aware that the chair Lassiter just kicked across the interrogation room was because of him.
Shawn was infinitely grateful for the mirrored glass between them. He leaned his forehead against the glass in the observation room and fought the urge to go in and let Lassiter do a real interrogation on him. He'd taken the man's specialty, his field of expertise away with a parlor trick. At times like these, Shawn wanted to give it back.
Shawn pushed away from the window and turned to leave. Maybe tomorrow.
4.
Shawn giggled against Lassiter's shoulder as he was dragged out of the grey, cement building. His head spun and his feet didn't seem to respond very fast anymore. Lassiter was carrying him easily, yelling some orders to the other personnel in the area.
"S'what the rush, Lassie?" Shawn slurred as Lassiter set him down on a bench. "We we-were havin' somuch fun."
"What did they give you?" Lassiter said, holding Shawn upright by his shoulders. Shawn blinked up at him, confused and Lassiter shook him harshly. "Pay attention. What did they give you?"
"Whoa, don't do that, hurts m'head," Shawn mumbled drowsily. After a moment of rubbing his temples, he looked up at Lassiter. "Oh, I think one of the guys hit me with a needle."
"You don't say," Lassiter said, biting the inside of his cheeks. "Do you know what it was?"
Shawn frowned, nose wrinkling before his face cleared. "Oh, I got it. I picked it up after they dropped it. S'here." Shawn patted down his pockets, murmuring to himself until he pulled a small, short syringe out of his coat's inside pocket. It looked like an everyday insulin needle, but the residue inside was amber, not milky white.
Lassiter snapped on a rubber glove and took the needle from Shawn. "Stay here and don't move." He squeezed down hard on Shawn's shoulder with his other hand. "Spencer."
Shawn bobbed his head. "Stay here and don't move. Got it."
Lassiter dropped off the needle with one of the forensics guys, signing off on it before jogging back over to where he left Shawn. Shawn was still on the bench, but laying on his back on the painted wood, looking up dreamily. "Spencer."
It took about two seconds for Shawn to focus on Lassiter's face, and his mouth spread into a smile. "Hi, Carly. I know you said t'not move, but I fell over."
Lassiter clenched his jaw. "Let's get you up and out of here. Come on." He leaned down and slid an arm under Shawn's back, pulling him to sitting, then to his feet. Shawn swayed heavily, knocking into Lassiter and clinging to his arm with both hands.
"Whoa, world'spinning." The deepening slur did nothing to alleviate Lassiter's worry. He moved Shawn gently but swiftly to the squad car, buckling him in before getting in and heading for the hospital. The ambulance team was dealing with gunshot wounds and ODs right now. Shawn would be put on the backburner next to the idiotic criminals.
Shawn had a purpose, though, and that out-weighed wound severity for Lassiter right now.
"S'not like you, Carly." Lassiter looked at Shawn out of the corner of his eye. "Bein' hosbi... hoshpi... bein' nice." Shawn frowned at his own clumsy talk. "I feel lightheaded."
No shit, Lassiter thought with an ounce of humor. "You'll be okay in a few minutes. We'll be at the ER soon."
"You're bein' nice, even though you hate me. That's weird, man." Shawn scrubbed his face with his hand. "I thought you'd be all mean s'long as I kept lyin' t'you."
Lassiter turned his head a bit to really look at Shawn, frowning.
"S'like I owe you now, ya know. The whole..." he waved a lazy hand, "truth thing."
Lassiter held his breath, feeling his heart rate jump a bit. Yes, finally...
"'Cept I don't rememember what I'm talkin' abou..." Shawn's chin dropped down against his chest and his breathing evened out.
Lassiter stared, then turned to watch the road again. "Of course." Lassiter laughed, because he just couldn't think of what else to do. "Absolutely," he chuckled before slamming his fist on the steering wheel once.
5.
The worst case Shawn consulted on lasted two weeks, three gunshot wounds, Juliet in the hospital for a concussion, and a warehouse explosion when the meth lab went up.
Shawn shrugged off his coat after getting back from visiting Jules at the hospital. He winced at the pull of his muscles, like a pinch between his shoulder blades and neck. That dive away from the explosion was not agreeing with him.
Before Shawn could even sit down and try to block the day's events from his mind, there was knocking at his door. Shawn ignored it for a while until it grew more insistent and loud. He caved, shuffled over and pulled the chain-lock off, opening the door.
Lassiter stood on the threshold, his coat still torn and covered in soot, his eyes staring wide out from his dirt-smudged face, as if he were surprised the door opened despite having knocked. He was still standing like he'd fall over any second with one gun missing (lost to the ocean when it slid away as the dock-side meth lab went up), hair mussed, and a small bandage over a cut above his brow.
Lassiter licked his lips, and said in a raspy voice, "Please, tell me," and Shawn's eyes stung. This wasn't supposed to happen. Lassiter was supposed to go home and rest up, giving Shawn the time to get past this and prepare a sarcastic response. He wasn't supposed to show up less than two hours after Shawn screamed to him from across the lot that it'd been a trap and effectively saved Lassiter's team from fiery death.
Shawn grabbed Lassiter's ruined coat and pulled him inside, shutting the door before placing both his hands on Lassiter's shoulders and pulling him down into a chaste kiss. Lassiter reacted instantly, putting his hands on Shawn's back and pulling him in tight, forcing the kiss to deepen and making Shawn's eyes close from the sensation.
Thank god, because at the moment, Shawn was prepared to do anything Lassiter wanted and this wasn't going to hurt as much as the truth.
That's all for now. I hope to get more up by Monday, but no promises.
-Luce
By the way, these total a whopping 3,369 words. I am dead serious people. That a LOT more than I intended when I started out. I blame Ashley, because I can.
Let's begin.
Five superpowers the Psych cast doesn't have
1. Juliet O'Hara
Juliet is more certain that Shawn's lying than even Lassiter. It's not exactly fair, her secret advantage over him. She can hear it, between the walls of her mind, the way Lassiter sometimes wants to kidnap Shawn and leave him in the middle of a desert somewhere. Or lock him in a cell in the unused area of the PD basement. Or handcuff him to a chair. Or-
Juliet shakes her head and turns her focus away from her partner. His mind was a very interesting place, but sticking around too long makes her twitchy and want to visit the gun range.
Anyway, she knows Shawn is lying because every time he speaks, his mind screams something different, contradicting him on every level. It's how she knows the smiles and flirtations are just tools to make his ends meet. She knows his secret.
She doesn't go looking into Shawn's mind a lot. It's very loud and angry in there.
2. Burton Guster
Gus learned about Shawn's "abilities" when they were young and, like most young kids did, got into a fight. Shawn fought dirty and grabbed Gus's wrists, pinning them behind his back and forcing Gus to his knees in the harsh gravel.
Then Gus's glove slipped and the warmth of Shawn's hand touched his skin and Gus screamed as his mind was bombarded by images and thoughts and fears and secrets and loneliness. Shawn dropped Gus and bolted.
For the rest of the day, Gus saw the world through someone else's eyes. Everything stood out and stayed in his mind, a swarm of information buzzing behind his eyes. It hurt.
It took a week before Shawn walked next to Gus again after school as they headed home. Shawn and Gus, they both were cursed and they had an understanding. That was more powerful than any normal friendship could be.
3. Shawn Spencer
Lassiter walks cautiously into the darkened hallway and the next thing Shawn knows is there's a gunshot and Lassiter's on the floor, hand on the dark purple stain on his blue shirt and Shawn shakes his head sadly, snapping his fingers.
Reset.
Shawn tells Lassiter not to go in, faking a psychic vision of gunshots. Lassiter growls and ignores him, banging the door open. It's five seconds before Shawn flinches at the gunshot again- yet not 'again', his body has no memory of what his mind does- and Shawn closes his eyes and snaps his fingers.
Reset.
Lassiter manages to shove Shawn off his arm and Shawn doesn't even give him the time, snapping his fingers again before he's through the door.
Reset.
Jumping thirty seconds back so soon gives him more time. He's annoyed at Lassiter (or he will be in forty seconds) so he decides Lassiter needs to repay him for the things he's not actually done. Shawn grabs Lassiter by his grey suit coat and pulls him down for a sharp, punishing kiss that, not for the first time, Lassiter isn't going to remember.
Unfortunately, just as Lassiter gets with the program, Shawn figures it out. Snap.
Reset.
Shawn swipes Lassiter's gun and whacks the taller man upside the head with the butt of the pistol before walking forward to take the murderer out himself. He'll regret it later. No amount of resets is gonna make Lassiter happy about this.
Or maybe there is. Shawn has all the time in the world to find out.
4. Carlton Lassiter
A mob leader, Emilio Tervai, asks Lassiter if he realizes his own strength, that he is a god in a human shell.
Lassiter just thinks of the hundreds of people dead because of this man and wraps the man in an air-tight, hollow ball of steel. He lifts it with a twirl of his hand and tosses it over the dock's edge. See how much Tervai enjoys death-by-strangulation when he's breathing nothing but carbon dioxide in a metal coffin.
-
Months later, he's pulled aside by the Chief, the man who found him and took Lassiter out of his old world with the gangs and turf wars and Irish versus Hispanics. Where Lassiter was king.
"Beverley’s computer just fried, Captain."
Lassiter's eyes are cold steel as he nods. "I heard about that."
"Funny how a super-magnetic charge hits his workstation after he stiffed you your credit in the press conference," the Chief says quietly, arms crossed, fingers drumming on his bicep.
"Karma is a vengeful mistress," Lassiter replies, shrugging. The Chief holds his stare for a long time.
"Remember, Carlton- just because you've got saddled with the powers of a god doesn't make you a god."
Lassiter hates hearing that damn comparison.
-
The new Chief Vick is walking around, greeting everyone. She comes to Lassiter's desk last. "I've heard a lot about you from the former Chief, Detective Lassiter."
He smiles thinly, spinning a coin in his hand. As she watches it whirl around the desktop in a smooth dance, never ceasing in it's blurred, erratic path, he sees a flash of fear in her eyes.
Good.
-
Shawn Spencer wears a silver-plated, steel bracelet on each wrist. Lassiter can feel it like he can feel the support beams in the concrete walls, the screws in the ceiling light, the gears ticking in the clock on the wall.
He could have Shawn hanging from his arms, three feet off the ground in a half a second with a set of specially-crafted handcuffs. No one would be able to do a thing about it either. Unlike Spencer, Lassiter has real powers.
But Lassiter just trails the liar with his eyes as he examines the crime scene, always able to feel the intricate and fashionable chain on Spencer's wrists like a silk ribbon on a present.
Lassiter does nothing. Gods are all-powerful, but only exercise that power when it is needed.
So he waits.
5. Karen Vick
Karen Vick is in her mid-forties, so she's learned to deal with what she accidentally sees. Some of it's pretty entertaining, actually. She watches as one of the rookie cops hides the hazelnut flavoring in the back of the cabinet when he sees Lassiter coming to the break room. She knows McNab is panicking over losing his engagement ring; he's pacing in the men's room, on the verge of tears as he pulls at his hair.
Karen never goes out for lunch. She sits in her office with the lights off and blinds closed and just watches the world around her.
O'Hara goes down the basement to sit in the empty interrogation rooms and slip off her high heels, wincing in pain. Williams and Bryant sneak up to the roof at lunch to have a smoke. Lassiter's using double his allotted time at the gun range and she's worried he's gonna snap soon. Speaking of Lassiter snapping, Karen spends a few minutes squinting through brick and wood and glass to see Guster keeping lookout at the door to the evidence room. Karen leans forward and focuses. Shawn's inside, reading over the documentation for the current case.
Karen smiles and closes her eyes, leaning back in the chair. Her head is tilted back and she can see the blue of the clear sky above her.
Five times Shawn almost told Lassiter his secret, but didn't
1.
Shawn's been soaked with rain for ten minutes and he hated Gus quite a bit at this point. Gus abandoned him at the coffee shop when he saw the weather report and said he has to get his reports to take home before they closed up. Shawn scoffed, calling Gus a wuss and stayed, savoring his latte and biscotti.
And then, as luck would have it, the storm did come. And it was a huge one. The manager shooed people out, told them to go home, for goodness sake, home. And Shawn was stuck in the rain before he even got a chance to flirt with the waitress in lieu of giving a tip.
Home was on the other side of town and Shawn had left his cell at home. No calling Gus. All the stores were closed.
And, to round off the perfect day, the rain was destroying his suede jacket.
Shawn pulled up his collar, hunched his shoulders against the downpour and lightning with his hands in his pockets. He started walking.
Within fifteen minutes, he was freezing, soaked to the bone, miserable, and lonely and not even a fourth of the way home. The storm showed no signs of letting up and no buildings showed any signs of opening a door to him.
Shawn stopped at a four-way, waiting for the light to turn so he could continue his march when some lucky bastard with an umbrella crossed over to his side. Shawn sighed and stared at the inky grey sky.
"Spencer."
Shawn blinked and turned around. Under the black umbrella was Detective Lassiter, standing straight and tall and dry with a black coat swinging around, just below his knees. He looked like a beacon against the storm.
"De-Detective." Shawn winced at his teeth chattering and grit his jaw.
Lassiter's face was completely blank as he looked Shawn up and down, calculating. "Isn't your apartment thirty minutes away from here?"
Shawn laughed, a little hysterically. "If you're driving, yeah, maybe."
Lassiter nodded, frowning as if this was a critical clue in one of his cases. Shawn saw the light turn from the corner of his eye and felt tempted to go, but Lassiter's eyes caught his and he stayed frozen in place.
"Seems strange," Lassiter said quietly, barely audible over the rain, "That a psychic would be caught in a torrential downpour without an umbrella."
Shawn shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"
Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Maybe the truth would be nice."
Shawn smiled weakly because his brain was frozen and he didn't have anything to say to that. And telling the truth seemed like a fair idea. "The truth is stranger than fiction," Shawn started.
Lassiter sighed and beckoned before Shawn could say anything else. "Come on. I'm on my way back to the station. You can call for Guster there."
Shawn froze a bit, surprised, before walking carefully forward. Lassiter pulling a random act of kindness was unexpected to say the least. Lassiter nodded slightly and lifted the umbrella a bit to more properly cover both of them. "You sure?"
"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't serious, Spencer." Lassiter tilted his head backward, down the sidewalk. "This way. Stay close."
Shawn cautiously wrapped one hand around the umbrella, right below Lassiter's hand, which was warm and dry and a almost liquid heat spread through Shawn, not enough to fight off the damp chill, but enough to be comforting.
"Thank you," Shawn murmured. Lassiter looked at him sideways and nodded again before steering them away and down the road.
2.
He'd known Lassiter for a year before he suggested it. They were on a stake-out, Shawn was propping his feet up on the dashboard and lacing his hands behind his head. Lassiter glared at him for a moment before turning to watch the warehouse, sipping his coffee. It was a comfortable silence for once, neither attacking each other. Juliet would be so proud of them.
"You know," Shawn said, killing to moment, "I'm a little surprised I'm not thrown out on my ass right now." He looked sideways at Lassiter. "Having a good day?"
Lassiter shook his head slightly, licking his lips as he put his coffee in the cup holder. "As long as you're not bothering me, I don't care." He looked at Shawn. "Don't be too loud, remember this is a discreet operation, and no visions."
Shawn snorted. "Like you believe me anyway."
Lassiter turned in his seat to look at Shawn, mouth open. "What does that mean?"
Shawn rolled his eyes. "Have you ever taken my abilities seriously in the, what, sixty-something cases we've worked on together?" Shawn grinned. "Come on, Lassie, how's about we don't play. I have no one here to perform for."
"You can't just-!" Lassiter rubbed his eyes. "You cannot just stop after a year of this."
"Why not? You gonna get whiplash or something?"
Lassiter growled and slumped back in his seat. "I might."
Shawn snickered. "Hard to believe it's been a year." He stared out the window for a few minutes, smiling softly. It was a comfort, having a place to go where his freak show powers could be put to use. Lassiter still snapped and attacked, yeah, but they had a... thing. Shawn trusted Lassiter on some level. Lassiter knew Shawn was bullshitting everyone, but also knew he was useful. It was weird, the mix of antagonism and understanding, but it worked and that was all that really mattered.
Shawn hummed for a moment, deciding, before, "Hey, wanna know how I do it?"
Lassiter pulled a double-take. "What?"
"You know, my psychicness. We both know it's a cover. I'm offering you an explanation. You've only been trying to figure-"
"No way in hell, Spencer."
Shawn blinked. "That was... not the answer I was expecting." Lassiter leaned over and whacked Shawn in the shoulder. "Ow, man, what the heck?"
"A year, Spencer. I've been working on this for a year. You are not taking it away from me." Lassiter snapped. "Understood?"
Shawn stared for a moment, then beamed. "Yeah, okay."
3.
Sometimes, it's all Shawn can do to not break and tell Lassiter everything he wants to know. The man deserved to know. His life was detective work and Shawn singled him out to wind him up and drive him crazy. It was wrong. Shawn wasn't so emotionally screwed up that he didn't know that.
Sometimes Shawn pushed too much and he knew it. Lassiter's in one of his carefully hidden rages, stalking around, away from the SBPD bullpen and out of sight of his peers. And Shawn was well aware that the chair Lassiter just kicked across the interrogation room was because of him.
Shawn was infinitely grateful for the mirrored glass between them. He leaned his forehead against the glass in the observation room and fought the urge to go in and let Lassiter do a real interrogation on him. He'd taken the man's specialty, his field of expertise away with a parlor trick. At times like these, Shawn wanted to give it back.
Shawn pushed away from the window and turned to leave. Maybe tomorrow.
4.
Shawn giggled against Lassiter's shoulder as he was dragged out of the grey, cement building. His head spun and his feet didn't seem to respond very fast anymore. Lassiter was carrying him easily, yelling some orders to the other personnel in the area.
"S'what the rush, Lassie?" Shawn slurred as Lassiter set him down on a bench. "We we-were havin' somuch fun."
"What did they give you?" Lassiter said, holding Shawn upright by his shoulders. Shawn blinked up at him, confused and Lassiter shook him harshly. "Pay attention. What did they give you?"
"Whoa, don't do that, hurts m'head," Shawn mumbled drowsily. After a moment of rubbing his temples, he looked up at Lassiter. "Oh, I think one of the guys hit me with a needle."
"You don't say," Lassiter said, biting the inside of his cheeks. "Do you know what it was?"
Shawn frowned, nose wrinkling before his face cleared. "Oh, I got it. I picked it up after they dropped it. S'here." Shawn patted down his pockets, murmuring to himself until he pulled a small, short syringe out of his coat's inside pocket. It looked like an everyday insulin needle, but the residue inside was amber, not milky white.
Lassiter snapped on a rubber glove and took the needle from Shawn. "Stay here and don't move." He squeezed down hard on Shawn's shoulder with his other hand. "Spencer."
Shawn bobbed his head. "Stay here and don't move. Got it."
Lassiter dropped off the needle with one of the forensics guys, signing off on it before jogging back over to where he left Shawn. Shawn was still on the bench, but laying on his back on the painted wood, looking up dreamily. "Spencer."
It took about two seconds for Shawn to focus on Lassiter's face, and his mouth spread into a smile. "Hi, Carly. I know you said t'not move, but I fell over."
Lassiter clenched his jaw. "Let's get you up and out of here. Come on." He leaned down and slid an arm under Shawn's back, pulling him to sitting, then to his feet. Shawn swayed heavily, knocking into Lassiter and clinging to his arm with both hands.
"Whoa, world'spinning." The deepening slur did nothing to alleviate Lassiter's worry. He moved Shawn gently but swiftly to the squad car, buckling him in before getting in and heading for the hospital. The ambulance team was dealing with gunshot wounds and ODs right now. Shawn would be put on the backburner next to the idiotic criminals.
Shawn had a purpose, though, and that out-weighed wound severity for Lassiter right now.
"S'not like you, Carly." Lassiter looked at Shawn out of the corner of his eye. "Bein' hosbi... hoshpi... bein' nice." Shawn frowned at his own clumsy talk. "I feel lightheaded."
No shit, Lassiter thought with an ounce of humor. "You'll be okay in a few minutes. We'll be at the ER soon."
"You're bein' nice, even though you hate me. That's weird, man." Shawn scrubbed his face with his hand. "I thought you'd be all mean s'long as I kept lyin' t'you."
Lassiter turned his head a bit to really look at Shawn, frowning.
"S'like I owe you now, ya know. The whole..." he waved a lazy hand, "truth thing."
Lassiter held his breath, feeling his heart rate jump a bit. Yes, finally...
"'Cept I don't rememember what I'm talkin' abou..." Shawn's chin dropped down against his chest and his breathing evened out.
Lassiter stared, then turned to watch the road again. "Of course." Lassiter laughed, because he just couldn't think of what else to do. "Absolutely," he chuckled before slamming his fist on the steering wheel once.
5.
The worst case Shawn consulted on lasted two weeks, three gunshot wounds, Juliet in the hospital for a concussion, and a warehouse explosion when the meth lab went up.
Shawn shrugged off his coat after getting back from visiting Jules at the hospital. He winced at the pull of his muscles, like a pinch between his shoulder blades and neck. That dive away from the explosion was not agreeing with him.
Before Shawn could even sit down and try to block the day's events from his mind, there was knocking at his door. Shawn ignored it for a while until it grew more insistent and loud. He caved, shuffled over and pulled the chain-lock off, opening the door.
Lassiter stood on the threshold, his coat still torn and covered in soot, his eyes staring wide out from his dirt-smudged face, as if he were surprised the door opened despite having knocked. He was still standing like he'd fall over any second with one gun missing (lost to the ocean when it slid away as the dock-side meth lab went up), hair mussed, and a small bandage over a cut above his brow.
Lassiter licked his lips, and said in a raspy voice, "Please, tell me," and Shawn's eyes stung. This wasn't supposed to happen. Lassiter was supposed to go home and rest up, giving Shawn the time to get past this and prepare a sarcastic response. He wasn't supposed to show up less than two hours after Shawn screamed to him from across the lot that it'd been a trap and effectively saved Lassiter's team from fiery death.
Shawn grabbed Lassiter's ruined coat and pulled him inside, shutting the door before placing both his hands on Lassiter's shoulders and pulling him down into a chaste kiss. Lassiter reacted instantly, putting his hands on Shawn's back and pulling him in tight, forcing the kiss to deepen and making Shawn's eyes close from the sensation.
Thank god, because at the moment, Shawn was prepared to do anything Lassiter wanted and this wasn't going to hurt as much as the truth.
That's all for now. I hope to get more up by Monday, but no promises.
-Luce