FIC: Love in the Ink (3/3)
Title: Love in the Ink
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Carlton
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A night of drinking leads to Shawn making a stupid decision. He tries to hide it, but it doesn't take the gang long to find out about his 'permanent' mistake. SLASH
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: I planned on posting this yesterday but work has left me super exhausted this week and I didn't get a chance to. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. It has made this last hellish week a lot easier to deal with.
I hope you all enjoy this final chapter.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Don't Judge a Detective By His Cover
Shawn stared up at the ceiling in the Psych office, slowly spinning his chair back and forth. It had been a busy couple of weeks; three cases from the police department, the last of which hadn't wrapped up until late last night. Gus was using the day to catch up on his route. He was planning on a Knight Rider marathon, just as soon as he had the energy to move over to the couch.
His father had finally tracked him down halfway through the first case. He had stormed into the station and demanded a private conversation with him. Shawn tried to get out of it; he knew there were enough officers with tattoos on the force who would have backed him up if Henry started something in front of anyone. Problem was his dad knew that too and eventually won in getting Shawn alone.
However, the confrontation he was expecting never happened. Henry had studied the tattoo for a couple minutes, then looked up at him. “I hope you can live with it, kid,” he said in disappointment.
“I'll manage,” Shawn had said.
His father had simply sighed and left without saying another word.
Later he heard someone had asked his father if he wanted in on the pool of whose initials were on his arm. His dad had replied it wouldn't be fair since he already knew who it was.
Shawn wasn't sure if his father really knew the truth or not, but he had refrained from going to him for advice just in case. He wasn't sure either of them would be ready for that conversation any time soon.
He had made sure to wear long sleeves throughout every case, making sure nobody else got more than a glimpse of his tattoo and the damn initials everyone was so curious about. So far he had succeeded, but he knew it was only a matter of time until someone figured it out.
He scratched idly at his arm through the sleeve. The tattoo had mostly healed, but it was still itchy.
“What did I tell you about scratching, Spencer?”
Shawn lifted his head and turned towards the door. Lassiter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching him. “Lassie! I thought you would be buried under a mountain of paperwork by now.”
“The Chief gave us the day off. Said the paperwork would keep until tomorrow.” Lassiter grimaced, clearly not relishing the thought.
Shawn grinned. “Which is one reason why I never became a cop. No paperwork for me.” His grinned widened when Lassiter scowled at him. “So what brings you to my humble office on your day of freedom?” he asked curiously.
“We have some unfinished business.” Lassiter straightened up from the wall and walked over to him.
Shawn stood slowly. For the last two weeks, Lassiter had been giving him odd looks whenever the detective thought he wasn't looking. The looks weren't angry or annoyed or happy. More, considering. Thoughtful.
It was unnerving and since he didn't know what was going through Lassiter's head right now, he wanted to be on his feet in case he had to run. “Remember, Lassie, we're in a public place. One scream and people will come running.” He started backing up slowly, mentally planning his route to the back door.
Lassiter sighed, stopping next to his desk. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said in exasperation.
Shawn stopped moving, though he kept the length of the desk between them. “Then what do you want?”
“I never got a good look at your tattoo.” Lassiter held out his hand. “May I?”
Nervously, Shawn walked over to Lassiter and rolled up his sleeve. He jumped when the detective gently took his wrist, his skin sparking with the contact. Lassiter glanced at him then turned his attention to the tattoo.
Shawn tried to keep still as Lassiter studied it, turning his arm careful to see it from different angles. The detective's gaze traveled from the head near his elbow down the lithe body to where the tail curled near his wrist. He was acutely aware of every time Lassiter's grip shifted, his skin feeling hot beneath those long fingers. He wondered how Lassiter didn't notice it.
Lassiter looked up at him. “This is very well done. Too good for one of the places that caters to drunk tourists.”
“I got lucky?” Shawn suggested.
Lassiter shook his head. “I don't think so. Except the shops that do work of this quality don't take drunk walk-ins.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not unless they've met with the person before.”
Crap. “Well, I may have talked to someone once or twice about getting something like this done,” Shawn said cautiously.
“Just talk? This looks like a custom job,” Lassiter said.
Shawn sighed in defeat. “Okay, I may have brought the guy some pictures a couple months ago and met with him a few times. I still never would have actually gotten it if I wasn't drunk.”
Lassiter grinned in satisfaction. “I thought as much.” He nodded towards Shawn's arm. “I'm assuming you hid the initials in the spots?”
“ Um, yeah.” Shawn bit his lip nervously as Lassiter bent his head to examine the tattoo again. He had the sudden urge to rip his arm out of the detective's hand, but that would give him away just as much as those letters would. He did his best to suppress his shudder when Lassiter traced the letters but the detective had to have noticed this time.
Lassiter slowly straightened and looked at him. “'C. L.' ?”
“You're the first person to guess the letters right,” Shawn said. Besides possibly my dad but I don't even want to think about that.
“Those are my initials,” Lassiter said quietly.
“Complete coincidence,” Shawn said quickly. “They stand for Carmen. . .” he glanced quickly around the office, “. . . Lampa.” Great, that sounds fake even to me. “She was a girl I met in Montana. She died in a horrible. . . mountain biking. . . accident. . .” His voice trailed off as Lassiter's head dipped towards his arm. “What are you - ” He froze as Lassiter's lips touched his arm, gently caressing the skin directly over the initials. He bit back a moan as sparks of electricity flowed up his arm and short circuited his brain.
Lassiter glanced up at him. “What were you saying about Carmen?” His breath ghosted across Shawn's skin and he shuddered hard.
“Carmen who?” he asked in a daze.
Lassiter straightened up, moving forward until he was standing directly in front of Shawn. “The person whose initials are on your arm?” he prompted.
“I only know one person with those initials,” Shawn admitted.
Lassiter smiled. “That's what I thought.” He leaned down and kissed him.
This time Shawn didn't try to hide his moan as he pressed up eagerly against Lassiter's lips. The detective's arms wrapped around him, pulling him flush against that long, lean body. Lassiter forced his tongue into Shawn's mouth, thoroughly examining it, one hand at the back of his head adjusting the angle to give the detective better access. Lassiter's other hand was on Shawn's lower back, holding them close together as he pressed Shawn back against the desk. He was glad of the extra support; he was melting under the detective's assault as Lassiter's hand slipped under his shirt and stroked bare skin. He held on tightly, powerless to do anything more than enjoy the ride.
Slowly, Lassiter pulled away. Shawn just stared at him as he tried to restart his brain. Damn, Lassie was a great kisser.
Lassiter smiled. “Speechless, Spencer?” he teased.
Shawn blinked a couple of times and shook his head. “How the hell have you been single for so long?”
“I was waiting for the right person,” Lassiter said quietly.
Shawn felt warmth flood him at the detective's words. “Then you need to start calling me Shawn,” he said huskily, pulling Lassiter into another kiss. This time he was prepared and was able to hold his own, though the kiss was no less mind blowing. He pressed forward against Lassiter, his hands slowly sliding up the detective's firm chest to settle around his neck. Lassiter's arms wrapped around his waist, pushing up his shirt slightly so his hands resting against skin as he held him close. Their tongues danced together, exploring and tasting, familiarizing themselves with new territory.
Lassiter purred happily, the vibration passing directly into Shawn and causing him to shiver.
Eventually, they had to come up for air. Their lips parted so they could take deep breaths but the rest of their bodies stayed firmly pressed against each other.
“So, Shawn,” Lassiter said, smiling at him as he used his first name, “what should we do with the rest of my day off?”
“We could grab some food and head back to my place.” Shawn gently rubbed Lassiter's shoulder where the detective's tattoo was currently hidden. “Then maybe I can get a better look at your tattoo.”
“You sure you're not just looking for an excuse to get my shirt off?” Lassiter accused playfully.
Shawn grinned. “It would only be fair since you seem so eager to get mine out of the way.” His fingers kept rubbing the detective's shoulder, tracing the tattoo from memory. “You will have to tell me why you got it. I sense an interesting story there.”
Lassiter reached up and gently touched Shawn's tattoo. “As long as you tell me about yours.”
“There's not much to tell. You're handsome and deadly and have this really sexy growl you do when you're angry.” Shawn shrugged. “I just picked the closest animal to match.”
Lassiter pulled back slightly, eyes darkening as he stared at him. “You really think my growl is sexy, Shawn?”
Shawn shivered at the little growl Lassiter put into his name. “Big time. Why do you think I try to piss you off all the time?”
“You don't need to make me angry for me to do that,” Lassiter said, voice low and suggestive.
Shawn licked his lips. “Noted.” He grinned at Lassiter, shaking his head. “Boy, did I luck out getting you.”
“You're not the only one,” Lassiter said with a smile. “I managed to catch the funniest, most charming guy at the station.”
“Really? Who? Is it Jeff from evidence?” He grinned as Lassiter gave a mock scowl, smacking him on the arm.
“No, idiot. You.” Lassiter looked into his eyes, smiling warmly. “You don't know how long I've wanted you,” he said softly.
“Probably just as long as me,” Shawn admitted, just as softly.
“If only we had just admitted our feelings from the start,” Lassiter mused. “This could have happened a lot sooner.”
“Yeah.” Shawn imagined all the fun he and Lassiter could have been having. Some of it even with clothes on. “We've got things figured out now,” he reminded him.
“Thanks to your tattoo,” Lassiter said, fingers gently rubbing along it. “That was one drunken mistake that paid off in the end.”
Shawn wholeheartedly agreed. He gazed up at Lassiter lovingly, then realized just how sickly sweet this conversation had gotten. He snorted. “If we keep up all this mushy crap, we might as well buy bras and try to braid each others hair.”
“Well, we do already have the boy talk down,” Lassiter said slyly.
Shawn stared at him for a second in surprise before he started to laugh. He took a step back, doubling over as his laughter completely overwhelmed him. Lassiter held out a couple seconds longer until he to was joining in. The sound of the detective's deep, happy laugh made Shawn feel all warm inside and he found himself staring at him all mushily again. “I like to hear you laugh. You don't do it often enough.”
“I'm sure you'll fix that,” Lassiter said, sounding like he was looking forward to it.
“So how about the most handsome and deadly guy at the station and the most charming and witty guy at the station get out of here?” Shawn suggested.
“Lead the way,” Lassiter said. Shawn grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As he passed Lassiter, the detective wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. He grinned up at the detective, so happy he had finally got his man he thought he would burst.
Together, they made their way out the door.
This will probably be my last post until I get the casefic finished. Though I will be putting an alternate version of this story up for all my non-slash fans out there.
And I have a few shorts that I may decide to work on if I need a break.
I'll probably have something up sooner rather than later :)
One last time, I'd really appreciate it if you left a review. Just a word or two is enough to let me know you guys enjoyed it.
Until next time Psych-Os!
Author: moondragon25 (or moondragon23 on other sites)
Pairing: Shawn/Carlton
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A night of drinking leads to Shawn making a stupid decision. He tries to hide it, but it doesn't take the gang long to find out about his 'permanent' mistake. SLASH
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This is just for fun. I do own all original characters.
Notes: I planned on posting this yesterday but work has left me super exhausted this week and I didn't get a chance to. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. It has made this last hellish week a lot easier to deal with.
I hope you all enjoy this final chapter.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Don't Judge a Detective By His Cover
Shawn stared up at the ceiling in the Psych office, slowly spinning his chair back and forth. It had been a busy couple of weeks; three cases from the police department, the last of which hadn't wrapped up until late last night. Gus was using the day to catch up on his route. He was planning on a Knight Rider marathon, just as soon as he had the energy to move over to the couch.
His father had finally tracked him down halfway through the first case. He had stormed into the station and demanded a private conversation with him. Shawn tried to get out of it; he knew there were enough officers with tattoos on the force who would have backed him up if Henry started something in front of anyone. Problem was his dad knew that too and eventually won in getting Shawn alone.
However, the confrontation he was expecting never happened. Henry had studied the tattoo for a couple minutes, then looked up at him. “I hope you can live with it, kid,” he said in disappointment.
“I'll manage,” Shawn had said.
His father had simply sighed and left without saying another word.
Later he heard someone had asked his father if he wanted in on the pool of whose initials were on his arm. His dad had replied it wouldn't be fair since he already knew who it was.
Shawn wasn't sure if his father really knew the truth or not, but he had refrained from going to him for advice just in case. He wasn't sure either of them would be ready for that conversation any time soon.
He had made sure to wear long sleeves throughout every case, making sure nobody else got more than a glimpse of his tattoo and the damn initials everyone was so curious about. So far he had succeeded, but he knew it was only a matter of time until someone figured it out.
He scratched idly at his arm through the sleeve. The tattoo had mostly healed, but it was still itchy.
“What did I tell you about scratching, Spencer?”
Shawn lifted his head and turned towards the door. Lassiter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching him. “Lassie! I thought you would be buried under a mountain of paperwork by now.”
“The Chief gave us the day off. Said the paperwork would keep until tomorrow.” Lassiter grimaced, clearly not relishing the thought.
Shawn grinned. “Which is one reason why I never became a cop. No paperwork for me.” His grinned widened when Lassiter scowled at him. “So what brings you to my humble office on your day of freedom?” he asked curiously.
“We have some unfinished business.” Lassiter straightened up from the wall and walked over to him.
Shawn stood slowly. For the last two weeks, Lassiter had been giving him odd looks whenever the detective thought he wasn't looking. The looks weren't angry or annoyed or happy. More, considering. Thoughtful.
It was unnerving and since he didn't know what was going through Lassiter's head right now, he wanted to be on his feet in case he had to run. “Remember, Lassie, we're in a public place. One scream and people will come running.” He started backing up slowly, mentally planning his route to the back door.
Lassiter sighed, stopping next to his desk. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said in exasperation.
Shawn stopped moving, though he kept the length of the desk between them. “Then what do you want?”
“I never got a good look at your tattoo.” Lassiter held out his hand. “May I?”
Nervously, Shawn walked over to Lassiter and rolled up his sleeve. He jumped when the detective gently took his wrist, his skin sparking with the contact. Lassiter glanced at him then turned his attention to the tattoo.
Shawn tried to keep still as Lassiter studied it, turning his arm careful to see it from different angles. The detective's gaze traveled from the head near his elbow down the lithe body to where the tail curled near his wrist. He was acutely aware of every time Lassiter's grip shifted, his skin feeling hot beneath those long fingers. He wondered how Lassiter didn't notice it.
Lassiter looked up at him. “This is very well done. Too good for one of the places that caters to drunk tourists.”
“I got lucky?” Shawn suggested.
Lassiter shook his head. “I don't think so. Except the shops that do work of this quality don't take drunk walk-ins.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not unless they've met with the person before.”
Crap. “Well, I may have talked to someone once or twice about getting something like this done,” Shawn said cautiously.
“Just talk? This looks like a custom job,” Lassiter said.
Shawn sighed in defeat. “Okay, I may have brought the guy some pictures a couple months ago and met with him a few times. I still never would have actually gotten it if I wasn't drunk.”
Lassiter grinned in satisfaction. “I thought as much.” He nodded towards Shawn's arm. “I'm assuming you hid the initials in the spots?”
“ Um, yeah.” Shawn bit his lip nervously as Lassiter bent his head to examine the tattoo again. He had the sudden urge to rip his arm out of the detective's hand, but that would give him away just as much as those letters would. He did his best to suppress his shudder when Lassiter traced the letters but the detective had to have noticed this time.
Lassiter slowly straightened and looked at him. “'C. L.' ?”
“You're the first person to guess the letters right,” Shawn said. Besides possibly my dad but I don't even want to think about that.
“Those are my initials,” Lassiter said quietly.
“Complete coincidence,” Shawn said quickly. “They stand for Carmen. . .” he glanced quickly around the office, “. . . Lampa.” Great, that sounds fake even to me. “She was a girl I met in Montana. She died in a horrible. . . mountain biking. . . accident. . .” His voice trailed off as Lassiter's head dipped towards his arm. “What are you - ” He froze as Lassiter's lips touched his arm, gently caressing the skin directly over the initials. He bit back a moan as sparks of electricity flowed up his arm and short circuited his brain.
Lassiter glanced up at him. “What were you saying about Carmen?” His breath ghosted across Shawn's skin and he shuddered hard.
“Carmen who?” he asked in a daze.
Lassiter straightened up, moving forward until he was standing directly in front of Shawn. “The person whose initials are on your arm?” he prompted.
“I only know one person with those initials,” Shawn admitted.
Lassiter smiled. “That's what I thought.” He leaned down and kissed him.
This time Shawn didn't try to hide his moan as he pressed up eagerly against Lassiter's lips. The detective's arms wrapped around him, pulling him flush against that long, lean body. Lassiter forced his tongue into Shawn's mouth, thoroughly examining it, one hand at the back of his head adjusting the angle to give the detective better access. Lassiter's other hand was on Shawn's lower back, holding them close together as he pressed Shawn back against the desk. He was glad of the extra support; he was melting under the detective's assault as Lassiter's hand slipped under his shirt and stroked bare skin. He held on tightly, powerless to do anything more than enjoy the ride.
Slowly, Lassiter pulled away. Shawn just stared at him as he tried to restart his brain. Damn, Lassie was a great kisser.
Lassiter smiled. “Speechless, Spencer?” he teased.
Shawn blinked a couple of times and shook his head. “How the hell have you been single for so long?”
“I was waiting for the right person,” Lassiter said quietly.
Shawn felt warmth flood him at the detective's words. “Then you need to start calling me Shawn,” he said huskily, pulling Lassiter into another kiss. This time he was prepared and was able to hold his own, though the kiss was no less mind blowing. He pressed forward against Lassiter, his hands slowly sliding up the detective's firm chest to settle around his neck. Lassiter's arms wrapped around his waist, pushing up his shirt slightly so his hands resting against skin as he held him close. Their tongues danced together, exploring and tasting, familiarizing themselves with new territory.
Lassiter purred happily, the vibration passing directly into Shawn and causing him to shiver.
Eventually, they had to come up for air. Their lips parted so they could take deep breaths but the rest of their bodies stayed firmly pressed against each other.
“So, Shawn,” Lassiter said, smiling at him as he used his first name, “what should we do with the rest of my day off?”
“We could grab some food and head back to my place.” Shawn gently rubbed Lassiter's shoulder where the detective's tattoo was currently hidden. “Then maybe I can get a better look at your tattoo.”
“You sure you're not just looking for an excuse to get my shirt off?” Lassiter accused playfully.
Shawn grinned. “It would only be fair since you seem so eager to get mine out of the way.” His fingers kept rubbing the detective's shoulder, tracing the tattoo from memory. “You will have to tell me why you got it. I sense an interesting story there.”
Lassiter reached up and gently touched Shawn's tattoo. “As long as you tell me about yours.”
“There's not much to tell. You're handsome and deadly and have this really sexy growl you do when you're angry.” Shawn shrugged. “I just picked the closest animal to match.”
Lassiter pulled back slightly, eyes darkening as he stared at him. “You really think my growl is sexy, Shawn?”
Shawn shivered at the little growl Lassiter put into his name. “Big time. Why do you think I try to piss you off all the time?”
“You don't need to make me angry for me to do that,” Lassiter said, voice low and suggestive.
Shawn licked his lips. “Noted.” He grinned at Lassiter, shaking his head. “Boy, did I luck out getting you.”
“You're not the only one,” Lassiter said with a smile. “I managed to catch the funniest, most charming guy at the station.”
“Really? Who? Is it Jeff from evidence?” He grinned as Lassiter gave a mock scowl, smacking him on the arm.
“No, idiot. You.” Lassiter looked into his eyes, smiling warmly. “You don't know how long I've wanted you,” he said softly.
“Probably just as long as me,” Shawn admitted, just as softly.
“If only we had just admitted our feelings from the start,” Lassiter mused. “This could have happened a lot sooner.”
“Yeah.” Shawn imagined all the fun he and Lassiter could have been having. Some of it even with clothes on. “We've got things figured out now,” he reminded him.
“Thanks to your tattoo,” Lassiter said, fingers gently rubbing along it. “That was one drunken mistake that paid off in the end.”
Shawn wholeheartedly agreed. He gazed up at Lassiter lovingly, then realized just how sickly sweet this conversation had gotten. He snorted. “If we keep up all this mushy crap, we might as well buy bras and try to braid each others hair.”
“Well, we do already have the boy talk down,” Lassiter said slyly.
Shawn stared at him for a second in surprise before he started to laugh. He took a step back, doubling over as his laughter completely overwhelmed him. Lassiter held out a couple seconds longer until he to was joining in. The sound of the detective's deep, happy laugh made Shawn feel all warm inside and he found himself staring at him all mushily again. “I like to hear you laugh. You don't do it often enough.”
“I'm sure you'll fix that,” Lassiter said, sounding like he was looking forward to it.
“So how about the most handsome and deadly guy at the station and the most charming and witty guy at the station get out of here?” Shawn suggested.
“Lead the way,” Lassiter said. Shawn grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As he passed Lassiter, the detective wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. He grinned up at the detective, so happy he had finally got his man he thought he would burst.
Together, they made their way out the door.
This will probably be my last post until I get the casefic finished. Though I will be putting an alternate version of this story up for all my non-slash fans out there.
And I have a few shorts that I may decide to work on if I need a break.
I'll probably have something up sooner rather than later :)
One last time, I'd really appreciate it if you left a review. Just a word or two is enough to let me know you guys enjoyed it.
Until next time Psych-Os!