Fic: Live By the Foma (Harmless Untruths) (2/2)
Name: Live By The Foma (Harmless Untruths) (2/2)
Author: nighthawkms (Beta'd by candyflossrain, and a little input from zomboid
Fandom: Psych
Story Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, angst, Shawn Spencer
Summary: Six ups and downs for Shawn and Carlton.
Notes: Taken from the prompt: Pick a novel and take the first line off of every page and write a drabble prompt from it. Book used is Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.
Disclaimer: Don't own Psych; USA Network and its writers do. I'm simply playing in the universe.
Chapter 1
5. “They’d freeze, damn it!” he cried.
Late summer had turned into fall, and the first snowfall of the winter season found Carlton Lassiter driving up north to spend a weekend at a rented cottage. The fresh powder drifting down stuck to the road, causing a delicate layer of snow to form in a few hours. Inside his car, Carlton was warm, heater turned on full blast and seasonal music echoing from the car radio. However, the joyous chorus voices weren’t enough to break Carlton’s sour mood.
It had been a tolling few months for Carlton, the crux of it being the disappearance of Shawn Spencer. After Vick had dismissed Shawn and Gus from working at the station, the Chief had gotten proof that their actions saved the lives of two young girls, and instead of being punished, they should have been thanked. It was a sneaky little loophole, but Lassiter knew Vick was glad to use it, and it had redeemed both Shawn and Gus in the eyes of everyone at the station.
However, finding Shawn to tell him had proved to be more of a difficult task. They’d gotten in contact with Gus hours after the incident, and Shawn wasn’t with him. Gus hasn’t seen his friend since he had dropped Shawn back at his own apartment. Gus told Carlton that Shawn had been quiet and distant when he’d dropped the man off, and when Shawn acted like that, it was a definite sign that something was off.
They’d called Henry Spencer next, who told them he hadn’t seen his son all day, and if Shawn didn’t want to be found, they’d have a damn hard time finding him. Carlton had hung up, a knot in his stomach, having a feeling that the senior Spencer was right.
And Henry was right, because Shawn had seemed to drop off the face of the earth. He’d left his apartment pristine, with his bank account set up to pay the monthly rent checks, and only a few clothes and personal items missing. His bike was also gone, and to Carlton, that was a definite sign that Shawn probably wasn’t coming back, at least not for a long while.
It had been three months, and as August rolled into September, to October, and finally, November, Carlton had started to get used to Shawn not being there; not bouncing into the station every morning, dancing around like a maniac, spouting about psychic vibes; not popping up at Carlton’s cases, sneaking around his crime scenes, and generally being a nuisance.
And damn it, Carlton missed that. Shawn may have been annoying at times, but Carlton had considered Shawn a genuine friend by the time the man had disappeared. They’d gone out for drinks, Carlton had saved his life on several occasions (because, god knows, Shawn Spencer managed to become a hostage often enough); hell, the man had even come over when he was sick! Juliet had commented that she thought it was nice how they were getting along, giving him one of those mysterious smiles of hers that seemed to read deeper than the surface showed.
But when Shawn had looked at him in Vick’s office on that day, Carlton had become the psychic one. He had seen the accusation of betrayal playing across Shawn’s expression, normally bright eyes grayed with anger. He’d wanted to stop Shawn from leaving, explain that no, Carlton didn’t hate him; he was trying to repay Shawn’s friendship by being a friend himself and helping him out. But his plan had backfired, and that sense of guilt had been plaguing him mercilessly ever since.
When Carlton’s annual vacation had rolled around, he knew he needed to get away from Santa Barbara and find some time to relax and get his mind off things. He had used to rent a small cottage close to the mountains with his ex-wife; it was secluded, had great fishing spots in the summer, and beautiful, snowy peaks to gaze at in the winter. Carlton hoped that he might be able to concentrate on the serene nature outside instead of the waging war of emotions inside of him.
A few hours into the drive, he passed a lonely gas station, and a motorcycle pulled out of it and in front of him, roaring through the thickening snowfall. Carlton had just enough time to wonder who the hell would drive a motorcycle in this weather before he spotted the license plate, and a moment after, recognized the model of the bike.
It might not have been the ‘Psych-mobile,” but Carlton had seen this motorcycle enough times to know that the bike in front of him was Shawn’s. He’d seen it parked outside of Henry Spencer’s house on multiple occasions when he’d gone fishing with the man. He’d seen it pull up to crime scenes every once in a while when Gus had up and refused to join Shawn on investigating that day. And he remembered the last time he’d seen it; watching Shawn speed away from the bar they’d gone to that night, taillights winking back at him.
Finally, Carlton seemed to have found Shawn Spencer.
He grasped for the console on the top of his dashboard, a personal police siren (used for police duty only, of course), and flicked it on. Red and blue lights flashed into existence, lighting up the road before him and the back of the motorcyclist’s jacket in a purple hue. A whining wail echoed from the box, and to Carlton’s relief, the biker started to pull off to the side of the road.
They came to a stop, and Carlton slipped on his jacket and woolen hat, fuzzy pompom atop it. He stepped out of the car, ignored the biting force of the wind whipping around him, and stomped through the growing layer of snow towards the motorcycle.
Carlton could hear muttering as he approached, and the person before him removed their helmet, revealing Shawn Spencer’s face, spiky brown hair peeking from under his own woolen hat. He hadn’t seemed to have recognized Carlton yet, and was poking through his pocket, finally pulling out a wallet as Carlton moved to stand stock still beside him.
“Hello Officer, what can I do-“
Shawn looked up finally, and his stubble-covered jaw popped open in surprise, hazel eyes widening in shock. After he had snapped his mouth shut, he gave Carlton a seemingly cheery smile, but his eyes remained emotionless.
“Lassi-face, fancy meeting you here! So what did I do now? Or has Vick finally decided to make good on tossing me in the slammer?”
“…you didn’t do anything, Shawn,” Carlton said, surprised at how soft his own voice sounded. He glanced to the side, trying to think of what to say, and then looked back up at Shawn. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, here, there, everywhere.” Shawn’s voice was seemingly casual, but Carlton could feel the tension radiating from the man. “Spent a few months across the border. You never really understand how good Mexican liquor is until you’re drinking it every day.”
“Every day, huh?”
“Yep. But I got kinda tired of waking up with a massive hangover every morning, so I decided that maybe I had crossed the border at the wrong spot. So I grabbed a highway map, hopped on my bike, and I’m hoping to be hearing ‘Ey, buddy, welcome to Canada!’ in a few hours.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t stop back in Santa Barbara to say hello.”
“Now, why would I do that?” Shawn gave him a knowing smile, but Carlton was starting to get pissed at Shawn’s avoidance of the issue between them.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he sniped back, voice full of sarcasm. “Maybe because we haven’t seen hide or hair of you for the past three months!”
“I got the impression the last time I was there that not seeing me was exactly what you wanted.”
Carlton felt a surge of guilt at Shawn’s words, recalling what had gone down, and he could tell that Shawn wanted him to back off of the issue, but he wasn’t about to let the younger man run off again and leave Carlton with this… this hole, or whatever it was, in his chest.
“Did you catch the news about the kidnapping case?”
“Of course! I caught the headline somewhere before I crossed the border. ‘Santa Barbara Police Department Apprehends Serial Killer!’ It was big news since the guy confessed to about ten murders over the past twenty years. You must’ve given a lot of commendation to the guys who managed to catch him.” His voice was tinged with malice at the last sentence.
“So why did you think I was going to arrest you for what happened?”
“It’s called sarcasm, Lassi-face, my fr- my good man.” Carlton caught the slip of the tongue. So now Shawn refused to refer to him as a friend? God, had they really been thrown off that much?
“Then didn’t you realize that Vick dropped her ban on you and Mr. Guster working with us?”
“Well duh. I didn’t need the spirits to tell me that!”
“So why-“
“Because.” Shawn voice changed, lowering to an unusually quiet tone, and he looked away from Carlton, staring out over the snow drifts in front of them, “obviously I wasn’t wanted back.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“Oh really!” Shawn shouted suddenly, whipping his head back around, face contorted in a surprising force of anger. “Really, you were all bent out of shape when I got tossed on my ass, huh? You must’ve been devastated. It would’ve been nice for you to at least show some of that while Vick was firing us!”
Carlton didn’t speak, unable to respond, and Shawn gave a mirthless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I thought so. I guess being psychic doesn’t mean you can tell if your friends will betray you, huh?”
“Spencer, what were we supposed to do? You destroyed thirty thousand dollars worth of equipment! We couldn’t just let that go! Would you have rather gone to jail?”
“Yes! Fuck yes!” Carlton stepped back, eyes wide in shock. Did Shawn… did he really mean that?
“Fine, maybe it would’ve been a pain in the ass for a few months,” said Shawn, fists clenched and teeth grit, “but at least I’d have a job to go back to once I got out!
“You don’t know what that job meant to me, Lassi.” Shawn’s voice had dropped again, tinged with sadness, and he stared out into the darkness before them. “It was finally something useful for me to use my special talents on. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Then why didn’t you come back?’
“Because it just wouldn’t have been the same.” Shawn met Carlton’s eyes, and for the first time, Carlton could see how much this had impacted Shawn, how devastated he’d been by it.
“I couldn’t go back to that, not when I felt that betrayed. I couldn’t work with you all anymore, feeling like I couldn’t trust you to listen to me when I really needed it. How could I enjoy myself when I kept wondering if I was needed, or if you could throw me away at the drop of a hat?”
“Shawn…”
“Besides, weren’t you glad to get me out of your hair? Isn’t that what you always said you wanted, Lassi?” Shawn snorted, voice filled with disgust. “I just thought I was helping you out in that department. Surprised you didn’t throw a little party afterwards in celebration.” His stare hardened in defiance, challenging Carlton to dispute what he’d said.
Was that really what Shawn thought? Carlton couldn’t believe it; after all this time, didn’t he… didn’t he get it? Was he really that blind? Carlton’s chest swelled with the emotions he’d been holding in for the last three months, and he finally unleashed them.
“You listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch,” Carlton snapped, and Shawn was the shocked one this time. “I’ve been trying to deal with the guilt you left me with for the past three months, and you think I was happy about that whole situation? And you shut the hell up, Shawn!” he spat out, cutting off Shawn as he was about to speak. “You had your chance to talk; it’s my turn!
“You know what I’ve had to watch all this time? I’ve watched Detective O’Hara acting like a worried mess, wondering where you’d gone off to, having never experienced the famous ‘Shawn Spencer disappearing act’ before and not understanding why you did it. I’ve seen your pal Mr. Guster falling back into the same, boring lifestyle routine that you dragged him out of, and I can tell that despite all of his former whining, he misses solving crimes with you and is a lot worse off for it.
“I’ve watched your father grow into an agitated, snapping bundle of snark and anger; and despite what you may think, when you go off globe trotting, he worries his ass off about you, and he comes into the station at least three times a week to ask if they’ve heard anything new about you. And I’ve watched the Chief listening for news of your whereabouts every damn day in her office, hoping that the next message she gets is that they’ve found you!
“All this time, I’ve watched people who really, truly care about you working their asses off to find you and tell you how sorry they are about what happened! And you’ve been hopping around Mexico, getting pissed off your ass because you don’t think anybody cares enough about you to worry!
“So don’t you ever,” he said, jabbing a finger in Shawn’s stunned face, “ever think that we’re glad you left, and don’t you dare ever say that I’m glad that you left, because I do care about you, you idiotic jackass! I care a hell of a lot about you, probably a hell of a lot more than I should, and I wouldn’t have wasted all the damn time I did worrying about you if I didn’t!
“So there, Mr. Psychic,” he finished, taking a deep breath. “There’s what I really think, and maybe if you took your enlarged, egotistical head out of your ass for a moment, you would realize that I never wanted you gone. Yes, I did suggest banning you and Mr. Guster, but not as something to be done permanently! That wasn’t my decision. It really wasn’t the Chief’s either; it was in the goddamn rulebook, and if you were any good of a psychic you would’ve realized that!”
There was silence, the only sound coming from the harsh, angry breaths Carlton was taking, and the whoosh of the wind around them. Shawn’s face was contemplative, and he stared down into his helmet, eyes unreadable. He finally looked up to meet Carlton’s gaze.
“Is that the truth?”
“Yes, Shawn,” Carlton sighed, running a hand down his face and giving Shawn a look that said please believe me. “It’s the truth.”
“…So I’m kind of an idiot then, I guess?” Shawn was grinning at him, and Carlton didn’t think that the redness of Shawn’s cheeks was only from the cold air.
“Just a little bit.” Carlton returned his grin, the tension and pain he’d been carrying all this time finally breaking.
“Well,” said Shawn, resting his arms behind his head, helmet hanging from one finger, “I guess it’s better that I was wrong in this case than right, huh?” For the first time in a long while, Carlton saw the brightness return to Shawn’s eyes, and the cold surrounding the two of them couldn’t destroy the warm feeling that the sight brought to Carlton’s heart. He let it soak in, enjoying the silence that followed.
“Come home, Shawn,” Carlton finally said. He saw Shawn raise an eyebrow, but nodded his head. “I mean it. Vick will be glad to let you work for us again, and we miss you.”
“Even you, huh, Lassi-face?”
Carlton’s breath hitched at the question, but he nodded again. Was Shawn’s face getting closer? “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” In contrast to the freeze of the November air, his body suddenly felt as if it were in a sauna.
“How much did you miss me?”
“Didn’t I just go over this?” Shawn’s endearing expression was making his stomach twist, and he was almost one hundred percent certain that they were a lot closer in proximity then they had been. He confirmed this when he felt the cloth of Shawn’s glove against the hand hanging at his side.
“I want you to say it like you don’t want to murder me in my sleep.”
Carlton’s heart was beating rapidly now, the warmth emanating from the other man overtaking him. God, he hoped he wasn’t about to have a heart attack, but the other option to why he was acting this way seemed worse by comparison.
“Fine… I, Carlton Lassiter, missed a one Shawn Spencer a hell of a lot… enough for it to hurt,” -oh Christ, Shawn’s face was close enough to feel the heat of his breath- “and- and I would like him to come home.”
The next things he felt were Shawn’s lips pressed against his, and Carlton gasped into his own mouth, mind reeling in shock and awe. He reached out instinctively, grasping at Shawn’s twisted waist (the man was still straddling that goddamn bike) to steady himself, ungloved hands welcoming the warmth of Shawn’s body heat. His brain buzzed, trying to make sense of what was going on. When Shawn pulled away finally, all Carlton could do was stare at him, slack-jawed, unable to make a sound.
“I,” said Shawn breathlessly, opening his bright, engaging eyes, “the aforementioned Shawn Spencer, missed you all a hell of a lot; each person for different reasons that may or may not be apparent now,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “and it would make me unbelievably happy to come home.”
Carlton’s face was still frozen in the same expression, but he let out another soft gasp as Shawn moved in again, kissing at the corners of Carlton’s mouth. “Come on, Carly,” Shawn said, leaning forward to press his lips fully against Carlton’s once more. “It’s not that good of a sign for me if you don’t react.”
“I don’t think,” Carlton chocked out, fire raging in his chest, “that this is the best place to do this, Shawn.”
“So where shall we do it?” asked Shawn, continuing his rapid assault of Carlton’s lips. Carlton finally had enough sense to pull away, closing his eyes and shaking his head to clear it. He opened his eyes to find Shawn giving him a look of genuine curiosity, and finally remembered why he was here.
“I’m actually heading up to a cottage in the mountains for the next week,” Carlton said, realization putting a damper on the dizzying elation he was feeling currently. “When I get back, we can-”
“Oh Lassi-face, you’re not getting rid of me now.” Shawn cut him off, giving him an eager smile, and slid his arms suddenly around Carlton’s neck, pulling the man’s face closer. “You’re not meeting anyone up there, are you?”
“No, but-“
“And I’m guessing this cabin holds more than one person?”
“Well, yeah, but-“
“So there you go. Plenty of room for both of us!”
“Shawn, I was kind of hoping to get some time to relax.”
“Who said your little vacation can’t be relaxing while I’m there?” Shawn waggled his eyebrows at Carlton again, sending a shiver up the other man’s spine. “Besides, from what you’ve been saying, you’d rather know where I was than not, right? What if I decide to skip town again? No, Lassi, I think you’d better keep an eye on me,’ he said, giving Carlton a wink. “It’s better for both of us.”
All Carlton could do was laugh.
---------
6. “Intimately,” he said.
Warmth; that was the first thing Shawn felt when he gained consciousness. It was an overwhelming feeling; every fiber of his body was enveloped in it, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh at how peaceful he felt.
The next thing Shawn noticed was the movement of air against the back of his neck, the feel of breath being drawn behind him. Then came the sensation of hands against his waist, long fingers stretched over his hip, rubbing circles on his skin. Shawn felt Carlton’s lips pressing against his hair, and a mumbled “g’morning” came from the older man’s mouth.
Shawn flopped over sleepily, opening his eyes to stare up into icy blue ones. “Wha’timesssit?” he slurred, moving his head to press it against Carlton’s chest and shutting his eyes once more. He felt Carlton’s hand leave his waist, and heard him grasping for the bedside table.
“Nine-thirty,” came Carlton’s voice after a moment, now less thick with the haze of sleep. “Come on Shawn, time to get up.”
“Dun wanna.” Shawn grasped down to his waist, finding the light sheet that had been covering them and drawing it up to chest length. “Let’s sleep all day.”
He felt a gruff chuckle emanate from Carlton’s chest. “While I have to admit I wouldn’t mind doing that, we can’t. We’re heading back home today, or have you not woken up enough to remember?”
“Mrh, I remember. Doesn’t mean I can’t whine about it.”
“Whining which I will inevitably ignore.” Shawn let out a small groan, realizing Carlton was right.
“Meanie.”
“Nervous about going home?”
Shawn opened his eyes and looked up at Carlton, who was staring back at him, trying to look disinterested, but failing horribly. The man really couldn’t hide his emotions too well. Shawn gave him a sheepish grin and nodded.
“I guess spending the week here kind of took my mind off of it.”
“Yes, trying to seduce me into bed must’ve taken a lot of planning.”
“Hey!” Shawn punched his shoulder playfully, body still half-asleep and unable to hit any harder. “It’s not like you didn’t spend the whole week planning ways to foul me up. Making me wait this long was cruel and unusual punishment!”
“Shawn, I like to be involved with someone for at least a little while before having the relationship turn into a sexual one.”
“Tch, liar. You probably say that to all the girls so they fall head over heels for you. I can see right through your act, Lassi.”
“Mhm. Well you finally got me, are you happy now?”
“Happy as a dolphin; and those guys are always happy!” Shawn gave Carlton the biggest, cheesiest grin he could muster, and the man’s only response was to roll his eyes.
They lapsed back into silence for a moment, Carlton stroking his fingers through Shawn’s hair, and Shawn pressing his fingers into Carlton’s chest, as if fascinated by every muscle and shape.
“So what’s going to happen when we get back?” Carlton asked, finally breaking the quiet around them. Shawn didn’t answer, prompting Carlton to speak again. “Shawn?”
“I’m gonna go find everyone, apologize for being a giant dickhead, and see if they’ll accept that.” Shawn glanced up at him, worry evident in his eyes. “Think that’ll work?”
Carlton nodded confidently. “Without a doubt. Though I don’t know how your dad and Mr. Guster usually take you skipping town for a few months.”
“Eh, Henry will rant for about twenty minutes, but in between the noise will be some stuff about his relief of me being back. And Gus will probably stutter for a bit before telling me he will never speak to me again if pull another stunt like this.”
“I’m guessing he’s not good at keeping that threat?”
“What do you think, Mr. Head Detective?”
“Probably shouldn’t even have asked. So what…” Carlton paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way to best relate the question. “What are you going to tell them about us?”
Shawn shrugged. “What do you think I should tell them?”
“I’m guessing whatever it is; it’s going to involve jokes about you being a boy named Timmy trapped in a well and me coming to rescue you.”
“Why Carly, I didn’t know you had humor in you!” Shawn poked his chest, making Carlton twitch from the ticklish feeling. “You can’t keep these things from me; I will find them out.”
“So really, what are you going to say?”
“The truth. Jules will probably coo and squeal about how we make such a cute couple, Gus will have a major heterosexual freak-out, and Henry will be so pleased to have another cop in the family that he won’t give a damn.”
“This is going to make fishing with him so much more awkward.”
“That’s the chance you take.”
“Guess it’s not too bad of a deal for me.”
“You had better not be implying that I’m not worth awkward fishing trips. That isn’t what you’re saying, is it Lassi-face? I do not want to have to put a sex embargo down.”
“Please, you could barely last this week; there’s no way that would work.”
“Don’t underestimate me, my friend. I may surprise you.”
Carlton couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t doubt that a bit.”
X-posted to psychfiction, psych_slash, and shawn_lassiter
Author: nighthawkms (Beta'd by candyflossrain, and a little input from zomboid
Fandom: Psych
Story Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, angst, Shawn Spencer
Summary: Six ups and downs for Shawn and Carlton.
Notes: Taken from the prompt: Pick a novel and take the first line off of every page and write a drabble prompt from it. Book used is Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.
Disclaimer: Don't own Psych; USA Network and its writers do. I'm simply playing in the universe.
Chapter 1
5. “They’d freeze, damn it!” he cried.
Late summer had turned into fall, and the first snowfall of the winter season found Carlton Lassiter driving up north to spend a weekend at a rented cottage. The fresh powder drifting down stuck to the road, causing a delicate layer of snow to form in a few hours. Inside his car, Carlton was warm, heater turned on full blast and seasonal music echoing from the car radio. However, the joyous chorus voices weren’t enough to break Carlton’s sour mood.
It had been a tolling few months for Carlton, the crux of it being the disappearance of Shawn Spencer. After Vick had dismissed Shawn and Gus from working at the station, the Chief had gotten proof that their actions saved the lives of two young girls, and instead of being punished, they should have been thanked. It was a sneaky little loophole, but Lassiter knew Vick was glad to use it, and it had redeemed both Shawn and Gus in the eyes of everyone at the station.
However, finding Shawn to tell him had proved to be more of a difficult task. They’d gotten in contact with Gus hours after the incident, and Shawn wasn’t with him. Gus hasn’t seen his friend since he had dropped Shawn back at his own apartment. Gus told Carlton that Shawn had been quiet and distant when he’d dropped the man off, and when Shawn acted like that, it was a definite sign that something was off.
They’d called Henry Spencer next, who told them he hadn’t seen his son all day, and if Shawn didn’t want to be found, they’d have a damn hard time finding him. Carlton had hung up, a knot in his stomach, having a feeling that the senior Spencer was right.
And Henry was right, because Shawn had seemed to drop off the face of the earth. He’d left his apartment pristine, with his bank account set up to pay the monthly rent checks, and only a few clothes and personal items missing. His bike was also gone, and to Carlton, that was a definite sign that Shawn probably wasn’t coming back, at least not for a long while.
It had been three months, and as August rolled into September, to October, and finally, November, Carlton had started to get used to Shawn not being there; not bouncing into the station every morning, dancing around like a maniac, spouting about psychic vibes; not popping up at Carlton’s cases, sneaking around his crime scenes, and generally being a nuisance.
And damn it, Carlton missed that. Shawn may have been annoying at times, but Carlton had considered Shawn a genuine friend by the time the man had disappeared. They’d gone out for drinks, Carlton had saved his life on several occasions (because, god knows, Shawn Spencer managed to become a hostage often enough); hell, the man had even come over when he was sick! Juliet had commented that she thought it was nice how they were getting along, giving him one of those mysterious smiles of hers that seemed to read deeper than the surface showed.
But when Shawn had looked at him in Vick’s office on that day, Carlton had become the psychic one. He had seen the accusation of betrayal playing across Shawn’s expression, normally bright eyes grayed with anger. He’d wanted to stop Shawn from leaving, explain that no, Carlton didn’t hate him; he was trying to repay Shawn’s friendship by being a friend himself and helping him out. But his plan had backfired, and that sense of guilt had been plaguing him mercilessly ever since.
When Carlton’s annual vacation had rolled around, he knew he needed to get away from Santa Barbara and find some time to relax and get his mind off things. He had used to rent a small cottage close to the mountains with his ex-wife; it was secluded, had great fishing spots in the summer, and beautiful, snowy peaks to gaze at in the winter. Carlton hoped that he might be able to concentrate on the serene nature outside instead of the waging war of emotions inside of him.
A few hours into the drive, he passed a lonely gas station, and a motorcycle pulled out of it and in front of him, roaring through the thickening snowfall. Carlton had just enough time to wonder who the hell would drive a motorcycle in this weather before he spotted the license plate, and a moment after, recognized the model of the bike.
It might not have been the ‘Psych-mobile,” but Carlton had seen this motorcycle enough times to know that the bike in front of him was Shawn’s. He’d seen it parked outside of Henry Spencer’s house on multiple occasions when he’d gone fishing with the man. He’d seen it pull up to crime scenes every once in a while when Gus had up and refused to join Shawn on investigating that day. And he remembered the last time he’d seen it; watching Shawn speed away from the bar they’d gone to that night, taillights winking back at him.
Finally, Carlton seemed to have found Shawn Spencer.
He grasped for the console on the top of his dashboard, a personal police siren (used for police duty only, of course), and flicked it on. Red and blue lights flashed into existence, lighting up the road before him and the back of the motorcyclist’s jacket in a purple hue. A whining wail echoed from the box, and to Carlton’s relief, the biker started to pull off to the side of the road.
They came to a stop, and Carlton slipped on his jacket and woolen hat, fuzzy pompom atop it. He stepped out of the car, ignored the biting force of the wind whipping around him, and stomped through the growing layer of snow towards the motorcycle.
Carlton could hear muttering as he approached, and the person before him removed their helmet, revealing Shawn Spencer’s face, spiky brown hair peeking from under his own woolen hat. He hadn’t seemed to have recognized Carlton yet, and was poking through his pocket, finally pulling out a wallet as Carlton moved to stand stock still beside him.
“Hello Officer, what can I do-“
Shawn looked up finally, and his stubble-covered jaw popped open in surprise, hazel eyes widening in shock. After he had snapped his mouth shut, he gave Carlton a seemingly cheery smile, but his eyes remained emotionless.
“Lassi-face, fancy meeting you here! So what did I do now? Or has Vick finally decided to make good on tossing me in the slammer?”
“…you didn’t do anything, Shawn,” Carlton said, surprised at how soft his own voice sounded. He glanced to the side, trying to think of what to say, and then looked back up at Shawn. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, here, there, everywhere.” Shawn’s voice was seemingly casual, but Carlton could feel the tension radiating from the man. “Spent a few months across the border. You never really understand how good Mexican liquor is until you’re drinking it every day.”
“Every day, huh?”
“Yep. But I got kinda tired of waking up with a massive hangover every morning, so I decided that maybe I had crossed the border at the wrong spot. So I grabbed a highway map, hopped on my bike, and I’m hoping to be hearing ‘Ey, buddy, welcome to Canada!’ in a few hours.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t stop back in Santa Barbara to say hello.”
“Now, why would I do that?” Shawn gave him a knowing smile, but Carlton was starting to get pissed at Shawn’s avoidance of the issue between them.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he sniped back, voice full of sarcasm. “Maybe because we haven’t seen hide or hair of you for the past three months!”
“I got the impression the last time I was there that not seeing me was exactly what you wanted.”
Carlton felt a surge of guilt at Shawn’s words, recalling what had gone down, and he could tell that Shawn wanted him to back off of the issue, but he wasn’t about to let the younger man run off again and leave Carlton with this… this hole, or whatever it was, in his chest.
“Did you catch the news about the kidnapping case?”
“Of course! I caught the headline somewhere before I crossed the border. ‘Santa Barbara Police Department Apprehends Serial Killer!’ It was big news since the guy confessed to about ten murders over the past twenty years. You must’ve given a lot of commendation to the guys who managed to catch him.” His voice was tinged with malice at the last sentence.
“So why did you think I was going to arrest you for what happened?”
“It’s called sarcasm, Lassi-face, my fr- my good man.” Carlton caught the slip of the tongue. So now Shawn refused to refer to him as a friend? God, had they really been thrown off that much?
“Then didn’t you realize that Vick dropped her ban on you and Mr. Guster working with us?”
“Well duh. I didn’t need the spirits to tell me that!”
“So why-“
“Because.” Shawn voice changed, lowering to an unusually quiet tone, and he looked away from Carlton, staring out over the snow drifts in front of them, “obviously I wasn’t wanted back.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“Oh really!” Shawn shouted suddenly, whipping his head back around, face contorted in a surprising force of anger. “Really, you were all bent out of shape when I got tossed on my ass, huh? You must’ve been devastated. It would’ve been nice for you to at least show some of that while Vick was firing us!”
Carlton didn’t speak, unable to respond, and Shawn gave a mirthless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I thought so. I guess being psychic doesn’t mean you can tell if your friends will betray you, huh?”
“Spencer, what were we supposed to do? You destroyed thirty thousand dollars worth of equipment! We couldn’t just let that go! Would you have rather gone to jail?”
“Yes! Fuck yes!” Carlton stepped back, eyes wide in shock. Did Shawn… did he really mean that?
“Fine, maybe it would’ve been a pain in the ass for a few months,” said Shawn, fists clenched and teeth grit, “but at least I’d have a job to go back to once I got out!
“You don’t know what that job meant to me, Lassi.” Shawn’s voice had dropped again, tinged with sadness, and he stared out into the darkness before them. “It was finally something useful for me to use my special talents on. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Then why didn’t you come back?’
“Because it just wouldn’t have been the same.” Shawn met Carlton’s eyes, and for the first time, Carlton could see how much this had impacted Shawn, how devastated he’d been by it.
“I couldn’t go back to that, not when I felt that betrayed. I couldn’t work with you all anymore, feeling like I couldn’t trust you to listen to me when I really needed it. How could I enjoy myself when I kept wondering if I was needed, or if you could throw me away at the drop of a hat?”
“Shawn…”
“Besides, weren’t you glad to get me out of your hair? Isn’t that what you always said you wanted, Lassi?” Shawn snorted, voice filled with disgust. “I just thought I was helping you out in that department. Surprised you didn’t throw a little party afterwards in celebration.” His stare hardened in defiance, challenging Carlton to dispute what he’d said.
Was that really what Shawn thought? Carlton couldn’t believe it; after all this time, didn’t he… didn’t he get it? Was he really that blind? Carlton’s chest swelled with the emotions he’d been holding in for the last three months, and he finally unleashed them.
“You listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch,” Carlton snapped, and Shawn was the shocked one this time. “I’ve been trying to deal with the guilt you left me with for the past three months, and you think I was happy about that whole situation? And you shut the hell up, Shawn!” he spat out, cutting off Shawn as he was about to speak. “You had your chance to talk; it’s my turn!
“You know what I’ve had to watch all this time? I’ve watched Detective O’Hara acting like a worried mess, wondering where you’d gone off to, having never experienced the famous ‘Shawn Spencer disappearing act’ before and not understanding why you did it. I’ve seen your pal Mr. Guster falling back into the same, boring lifestyle routine that you dragged him out of, and I can tell that despite all of his former whining, he misses solving crimes with you and is a lot worse off for it.
“I’ve watched your father grow into an agitated, snapping bundle of snark and anger; and despite what you may think, when you go off globe trotting, he worries his ass off about you, and he comes into the station at least three times a week to ask if they’ve heard anything new about you. And I’ve watched the Chief listening for news of your whereabouts every damn day in her office, hoping that the next message she gets is that they’ve found you!
“All this time, I’ve watched people who really, truly care about you working their asses off to find you and tell you how sorry they are about what happened! And you’ve been hopping around Mexico, getting pissed off your ass because you don’t think anybody cares enough about you to worry!
“So don’t you ever,” he said, jabbing a finger in Shawn’s stunned face, “ever think that we’re glad you left, and don’t you dare ever say that I’m glad that you left, because I do care about you, you idiotic jackass! I care a hell of a lot about you, probably a hell of a lot more than I should, and I wouldn’t have wasted all the damn time I did worrying about you if I didn’t!
“So there, Mr. Psychic,” he finished, taking a deep breath. “There’s what I really think, and maybe if you took your enlarged, egotistical head out of your ass for a moment, you would realize that I never wanted you gone. Yes, I did suggest banning you and Mr. Guster, but not as something to be done permanently! That wasn’t my decision. It really wasn’t the Chief’s either; it was in the goddamn rulebook, and if you were any good of a psychic you would’ve realized that!”
There was silence, the only sound coming from the harsh, angry breaths Carlton was taking, and the whoosh of the wind around them. Shawn’s face was contemplative, and he stared down into his helmet, eyes unreadable. He finally looked up to meet Carlton’s gaze.
“Is that the truth?”
“Yes, Shawn,” Carlton sighed, running a hand down his face and giving Shawn a look that said please believe me. “It’s the truth.”
“…So I’m kind of an idiot then, I guess?” Shawn was grinning at him, and Carlton didn’t think that the redness of Shawn’s cheeks was only from the cold air.
“Just a little bit.” Carlton returned his grin, the tension and pain he’d been carrying all this time finally breaking.
“Well,” said Shawn, resting his arms behind his head, helmet hanging from one finger, “I guess it’s better that I was wrong in this case than right, huh?” For the first time in a long while, Carlton saw the brightness return to Shawn’s eyes, and the cold surrounding the two of them couldn’t destroy the warm feeling that the sight brought to Carlton’s heart. He let it soak in, enjoying the silence that followed.
“Come home, Shawn,” Carlton finally said. He saw Shawn raise an eyebrow, but nodded his head. “I mean it. Vick will be glad to let you work for us again, and we miss you.”
“Even you, huh, Lassi-face?”
Carlton’s breath hitched at the question, but he nodded again. Was Shawn’s face getting closer? “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” In contrast to the freeze of the November air, his body suddenly felt as if it were in a sauna.
“How much did you miss me?”
“Didn’t I just go over this?” Shawn’s endearing expression was making his stomach twist, and he was almost one hundred percent certain that they were a lot closer in proximity then they had been. He confirmed this when he felt the cloth of Shawn’s glove against the hand hanging at his side.
“I want you to say it like you don’t want to murder me in my sleep.”
Carlton’s heart was beating rapidly now, the warmth emanating from the other man overtaking him. God, he hoped he wasn’t about to have a heart attack, but the other option to why he was acting this way seemed worse by comparison.
“Fine… I, Carlton Lassiter, missed a one Shawn Spencer a hell of a lot… enough for it to hurt,” -oh Christ, Shawn’s face was close enough to feel the heat of his breath- “and- and I would like him to come home.”
The next things he felt were Shawn’s lips pressed against his, and Carlton gasped into his own mouth, mind reeling in shock and awe. He reached out instinctively, grasping at Shawn’s twisted waist (the man was still straddling that goddamn bike) to steady himself, ungloved hands welcoming the warmth of Shawn’s body heat. His brain buzzed, trying to make sense of what was going on. When Shawn pulled away finally, all Carlton could do was stare at him, slack-jawed, unable to make a sound.
“I,” said Shawn breathlessly, opening his bright, engaging eyes, “the aforementioned Shawn Spencer, missed you all a hell of a lot; each person for different reasons that may or may not be apparent now,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “and it would make me unbelievably happy to come home.”
Carlton’s face was still frozen in the same expression, but he let out another soft gasp as Shawn moved in again, kissing at the corners of Carlton’s mouth. “Come on, Carly,” Shawn said, leaning forward to press his lips fully against Carlton’s once more. “It’s not that good of a sign for me if you don’t react.”
“I don’t think,” Carlton chocked out, fire raging in his chest, “that this is the best place to do this, Shawn.”
“So where shall we do it?” asked Shawn, continuing his rapid assault of Carlton’s lips. Carlton finally had enough sense to pull away, closing his eyes and shaking his head to clear it. He opened his eyes to find Shawn giving him a look of genuine curiosity, and finally remembered why he was here.
“I’m actually heading up to a cottage in the mountains for the next week,” Carlton said, realization putting a damper on the dizzying elation he was feeling currently. “When I get back, we can-”
“Oh Lassi-face, you’re not getting rid of me now.” Shawn cut him off, giving him an eager smile, and slid his arms suddenly around Carlton’s neck, pulling the man’s face closer. “You’re not meeting anyone up there, are you?”
“No, but-“
“And I’m guessing this cabin holds more than one person?”
“Well, yeah, but-“
“So there you go. Plenty of room for both of us!”
“Shawn, I was kind of hoping to get some time to relax.”
“Who said your little vacation can’t be relaxing while I’m there?” Shawn waggled his eyebrows at Carlton again, sending a shiver up the other man’s spine. “Besides, from what you’ve been saying, you’d rather know where I was than not, right? What if I decide to skip town again? No, Lassi, I think you’d better keep an eye on me,’ he said, giving Carlton a wink. “It’s better for both of us.”
All Carlton could do was laugh.
---------
6. “Intimately,” he said.
Warmth; that was the first thing Shawn felt when he gained consciousness. It was an overwhelming feeling; every fiber of his body was enveloped in it, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh at how peaceful he felt.
The next thing Shawn noticed was the movement of air against the back of his neck, the feel of breath being drawn behind him. Then came the sensation of hands against his waist, long fingers stretched over his hip, rubbing circles on his skin. Shawn felt Carlton’s lips pressing against his hair, and a mumbled “g’morning” came from the older man’s mouth.
Shawn flopped over sleepily, opening his eyes to stare up into icy blue ones. “Wha’timesssit?” he slurred, moving his head to press it against Carlton’s chest and shutting his eyes once more. He felt Carlton’s hand leave his waist, and heard him grasping for the bedside table.
“Nine-thirty,” came Carlton’s voice after a moment, now less thick with the haze of sleep. “Come on Shawn, time to get up.”
“Dun wanna.” Shawn grasped down to his waist, finding the light sheet that had been covering them and drawing it up to chest length. “Let’s sleep all day.”
He felt a gruff chuckle emanate from Carlton’s chest. “While I have to admit I wouldn’t mind doing that, we can’t. We’re heading back home today, or have you not woken up enough to remember?”
“Mrh, I remember. Doesn’t mean I can’t whine about it.”
“Whining which I will inevitably ignore.” Shawn let out a small groan, realizing Carlton was right.
“Meanie.”
“Nervous about going home?”
Shawn opened his eyes and looked up at Carlton, who was staring back at him, trying to look disinterested, but failing horribly. The man really couldn’t hide his emotions too well. Shawn gave him a sheepish grin and nodded.
“I guess spending the week here kind of took my mind off of it.”
“Yes, trying to seduce me into bed must’ve taken a lot of planning.”
“Hey!” Shawn punched his shoulder playfully, body still half-asleep and unable to hit any harder. “It’s not like you didn’t spend the whole week planning ways to foul me up. Making me wait this long was cruel and unusual punishment!”
“Shawn, I like to be involved with someone for at least a little while before having the relationship turn into a sexual one.”
“Tch, liar. You probably say that to all the girls so they fall head over heels for you. I can see right through your act, Lassi.”
“Mhm. Well you finally got me, are you happy now?”
“Happy as a dolphin; and those guys are always happy!” Shawn gave Carlton the biggest, cheesiest grin he could muster, and the man’s only response was to roll his eyes.
They lapsed back into silence for a moment, Carlton stroking his fingers through Shawn’s hair, and Shawn pressing his fingers into Carlton’s chest, as if fascinated by every muscle and shape.
“So what’s going to happen when we get back?” Carlton asked, finally breaking the quiet around them. Shawn didn’t answer, prompting Carlton to speak again. “Shawn?”
“I’m gonna go find everyone, apologize for being a giant dickhead, and see if they’ll accept that.” Shawn glanced up at him, worry evident in his eyes. “Think that’ll work?”
Carlton nodded confidently. “Without a doubt. Though I don’t know how your dad and Mr. Guster usually take you skipping town for a few months.”
“Eh, Henry will rant for about twenty minutes, but in between the noise will be some stuff about his relief of me being back. And Gus will probably stutter for a bit before telling me he will never speak to me again if pull another stunt like this.”
“I’m guessing he’s not good at keeping that threat?”
“What do you think, Mr. Head Detective?”
“Probably shouldn’t even have asked. So what…” Carlton paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way to best relate the question. “What are you going to tell them about us?”
Shawn shrugged. “What do you think I should tell them?”
“I’m guessing whatever it is; it’s going to involve jokes about you being a boy named Timmy trapped in a well and me coming to rescue you.”
“Why Carly, I didn’t know you had humor in you!” Shawn poked his chest, making Carlton twitch from the ticklish feeling. “You can’t keep these things from me; I will find them out.”
“So really, what are you going to say?”
“The truth. Jules will probably coo and squeal about how we make such a cute couple, Gus will have a major heterosexual freak-out, and Henry will be so pleased to have another cop in the family that he won’t give a damn.”
“This is going to make fishing with him so much more awkward.”
“That’s the chance you take.”
“Guess it’s not too bad of a deal for me.”
“You had better not be implying that I’m not worth awkward fishing trips. That isn’t what you’re saying, is it Lassi-face? I do not want to have to put a sex embargo down.”
“Please, you could barely last this week; there’s no way that would work.”
“Don’t underestimate me, my friend. I may surprise you.”
Carlton couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t doubt that a bit.”
X-posted to psychfiction, psych_slash, and shawn_lassiter