who asked for something Psych and short (972 words) and mentioned Lassie. While this focuses mainly on him, there's some Shawn/Lassiter undertones because they just could not be ignored.
Next up, watch as clockstopper
tries her hand at writing Captain Jack Harkness with anyone as asked for by burningchaos
. That one could actually be a bit harder, but I wanted to try anyway and this gives me the perfect excuse.
Carlton Lassiter is used to drinking alone.
He likes it, makes it a point to always drink alone. Avoids the bars he knows the other detectives from the precinct are liable to frequent. They’ve stopped asking if he wants to go out with them. O’Hara hasn’t quite gotten it yet, still asks him if he’s going to go out with everyone else in that cheery way of hers with that bright smile and Carlton has to glare at her until she gets flustered and walks away.
It’s a bit mean, but he’s not out to make her off the clock time better. He has enough of a hard time with his own.
It had started when he hit a rough patch with his wife, the first of many and he’d had to turn down one too many barbeques. He had gone out to a bar he couldn’t even remember the name of, got drunk and had called a cab home because he’s a detective and he can’t break the law.
Two years later and a whole lot of wasted time spent fighting for a dying ideal and he likes drinking alone. Prefers it above all else. Bars are noisy enough without having people he knows laughing and talking loudly about their day when all he wants to do is scream at them and tell them to go home to their wives.
Because their wives still live at home, still look out the window hoping that every car that passes by is them, their husband coming home for once in their miserable marriage.
He can’t even remember what his wife looks like on most days and it’s those days where that whispering doubt, that feeling that he could do so much better, that they’re both better off this way, makes itself known.
He’s not fighting for her, he’s fighting for what she represents.
That idea of someone to go home to, someone to forget the day in when all it really brought him was someone he knew he’d always disappoint, someone who didn’t understand that there was something to forget.
He knows he’s not without fault. Knows that he cheated on her, but she had cheated on him first, many times and it had gotten to the point where she hadn’t even tried to hide it anymore, had told him it was too little too late.
He thinks about all the things she had stopped him from doing, that job in LA, the transfer to New York, all because she had wanted to stay close to her family, the family she had pack up all her stuff and then some and had moved in with.
They had said she was better off without, that he had been a lousy husband, and he’s almost inclined to agree with them, but she hadn’t been a great wife either.
He likes to drink alone because then he doesn’t have to explain any of this to anyone. Doesn’t have to talk about his day which is always too long and not as fulfilling as he wishes it could be.
It’s still interesting though and he still loves it so he goes back everyday.
“Now that’s just sad.”
He looks up and sees one of the reasons, probably the biggest reason, his job is still interesting. People like Shawn Spencer, people who claim to be what they’re not and still get away with it and he remembers a time when he had wanted nothing more than to throw Shawn in jail.
Now it’s just not worth the paperwork.
“Go away, Spencer.” He mutters into his scotch.
“Now, Lassie, can’t have you sitting here drinking alone. Besides, my date decided, in her infinite wisdom and my psychic interference, that she just had to go accept that job offer she’s been dying to get since she started her job. My night is free.”
He says it with flourish because Spencer can’t ever say anything without flourish. Says it like it’s supposed to be something grand, but there’s this thing, around his eyes and in them that tells Carlton that he really wishes he could see a date through.
Carlton almost can’t believe that he has a problem with that.
“Well, go be free somewhere else.”
Spencer smiles, that soft ‘trust me, I won’t steer you wrong’ smile of his that Carlton hates most days.
“That wouldn’t be very nice of me. This kind of place. You need company.”
Then Spencer goes on, talking a mile a minute like he’s prone to do, saying nothing at all as he does it, about the ambience of the place and how it just dictates that one not be alone. Carlton knows this, likes the noise it generates and he picks it when he can’t stop thinking, but he still doesn’t want to be surrounded by anyone.
But, for some totally unexplainable deny it in the morning reason, Spencer’s voice droning on and on is… nice.
Even if the topic is annoying.
“Spencer.” He says a bit curtly.
“Yes Lassie.” Spencer says in that same childish tone that Carlton has a sneaking suspicion is all fake.
“Are you gonna shut up and order a drink or what?”
He’s rewarded with a smile, even if his tone is a bit harsh and he thinks nothing of it when Spencer pulls up a stool and starts taking about how his day had gone, in great, spare no expense, detail.
“Oh and you’re so buying me a drink for the attitude.”
Carlton thinks it’s a pretty heavy price to pay for some company, but then Spencer starts talking about his latest goofball stunt on his motorcycle and how it had been totally awesome, no segue needed at all, and Carlton can’t bring himself to care too much.
He still grumbles about it when the check comes though.