Okay, I'm a little afraid to post this anywhere else.
I wrote something Shawn/Lassiter. It's part of a series that's been running in my head since From Earth to Starbucks and the canon just keeps screaming at me to write it because it would so, so fit.
The only problem... I'm not sure they're in character. So I need you, my flist or more specifically the three people on my flist that watch Psych and would be able to tell me if it's crap or out of character like I fear, to tell me if it's crap or out of character like I fear.
So, that's it. Please be helpful! You get to read fic out of the deal. And if it is said that it is not crap and not out of character, I may be able to muster up the courage to x-post. Title:
Late Night Drunken ConfessionsWord Count:
PG-13Summary: He’s only twenty-eight and, sure, that’s not that old to be having a gay epiphany, but it hadn’t been on the list of things for himself to get done in his life. Author's Notes:
So, this is part of a series. The first part. There will be at least two more parts. More if the episodes keep going this way and don't go to a dark place. Even then I may have to write over possible dark places. Anyway, inspired by From Earth to Starbucks so Spoilers for that.
He feels more than just a little drunk.
Pleasantly so at least and he lost track of how many vodka and sodas he’s had. He thinks it’s up there, but he’s not quite sure because his brain feels hazy. He remembers his dad talking, lots of words that are either too icky for him to digest properly or too big for him to understand with his alcohol addled brain.
He knows he didn’t drive home, keys still in his pocket as his dad drops him onto the sofa and shakes his head. It hurts his brain to think about that too much so he just doesn’t.
He’d thought he’d passed the mark, his father being single for so long that it would be just so natural for him to never date. To die alone and Shawn knows that’s selfish, but it’s how he feels, how he’s always felt.
“What do you want?”
He tries to focus his eyes better when he opens the door and he thinks he must be really drunk if he’s seeing Detective Carlton Lassiter standing in his doorway. But he keeps blinking and the image stays the same.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Why’d you do it?”
There’s a sharp determined look on his face, one Shawn’s seen many times before when working a case and it’s that same look that’s been lacking for the past three weeks, possibly more. The one Shawn had been trying to put back on the face in front of him.
“Do what?” Shawn asks, but he already knows.
“Why’d you help me?” Carlton says.
Plain and simple in that no nonsense sort of way that he has. The one that makes him sharp, makes him a good detective.
“You did. O’Hara isn’t very good at holding her liquor. I took her out thinking she was the one who had helped me. Thought I’d show her my appreciation for the nudge. Instead, I get a junior detective acting like a giggling school girl explaining to me, in clear detail, that I should be taking the local psychic out for drinks instead of her.”
Shawn wants to smack Juliet. Not hard and just a little bit because this whole thing, everything he had done, that’s supposed to be a secret meaning Carlton Lassiter must never know type of deal.
But he really can’t blame her. She’s terrible at drinking and maybe if Lassiter had spent a little more time with her, he’d know that for himself.
“So, again, I ask, why’d you do it?”
“I’m guessing you had no problem holding your liquor tonight.”
He looks up at Lassiter’s face, blue eyes looking at him critically, eyes Shawn had said women wanted to do things to, what he can’t remember because a few of his higher brain functions aren’t working.
“I didn’t drink much, but I’m beginning to think you had one too many.”
“That happens when you’re forced to have icky conversation with your father who should be enjoying his retirement in a less icky way.”
Lassiter cocks an eyebrow and frowns a bit.
“You said icky twice.”
“What I’m only allowed to say it once?”
He’s stalling and Lassiter knows it, Shawn can see it on his face. That look that he’s just waiting for Shawn to shut up for two seconds so they can get back to the point. A lot of the time the point just doesn’t matter because Shawn has the answers.
Shawn thinks it probably matters in this instance.
“Why do you care?”
“Because this is my career you’re being so flippant with here.” Lassiter practically yells.
Shawn tugs at his arm because really, his neighbors won’t take too kindly to loud noise this late at night. Lassiter goes, minimally protest at least for him, and Shawn slams the door behind him.
“I wanted to help you.”
“Well, I don’t need your help.”
“Look, this is why I didn’t want you to find out. Because I knew you’d be angry.”
“You think maybe if you know a person is going to be upset you shouldn’t do what’s going to make them upset.”
“I just wanted you to feel better about yourself. I thought if I just helped a bit…”
“Oh, Saint Shawn wanted to help me. Well thank you very much for just invalidating my life even more, Spencer. Really, it must be a talent of yours.”
“You figured it out. I didn’t hold your hand on this one.” Shawn says a bit angrily.
He’d hoped he’d not have to go through this. Had hoped that everyone involved would have been smart enough to remain quiet because he knows that, if Lassiter had found out, it would have been all bad.
The proof and evidence to that theory is standing right in front of him, fists clenched and eyes angry.
“You’re a good cop.” Shawn says into the silence.
Lassiter’s face softens a bit, but just a bit and he’s still royally pissed off.
“You just needed to remember that.”
“What, you think that thing in the bar… you think that hasn’t happened before.” Lassiter says, his tone a bit incredulous.
Shawn frowns at that.
“Maybe not in front of someone, but it happens. It happens to every detective. It… it doesn’t mean anything.”
He wonders if Lassiter really means that. He knows it’s true, has been around enough detectives to know that it’s true, but Lassiter had sounded so sad, tired, angry and a whole bunch of other adjectives that meant he’d been serious.
“It didn’t mean anything.”
Shawn knows that last one isn’t really for him.
“I didn’t want to take that chance.”
Lassiter smiles, sad and not amused and snorts while he shakes his head.
“Thought you would have liked that. Me leaving. Give you a chance to get a detective that believes in your psychic crap. Someone more like O’Hara.”
“Any other seasoned detective wouldn’t be like Juliet. And I’m breaking you down.”
He wonders if it’s the right thing to say, thinks it’s probably not, but then Lassiter’s smirking at him, really smirking at him and he thinks that maybe it had been the okay thing to say.
“I think you’re confused about that, Spencer.”
He wants to notice that Lassiter’s getting closer, but he can’t, not really and it may have something to do with the alcohol, but it could also have something to do with the fact that Lassiter’s close.
Not that he wants to explore that train of thought.
“Admit it, you like me.” Shawn says and he does not lick his lips.
At least that’s what he tells himself.
“You’re annoying.” Lassiter says, but his actions don’t fit his words.
That hand, reaching out and touching Shawn’s arm, lightly ever so lightly and Shawn tries to swallow the lump in his throat.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t astound you.”
His words are whispered, hushed and muted and Lassiter frowns, brows furrowing and his jaw twitches just a bit, but his hand doesn’t move. In fact, it strokes, soft touches and Shawn tries not to lean into them.
“Astound, huh. Well, at least I’m an eloquent drunk.”
“Yeah, the eloquentiest.”
Lassiter laughs and Shawn has a moment to realize Lassiter’s way to close to his mouth before Lassiter’s talking.
“Eloquentiest is not a word, Spencer.”
“Well I’m not a very good with words when I’m drunk. Although I suppose I could have said you were most eloquent instead, but…”
“Shut up, Spencer.”
He doesn’t even have time to think before Lassiter’s mouth is on his, hot and demanding and it’s not just one of Lassiter’s hands on his forearm, but both and not just on his forearm. Running up and down his sides, playing with the hem of his shirt, grabbing anywhere they can and Shawn knows he should stop this.
It’s Lassiter and Lassiter’s a guy he works with, but more importantly he’s a guy and Shawn likes girls. Likes their curves and their hair and their smiles and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, but Shawn isn’t.
So he should pull away, but Lassiter’s a really good kisser. Really good and he puts all of himself into kissing, hands and body and lips and it’s almost too good. He wants to pull away, but Lassiter’s holding onto him, fingers pushing in the skin just above his pants.
In the end, it’s Lassiter who pulls away, but not too far away and Lassiter’s lips nip at his neck and jaw line and Shawn really needs to stop him.
“Carlton.” Shawn says, voice harsh and rough sounding and Shawn really wishes it hadn’t been.
Lassiter lifts his head to look Shawn in the face, brows furrowed and his lips twists in that way that makes Shawn wonder how he does that.
“What?” Lassiter says.
“What are you doing?”
Shawn knows it’s a dumb question. It’s pretty obvious what Lassiter’s doing, what they had both been doing and Shawn can’t really deny that he hadn’t been kissing back.
“I was… I mean… I…”
He’s seen Lassiter get nervous and tip over his words before. Most of the time it’s in front of the Chief and Shawn’s the cause of his bumbling. This time it’s a bit different because he looks confused and a little bit hurt and it makes Shawn want to go back to the kissing.
Only Shawn’s not gay and he really hadn’t thought Carlton Lassiter was.
“It was the heat of the moment.” Lassiter decided to say after a few beats of incredibly awkward silence.
Shawn’s surprised he’s not going to put anymore fight into it. Not that Shawn wants him to fight or anything, but Lassiter loves to argue, especially with Shawn and Shawn had thought for sure Lassiter would throw the fact that Shawn had kissed back into his face.
“Right… heat of the moment.” Shawn says.
Lassiter’s hands, the hands that had still been under Shawn’s shirt, touching Shawn’s skin, pull away as if burned and Shawn takes a moment of insanity to miss them before reminding himself that he’s not gay.
He’s only twenty-eight and, sure, that’s not that old to be having a gay epiphany, but it hadn’t been on the list of things for himself to get done in his life.
“I… I better go.” Lassiter says.
Shawn finds it amazing how Lassiter can be indignant and awkward at the same time, but he pulls it off with ease and flair.
“Right, go. Gotta get up in the morning and put bad guys away in jail.”
Lassiter frowns again and Shawn resolutely does not think that it’s kind of cute. And it he does he chalks it up to proximity and drunkenness.
“And you need to go to sleep. Maybe take an aspirin.”
“Ah, you really do care, Lassie.” Shawn says.
Lassiter’s still frowning and his eyes are a bit wider than usual, but he just shakes his head and rubs at his temple.
“Whatever Spencer. Just get some rest.”
He doesn’t even wait for Shawn to see him out. Just goes out of the door and quietly closes it behind him.
Shawn wonders if it’s going to be awkward the next day, when he comes marching into the police office to lend his psychic abilities to the men and women who run the department.
Wonders if it will be awkward long after that, when they’re knee deep in cases and evidence and Lassiter’s growling at him and Juliet’s looking at him for all the answers and Gus’s whining about needing to get back to work even though the both know that’s not going to happen.
Wonders if it will always be awkward with shooting looks and too long stares that even Juliet will be able to pick up on. Wonders if they’re teasing will change, at least on Lassiter’s part because he had started the whole kissing thing. Wonders if they’ll get meaner, wonders if he’ll get more personal, wonders if this changes everything.
But mostly, he wonders if he’ll remember it in the morning.
He figures he’ll pass out and just take it as it comes.