#Carlton Lassiter fic

[cintasfics]

I've recently started watching Psych and I've come up with my own oc/self-insert because I'm desperate for fics lol. So here is a basic rundown of her relationships with the main group:

Friends with Gus and Shawn (obviously)

I'm thinking she met Gus through work (she's a nurse) or they all just crossed paths one day and Shawn decided she was their new best friend (a la the looney tunes show)

Shares custody of Shawn, if Gus is busy with work or has just had enough of Shawn for a bit, she joins him on his cases instead and/or tries to keep him entertained

I'm unsure if she knows that Shawn is faking being a psychic or not, I'm thinking she's eventually let in on the bit so they have someone else in their corner helping them do the grunt work, but until then she's sceptical but goes along with it regardless because it's fun to watch

Gets on well with Juliet, they started hanging out outside of cases when she invited Juliet out with her friends because she knows what it's like to be new in town not knowing many people. they soon have a 'you're not insane and neither am I (both clearly insane)' thing going on and the others try to avoid leaving them alone unsupervised

Lassiter immediately writes her off due to her association with Shawn but slowly warms up to her and to his horror, finds himself falling for her (much to Juliet, their number one shipper's, delight)

Henry is kind of a father figure to her, with her family living elsewhere he kind of steps in to help her with various things (car trouble, maintenance issues, no one to fish with etc.) and they become quite close. she loves to annoy Shawn by saying she's Henry's favourite (she gets away with more/lectured less than him and Gus)

[wearethefandomsthatwaited]

Vagos pt.3 - Play nice ... or not

Part 1 Lassiter? More like Assiter!

Part 2 In the Chief's office

The medic clears her after a grueling thirty minutes of anesthetic-less stitchwork — even a local anesthetic would have sufficed — ordering her to rest, and to get the wound properly looked at in the hospital. Like that’s going to happen, she thinks, pushing off from her lean on the table, thankful that her gun holster is no longer digging into her back. She moves to give Smith, who is crouched over packing his equipment, a handshake. When she notices the blood still clinging to her fingers, she thinks better of it, opting to send the medic a nod, and a quick ‘ thank you’ instead. Jewel exits the conference room to the sound of Smith whistling some Top 40’s pop song, smiling to herself when he misses a note. 

She takes slow steps, eyes searching as she walks. She spots a uniform exiting the restroom, and heads that way, wanting to scrub her hands clean. The fluorescents of the bathroom do her no favors, highlighting the dark shadows under her eyes, and the even darker bruise blooming across her cheek. Jewel grimaces at her reflection, wanting nothing more than to shower the dust and grime away. She scrubs her hands, taking care to scrape blood from under her fingernails, until they’re pink from the hot water. After a moment's hesitation, she bends to wash her face, wiping the blood from her split lip, and eyebrow. She hears the thud of a utility belt being hooked on a stall, as she pats her face dry, studying herself in the mirror. 

Not my best , she thinks, licking her split lip, but definitely better than all that heavy makeup . Even without last night’s makeup, she looks a far cry better than she had walking into the precinct this morning, which is saying something given the impressive black eye and bruise high on her cheekbone.

She exits the restroom with a sigh, carefully slipping back into her leather jacket as she enters the bullpen on her journey to leave. She stops in her tracks when she spots Lassiter and O’Hara working at their desks, rerouting towards them, instead. Home, well the dingy apartment she’s undercover at, and blissful sleep.. after writing up my report, of course …will have to wait. She stops in front of Lassiter’s desk, standing patiently with her hands clasped behind her back. After a moment of him ignoring her, her boot begins tapping impatiently on the tile, eyes trained on his salt and pepper hair as he bends over a file.

She bites her tongue, hard breath pushing out of her nose, before turning away. “ Carlton ,” O’Hara chides, disapprovingly at her partner. Jewel makes a step towards the female detective’s desk, before turning slightly, pausing as Lassiter finally looks up, at his partner first, then locks eyes with Jewel.

With a put-upon sigh, his narrowed eyes piercing under his furrowed brow, he finally growls, “What do you want?” Jewel scoffs. So much for trying to smooth things out , she thinks, shaking her head before fully making her way towards O’Hara’s desk, watching as Lassiter throws his arms up, out of the corner of her eye. 

“Detective O’Hara,” Jewel nods amicably, projecting her voice enough that Lassiter can hear, a slight smile pulling at her split lip. “I figured it would be beneficial if the team saw the case file I’ve been putting together.” She glances at Detective Lassiter, who perks up at her words, face blank. “Would you like access to my files? I have them backed up securely online.” She and the other female detective share a smile, before O’Hara nods, moving to raise from her desk chair. “Oh no, please, sit. Sit . I’m sure you’re on your feet enough around here.” Jewel ignores the protest she can see forming on the blonde detective's kind face, opting to walk around the desk instead, so they both face the screen. 

Jewel leans over, fighting a wince at the stretch, as she logs into the encrypted site, ignoring the asinine argument about breakfast cereals that Spencer and Guster are having across the desk. Personally, she thinks cocoa puffs far outshine fruit loops , but she’s not going to entertain the discussion… not outwardly anyway, she has a reputation to maintain, afterall. She prompts O’Hara to enter her work email so that she can share the files to the computer. While she’s at it, she interrupts the debate, eyes turning to Guster, “What’s your email?”

“What about mine?” Spencer questions, offended. Guster puffs out his chest, a sneer on his face as he looks from her to Spencer. The two suck their teeth at each other, much like when she first arrived this morning, before Guster punches Spencer in the arm, promptly shutting him up. The psychic , she doesn’t buy it, whines, hand clutching his bicep. 

“I trust his internet security more than yours, Spencer.” Jewel hears a soft snort behind her, turning to find Assiter a few paces away, nonchalantly rifling through a filing cabinet. She rolls her eyes, turning back to the computer to share the files with the psychic duo. After a few moments of listening to Guster’s boasting over Spencer’s whining, she tunes her focus to behind her, listening to files rhythmically moving back and forth, scraping against the metal. “ Head Detective Lassiter ,” she drawls out, “would you like to deign us with your presence, and be granted access to my files?” 

“Might as well,” he replies, an air of nonchalance to his deep voice, as he slams the drawer to the filing cabinet, hands empty. She’s barely brought up the sharing page, before he’s bodily forcing her out of the way, leaning past her to type in his email. The jostling causes her to bump into the desk, the connection sending a jolt of pain up her abdomen. Gritting her teeth, she hums, forcing a steadying breath through her nose. Prick . 

“How bad is it,” O’Hara questions, kindly, motioning toward her stomach. Lassiter’s typing pauses for a moment as he, haughtily, glances back at Jewel, before he returns to his task. She shrugs, forcing the pain down, as she takes a step away from the Head Detective’s proximity.

“Stitching would’ve been better with some numbing cream, but a broken beer bottle can only do so much damage.”

“That is so cool,” Spencer exclaims, earning a glare from O’Hara and Guster.

Jewel chuckles around a wince. “It wasn’t cool when they smashed it on my face before stabbing me with it, but I agree…pretty cool.” They all freeze, even Assiter, turning to look at her with wide eyes. Spencer is the only one to smile back at her, offering her a fist bump, which she hesitantly returns, before he makes an explosion noise.

“Badass,” he beams, giving her a suggestive once over. She smirks back at him, before turning back to the others, who still seem perturbed.

“Oh, before I forget,” she starts, pulling out both of her phones, “I’ll need your contacts.” She steps around the desk, handing her work phone down the line, “this is the undercover one, so don’t use your full names, and please never use my name.” They finish going down the line, exchanging numbers, before she passes her second phone to repeat the process. “This is my personal, I guess, for normal working matters. I don’t carry it when undercover, so you might have to try both phones sometimes. And my name,” she air quotes, rolling her eyes, “is Gem , so it’s easy to remember, though all the bikers call me Brandy.” If it were her choice, it would have been something much cooler, but unfortunately, the ATF created the cover without her input. Maybe next time. 

“Really, Gem , and Brandy ” Lassiter intones, head rolling forward over his crossed arms, dark brows raised. “ Classy .” His sarcasm is thick, a mild contempt dripping from his cold voice. “Pretty sure I’ve arrested a few of those.”

“Wasn’t my choice,” she replies, straightening to look him in the eyes, “but don’t worry Head Detective , they’re supposed to sound like stripper names, it’s my backstory,” she sneers. They glare at one another, Jewel refusing to back down to the Head Detective’s cold eyes. She feels victory blooming in her chest when an angry flush starts to spread upwards on his neck. The reverie is broken, however, when she feels a large, warm hand tap her shoulder. She sends one last narrow-eyed glare, before turning to see the tall, dark haired officer from before.

He smiles at her widely, apprehension on his face, as he holds out a disposable coffee cup. “Thought you might need this.” She takes it from him gratefully, a small smile gracing her lips at his gangly great-dane puppy energy. “I didn’t know how you take it, so I figured a cream and sugar should be safe,” he pauses, eyes widening, “unless you're lactose intolerant, oh man .”

She cuts him off before he can fret too long, sipping at the hot coffee. “It’s perfect, and surprisingly thoughtful… Officer McNabb, was it?”

He nods, extending a hand to shake, “Yup, Buzz McNabb.”

“Detective Stewart,” she smiles, “Now, McNabb, is there a firing range here? And if so, could you help a girl out and lead the way?” The officer enthusiastically nods, stepping back to allow her to grab her phones, log out of the encrypted site, and nod a goodbye. 

“Shouldn’t you be going to relax,” O’Hara questions, concern in her kind blue eyes. 

“That’s what I’m doing.” Jewel chuckles, shaking O’Hara’s hand before sending a wink Spencer and Guster’s way, steadfastly ignoring the Head Detective’s eyes following her. Yes , she thinks, shooting off a few rounds is just what I need to relieve some stress .

“Wow Lassie,” Guster states disapprovingly, as she walks away.

“Lassiter, you simple, lanky, irishman,” Spencer continues, voice fading as she follows McNabb away, “You talked to her for less than an hour, and she already needs to shoot things.” 

Jewel chuckles around a mouthful of coffee. She can’t hear Lassiter’s reply, but can imagine the disdainful remark he surely throws her way. As if I'm the one who started it, Assiter.

[marlenacantswim]

shassie as a dynamic works so well imo because shawn is dialectically a genius and an idiot while lassie is dialectically badass and pathetic. thus, in the most ideal scenario, they're a scarily effective power duo of whip-smart deduction and ruthless tactical intimidation, but when you flip them to the other sides of their spectrums they become Two Losers Making Asses Of Themselves, both of whom constantly try to hoist themselves back to the other end by using the other as a counterweight.

[boom-bada-boom]

shawn spencer, through a series of comedic should-be-impossible hijinks, gets turned into a cat without anyone knowing its him. he elects to hang around the station and help out however much his four paws can.

hilariously, it doesn’t change that much.

some notes:

hes brownish-orange (kinda like henry’s hair in flashbacks??) which means he is close enough that he has the orange cat curse™

trying to decide on what breed he is. obviously mixed but what is in the mix?? main thoughts are havana, bengal, and siamese

okay final thoughts: bengal-siamese mix with a havana-like coloring for both eyes and coat.

hes a chatty cattyyyyyyyyyy,,,,,,,, yapper frfr

dog-person lassie and cat-person jules (she canonically has two cats)

he is so indecisive on if he should try and communicate that he is shawn to the station. on one hand theyd know hes safe and maybe be able to help him fix this. on the other jules has literally played fetch with him. a few officers have hand fed him. several cat things occurred. he would never live this all down (human shawn after hes asked where he was for like two months: (heavy sweating) i dont remember)

shawn sleeping in lassie’s chair and on his lap. he started doing it for the laughs but now he has realized that oh no this is actually comfy. tragedy.

half the station supports shawn’s cat shenanigans. a third just take videos. the remaining sixth try to call animal control on shawn but he always gets away and hes back in the station like two hours later so eventually they give up lmao

while all this is happening the station is also stressing because of shawn’s disappearance. they cant find any evidence for what happened. shawn went out to pursue a lead and just vanished. consequently, shawn is trying to make them all feel better with cat shenanigans

he refuses to use a litter box. it does not matter that he is so so small now he is using the fucking toilet. (the officers start leaving the bathroom door open a crack so he can slip in lmao)

shawn reading over case files while sitting on them. hes participating (and solving them)

shawn as a human accidentally left a pineapple stress toy in the station (maybe on some forgotten corner of lassie’s desk or smth lmao) and as a cat he rediscovers it and decides to play ball using it. all this to say that people start calling him pineapple because of it. honestly hes quite happy with that name over some other possibilities

jules is the only one allowed to touch the pineapple toy. he doesnt trust lassie not to try and dump it or something like the spiteful person he is and he certainly doesnt want anyone else touching it. (he would allow lassie to touch the pineapple toy if it werent for that fact though)

(shawn very carefully putting the pineapple toy down in front of lassie for the first timeand staring up with his big ole eyes and lassie stares back and externally his expression is hella flat but internally hes like oh no. oh no its growing on me)

BIG NEWS: cats can in fact eat pineapple, just not a lot since as a fruit it has a lot of sugar (not good for cats), HOWEVER… “It’s hard to see why because cats don’t have the taste buds that let them enjoy sweet flavors. The strong sweet and tangy taste of pineapple is mostly lost on them.”

shawn finally managing to get someone (probably buzz) to give him some pineapple only to be utterly HEARTBROKEN bc it DOESNT TASTE LIKE PINEAPPLE ANYMORE !!!!!!!!!

juliet holding him like a little baby as he is purring like a freight train

LASSITER HOLDING HIM LIKE LONGCAT AS HE IS WAILING LIKE THE DAMNED

literallyyyyyy thisss,,,,

he breaks into the chief’s office to lounge on her desk and she gives him hardcore side eye before, after a while, just sighing and starting to pet him. “this station doesn’t exactly need a mascot, you know,” she tells him, to a reply of mrrp, “but i suppose a little bit of cheering up wouldn’t be too bad.” very carefully, she taps him on the nose. “but not too much. this is a serious line of work—no making a mockery of my station.” the dull thunking of a tail smacking repeatedly into solid wood made no promises.

inconceivable amounts of cat fur everywhere and on everyone. no one can brush him because he wriggles away like an eel and dramatically grooms his fur out of their reach. so he just sheds everywhere. hes got a thick coat there is so. much. fur.

he keeps sneaking into crime scenes. no one is sure how but they suspect he is hitchhiking in lassiter’s car. no one can prove it tho bc they cant fucking find him. the crazy thing is that he leads them to evidence sometimes like a narcotics detection dog but with completely random items that usually seem nonsensical at first. until they prove otherwise. consistently.

lassie to himself: man this feels just like dealing with spencer’s psychic shit. weird.

GUS FIGURES IT OUT FIRST. not because he saw anything but he just saw a newspaper about this cat solving crime with the cops and he was like “oh my fucking god. it can’t be.” and then he pulled up to the station yoinked said cat and went to an isolated corner to freak the fuck out with it. “shawn what the hell happened” he goes, and shawn meows with feeling

juliet watching gus talk to pineapple the station cat in the corner of the bullpen: ???????

several cops having the all-important conversation of what to label him as. theres no snappy cat version of K9 they can use. K9 is supposed to sound like “canine” but there’s no letter to cover the fel in“feline”

some say F9 and some say L9 and a few say FL9 or just straight up FEL9

BY THE WAY!!!!! “Police cats are becoming an increasingly popular addition to law enforcement teams around the world. These feline officers are being trained to assist their human counterparts in various aspects of police work, from sniffing out drugs and explosives to providing comfort and emotional support to officers on duty” SND ALSO “Because they are uncommon, police cats receive a lot of press. Many show up regularly in media posts. If your local department has a police cat, don’t be surprised if you see stories about them on the news”

police cats are a real thing!! shawn is not an official police cat but he is at this point an unofficial one. on rare occasions he might even listen to an order or two (the station thinks he may have been specially trained by some probably-illegal group or smth, escaped, and decided to imprint on the station) (btw this is an actual issue with some police cats. as independent creatures theyre not as predictable as dogs and might not follow orders, which is an issue in high stakes situations n shit)

[goofalicousgooberface]

Who wants to be psych mutuals and be insane about them..

[strangenewwords]

Shassie still a thing?

[afewproblems]

WIP Snippet from Difficult Days

This is rough, but I just had to share because I am kicking my legs up in the air at this interaction!

Shawn clears his throat, realizing just how close Lassiter’s face has gotten, “uh yeah, we have your back Lassifrass”.

Carlton hums, his eyes closing blearily for a moment before he looks at Shawn again, “you ever take your own advice Spencer?”

Shawn bristles slightly. 

“Listen, this isn’t about me, you're a striking man with strong features, eyes that I--that people--that women--” Shawn swallows harshly, ignoring the way Lassiter’s eyes trace over his rapidly heating face, all because of Shawn's stupid, big, dumb mouth.

“Women wanna do cannonballs into, you have great posture and uh, penmanship the likes I've never seen”.

“You're honestly a catch Lassie, don't be so hard on yourself".

“I'm a catch”.

“Yeah Lassie, you are”.

Lassiter stares at Shawn for a beat, his blue eyes almost seem to glow in the darkness of the pub and Shawn is so, so, aware of how close they're sitting now. He watches transfixed as Lassiter lifts his hand from his lap to reach up and trace a soft knuckle across Shawns cheekbone then down to his chin, slightly tipping Shawn’s face up.

Shawn feels himself stop breathing.

What. The fuck. Is happening??

Klaxons blare in his mind once again as a chorus of , ‘DANGER, DANGER WILL ROBINSON’, repeats over and over. 

“A catch,” Lassiter repeats, the words rumble in his chest. He smirks slightly, his blue eyes crease at the corners as he tips his face away to mutter something under his breath about catching someone. 

[lucy-frostblades]

shassie fanfic writers need to take more advantage of the lie detector the hurt/comfort could be so could

[philtstone]

FINAL CHAPTER of the zombie au sequel is up!!!!

[veryace-ficrecs]

Shawn/Lassiter Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Emotional Support Psychic by Isolation68 - Rated T

Lassiter had no clue what touch-therapy was, let alone that it even existed. That is, until he saw an ad for one in the newspaper. Shawn had been hired to be a ‘professional cuddler’ — his words — as a side job when Psych was running low on cases and money.

Complementary Souls by birdkeeperklink (speculating) - Rated T

Everyone has a joke or funny story that only their soulmate will laugh at. No one has ever laughed at Carlton's dead clown story. Until today, that is.

Shot Through the Heart (And You're to Blame) by trixietru - Rated E

Lassiter does something unexpected during a stressful moment, leading Shawn to re-evaluate their relationship.

Holdin' Out for a Hero by volee_weva - Rated T

Shawn Spencer grinned as much as he could, with the throbbing in his head. Carlton Lassiter didn’t get a lot of moments to be the cool guy, so, Shawn relished when he did. There was a certain sparkle in Lassie’s eyes when they bagged a bad guy; it was incredible to witness. -- In which Shawn gets held hostage, and Lassie saves the day.

Right Place, Wrong Time by Regann - Rated M

17-year-old Shawn has a fake ID burning a hole in his pocket, a college party to crash, and a mission to stop being the only virgin in his senior class. Unfortunately, there's this big-earred, good-doing grad student by the name of Carlton who catches him in the act. The unfair nature of cosmic humor being what it is, thus begins something that'll come back to haunt them both ten years later -- when an adult Shawn Spencer decides to give psychic investigation a try.

The Flirtation Dance by Zaxal - Rated T

Carlton decides to see what happens if he deliberately flirts back with Shawn.

Seconds Before the Crash by hawkeyedkoi - Rated G

When a case goes wrong and Shawn ends up in a coma, Lassiter and Juliet are determined to catch the murderer Shawn had been chasing. Thankfully they have a little supernatural help. Although, Lassiter would much prefer if the 'ghost' of Shawn could interact with anyone but him.

Home is Where the Hair Is by trixietru - Rated T

When Lassiter returns from an undercover assignment, he’s sporting an exciting new look.

Spencer Didn't Do It by Teragram - Rated G

Shawn has been framed for murder, but Lassiter hopes he won't be too quick to use his alibi.

[thespiritssaidso]

some people do it by the book (but i prefer to go by feel)

Summary: Shawn and Lassiter are undercover at a high-end resort where all visitors get their own private cabin. All the two need to do now is settle in — and chop up some wood to make a fire, of course. 

Notes: okay, so I’m basing this place off of the Big Cedar Lodge (I went there one year with my family on a road trip). I’m not sure if there’s a resort like it in California, but oh well. Currently as I’m writing this, it is 3 in the afternoon and the internet at my job is crappy and won’t let me look at maps without taking forever and a half to load it up. And if anyone knows me then they know that my patience is extremely limited (part of the reason why I’m only good at writing one shots lmao) and I don’t really feel like taking longer than necessary to make sure the made-up place I am writing for the made-up people to stay at actually exists. 

TL;DR this place exists in Branson, Missouri, but I’m too lazy to make sure a place like it also exists in California. 

Anyways, enjoy!! I know we all love a good Shassie at a cabin au.

Flufftober day 8: Chopping and Piling Wood

—————

Lassiter grunted as he swung his ax into the block of wood, chopping it neatly in two. He leaned over and tossed the half still sitting on the block and tossed it onto a small pile that was slowly building up. After throwing the other half onto the pile right after the first, he reached up and wiped a line of sweat beading on his forehead. 

Currently, he and Shawn were undercover as a married couple to investigate a few disappearances that were happening at the Great Pine Lodge. 

The place was as fancy as a cabin in the woods could get. Full plumbing, air conditioning for when it got hot, heaters for when it got cold, a large king size plush mattress complete with expensive feeling sheets and covers. And that was just the cabin. 

About a stone’s throw from where they were staying was a large beautiful lake, with water so clear Lassiter could almost see the bottom. 

The other cabins people were staying at were a decent distance from their own, close enough to see but not close enough to hear the inhabitants if they were inside. 

A paved road — not a gravel road — sat in front of the cabins, shuttle buses on speed dial on the rotary phone sitting on the bedside table inside, so that visitors wouldn’t have to waste their own cars’ gas to go to the dining hall, or the gift shop, or even the arcade (yes, this place had an arcade). 

Lassiter had always dreamed of going here one day. It was the perfect vacation spot for him and Shawn; fine dining, a beautiful view, activities the both of them would enjoy. 

But now was not the time for dreaming of a perfect vacation (although hopefully there’d be some time left for them to do so). Now was time for investigation. Or more aptly, chopping firewood, in Lassiter’s case. 

Before chopping another log, Lassiter stopped to reroll his sleeves that were slowly unraveling themselves. At the moment, all he was wearing was the button up he normally had on under his jacket, the pants to match said jacket, and his work shoes. He probably should’ve put a little more thought into his wardrobe. 

Too late. He’d committed and now he had to stick with it. Lassiter was just glad that Shawn was still unpacking inside. He was always self-conscious about his arms, how much of a stick he looked when he wasn’t wearing something loose — like his suit jacket. 

He looked at his biceps with disdain. It wasn’t like he was weak and couldn’t lift anything. His muscles just never showed unless he flexed them, hiding like some kind of sleeper agent, or whatever they were calling it nowadays. 

Whatever. So long as no one was here to see him make an idiot of himself trying to chop wood. Lassiter was eventually able to cut them into halves once he figured out a comfortable rhythm, but the start was just godawful. His first swing into the first log didn’t have enough weight behind it and was at an awkward angle, so it had bounced away from the wood and left only a small dent. His second swing was too strong and split right between the log and lodged itself into the chopping block. 

But he was better now, after cutting for what felt like hours, though realistically it had probably been thirty minutes. 

After placing another log down, Lassiter prepared to swing the ax once more when-

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Lassiter nearly jumped out of his skin. There, leaning against the door was none other than his boyfriend. From what he could see, it looked like Shawn made himself a mug of something warm, judging by the faint steam emanating from it. Tea? Coffee? Hot cocoa? Probably the latter, knowing his boyfriend’s taste for sweet things. 

Lassiter felt the tips of his ears warm, and he knew they’d gone red. “How long were you standing there for?” 

“Ah, time is irrelevant-”

“Shawn.” 

“At least ten minutes.”

Ten minutes. Ten minutes of just watching him swing an ax at wood. Lassiter had no clue what he looked like when he was cutting wood, but he was probably ridiculous. Shawn had probably seen every mistake he’d made. 

Lassiter turned back around, doing his best to ignore the way Shawn was staring at him and lifted the ax once more. He swung with precision and split the log neatly. “Don’t lie, Shawn.” He said, referring to what Shawn had said that startled him. “You know I hate it-”

“What? No no no! Carly, I’m being serious! Look, this is my serious face.”

He didn’t look, not wanting to see his boyfriend who was most likely holding back laughter. He didn’t say anything either, simply returning to the task at hand. Although now he knew he had an audience, which somehow made swinging an ax ten times harder than it was originally. 

There was quiet, uncharacteristic for Shawn. Only the crunching of dead leaves and the swish of grass told Lassiter that he was walking over to him. 

��Back up. I don’t want to accidentally hit you with the-”

“Carlton, look at me. Lemme see those baby blues.” 

At the use of his name, Lassiter turned his head to Shawn. The lack of a nickname and his tone told the detective that he really was being serious. 

And he was right. Lassiter couldn’t remember the last time the otherwise childish man looked this serious about something. He said nothing as he looked into Shawn’s eyes, grass green grounding him. He dropped the ax, a dull thud breaking the quiet. 

“I love all of you, Carly. Doesn’t matter how much you hate it, I look and see you. I don’t see flaws, I see the sexiest body a man could ask for.”

Lassiter couldn’t help the grin, or the tiny laugh that bubbled out at the last thing Shawn said. “Alright, if you say so.” 

“I do say so, and my word is law. You should know this by now, Carlytown.” Shawn stated matter-of-factly. 

This time, Lassiter let out a snort at his boyfriend’s statement. “Is that right?”

“It is.” 

“Mhm. By the way, did you finish unpacking our stuff?” If his calculations were correct, Shawn had taken all of twenty minutes. And from past experience Lassiter knew that it took him at least an hour to get everything perfectly situated for the both of them. 

“We can do that later, I know you have a specific way you like to have your toothbrush set up. Right now there’s a suspect somewhere that’s begging to get caught.” 

“I’m not sure any criminal actually wants to get caught.”

“Really? Because I’m sensing they’re at the arcade right now, writing a secret message in morse code at the game where you have to shoot down those rubber ducks.” 

“Are they, or do you just want to go play games?” 

“That’s neither here nor there. Point is, I’ve already called a shuttle to pick us up and take us to the main building. They should be here in about… five minutes?” 

Lassiter stared at him incredulously. “Five- five minutes? And you’re only telling me this now because why?” That just barely left him with enough time to get out of his sweaty button up and into something clean. It was just the arcade, but he’d prefer to go out without smelling weird in public. 

“Well, I would have told you earlier, but I just couldn’t stop watching you chop that wood. Seriously, Carly, you have no idea how hot you looked swinging that ax.”

“I- alright, fine. Could’ve used more warning time, but it’s fine. Where’d you put my clothes?” 

“In the dresser on the left of the bed, everything’s in the top drawer.”

—————

Notes: yeah yeah yeah, the name of the place they’re staying at is just a rip from the place I based it off of. Sue me. 

oh and the title is a lyric in C'mon Girl by Red Hot Chili Peppers, i couldn't come up with an actual title by myself, sorry

ao3 link

[cintasfics]

Jealousy, Jealousy

pairing: carlton lassiter x oc

wc: 1.2k

summary: the green-eyed monster rears its ugly head in lassiter as he watches his partner set marley up on a date with one of her friends

warnings: jealousy, mutually-pining idiots

a/n: I'm not super happy with this, but I wrote it a while ago and figured I would just publish it so I hope someone likes it!

'Oh, Marley! While I remember!’

Marley had begun to follow the boys towards the exit of the station, having just been briefed by the chief on a new case, but turned back around to see what Juliet had to say.

'I spoke to Damon and he's looking forward to going out with you! Does Thursday night work?'

Oh. Right. The guy Juliet was trying to set her up with. He was nice enough, and from the short conversation they’d had when they met the other day they seemed to have a few things in common, but she just wasn’t feeling a connection. Especially when she already had her eye on someone else, as unlikely as that was to come to fruition.

'Yeah, uh, Thursday works.’

'Perfect! I'll let him know!'

Even though she wasn’t real keen on the idea, it was hard to say no to Juliet. She was like an adorable little puppy eager to please and Marley didn’t have the heart to disappoint her by saying no. Besides, she wasn’t expecting her little crush to go anywhere. The guy she was interested in seemed to view her as little more than a professional acquaintance, a friend at the most, so she might as well give Juliet’s friend a chance. Who knows, he might be just the thing she needs to move on.

Lassiter watched the scene in front of him unfold out of the corner of his eye. Not due to any personal interest of course, he was only paying attention because it was happening right in front of him. Maybe closer to the chief’s office than his desk, but still in his clear line of vision so they might have well have been right under his nose. But regardless of the schematics, his curiosity was piqued. This ‘Damon’ being a new character to him, and a sketchy one at that if his name was anything to go by, as it conjured the image of some punk in a band.

'What was that about?' he asked his partner as she passed him by on the way to the small coffee station behind his desk.

'Hmm? Oh! There's this guy I know through my gym that seems really interested in Marley, we ran into him when we were getting coffee the other day and I thought I'd set them up,' Juliet happily explained the situation to him, though enthusiasm wasn't shared. Lassiter couldn't explain why, but a small yet heavy pit had begun to form in his stomach.

'They seemed to really hit it off,' Juliet continued, not noticing (or thinking out of the ordinary) her partners sudden frown and furrowed brow, too excited by the match she had just made, ‘and I think they would make a really cute couple.’

'Hmm, she doesn't seem very excited to me,’ he couldn’t help but grumble out his observation, having noticed Marley’s own lack of enthusiasm.

But Juliet wasn’t fazed, 'that's just Marley, she's shy about this kind of stuff. I mean, she’s even funny about accepting drinks from strangers.’

‘But I thought she preferred women?’ he was grasping at straws now, her attraction to the same sex one of his last lines of defence against admitting to himself that he had feelings for her.

‘Yes, but in the-‘ she took a second to remember what Marley had once said, ‘‘stereotypical loves every woman but only certain men bisexual way’ – her words.’

Her assurance did nothing to placate him. Only proving to deepen the pit in his stomach from the news that her sexuality was no longer a barrier, that no matter how small, he had a chance. But all that aside, why should the thought of Marley dating someone affect him? It wasn't his business what she got up to outside of work. Even if it did involve some degenerate who probably sells bootleg DVD’s out of the boot of his car.

~}i{~

With the case all wrapped up, all that was left for the trio to do was collect their wages from the station.

While the boys argued over the division of the cheque, Gus believing he was entitled to a bigger cut this time around due to his larger than usual contribution (facing one of his many fears), Marley found herself standing by Lassiter, watching the fight unfold.

Lassiter, unable to think of anything else to say, but also unable to resist the pull he felt towards her, started up a conversation by asking her about the topic that had been constantly on his mind lately.

‘So, Williams, how was your uh- your date the other night?’

‘You heard about that?’ she was surprised that he was asking about it, the detective usually happy to keep personal business private.

‘O’Hara was struggling to contain her excitement about it, practically gushing to anyone who would listen.’

‘Yeah, that sounds like Jules,’ she thought to herself before responding, ‘God, she reminds me of my mother sometimes. Getting worked up anytime someone shows the slightest bit of interest in me. Am I really that tragically single? Anyways, it was nice, I guess.’

‘Just nice?’ he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know how her date went, but he got the feeling it wasn’t anything to write home about, which gave him the courage to ask.

‘Well, it might have been better if I didn’t spot Shawn and Gus sitting a couple of tables away, wearing fake moustaches and trying to hide behind their menus every time I looked their way,’ she explained with the exasperated yet amused expression that seemed to follow the duo wherever they went.

Her response got a scoff and an eyeroll out of the detective, ‘idiots. Can’t take them anywhere.’

‘Yeah, even when you try your best not to. I was so careful about not letting slip the time and location too. But of course, Madame Raya over there figured it out,’ she rolled her eyes, the man was annoyingly perceptive sometimes, ‘but even without their interference it was kind of a bust. Don’t get me wrong, he was nice enough and we got on well, but it just wasn’t it, y’know?’

Though he knew that the right thing to do would be to comfort her over her failure of a date, assure her that the right person was out there waiting for her, he couldn’t do it. It might have made him a bad person, but he was glad that the date hadn’t worked out. He might have still been coming to terms with the fact that he liked the woman, not ready to ask her out tomorrow or even next week, but a selfish part of him was glad that he hadn’t missed his chance, that she hadn’t found someone else in the meantime.

~}i{~

Juliet watched the two of them from her desk, the way they interacted making something click in her mind. Lassiter’s behaviour whenever Damon was mentioned started to make sense to her - he was jealous. He liked Marley.

Watching Marley smile and laugh with the surly detective also set off a lightbulb. She thought she was into Damon but compared to how she was acting right now, she realised that she was only being friendly with him. That this is how she acts around someone she truly likes.

It was like she was seeing them with new eyes, how could she have been so blind! Did anyone else know about this? Surely the guys had to know, if not from knowing Marley so well then from the spirits or whatever it was Shawn gets his information from.

She wasn't discouraged though – far from it. Maybe this attempt at matchmaking didn't work out, but she was sure that her next one would.

[gremlin-pattie]

Psych fics that altered my brain chemistry (most of these focus on Shawn and Gus’s friendship):

One Undead to Another

(vampire!Shawn, angst, the gang (Gus + Lassie + Jules) being there for Shawn)

same eyes as your father

(Henry learning how to accept and support trans!Shawn; he’s a little confused at first, but it’s very sweet)

Second Shooter

(trans!Gus and trans!Shawn surviving middle school together)

every superhero has an origin story

(a look into how knowing Shawn has changed Gus’s life)

these first few fragile months

(Shawn and Gus reconnect after Shawn returns to Santa Barbara, once Shawn finally decides to stop running)

[marlenacantswim]

underutilized aspect of lassiter's running "i'd rather..." line of dialog is the ability to drop absolutely buckwild pieces of lore with it.

as an example: "i'd rather get stuck in an elevator with Al Gore." his gaze grows distant. "...again."

[boom-bada-boom]

the opposite of a wonderful life

or: the universe decides to pay shawn spencer back. by sending the most important people in his life into the universe where shawn spencer never came home. which, as it turns out, is a bad thing. they didn’t really realize how much shawn actually did for them until now

(what’s shawn up to while they experience Character Development? he is currently marathoning tv in the psych office while eating pineapple ice cream. he takes a nap afterwards. all around just having a great time)

at some point, the postcards collected by this universe’s gus stopped getting new ones. it means something, though no one will say it. (the last record of shawn spencer was at job #39, nowhere close to the supposed-to-be total of 57.) (this, of course, not accounting for the jobs that even gus doesn’t know. or the jobs that were never officially listed.) (but surely that couldn’t mean much?)

jules all the way in fucking miami calling lassie’s cell: what the HELL is going on, carlton?

lassie: o’hara?? where are you????

jules: MIAMI????? FOR SOME REASON????

lassie, his arm dropping in shock and accidentally pulling his phone away from his ear: sweet justice she’s in miami.

gus, riding shotgun in lassie’s car: she’s in miami??

(jules, to herself: oh my god i need to book a flight. like… NOW.)

gus calling henry to ask if he knows where shawn is only to have henry get highly aggressive and defensive and he just doesnt understand why. henry maybe never coming back to santa barbra because shawn never comes back to santa barbra.

a number of criminals walked because either the case went cold without shawn or the wrong person or people were convicted for it. what im saying is the group encounters a criminal who they caught in their timeline just walking on the street or smth. lassie tries to draw his gun on them and jules and gus scramble to stop him

perhaps. perhaps the way they get back to their universe is finding out what happened to shawn here. and if they learn a lesson or twelve along the way, well, thats just coincidence :)

(all three of them learn a lot about what shawn got up to between 1995 and 2006, or at least the parts he did manage to do this timeline)

btw this whole exploring shawn’s 10 years travelling thing opens up several opportunities for like. brief crossovers. mentioning such and such from whatever show that shawn helped out with something or other.

[hurdy-girly]

“That’s it. We’ve checked all of his socials, we have nothing on this guy.” Jules sighed, tossing down the folder. Lassiter reached for it.

“No, no, we have to have missed something!” Shawn snatched up the folder from under Lassiter’s hand. Lassiter glared.

“Like what, Spencer? Admit it, your lead was wrong. This guy didn’t admit to anything online, because he isn’t guilty.” Lassiter grabbed the files back. Shawn rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, which of us has psychic abilities?” Shawn rolled his chair behind Lassie and read over his shoulder. Lassie glared at the ceiling, presumably praying for patience. “That’s right. One of us. Unless you’ve been holding out on is, Lassie.”

“Nope.” Lassiter flipped to another paper in the folder. “You’re the only statistic outlier who’s delusional enough to believe in that bullcrap.”

“I don’t know, Lassiter.” Jules walked over, leaning over his other shoulder. “Me and Gus believe—“ Gus pulled a face, safely hidden from view behind the huddle and free to silently disagree “— and so does most of the precinct. You’re the biggest outlier here.”

Shawn snorted. “Oh, imagine that. ‘average cop hates psychics’ factoid actually just statistical error. average cop hates zero psychics per year. Lassiter Georg, who lives in the precinct & commits one hate crime towards a psychic per day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted.”

Silence fell over the room.

“What?” Jules gave him an odd look. Lassie actually turned in his seat to give Shawn a baffled look. Gus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know? Spiders Georg?” Shawn frowned, looking at them. “You mean you haven’t- no, no this makes sense actually. Nevermind. Me and Gus are the only ones with culture.”

Gus snorted. “Leave me out of this. I abandoned that life ages ago. I’m a changed man.”

Shawn spun around and stood, patting Gus on the back consolingly. “Oh, Gus. You can never escape. You’ll be back one day.”

Jules leaned closer to Lassiter. “Is this something we should be concerned about?” she muttered.

“I’m thinking cult. Or drugs.” Lassiter squinted as Shawn and Gus.

“I mean, come on, Gus! You-“ Shawn froze. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!”

“What?” Jules stood straighter.

“I-“ Shawn sat down, pressing his hands to his head. “I’m having a vision!”

Jules frowned. Lassiter groaned.

“What do you see?”

“I see… ahh…” He snapped, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow. “There’s… shoes, no… just the laces… a man, he holds them, he offers them, everyone likes them, the man has a… bald eagle on his shoulder, he’s smiling, he’s saluting, the shoelaces, they feel… smooth, cold, they’re not shoelaces anymore, they… they’re rocks! Obsidian, by the feel of it, perfect to distract a geologist, thankfully no one has a baseball bat, but no, no it’s not obsidian, it’s something else, vanilla extract, I’m bald, some other infinitely nuanced answer, or the likes… the rock, it’s rolling, there’s water and grit, it’s breaking down, it’s falling, no, it’s… it’s tumbling! A rock tumbler! But no, no E, the E is gone, it’s just…” he opened his eyes. “Tumblr! Check the suspect’s tumblr account!”