#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)

[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)

[strangenewwords]

Shassie still a thing?

[goofalicousgooberface]

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

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

Okay so I’ve tried looking and maybe I’m just bad at finding where everyone else in love with this niche is hiding but like. Carlton Lassiter/Burton Guster from Psych (2006) is an underrated ship. Like I thought maybe in the OT4 people would utilize their dynamic a bit more but no!! They’ll do literally every combo of the ship and leave Gus and Lassie like… never or barely interacting?!? And I’m like guys!!!! There’s so much to be used between those two!!!!

- they both are looking for commitment

- They both are really weird about their cars

- The tap dancing episode!!

- Gus being more serious but still going along with Shawn’s antics. Could help Lassie loosen up a little

- Carlton being more serious and reliable and while weird Gus has his own quirks and is best friends with Shawn. I highly doubt Lassie’s own interests would be much of a turn off.

- I truly think Gus would freak out and go even harder on his ‘Lassie is weird’ thing, trying to get rid of his crush by spending more time with Carlton, being horrified he’s finding his quirks endearing. To the giving in a flirting.

- I think Lassie wouldn’t be as horrified more just ‘really?????? Idiot #2??????’

Like yeah there will definitely be issues like Lassiter always putting his work first and staying late but they’re both romantics and Gus will follow Shawn and like listen. They’d have to work through a lot but so does literally every other pair in the OT4!!!! So I don’t see these as bad things just issues to play with!! Fun angst!!

Maybe I’m not explaining this well at all but I truly think Gus/Lassie is a such a fun little rare pair and underrated dynamic. A lot of what makes Shawn/Gus (specifically not wanting to mess up the current dynamic and one dragging the other into antics) and Gus/Jules (strangers to coworkers to friends to lovers) and Shawn/Lassiter (idiots and denial and fuck ur hot why are you hot) such fun and interesting pairs is what makes Gus/Lassiter fun too!! Strangers to enemies(?) to coworkers to friends to lovers! Denial! Angst! Internal crises!! It’s just so good and I want more.

To further the Gus/Lassiter agenda I recommend the following two fics to everyone. Both are on ao3.

i wanna wake up with your weight by my side by under_the_silk_tree

A Gus sick fic where Lassie has to take care of Gus. Very cute. 8k+ words. One shot

Last Week Gus by under_the_silk_tree

The tags and summary kinda give it away but it’s so !!!!!!! 3k+ words. One shot

[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.

[afewproblems]

Difficult Days - Part 8

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six , Part Seven or Read on AO3

“I told you so,” Gus says as Shawn straightens his shirt collar and fixes his hair in the precinct bathroom. 

Shawn sighs through his nose and turns on the tap to run the tips of his fingers under a short burst of water.

It's been two weeks since the incident with Lassie and Henry and it has not blown over.

If anything, Lassiter is…weird around him. 

Sure he's still surly and quick to yell and argue about their presence in the field and at the station, but every now and again Shawn catches the Detective staring at him.

And not some passing glance or vacant unassuming look, no.

This is the full-on, piercing, cop stare down, complete with a terminator scan and infrared analysis.

Needless to say, it's starting to freak him out.

Shawn has brought it up to Juliet and Gus separately, with Juliet's response being a single raised eyebrow and the question, “since when is Lassiter not monitoring you? I'm pretty sure he only just started trusting Buzz and he's been stationed here since before my transfer, Carlton can be a bit of an intense guy Shawn”.

And Gus's response--

“I told you so”. 

Shawn rolls his eyes and runs his wet fingers through his hair, twisting them up to ruffle the ends just right.

“You did not--”

“Uh no,” Gus speaks over him, “did I not say that Lassiter was pissed?”

Shawn looks at Gus through the reflection in the mirror, “Gus--”

“Did I not say that calling him a dog would end in him shooting you?” 

Gus raises a single challenging eyebrow as Shawn turns the tap on again to run his whole hand under the stream before flicking cold water at his friend.

“Shawn!” Gus yelps, darting out of the line of fire, “this is a new shirt!” 

“I don't think those were the words you used and come on, it's just a little staring right? It's only…a little weird, right?”

Gus raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, looking at Shawn through the mirror.

And yeah, okay, it might be a little more than just a little weird.

“Whatever,” Gus grumbles, "I do eventually have to get back to my real job so can you stop primping so we can talk to Vick?”

Shawn reaches out for the paper towel dispenser and grabs a sheet to dry his fingers before crumpling it up and raising his arm high above his head to throw the makeshift ball into the garbage can. Shawn groans as the tiny ball of slightly damp paper barely hits the rim before it tumbles to the tiled floor of the SBPD bathroom.

“Gus,” Shawn huffs as he reaches down to pick up the paper, “you know as well as I do that people are much more likely to give you what you want if you present yourself well and take pride in your appearance”.

“You literally have a queso stain on your shirt Shawn”. 

Tossing the paper directly into the trash, Shawn side steps the comment and Gus as he turns on his heel and makes his way to the doors.

Their caseload has slowed down to a crawl recently. Shawn blames the weather, scorching heat and enough humidity to make a seal sweat. All the potential clients, and criminals, are either holed up at home with AC or busy at the beach --not that Shawn wants crime to happen necessarily, but the lack of cases does present a problem when it comes to their financials, which Gus maintains he should pay more attention to.

Thus the visit to their favourite interim Chief, Vick.

Maybe there's a brand new case that they could assist with, or stowaway on long enough to earn a paycheck.

Either way works for Shawn.

Shawn rounds the corner of the next hallway --Jesus, the precinct is either way bigger than he remembers or they've actually managed to fall into the Labyrinth from Labyrinth. 

Not that Shawn would mind running into Bowie at this moment, especially in those pants. 

He halts suddenly as he sees, who fucking else, but Lassiter and Henry talking just outside of Sargent Bart's door.

Perfect.

Shawn takes a step back, closer to a display cabinet on the wall and quickly reaches for Gus to pull him back beside him.

“Why the hell is he here again?” Gus whispers.

“Because I'm cursed, because the universe hates me,” Shawn says under his breath as he peeks around the shelf again just in time to see Henry laugh at something Carlton says.

“See?” Shawn says, gesturing towards the pair, “hates me”.

Shawn frowns and closes his eyes, trying to visualize the emergency evacuation floor plan they were provided when Vick hired them, maybe there was a way to get around the pair without being seen…even with Vicks office being two doors down from where his father and Lassiter are standing.

Shit.

“We should have gone left instead of right, that would have been faster,” Shawn admits with a frown as he slumps back against the wall and out of sight.

“If someone hadn't insisted on messing with his hair for twenty minutes we wouldn't be in this situation,” Gus hisses, throwing his hand out to slap at Shawns shoulder, earning a muted yelp which Shawn tries to quell as best as he can.

Shawn retaliates with a slap of his own at Gus's arm and just as he ducks out of the way of another hit he hears Lassiter’s voice float down the hallway. 

“Spencer has been a menace since he started”.

“Shh! I hear my name,” Shawn hisses as he peers around the shelf again, he feels Gus move behind him to match the position. 

Henry is facing away from them but he can see his dad nod at the Detective. 

“He does some good work but he's got no respect for protocol or authority,” Lassie continues looking at Henry with a strange expression that Shawn can’t quite qualify.

“I don't know what the chief sees in that waste of space,” Lassiter huffs, the words are irritated and clipped but his sharp eyes are scanning Henry now. 

Evaluating, looking for something.

Henry stiffens at the words, and Shawn watches as his dad steps closer to Lassiter. He breathes out a low laugh that has the Detective’s eyes narrow as though he's caught something, but Shawn knows that laugh intimately and hears ‘Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!’ blare in his mind as his dad's posture changes. 

Henry leans in even closer, his voice quiet and cold, as he says, “you call my kid a waste of space again, Detective, I'll put you through the wall, are we clear?” 

Shawn lifts his right hand to stick his index finger in his ear, twisting it hard, because there was no way in hell he heard that right. 

Since when did Henry defend him to the other officers --especially his new best buddy Lassiter.

He looks at Gus whose raised eyebrows have cut harsh creases across his forehead in surprise, he shrugs as they both turn back to the strange scene down the hall.

Lassiter blinks once, his face triumphant for a brief instant before he schools his expression into one of shock. The Detective nods as he steps away from Henry's imposing shadow.

“Crystal, sir,” he says, adjusting his tie before nodding at Henry and making his way back to the bullpen. 

Shawn slowly slips back behind the shelf as though dazed, and lets his shoulders connect with the wall behind him.

Because, what in the hell was that?

“What in the hell was that??” Gus whispers as he falls beside Shawn, letting his shoulder roughly connect to the wall. 

Shawn shrugs as he stares unseeing at the floor, “weird, bizarre, peculiar, flummoxing, yeah, that’s it, it’s flummoxing”.

He looks back up in time to see Gus raises a single, exasperated, eyebrow.

“Jules got me a word of the month calendar last week”.

Gus rolls his eyes, but a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he taps Shawn with his elbow, “I'm just surprised you used it correctly”.

Shawn grins, motioning for Gus to head back up the hall the way they came, “it’s always the people who love us who end up hurting us the most,” he sniffs with a false wobble to his voice that has Gus shooting another glare his way.

“You know that’s right, keep it up man”.

Shawn snickers as they make it back to the washroom entrance so they can reorient themselves in a more vacant part of the station, Gus says something about hitting the head while they’re there but Shawn is barely listening. 

Henry's behavior in the hall was flummoxing, that goes without saying.

But Shawn couldn't stop thinking about the strange triumphant expression on Lassiter’s face when Henry tore a verbal strip off him. 

Something was going on with the Detective, and Shawn didn't need a vocabulary calendar to know it was weird with a capital, W. 

Maybe they found themselves a case after all?

***

Shawn should have gone home after his date left, although to call her a date would be entirely inaccurate considering her recent engagement, barring a slight misunderstanding.

Shawn smiles indulgently as the petite brunette immediately snaps the flip phone open, a radiant expression of relief on her face, and speed dials her brand new fiance, mouthing ‘thank you’ at Shawn before disappearing into the crowd of Tom Blair's pub.

It wasn't often that Shawn got to use his observations like this and it always managed to make the tightness of overwhelm in his chest loosen after a long day.

He breathes out a long slow sigh and lifts his gaze to the crowd around him now.

Sometimes people watching would yield something interesting, a breakup, a meet up with a mistress, a promotion --though those were more rare for a neighborhood pub like this. 

He tilts his face to the bar and it's then that Shawn's gaze lands on a familiar face sitting at a table in the far corner.

Detective Lassiter, drinking alone. 

His blue eyes fixed at a far point in the middle distance as he lifts a glass of dark amber liquid to his lips. His shirt is undone by two buttons revealing a swath of chest hair that his loosened tie rests on. 

Holy shit. Lassie looks…good.

If Shawn were being honest with himself, Lassiter has always looked good --if a bit stuffy sometimes. He blames those damn eyes and Lassie's surprisingly strong build. Shawn had been manhandled enough by the Detective to know just how strong he is.

“Spencer?”

Oh holy hell.

The Detective is waving at him, his long, lanky arms curving in a large arc above his head --thankfully not the one holding the glass.

“Spencer! I didn't know you were here!” Lassiter says, his voice carries clear across the pub, causing several other patrons to turn and look at them. 

Lassiter stands up, somewhat wobbly from his table, drink in hand, and makes his way over to Shawn.

Just what in the Bizzaro wonderland has Shawn managed to stumble into that Lassiter is coming his way and sitting down?

“You’re here!” Lassie says loudly, turning a few heads as he sits down heavily in the seat beside Shawn. He’s not exactly smiling but the lack of his signature scowl is just as strange, especially directed at Shawn.

“I am,” Shawn hums as Lassiter takes another sip that is more of a gulp of liquor. The acrid smell of scotch floats over the air between them making Shawn lean away, or try to anyway. 

But a heavy arm makes its way around his shoulders, suddenly pulling Shawn into Lassie’s side. From this close Shawn can smell the spicy aftershave Carlton only sports on special occasions, what might have prompted it Shawn has no idea for once.

“Listen, since you’re here, there's something I have to get off my chest,” Lassiters's voice is clear even over the din of the bar crowd, Shawn would have expected a slur given the nearly empty glass in the man's hand and the overwhelming smell of scotch on his breath.

“Please say it's not your shirt,” Shawn huffs, trying not to picture exactly that as Lassiter snorts into his glass. He hopes the Detective is distracted enough by the alcohol and the lack of lighting in the pub to notice the way Shawn's ears heat at the image, he's sure they must be a bright crimson by now.

Maybe Lassie will finally explain his weird staring the past month, or maybe the Henry incident, as he and Gus had taken to referring to the very flummoxing Detective showdown in the hallway outside of Sargent Bart’s office.

Lassiter shakes his head, his blue eyes wide as he removes his arm from Shawn’s shoulders and turns in his seat to face him fully. 

“You astound me”. 

And that's definitely not what Shawn expected when Lassie came over to his table at the crowded neighborhood pub.

Shawn had been surprised to even see Lassiter at a bar on a weeknight, and even more surprised to see him clearly drinking so heavily.

“I--come again?” Shawn pulls on his earlobe roughly because there was no way--

“It’s beyond astounding.” Lassiter says as he reaches over and places a warm hand on Shawn's elbow and squeezes lightly, "it is some of the most impressive reasoning I’ve ever seen.”

Shawn breathes out a startled laugh, “is there a punchline to this?”

“I don’t know how you do it. I mean it’s not psychic-ness –we both know that’s a crock of crap. You sir, are unstoppable. Guaranteed arrests.”

Shawn opens his mouth to speak but Lassiter keeps going, “can I tell you something else?”

“I really wouldn’t recommend it, no”.

“You know how everyone thinks my wife and I have been separated for nine months?”

Oh.

Oh boy.

“Look, Lassie,” Shawn says lowly, he really shouldn't be listening to this.

As much as Lassiter has been grating on his nerves the last few weeks with his rigid, by-the-book bullshit, and his irritating friendship with Henry, it doesn't feel right to stand by while the alcohol makes this straight-laced handsome weirdo spill what is clearly not meant for Shawn’s ears.

“Two years. Two years tonight,” Lassiter continues as though Shawn said nothing, he takes a long draught of scotch and sets the now empty glass down on the hightop with more force than necessary.

“And I’m the one who keeps trying to fix the damn thing”.

Lassiter wipes a large hand down his face roughly and laughs, “you know I used to be a good cop”.

He doesn’t wait for Shawn to respond, “seriously, stunning arrest record,” Lassie punctuates the words with a sweeping gesture of the hand, “one of the best in the department --you know I caught the Back Bay Killer, there was a tip--”.

“I remember that,” Shawn nods as he shifts in his seat, “the blue sedan”. 

Shawns eyes widen at the same time as Lassiter’s. 

Shit.

He hadn't meant to let that slip, especially not in front of a very drunk and quite possibly armed Detective.

“That, was you?” Lassiter says slowly, he pulls away slightly but keeps his hand on Shawn's elbow.

Shawn feels his heart rate tick up at the proximity and the way those blue eyes have begun to scan him just as they have the whole last month.

“It, uh, it might have been--”

“You know what,” Lassiter interrupts him, pulling out his handcuffs from his back pocket, he slides them across the hightop. The silver metal glints the low light bouncing their sheen on Lassiters face as they move, “you should have these Spencer, you'd actually make better use of them”.

Shawn stares at the cuffs, making no move to take them from the table. 

“Lassie--”

But Lassiter continues as though Shawn hasn't spoken, “I have officially hit rock bottom. A month ago I got this case, right? A healthy 42-year-old astronomer dies. Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, spends all day in an ergonomically-designed chair charting the night sky,” Lassiter huffs, his face scrunched into a frown, counting on his fingers as he lists the facts of the case.

Which, okay even Shawn is intrigued now. 

A waitress comes by their table but Shawn waves her off with a tight smile, the last thing they need is more alcohol at this table. She nods at him with a wide grin that drops into an irritated grimace as she turns on her heel to another table that would definitely yield a larger bill to tip on. 

“‘Natural causes’, that’s what the coroner comes back with,” the Detective scoffs, tossing his hand out to connect lightly with Shawn's shoulder before it wraps around his shoulders again and tugs him close.

“Does a full autopsy, no red flags, nothing.”

Carlton sighs, his head drops to hang low enough that his hair brushes the tabletop before he brings his eyes back up to look at Shawn with the most dejected expression he's ever seen on another man's face.

“I know he was murdered, I just can’t��”

Shawn waits for a beat as Lassiters gaze slips into something unfocused. He reaches out to tap the other man's hand lightly, bringing his blue eyes back to Shawn, “can’t what, Lassie?”

“I can’t prove it, Chief doesn’t want us to waste more time on something this ‘open-and-shut’,” Lassiter grumbles, letting go of Shawn to raise both hands to make air quotes before letting them fall to his lap.

And maybe this is the reason for the constant staring at work, has it really been jealousy this whole time?

“Should just retire, fold up shop, it's not like I have anyone that would notice,” Lassiter mumbles under his breath, and nope. Nope. 

That is just unacceptable. 

“Come on Lassiepants, you’ll figure it out just like you always do. People have your back,” Shawn taps the Detectives hand again, firmly this time, glaring as Carlton scoffs again at the words.

“Like who?”

“Well, Jules, and Chief Vick, and Gus, and me--”

“You?”

Shawn clears his throat, ducking his face to hide the way he can feel his ears begin to heat, “uh yeah, we have your back Lassifrass”.

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

Shawn bristles slightly, annoyed for the first time since Lassiter made his way over to the table. 

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

It’s like verbal vomit, it just keeps coming and Shawn can’t seem to stop it, “you're honestly a catch Lassie, don't be so hard on yourself”.

Lassiter stares at him frozen as Shawn bites his tongue, swallowing nervously. Him and his big dumb mouth. 

“I'm a catch”.

Shawn nods, looking anywhere but at the Detective and his bright gaze, “uh, yeah, yeah Lassie, you are”.

Lassiter continues to stare at Shawn for what feels like an eternity. 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.

Lassiter’s drunk, that's what's happening here, Shawn thinks as his brain starts to come back online, there is no way that the Detective is making a pass at him.

“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. 

Right, Shawn thinks to himself in what he hopes is relief rather than disappointment, the murdered astronomer. 

Shawn shakes himself and leans back in his seat, out of Lassiters's immediate orbit.

“You should go home Lassie, sleep this off so you can catch the guy like I know you can,” Shawn says, rapping his knuckles against the bar table for emphasis.

Shawn pushes himself off the stool and shrugs on his bomber jacket with shaking hands, startling at the sudden clatter behind him. He turns just in time to see Carlton stumble and sit gracelessly on the sticky pub floor.

“Jesus Lassiter,” Shawn huffs out as he wanders over, assessing the potential damage as he moves. 

“Falling already,” Carlton says, his slurred words taking on a dreamy quality that Shawn has never heard the man use before. 

“Yup, that's what happens when you drink half the bar man,” Shawn mutters to himself as he grabs Lassiters hand and hoists him to his feet once more. 

Thankfully the Detective isn't so out of it that he can't stand on his own two feet --though Shawn finds it terribly unfair how Carlton leans his face down into Shawns neck as he drapes his long lanky arm across Shawn’s shoulder once again.

The feeling of Lassiters warm breath on his ear is also so distracting that Shawn almost walks them into a pillar as they make their way to the entrance.

By the time they actually get to the front doors, and Shawn has flagged down a cab, Lassiter seems to be vacillating between sleepy petulance at being forced to leave the bar and something resembling contentment as he leans against Shawn heavily.

“Okay Lassie, let's get you home--”

“I'm not that easy Spencer,” Lassiter grumbles and Shawn nearly combusts, his face and neck heating again at the thought. At least the Detective isn't paying attention to him, instead turning his concentration towards buckling his seatbelt. 

The cab ride is uneventful but just long enough for Shawn to struggle to keep Lassiter from falling dead asleep; he resorts to flicking his seatmate in the ear, smiling at the irritated snuffle Lassie makes every time he does. Luckily the Detective also has enough cash in his wallet for the cab fare. Shawn refuses to feel bad about using it, it's not like Lassie's paying Shawn's way home too, he'll just walk back to the Psych office to crash there. 

It's fine, Shawn thinks; trying his best to ignore the feeling of phantom hands on his face or warm breath on his neck as he makes the trek down the boardwalk. Besides, if Lassiter was drunk enough to look at Shawn like that…

No. 

No way, it’s just jealousy, that’s the reason for the staring and for the strange confession this evening. That’s all. 

On the plus side, he’s solved the case of ‘what’s been eating Lassiter’ without any additional effort or the need to be held up at gunpoint this time. 

But, on the down side, it’s yet another case he’s made no money on for Psych. 

Shawn wipes both hands down his face before wrapping his arms around himself as he continues down the well lit path home. 

At least Lassiter was drunk enough that he won’t possibly remember tonight. 

Not at all.

And that’s fine. Totally fine.

***

“You should have seen him, Gus, he tried to give me his handcuffs for crying out loud”.

Gus rolls his eyes and flips the page of the magazine in his hands, pretending not to follow Shawn’s path as he paces across the Psych office. 

It's been three hours since their debrief at the station and over 14 hours since Shawn had managed to drag a nearly unconscious Lassiter home from the bar the previous night. 

Shawn is restless and Gus just doesn't quite understand. If he'd been there it would be so much easier to explain, plus Gus could have helped carry the Irish lug to his front door rather than Shawn offering their cab driver a huge tip to help him half drag, half carry the giant Detective.

“And?” Gus huffs, closing the magazine and tossing it onto the desk in front of him, “I would think that Lassie quitting the force would make things way easier for us Shawn, no more having to fight for cases or getting kicked off crime scenes”.

Shawn makes his way to the mini fridge in the corner, one of the few purchases he had insisted on that Gus actually agreed with when they first opened the place. He opens the door and snags a snapple from the shelf.

“I think we should help, it just feels weird for Lassie to be so down and out, like watching baby Darth Vader call Natalie Portman an angel, it's pathetic in an endearing sort of way”. 

Gus stares at Shawn with narrowed eyes now and sits up in his desk chair, “endearing? Lassiter?”

Shawn cracks the cap of his drink and pauses to read the ‘Real Fact’ printed on the inside.

On average, a human being will spend 2 weeks of their lives kissing, in their lifetime.

He frowns at the bottle cap in his hand, wondering just how ‘Real’ these facts actually are, or if they’re the product of a bored intern at Snapple. 

“Lassie’s all bark and no, we'll that's not right, but that's actually what I mean, he can't be no bark and no bite, that's just craziness in action Gus--”

“Oh my god,” Gus says slowly as he straightens in his seat, “you like him”.

Shawn rears back as though slapped, his mouth opening and closing several times before he manages to say, in a strangled voice, “no--thats--why would you--”

“Because you like people that don't like you Shawn, you always do this, you pick assholes”.

Well that's not fair.

“Gus--”

Gus waves his hands in front of him and stands abruptly from the desk chair which rolls backwards, stopping as it connects with the edge of the rug, “no Shawn, he's threatened to shoot us how many times? He's put his hands on you!”

Shawn tries for a swarthy grin at Gus, “don't knock it till you try it--”

“No! Nope,” Gus cuts him off sharply, “don't try to change the subject or throw me off with,” he shakes his hands again at Shawn, “the thought of naked Lassiter”.

He visibly shudders while Shawn feels the tips of his ears begin to heat, as he feels the phantom warmth of Lassiter's arm around his shoulder from the night before.

Gus sighs, pinching his fingers into his eyes briefly before pinning Shawn with a look “I just don't want you to get hurt again Shawn”.

Shawn thinks of the way Lassiter looked at him that night and the way his knuckle felt against his face and the hand on his elbow, firm in its grip but still gentle and warm from the alcohol coursing through his system. He side steps the thought of how much the lack of recognition in Lassie's blue eyes had hurt that morning during the briefing.

“I might not know exactly what I’m doing Gus, but I think it'll be okay”. 

“Now let's go, I hear the planetarium is playing Laser Floyd, may as well grab two birds before the bush kills them”.

Gus looks at him with wide eyes and a bewildered expression that slowly shifts to something very pained, “I think you just butchered two very well known idioms Shawn”.

“I've heard it both ways, now come on!” 

“You're so full of shit dude,” Gus grumbles behind him as he locks the front door to the office, earning a bright bark of laughter from Shawn as they make their way to the Blueberry.

Tag List: @adaed5 @drakkywolf @newgrangespirals @riverofrainbows @steddierthings @newgrangespirals @eriquin @childofposiden71 @theoxymoronicpoet @cinderellarhea

Part Nine Up

[foolish-took]

Silly story, I’m up late last night reading fanfiction, as one does. And I get a text from one of my best friends, with a link to a fic and a text that says “look what I just found.” Now, frankly, this should’ve tipped me off immediately that something was amiss. This particular friend doesn’t read fanfiction, and has never had an ao3 tab opened in her life. We’re gonna call her Tabby to make things easier for me. But anyways, only reason I don’t notice anything is one, I’m too delighted by the fact that Tabby has sent me a fic during reading time, and two, it’s a Psych fic, a fandom I have yet to really dive into or read anything from.

Not only that, but when I click on the fic and go through the tags + read the summary, it’s like. The perfect fic for me. Like my exact tastes. So I’m more filled with excitement to read, when I should’ve been filled with suspicion.

After about an hour I finish the fic, gush about it to Tabby, and proceed to comment on the fic bc I’ve been trying to get in the habit of commenting to show my love to authors bc they deserve it!! But anyways I go to sleep and move on. Cut to today, when I get an email that the author of said Psych fic has responded? To my comment? Which wouldn’t be that strange except I checked the comments, they hadn’t responded to anyone else. Plus, they responded by saying a username that I don’t have anywhere on my ao3 account AT ALL. But that I do have for my Instagram. So cue me absolutely freaking out to Tabby bc why does this author know my other username, did Tabby write it?? Was it someone else that we know or something?? WHAT IS GOING ON.

Finally, I check our group chat with our other best friend (who we’re gonna call Corvid) AND TURNS OUT IT WAS SHE WHO WROTE IT. These are the same friends that I introduced the show to, if some of yall have seen that one post I made ages ago, and apparently Corvid loved it enough to write?? Fanfiction?? Which I’ve never known her to do before??? Anyways Tabby was of course in on it so it was just one epic prank on me, and I pretended/wasn’t really pretending to be upset bc I was genuinely a little freak out, but like calming down it was sooooo funny.

Anyways I got Corvid’s permission to promote it on here!! It’s so so good yall should totally give it a read. Corvid doesn’t have tumblr but I’ll definitely be letting her know any comments yall share in this post!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63745783

[lucy-frostblades]

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

[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.

[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."

[wittyandobsessed]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Carlton Lassiter x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | none

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: 3. Exhausted, they are half asleep while saying good night, and an "I love you" slips out

𝐔𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

The precinct was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that signified the end of a long workday, but the kind that came from exhaustion pressing down on the few lingering souls who refused to call it quits. The only sounds were the soft rustling of papers, the distant hum of the vending machine, and the rhythmic scratch of a pen against a notepad.

Carlton Lassiter barely registered the passage of time anymore. He had long since lost track of how many hours he’d spent poring over the case files, scrutinizing every line, every connection, every inconsistency. They were missing something. He could feel it like an itch at the back of his mind, just out of reach, taunting him with its elusiveness.

Across the desk, you were slumped over a stack of paperwork, eyes heavy-lidded, barely managing to stay open. Every so often, your head would tilt forward, jerking back up only for the cycle to repeat a few moments later. Your highlighter had stopped moving altogether, resting idly between your fingers.

Lassiter smirked slightly, shaking his head. He wasn’t surprised. You had been running yourself ragged over this case, just like him. No, worse than him. Because where he functioned on duty and caffeine-fueled stubbornness, you had a habit of caring too much, of putting your whole heart into every investigation, into every victim, until the weight of it all became unbearable.

And yet, you were still here. With him.

For years now, you had been at his side. His partner in all but title. His closest confidante. His friend.

But that word had never sat right with him. Not when he looked at you and felt something clawing at his chest, something more than camaraderie, more than loyalty, more than friendship.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

You weren’t supposed to be the first person he thought of in the morning, the last thought before sleep. You weren’t supposed to be the one he worried about, the one who could make him laugh despite himself, the one who knew him better than anyone else ever had.

You weren’t supposed to be the one he—

Lassiter stopped himself before his thoughts spiraled any further. Instead, he sat back in his chair, watching you—studying the way your breathing slowed, the way your face softened in sleep.

He exhaled slowly, scrubbing a hand down his face before standing. With a quiet rustle, he shrugged off his vest and stepped around the desk. Carefully, he draped it over your shoulders, the fabric settling around you like a shield against the cold precinct air.

The moment it touched you, you shifted, releasing a soft, contented hum. A ghost of a smile played at your lips as you instinctively burrowed deeper into the warmth.

Lassiter smirked to himself, prepared to step away—until you shifted again.

And then, in the quiet of the dimly lit office, your lips parted, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Carlton.”

His breath caught. For a split second, he thought you were awake. His heart lurched, throat tightening as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. But no—you were still deep in sleep, completely unaware.

Still, something in him softened.

And then—

Still caught in the haze between dreams and wakefulness, your lips moved again.

“I love you…”

Lassiter froze. For a second, his entire body went rigid. His breath caught in his throat.

Had he misheard you? No. No, he hadn’t.

The words hung in the air between you, delicate and fragile, and Lassiter felt something inside him shift, something he had kept buried for far too long threatening to break free.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out every rational thought.

You had said it. Those three words he had never allowed himself to imagine hearing from you.

Did you mean it? Or was it the exhaustion speaking?

Lassiter swallowed hard, his mind at war with itself. Every logical part of him screamed at him to brush it off, to pretend he hadn’t heard, to let you sleep and forget about this in the morning.

But another part of him—the part that had been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for years—wouldn’t let him.

So before he could second-guess himself, before fear could take hold, he did something reckless.

He leaned down, just enough that his lips were close to your ear, just enough that his words would be for you and you alone.

“I love you too,” he whispered, the confession barely more than a breath, but carrying the weight of years of unspoken feelings.

You stirred slightly, letting out a sleepy sigh, but didn’t wake.

Lassiter let out a quiet, shaky exhale and slowly pulled back, his heart hammering as he watched you sleep, wrapped in his coat, wrapped in the words neither of you had dared say until now.

Would you remember in the morning? Would you pretend it never happened? Or would this change everything?

For the first time in a long time, Lassiter didn’t have an answer. But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need one. Not yet.

For now, he just let himself watch over you, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Maybe this was the start of something new.

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry

▸ Psych

@capitanostella @apesarecuul

[philtstone]

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

[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.

[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