So, long time no see, huh? I kinda gave up. But there are a few stories I started and never updated (which I found when cleaning my computer) so I'm gonna try to post a few before I trash them. They'll probably never get finished.
Disclaimer: I don't own psych.
Carlton Lassiter lived by routine. He woke up every morning at six, jogged to the bakery five blocks down to get a muffin for breakfast, went back to his apartment to shower, and arrived at work no later than eight-fifteen.
Always.
He never woke up more than ten minutes late. He always got a banana nut muffin. He always made small talk with the owner, Karen, while he ate. He was always the first into the office.
His evenings varied. He came home to an empty apartment, had a stiff drink, ate dinner. He would then either go to the gun range or plan his reenactment team's placement or speak with a client or do paperwork. He would go to bed around eleven.
He was comfortable. It was habit. It was easy.
So even the littlest thing could knock everything off kilter.
The littlest thing came on a Thursday morning, in the form of a squirrel.
He had gone jogging that day, as usual, when he noticed the sheer number of squirrels he had seen. He noted it idly, thinking it must have just been the time of year. But when he arrived at the bakery, it was closed. Carlton waited for fifteen minutes, assuming that Karen, who had a three year old, was just running late. She was, and apologized for it.
"I'm sorry Carlton," she said, disappearing into the back and bringing out a very hot muffin.
"It's fine, Karen," he said, digging in as she poured two cups of coffee for them. He accepted the mug she offered him gratefully. "How are Richard and Iris?"
"Oh, same as yesterday, only Iris is insisting to wear the Spider-Man costume Richard insisted on getting her everywhere. We'll see how long that lasts," she laughed, and Carlton joined in.
"She must be a handful," he said, sipping his coffee. Karen looked at him, still smiling.
"It's worth every mess, ache, and pain to see her smile. You'll feel the same when you have one of your own, and you'll be late, too," she stated, stirring her coffee.
"Ah, to have one of my own requires a partner, so unless you're offering," he dropped off, letting her laugh and hit him. "Anyway, speaking of late, why were you late?"
"Oh, my friend's daughter flew up from Miami. I picked her up this morning. Her name's Juliet. She's gonna work the register here," Karen said.
"That's cool," Carlton said, finishing his coffee. He stood, handing Karen five dollars for the muffin and coffee.
"Be careful, huh?" she commanded, kissing his cheek as he hugged her. He rolled his eyes.
"I work at a law firm. It's not the most dangerous job, Karen," he said.
"Just promise, asshat," she demanded again.
"I promise. Now I'll go so you can open for real," he said.
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Flip the sign on your way out," she said, disappearing into the back.
Carlton jogged home, ignoring the falling leaves, and showered quickly, trying to make up lost time. He was five minutes late as he ran out of his apartment. He flew down the road, passing Karen's shop. He noticed a pretty girl he had never seen before out side the shop.
In the split second he looked at the girl, it happened. A squirrel came out of seemingly nowhere. Carlton swerved.
He saw the pretty girl. His head was in her lap, and she was leaning over him, her blonde hair falling into her face. His head hurt.
"My head hurts," he croaked. She nodded, stroking his head cautiously.
"I know," she said soothingly. Her eyes are blue, he noted.
"How do you know?" he asked. She frowned.
"You hit a tree," she said. He liked her, this mystery girl.
"Oh," he said, remembering trying not to hit a squirrel.
"Yeah. Karen is calling an ambulance. Don't worry, Carlton. You're okay, just try to stay still," she said, stroking his hair.
"Okay," he said. "I'm guessing you're Juliet."
"Yeah, I am," she said, smiling down at him again. This time, though, it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Carlton wondered why.
"You're very pretty," he mumbled, the words jumbling as they came out of his mouth.
"You're very concussed," she replied, pushing his hair back to look at the size able lump that seemed to be throbbing into his brain.
"Those statements don't correlate. My concussed state has nothing to do with you being pretty. And funny I might add," he said, and started to close his eyes. "I'm tired."
"Carlton, no! Open your eyes! Do not go to sleep," Juliet urged, but her words fell on deaf ears.
Carlton vaguely remembered seeing red and blue lights illuminate her pretty face as he fell asleep.