Hello, hello! My name is Mickey, and as my first story on this site (at least on this account), have a Shassie one-shot. It was inspired by an 'imagineyouricon' post on Tumblr, and it's really not meant to go anywhere. The imagine was "your icon shows up drunk on your porch in the middle of the night, asking to go to Taco Bell", so that's what this is. There isn't really any depth behind "the case" in this fic, but just imagine it being bad and bloody. I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know if you did! More to come soon.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych, or any characters within. As much as I wish I had my own, personal, Shawn Spencer, I don't. I also don't own Disney or Taco Bell.
Shawn Spencer sat in his living room, hunched over slightly, something playing on the TV. He sighed, in frustration, taking a drink out of the beer in his hand. "No! You don't leave, you kiss her! You always kiss her!" He yelled at the TV, his speech slurred slightly.
It was Halloween night, and Shawn was sitting at home, yelling at the crappy romance movie that Disney was airing. It wasn't that he had anything against Disney, or even romance movies, for that matter. He was just drunk, and tired, and honestly, any movie would be considered crappy to him at this point. He'd had a few too many drinks, and had gone straight past his "fun and loving everything" phase of drunk, and into his "angry and cynical" phase. Knowing himself, he'd be slipping into his "crazy and random" phase within the hour, if he kept drinking like he was. It wasn't good for him, of course it wasn't. And he knew it. But after a particularly brutal case, with a lot more blood than he really wanted to see, he didn't really care.
After about an hour more of drinking and yelling at his tv in the dark, he got bored. The movie had ended, he was down to one beer, and he couldn't find anything nearly as crappy to yell at on TV. He stood up, switching his tv off. He let a small giggle escape his lips, as his drunken mind got an idea. He headed out of his apartment, deciding to walk where he was going, as he certainly wasn't in any condition to even consider taking his motorcycle there. Besides, where he was going was only a 5 minute walk away. He wasn't sure if Lassiter even knew that they lived so close to each other. Maybe he'd used Mee Mee's before it had been turned into Shawn's place of living. Who knew?
He made his way through the streets, full of trick or treaters in annoying costumes, brushing him this way and that. He'd usually love Halloween. You got to dress up, and pretend to be someone that you weren't. It was the perfect holiday for Shawn, and when he was a kid - it was his favorite. Free candy! How could he hate that? But this halloween was different. He'd seen too much that day, and he was drunk, and he was fed up with the human population. God, it was so easy not being him. To be normal. To not have a million thoughts running through your head about everything. To not remember every single thing that you saw. God, that must be so nice.
He stumbled up onto Lassiter's porch, hesitating for a second, before his mind officially decided "screw it" and he raised his hand up, knocking on the detective's door. After hearing a small scuffle inside, before a string of mumbled profanities came from inside. "I swear to god, my porch light is off for a reason." He muttered as he opened the door, surprise coming over his face when he saw Spencer leaning his head against the door frame.
"Hey." Shawn said, the simple word coming out of his mouth slurred, as he tried to move himself from leaning against the door frame, but instead ended up stumbling into Lassiter. Thankfully, Lassie caught the man, rather than backing up, or simply letting him fall.
"Whoa, whoa. Spencer, are you drunk?" He raised his eyebrow, the question answering itself, as Shawn was all but attaching himself to Lassiter. He thought maybe drunk Shawn could be better than sober Shawn in some ways. Mainly the fact that he was being quiet, something Lassiter had only witnessed once. But, alas, it seemed he was making his way into his "hyper and hungry" phase of drinking. Shawn pulled himself away to Lassiter, giving him an incredulous look before tilting his head to the side.
"I'm hungry. Are you hungry? I should take you out to eat. Taco bell. Taco bell! Heh, that sounds like Taco Hell…" He rambled, muttering the last part of the sentence.
"No, no, no. You're not eating anything right now, I'm not having you throw up all over the place." Carlton sighed, looping an arm around the back of Shawn's neck, and leading him inside to sit down on the couch. He sat down next to him for a second, just to make sure he wasn't gonna run off, or quite frankly, just do anything stupid at all. After a few seconds, he removed his arm, and carefully got up, moving into the kitchen and speaking while he was moving. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. "Alright, Spenc-" He cut himself off, turning back around to see Spencer laying on his back on Lassiter's couch. Carlton couldn't help but smile a little bit, because, despite the fact that he had been drunk out of his mind on arrival, it was nice to see Spencer so peaceful. The kind-of peaceful you could only really see when he was asleep. When he was awake - he was just up and moving everywhere, bouncing from one place to another. When he was sleeping like that, he looked relaxed, and non-hyper active. Which, with Spencer, was a very nice sight.
He move forward, placing the water down on his coffee table. He let out a soft chuckle at the sight in front of him, before carefully adjusting Shawn so that he was laying on his side. Less of a death-hazard, that way. He stood back up to his full height, after having bent down over Shawn, and he slowly headed back to his room. He'd address the 'showing up in the middle of the night drunk' problem tomorrow. For now, he figured Spencer might wanna rest.
FIN.