XDDDD This just came to me, randomly, as ideas sometimes do. Not too much really happens in the course of this story, but I had a really fun time playing with the characters and getting their banter down while developing a relationship between Lassiter and Juliet. Mostly, this was just an excuse to make the boys work together to make Juliet happy. XDDDDD

Hopefully the title strikes some of you as amusing too...you know. Like gansta speak? Maybe? Kind of a little? If it were horribly, horribly butchered by a white girl who couldn't play gangsta if her life depended on it? ...Hopefully.

Enjoy guys!


It wasn't often that both Lassiter and O'Hara's desks were left unguarded when Shawn wanted a look at something, so he seized the opportunity when afforded it.

He flopped into Lassiter's chair and it spun a few times before slowing and he grinned at Gus, who looked wary and eager all at once. "So where do you think he keeps his snacks?" Shawn asked, already beginning to search through the drawers.

Gus snorted. "Lassiter? Dude, I don't think he keeps snacks. He's not the type."

"Everybody is the type for snacks, Gus. Who doesn't need sustenance? What kind of a person can go through the day without munching on pretzels, chomping on candy, and nibbling on chips? No one. That's who."

"Uh, Lassiter, that's who."

Shawn sighed, unable to find any evidence to make his case. Gus, meanwhile, had taken to shuffling through the files on Juliet's desk, looking to see if anything caught his eye. He was flipping curiously through one of the folders when Shawn's eyes fixed on the calendar hanging on the wall above the desk. He gasped loudly, grabbing Gus' attention. "Gus! Look!" he exclaimed. "Jules' birthday is on Friday!"

"Really? Do you think she's having a party?"

"No, no, Gus, look at this," he said, gesturing to the calendar. "She wrote it in bright blue in these large letters—I don't think anybody knows about it. She's hoping somebody will notice because she's too nice to just tell people that she'd like a little recognition. And, dude, we are the perfect somebodies to give her just that!"

"I don't know Shawn, what if she has plans?"

"Trust me, Gus. She doesn't. This is a desperate cry for help. The ink is screaming out at the injustice of no one knowing her birthdate—" Just as Gus began to look annoyed he exclaimed, "Dude, we have to throw her a party," and the cogs were already turning in his head.

Gus nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah okay. Let's do it. We'll throw her the best party she's ever had."

Shawn grinned. "That's the spirit, Gus! Now come on. We need to find Lassie."

"Lassiter? Why do we want to find Lassiter?"

"Lassie doesn't strike me as the type who knows how to throw a great shindig, but I think he would want to be a part of this. Even if he is still a little miffed about the whole mishap with his birthday. She is his partner."

"Yeah, okay. Dude, this is going to be really fun," he said, sounding excited.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Duh! Come on!" He took off down the hallway at a lope, half-sneaking for the sheer amusement of it.


"What the—" Lassiter grunted as he was yanked into an interrogation room and shoved unceremoniously into a chair. His face blackened when he looked up to see Shawn sitting across the table from him. "Spencer, what the hell do you think you're—"

"Lassie, I know the hostility is a thing for you, but could you let it rest for like, five seconds and give me a little curiosity in its place? Just for a minute. I'm just saying, it might be nice. Don't make me say please."

Lassiter crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "You have two minutes."

"There's a good sport!" Shawn exclaimed and when Lassiter continued to look peeved, he glanced at Gus and said, "Okay, here's the thing. Juliet's birthday is on Friday so Gus and myself are planning her a birthday bash to rival Oprah's 50th." Lassiter opened his mouth and Shawn held up a hand. "Here's where you come in. We're pretty sure that if you show up, it'll make Jules' life."

Lassiter snorted. "Please, Spencer. Save the exaggeration."

"Dude. I'm not," Shawn said and behind him Gus nodded gravely. Lassiter conceded that they were probably right—he had never met anyone who was as easily pleased as his partner.

"Fine. So you just want me to show up to this—thing?"

Shawn and Gus shared another glance. "Well, yeah, but, you know, if you wanted to help a little—"

"—we wouldn't mind," Gus concluded.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "And what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Oh…you know…" Shawn said, "Party stuff. Stuff for the par-tay. Streamers, food, pin the tie on the de—"

"Shawn," Gus said sharply, cutting him off. He moved closer to the table. "We just need someone to distract Juliet Friday night and then conveniently lead her to the party. We'll take care of everything else, unless you know a great DJ, or a caterer, or maybe somewhere that she's really fond of…"

"I don't, but I suppose I can do a little digging. And I can take care of getting her to the party. We have the dayshift Friday; we'll be packing up around seven." Glancing between the two friends he sighed and reached into his back pocket, extracting his wallet. He pulled out several bills and held them out. "Here. For expenses."

Shawn didn't bother hiding his astonished expression. "Lassie…" he started, sounding touched.

He frowned. "Shut up Spencer. She's my partner, and she deserves this. So just—don't screw this up, okay?"

Gus accepted the money before Shawn could grab it. "Thank you, Detective. This will be really helpful. We won't let you down."

"See that you don't," he said and rose to his feet. "You can call me with the details. Right now, I have to get back to work."

"Thanks Lassie!" Shawn called as the detective exited the interrogation room. "You won't regret this! It's gonna be awesome!" He turned to Gus when the door had swung shut. "Dude, that was a lot easier than I expected it to be."

"Seriously. I guess Lassiter has a soft spot for Juliet."

"Well, who couldn't? She is adorable." He jumped to his feet. "Let's do this thing!"


Lassiter coughed, sneaking a glance at Juliet out of the corner of his eye. It was like the junior detective was exacting her revenge for all of the conversations he had shut down before. Typically she couldn't seem to help herself, and the exuberant chatting that issued forth from her mouth was either ignored, flowing in one ear and out the other, or, if he was in a really foul mood, asked between gritted teeth to be stopped. He hadn't realized how accustomed to it he'd become until now, when it was no longer there.

She was sitting silently in the passenger seat of the car, watching the scenery flow by the window. Even stranger than the silence was the faint sadness lingering around her eyes and mouth. He had seen the somber looks she reserved for crime scenes and dealing with victims' families and this was nothing like that, nor did it remind him of her occasional bouts of sympathy gloom—this was more introspective. He coughed again, cleared his throat, and then posed awkwardly, "Where do you go to…hang out, O'Hara?"

She looked at him, the slightly forlorn expression on her face evaporating into wide-eyed astonishment and for just the barest second, he felt guilty. Apparently he had stopped more conversations in their tracks than he thought. Her face began to brighten, and while relieved that she didn't look upset anymore, he knew he had likely just opened the floodgates. "Well, I—I usually don't get a chance to go out, but there's this really nice bar—"

Lassiter was confounded momentarily. O'Hara had never struck him as the type to spend any amount of time in bars.

"—in a restaurant called Two Tangerines that I like to go to sometimes."

That was more like it. "Oh…really? I've, uh, never heard of it. It sounds…nice." Small talk was not his forte. O'Hara didn't seem to notice.

"It's really nice. It's decorated really beautifully and they have some really interesting cocktails. I've gone there a couple of times with Lucy and Deanna, but most of the time I go by myself," she paused, glancing at him and then added hesitantly, "Would you…would you like to go and get a drink? I mean, you know, after work."

He stared at her for a long moment and when her face began to flush, he realized what it must look like and said quickly, "Yeah, sure, why not, O'Hara? That would be…yeah. Okay."

A smile crept across his face at the delirious joy that graced O'Hara's features and the car soon returned to its typical state, the junior detective's mouth bubbling over blissfully.


He began to have second thoughts when they stepped through the doors of the restaurant.

It was a nice place, but that was a given, O'Hara was simply too classy to accept anything less. Everything was warmly colored in rich browns and oranges, the decorations for the most part, simple, elegant and functional. The bar was long and sleek, winding along the curved left-hand wall with beautiful gold embossing in the rich wood.

As they sat down, however, O'Hara quieted and the awkwardness returned in full force. The bartender smiled as she sidled up in front of them. "Hi, guys, what can I get you?"

Lassiter glanced at O'Hara and she said, "A Tangerine Twist please."

"Just a snifter of your best brandy, thanks."

"All right, great, thanks. I'll be right back with your drinks."

The two detectives were quiet again when she had gone, neither daring to look at the other. It was funny how easy it was to discuss work, robberies, homicides and other grave things like that, but when it came to making a little small talk, to talking about anything else, suddenly it was like a lead weight had been attached to his tongue.

As usual, it was O'Hara who resurrected their conversation.

"I appreciate you doing this with me," she said and bit her lip when he met her gaze.

"No problem," he said and he was surprised when he realized he meant it. He watched her for a moment, studying her profile and she swallowed when she caught him looking.

"What?"

He tipped his head, trying to decide if he wanted to say anything or not and said at last, "You seem…down today. Is everything…" He waved a hand vaguely. "…all right?"

She smiled warmly and said, "Yes. Everything's okay. It's just…" She grasped for the right words. "I'm a little bit lonely," she finally confessed. "It's my birthday on Friday and I haven't really told anyone and my family is far away and…I don't know. I guess I'm just a little sensitive right now. I know, silly, right?"

"No, O'Hara, it's not." She blushed again, ducking her head and the bartender returned with their drinks.

"Here you are. Enjoy."

"Thanks." Lassiter swirled his brandy with a practiced gesture as O'Hara sipped at her goldenrod colored drink, sighing contentedly. "I understand…how you feel," he said after a moment.

He received another half-shocked, half-pleased expression from his partner and grimaced internally. Good lord, was he that bad? "You do?"

It was easier said than done, smothering the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He had opened himself up for that one. "Yes. I do." He paused and could tell that O'Hara was itching to ask what he meant but was holding her tongue, hoping she wouldn't have to. He decided that maybe a little disclosure couldn't hurt. "My wife and I have been separated for a long time now. It's…difficult…going home to an empty house. Especially since our line of work makes it so tricky to fraternize with non-work friends. It can get lonely sometimes, especially around the holidays…birthdays." He cleared his throat and quickly swallowed the brandy in his glass. The look O'Hara was giving him made him nervous.

"Thank you."

One eyebrow quirked. "For what?"

"You know," she said. "Sharing."

He rolled his eyes. "Your welcome, I suppose."

O'Hara laughed, shaking her head and said, "You know, it's really creepy sometimes, how much you remind me of Sebastian."

"Sebastian? And who, pray tell, is Sebastian?"

She grinned. "My older brother."

"You have a brother?"

"Four."

The conversation took off from there and Lassiter was shocked by how quickly an hour and a half disappeared and floored when he realized that he could genuinely say that he had enjoyed himself. It had never occurred to him that spending time with O'Hara outside of the job might be a good thing.

"I really needed this, Carlton. Thank you," she said as they stepped outside.

He smiled and it pleased him to see the glow in her face brighten. "Anytime, O'Hara. In fact, why don't we go out on Friday. Celebrate."

Suns would have been masked by the radiant smile that the casual invitation elicited. "Really?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, really. So bring something to change into after work." Damn, he was good. Although, now he was afraid that if she received any more good news, she might just explode. The party might very well be her doom.

"It's good to know we can be friends," she said warmly as they reached their cars. "I was afraid we might not click."

"That's ridiculous." There was no point in telling her that he hadn't either. "See you tomorrow, O'Hara."

She waved, a smile still lingering on her face, as she climbed into her car. When she had gone, he took out his phone, flipping it open.

"Spencer? We've got a location."


I dunno guys...too fuzzy for Lassie-boy? I always have such a hard time with him, because he seems like he would be very sweet when in the proper mood and with the proper people, but he's always a little awkward and abrasive. Did I strike a good balance? Love your guys feedback, so let me know what you think! Thanks for reading:D