Shawn and Gus proudly made their way through the crowded halls of the courthouse. Shawn was particularly smug since he had convinced a small, timid, up-in-coming lawyer that he was a psychic, thus getting Gus and him on the case of proving a Miss Sandra Pantich, innocent of killing her boss. Shawn and Gus were bickering about the matter of getting Shawn's impounded bike back when they saw Detectives O'Hara and Lassiter strut down towards them. Shawn's heart quietly skipped a bit at the sight of Lassiter's trademark smirk.
"Well, well, well what have we here? Jules, please tell me you're not one of those courtroom groupies who bounces from trial to trial?" Shawn said with a smirk. He swallowed hard when he glanced at Lassiter. "Wait a second was that you at the Michael Jackson hearing wearing the sequined glove and the shirt saying "Please Free the Man in the Mirror"?
He had expected to hear Lassiter make a suave comeback like always, but instead he just chuckled. Detective O'Hara noticed the awkward silence between the two and quickly interjected. "That's very funny Shawn, but, uh, Detective Lassiter is the one who actually made the arrest of Sandra Pantich."
"See that makes it my case." Lassiter smirked again never taking his eyes off Shawn.
Shawn shivered a bit at the intrigued look in his eyes. "What a coincidence it's also our case." Feeling that the continuing gaze hadn't lessened, Shawn explained further. "Yeah we just signed on as legal consultants to the defense just now." Shawn heard Lassiter chuckle. It was a rather unsettling sound.
"You'll sell your little slideshow to anyone who'll listen won't you?" Lassiter crooned walking closer to Shawn with every word until he was inches away from him. Shawn could feel Lassiter's breath, hot against his face. "Just don't screw this one up." He smiled, then quickly pulled away and brushed past Shawn, O'Hara close behind.
Shawn swooned slightly as Lassiter left. 'Why did he get so close to me? By the looks on his face…it was like he wanted to…' Shawn was drawn from his revelry as the scent of Lassiter faded. He couldn't show any weakness now, so he quickly called after them. "Hey Lassie, that wasn't much of a put down! In fact it was…somewhat inspiring…Lass!! Let's roll that back!" He shouted.

Hours later they were back in the courtroom arguing over whether Shawn was an actual psychic or not. Soon the judge grew aggravated and asked them to come to the stand.
Lassiter was sitting in the back of the courtroom watching the proceedings when he saw Shawn stand up. He smiled faintly and began imagining a confrontation with Shawn. He'd have to corner him after the case was finished…
He crushed his lips against Shawn's forcing his tongue inside. He let out a groan as he ground his hips against his loving the electric sensation. He heard Shawn mumble something about Lassiter's face looking like he sucked on a Sour Patch Kids. "I'll give you something to suck on…" he smiled.
"Will you stand and state your name for the court?" The Judge asked. O'Hara tapped Lassiter's shoulder to pull him out of his daydream. Lassiter stood up and closed his jacket over his slightly bulging "area" so as not to draw attention.
He cleared his throat before speaking. "Carlton Lassiter, Santa Barbara Police Department, your Honor. Head Detective eleven years this May."
The Judge glared for a moment. "Would you like to tell the court your favorite color as well?"
Shawn laughed silently until he realized why Lassiter was staring at him so intently before. He wanted to see his eye color. Hazel?
Lassiter looked down quietly and whispered, "Hazel…" so no one could hear.
The judge shook his head angrily. "The point is do you know this man?" he gestured toward Shawn, who turned pleading eyes to Lassiter who almost lost it right then. If only he could have that look in his eyes for him…
"I do."
"And has he worked on cases for the department?" the judge questioned.
"He has."
"And he was helpful?" he asked flabbergasted.
Lassiter took one last look at Shawn before smiling and saying, "Absolutely."
The crowd murmured audibly. Shawn looked aghast at the stenographer. "Did he just say "Absolutely" with a little half smirk? I'd like that printed please. I'm thinking of shellacking it on a nice piece of maple maybe a little decoupage."

Shawn and Gus walked down the stairs to the courthouse. So far things were working very well in the case, and it may soon lead to a simple mistrial.
Lassiter and O'Hara spotted the two before they reached earshot. She glanced over at Lassiter who suddenly began to get very nervous, even going as far as to adjust his holsters. Suddenly he stepped in a rain puddle, getting his designer pants all dirty.
"Damn it," he swore. "The weatherman was wrong. He clearly stated it was not going to rain today." He flushed glancing at Shawn.
"See that's why we don't listen to "group thinkers"." Shawn smiled to cover the pity he felt for Lassie.
Lassiter's ears turned a faint red as he brushed past Shawn to go inside. "I've really got better things to do." He said turning his head to whisper in Shawn's ear. He allowed himself a smirk when he felt Shawn shiver. "O'Hara, are you coming?" he barked walking away.
"You go; I'll catch up in a second." She looked at Shawn knowingly for a moment before speaking. "You know, for a psychic you are missing something right in front of your face. It's too bad. You might actually learn something about Lassiter…maybe you didn't want to." She whispered solemnly.
"He waxes his back?" Shawn smiled halfheartedly. He had a good idea of what she meant.

During the rest of the case, he would occasionally turn around to see Lassiter gazing at him, before looking away shyly. Why was he feeling like this? Why did Lassiter seem to make him feel better about being a fraud? And why did he smell so damn good when he was close to him?! It was a combination of coffee, cinnamon, and some strange Irish cologne that he deemed to just be called "Lassie Scent". He was so distracted that he didn't mind when the credit for solving the case was given to the lawyer they were helping. At least it was over now.
Meanwhile, Lassiter was breaking out in a cold sweat. Was he really going to put his fantasy into action? Could he even work up the courage to do it? No, there had to be something else...

"Guys, that's very sweet, but I can stand on my own two feet and get my own bike back." Shawn explained to the ever growing group of people who were willing to help him get his bike back from impound. His dad smiled after hearing that his son was actually going to take some responsibility for his actions. He was just about to say something when one of the rookies named Buzz, called for Shawn.
"I believe this is yours." He smiled wheeling in Shawn's motorcycle. "They just pulled it from auction."
Everyone looked around, suspecting each other as the culprit.
"But who…?" Shawn began to ask.
Lassiter walked by smiling smugly. He stopped for a moment to gaze at Shawn.

"What are you doing here? Go home!" he ordered weakly. Shawn smiled and watched as Lassiter left. He'd have to repay him…

Shawn pulled up in front of Lassiter's house. He hoped he was doing the right thing…
Timidly he climbed the steps and knocked on the door. When Lassiter opened it, Shawn frowned at the sight he saw. Lassiter's tie was disheveled and it appeared that he had been drinking.
"Uhm…Hey Lass, I wanted to thank you for getting my bike back for me. That was…nice." He stammered looking down. Lassiter sighed and opened the door wider. "Why are you really here Spencer?" He asked harshly, staring coldly at him. Shawn fumbled with a small box that had been hastily wrapped. It looked like it had been done by a two year old. Lassiter turned around and started to head for a different room. "Come in." he sighed. Shawn closed the door behind him quietly and followed Lassiter into his living room. "Take a seat." Lassiter commanded quickly grabbing the gift. Shawn sat next to him, not noticing that he tensed up.
"It's not my birthday." Lassiter said looking the package over. Shawn grinned.
"I know that. If it was your birthday I would've hired a stripper."
"Not interested…" Lassiter sighed opening the gift. He chuckled slightly when he saw that it was a framed, printed version of part of the stenographer's notes. Circled in the middle with a pink highlighter was the conversation held between the Judge and Lassiter, ending with;
"Detect. Lassiter smirks. "Absolutely." He says."
Lassiter put the frame aside and ran his fingers through his hair. "Spencer," he began. "Shawn…I wanted to tell you something today, but now I don't think I can."
Shawn leaned over and put his hand on Lassiter's shoulder. "Lassie, you can tell me anything. I trust you, and I appreciate that you've kept it a secret for this long."
Lassiter's face blanched. "You know?" he stammered.
"I always knew. I mean, why else would you always get so angst ridden whenever I ask for a case?" Shawn smiled.
Lassiter was panicking now. Should he make a move? Would Shawn feel the same way?
Shawn continued to speak. "I mean, I'm glad that now more than just my Dad knows I'm not really a psychic."
Lassiter's eyes grew wide and he stood up, nearly knocking Shawn over. "That's what you think I'm talking about?!" he yelled. "I mean I KNOW you're not really a psychic, but…I was trying to tell you something else!"
Shawn gazed blankly at Lassiter. "What do you mean? Tell me what?"
Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Screw it." He said before taking Shawn's face in his hands and pressing their lips together. It was amazing. Shawn began coiling his hands around Lassiter's back, deepening the kiss. When they broke the kiss, Lassiter practically dragged Shawn into his bedroom and tossed him on the bed. Shawn watched curiously as Lassiter removed his tie and shoes before crawling onto the bed on top of Shawn. Lassiter crushed his lips against Shawn's, letting out a groan and he ground his hips into Shawn's. He bit down on Shawn's lip making him open his mouth in a gasp of pain that was quickly swallowed up by Lassiter's tongue against his. Shawn was letting out quiet whimpers while Lassiter's hands roamed every inch of his chest.
Lassiter broke the kiss again to kiss the hollow of Shawn's neck, shivering in pleasure at the moan Shawn let out. He pulled Shawn into a sitting position on his lap so he could better access the flesh beneath his fingers. He roughly removed Shawn's shirt that read "Your Mom" and trailed kisses across his shoulders. Shawn smiled lazily and helped Lassiter remove his button-up shirt "Wow, maybe you do wax..." Shawn whispered running his hands along Lassiter's back. "What?" Lassiter asked.
"Nothing."