'Sup homies? How goes life? Seriously, I want to know. I'm all ears.
Anyway, this here is my new WIP. My first ever multi-chap fic!!!
*does happy dance* Dance with me peoples! Don't be lookin' at me like that now, I see ya! (Twenty chocolate chunkie* pineapple shaped cookies to those who know where that came from!)
Hopefully it's a step up from 'Bonfire' and my Shassie shorts.
As with all my other stuff, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my oopsie.

*Yes, I know that chunkie is spelled with a 'y' but I like spelling it with an 'ie'. So I shall stick my tongue out childishly to those who frown upon it.

QUICK AN: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to SpookyClaire because without her encouragement and super awesomeness this story would most likely still be collecting dust in my notebook with all the other plot bunnies. So thanks Claire!! Hopefully this makes up for me not responding to your last message before you left.
-Squeedle

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Psych or any of its awesomeness. The characters are just too fun to leave alone. No copyright infringement is intended so please do not sue me for I still do not have a job yet.

July 4th, 2009 Present

Shawn slowly opened the door to the cabin expecting…well, he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting really. Was he expecting to find Carlton sitting on the couch with a scotch in his hand staring into the empty fireplace as he has for the past month? Was he expecting Carlton to greet him with a fist to the jaw? After what happened last night and the way Carlton acted this morning Shawn thought he had the latter coming to him. Walking into the cabin a part of him even expected to find the place completely empty but out of all the things that Shawn was expecting to find, a bound and gagged Carlton Lassiter strapped to dozens of large fireworks and explosives certainly wasn't one of them.

"Carlton!"

~*~

June 1st, 2009 One month and three days ago

Carlton sat in the far left corner of Tom Blair's hugging his sixth beer and thinking about how his day went from fairly good to bad to crash landing into completely hellish. It was all Spencer's fault of course. The guy just didn't know when to lay off. He just had to invade everything in Carlton's life; his work, his personal affairs, his dreams. So yes, it was all Spencer's fault. Sure, every day let downs were the spark that ignited the flames but Spencer was the oxygen that fanned the blaze until it was an all out inferno.

The day started off okay. His coffee pot was finally cooperating with him, the local listings showed that there would be a Cops marathon waiting for him when he got home, and Mr. Johnson, the old geezer that had been accusing Carlton of stealing his mail for the past five months, left for his new condo in Florida yesterday. Screw cloud nine, Carlton was riding cloud nineteen.

Seeing as good things never lasted for him, everything pretty much took a nosedive to cloud six by midday.

Rather than dwelling on the subject any longer though Carlton downed the rest of his beer and asked for another. He groaned when the bartender produced a bowl rather than a beer.

The bartender chuckled.

"How long have you been coming here? You know the drill Carl, anything over six drinks then I gotta confiscate your keys."

Carlton winced as he took his keys from his pocket. Even though he'd gotten used to it, he couldn't stand when Frank called him Carl. Was the other syllable really that hard for the guy?

Just as he was about to drop his keys into the bowl though a tanned hand shot out and grabbed them.

"It's cool Frank, I'll drive him home. Hey Lassie." Shawn said as he sat down.

Carlton growled. Apparently the universe thought it would be amusing to punish him in the form of Shawn Spencer. He hated dealing with Spencer outside of work. Hell, he hated dealing with Spencer inside of work. He couldn't stand the way the overgrown twelve year old was always so right. And the way he always flailed around and somehow managed to grope him during his 'visions'? Carlton worked damn hard his entire life to get to where he was today – head detective not the bar – and then in walks Shawn Spencer solving every case that has come his way with little to no effort. It was down right unfair.

Carlton glared at his beer that he had yet to open and stood up to leave. He didn't really want to go home but if home was the one place he could go that Shawn couldn't then damn it that's where he needed to be.

Walking through the parking lot Carlton felt some of the tension roll off his shoulders. The scenery may not have been all that great but the quiet was welcomed with open arms. Given the fact that it was a little after three on a Monday morning, the parking lot was relatively empty aside from the occasional drunk and the weirdo waiting at the bus stop for the bus that wouldn't arrive for another three and a half hours.

"Okay, give me my keys Spencer." He turned to Shawn knowing he'd followed him and held his hand out, waiting.

"Nope, not even if you said 'please oh guru of awesome psychical wisdom'. I can't let you drive home Lassie-face."

Carlton could've sworn he'd seen amusement flash in those bright hazel eyes.

"One, I don't trust you driving my car. Two, I'm not going to drive home I'm going to call a cab. Now hand over my keys Spencer or I'll-"

He would've continued had Shawn not wandered away towards the alley next to the bar. Curiosity got the better of him so he followed Shawn who had crouched low behind some crates. Carlton opened his mouth to verbalize his confusion but before he could say anything Shawn shushed him and with an indignant look Carlton closed his mouth and cast his gaze to what had the psychic so focused.

A few yards into the alley stood two men, one tall with a crew cut the other short with tattoos all over his arms, who looked to be arguing. The normal guy in Carlton told him to leave it be but the detective in him noticed the gun shining in the tall guy's hand and with a quick glance to Shawn he knew that he'd noticed it as well.

"We talked about this Benny, either you're in or you're out." The tall one said with a light, almost nonexistent New York accent.

The tall guy gave off a sort of businessman like air. Under the light that was on above the back door to Tom Blair's Carlton could see he had on a crisp tan suit, most likely Armani, and a pair of black dress shoes. The most distinctive thing about the guy was the jagged scar that ran diagonally from his right temple to his jaw. The way he gripped the Beretta told Carlton that this guy wasn't playing any games and he silently cursed himself when he remembered that he'd left his own gun at home for the night.

"Look Tony, I know I said I was down for this shit but murder ain't my thing alright?" The short one, Benny, spoke with a hesitant tone. Who wouldn't in his position? Still, it seemed to Carlton that this Benny guy was determined not to cower in Tony's presence.

Unlike Tony, Benny had an accent that was practically made for New York. He probably grew up in Brooklyn or the Bronx and recently moved to the Santa Barbara area.

"'Specially not if it's cop. You know damn well what they do to cop killers Tony."

At the mention of killing a cop both Carlton and Shawn shuddered. They've seen the aftermath of cop killings before and it was never pretty. Whenever a cop was killed the rest of the station developed a taste for blood and wouldn't rest until the killer was dead. Not found, dead. It always ended in an epic blood fest and was never any good for either side.

Carlton reached into his jacket pocket to grab his phone but found it wasn't there. As he turned to tell Shawn to call the station Tony began to talk again.

"Yeah, I know what they do to cop killers. I also know what we do to a guy who dips out before a hit." Tony said as he aimed his Beretta at Benny's head. Benny backed into the wall, trying to reason with Tony.

"Come on man, we can work this thing out. Make a compromise, ya know? Don't shoot me Tony!"

Carlton tugged on Shawn's arm as he whispered vehemently "Spencer, we have to get the hell out of here!" But the psychic stayed put watching the scene unfold.

Tony kept the gun aimed at Benny for a few agonizing moments then brought it back down

"I'm not gonna shoot you Benny." He chuckled as he tucked the gun into pants and Benny let out a sigh of relief.

Tony smirked.

"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna kill you."

In an instant, Tony pulled out a switchblade and with one swift move he jammed it through Benny's throat. Both Carlton and Shawn gasped loudly and jumped up knocking the crates over in the process. Not a very smart idea on their part because had they stayed down Tony never would have spotted them.

"Hey!"

Anyway, so how was my first chapter? I figure if I get at least three good reviews from people other than SpookyClaire and Mahala A.C (no offense you guys because you're awesome and everything but you're normal reviewers) I'll keep it going. If not *sad sigh* then I'll just stick to oneshots and shorts. So please review because I'd really like to see this through to the end.
LOOKING FOR TITLE SUGGESTIONS!!!!!
So far what I have are:
1) In Danger's Wake
2) Unprotective Custody
3) Well, At Least One Good Thing Came From Being Almost Killed (creative huh?)
4) Worst Way to Hook Up in History
or the current title. If you guys have some better suggestions please feel free to send them in.

-Squeedle