A/N: Um, first fanfic, awkward writing, possible mature contents hence rate M, actually already written next chapter. Anyway, enjoy. Thank you.
(+ Disclaimer: I don't own Psych, or the characters in it. But do I really have to explain this? I know you guys are way smarter than me so... I didn't know I even needed this. Anyway, yeah. I don't own Psych. )
Head detective Carlton Lassiter glared at the ceiling with his shoulder wrapped with bandage. He was lying on a bed in local hospital- more precisely, forced to stay in the bed. His face wrinkled with discomfort, Lassiter tried to think of any reason he needed to stay in here, the place for the weak. Why in the name of sweet lady Justice he ended up. Mostly because his nagging partner O'Hara- Carlton, you stay bed and be nice to the nurses. They are just trying to help, and we are in a place full of tranquilizer which I'm willing to use- and Chief Vick- Detective Lassiter, listen to your partner!- And of course, there was a big hole through his right shoulder made by a bullet, a bullet shot from the suspect's gun. He was so close to catching that punk. The punk he almost got without any help of the most annoying human being, nope, any form of existence throughout all space and time- Shawn Spencer. That guy had been on Lassiter's nerve for years, shoving it on his face that fake psychic shenanigan was better than solid cop works in catching criminals… But this time, the detective finally got a score. He won fair and square, beat the crap out of that snarky bastard and tracked down the killer! Well, the killer got run off but technically, Lassiter won and Spencer lost. So to enjoy his victory, Carlton was about to chase down the suspect. But his partner and the boss thought he needed to get rest which he didn't need.
"Damnit, O'Hara." He muttered under his breath. She even took his gun away from him- This is all for your own good, Carlton. We'll take this from here. You should get some rest- Although he sneaked his spare one under his pillow. You can't be too careful.
"Lassie!" Suddenly a very familiar annoyance hit his brain. A guy who called himself a psychic, a glib, flaky overindulgent adolescent who spends way too much time with his best friend. Shawn Spencer. Lassiter already could feel headache poking him.
"Lassie! Detective Lassiter! Lassieface! Lassiepants!" Apparently Shawn couldn't divine his room with his so-called gift or couldn't read the nametag on the door. And Lassiter hoped he could stay undetected. The last thing he wanted was Spencer hobbling around his room making no sense at all.
"Detective Dipstick! Carlton? Binky?!" Now Shawn sounded even desperate.
"Spencer, for God's sake shut your pineapple hole!" That shouting back immediately stopped the psychic. And he could hear the loud, almost stumbling sounds of Shawn scrambling his way to Lassiter's room. "Crap." He cursed under his breath.
The door was dramatically swung open and Shawn Spencer rushed through the door, shouting "Lassie! You ok-"
"I'm fine, Spencer." Lassiter cut the words glaring at Shawn. "And before you start yammering about your snack, hair, movie references and vision or any other topic you might bring up to the table, I am 100% sure I'm not interested." Obviously he was venting his frustration on the kid. But that's what they do. Shawn mocked him and he shouted at Shawn. That's how everything worked between the two. So the detective assumed Shawn is going to ignore him and go all 'Spencer' on him.
But unlike his expectation, Shawn said nothing. The childish, somewhat mischievous voice before yelling out various nickname of Lassiter was gone. He just stood there with heavy breath, just with a concerned look. It oddly resembled some photo of puppy face Lassiter had seen from the many mails that Shawn sent- He really shouldn't have given his email to Spencer- And it was awkward that Shawn Spencer, the most talkative man he had ever met, had gone silent.
And that gave him a frown. It was weird. And wrong. He didn't like it.
"What?" He snapped trying to hide the almost visible awkwardness in the air. "If you've got nothing to say, just be gone already." And there was still no respond. "Why are you in here in the first place? Where's Guster? Did he finally realize you two are not in the Neverland?" Realizing the absence of another familiar manchild who seemingly much mature than the psychic, Lassiter looked around the room and glanced over the door. But there was no other visitor. Just Shawn.
While his attention was occupied, Shawn suddenly fell down on the head detective. At first Lassiter thought he fainted from running- He seriously lacked the exercise compare to the amount of snack he consumes, maybe a heart failure?- But soon, Lassiter found Shawn cling on to his waist hugging him tightly, Shawn's head buried to his chest. And for a moment his brain just stopped functioning from sudden invasion of personal space. All he could think of, all he could feel was hotness and sweatiness of the head. He could feel it over his clothes. And the scent. A faint scent of pineapple- Too shocked, Lassiter was unable to point out the fact that Shawn was using pineapple scented hair product- mixed with salty smell of sweat.
"Thank God…" Words of relief slipped out between the psychic's lips. He must have run all the way down to the hospital without Guster's ridiculous blue car.
And that little point, that someone made the way to the hospital worrying about him, gave a little shake to Lassiter. Somewhat warm, cozy but at the same time embarrassing and uncomfortable feeling filled his guts. And from the bottom of his heart, that feeling traveled all the way up to Lassiter's lips, twitching them to make a tiny smile. It somewhat messed up his brain too. Maybe a friendly patting in the head won't hurt, he thought for a moment there slightly shifting his left side before Shawn suddenly looked up with a grin.
"Are you smiling, Lassieface?" The usual childlike tone was back again, like everything was just an act to see the reaction of Lassiter right now; mixed up looking of half-smile and half shock with his left hand lifted toward Shawn. "Were you trying to hug me back?" And Lassiter could swear that Shawn was psych as always.
Aborting the 'friendly patting' plan, the detective smacked Shawn in the head. "Get off of me, Spencer."
"Oh, come on. You were about to hug me back. Don't be Adam Scott in Step Brothers. Bring it in, Lassie. I'm all yours." Ignoring the smacking Shawn tightened the hug.
"What part of 'get off of me' you can possibly misinterpret? Get as far away as possible from me and then stay there forever."
"Too late. You already let me in. I'm like P!nk's songs. Once I'm in, I'm in forever."
"I. Never. Let. You. In."
"Binky, you are wrong in all the wrong ways."
And Lassiter heard something inside him, probably something that the others called rationality, snapped like a string trigger of booby-trap and he burst into irritation. "Spencer! Get out! Now!" He pushed away Shawn ignoring the pain on his shoulder. But the hyperactive psychic didn't seem to care.
"I made you smile and you almost hugged me back!" He sang skipping around the room causing massive annoyance to the wounded man.
"No, I didn't and get the fuck out!" Obviously Lassiter was blushing. He grabbed the pillow and threw it. But Shawn dodged it- To tell the truth, it was a bit impressive how that guy could react so quickly- and even put up on a smirk.
"I made grumpyface Lassiepants smile! A little victory dance for me." And he did dance around the room.
"Out!" Unable to stand the sight of the smaller man dancing happily, Lassiter grabbed and pull out the gun he stashed, pointing it at the psychic.
Shawn flinched and scrambled out, but soon his face came back with a smile, keep singing. "Lassie smiled!"
"Shut up, Spencer!" shouted Lassiter threateningly, unlocking the safety. He seriously contemplated whether he could hit Spencer in the arm or leg. 50 to 50, he thought.
But the next sentence came out from Shawn's mouth was strong enough to stop the head detective. "Thanks Lassie. Thanks for being not dead." He gave the detective with a gun a smile. It was a genuine smile, and made Lassiter blush even more.
"Nuuuurse!" Lassiter shouted after a few moment of awkward silence, quickly lock the safety of the gun and hiding it behind him.
"Whoa, smart move, Lassie!" Feigning a surprised look, Shawn waved before he ran away. "I'll come visit you later! Bye!" Then he skipped away, really skipping like a kid with cotton candy or ice cream.
"…Moron." Lassiter muttered quietly as the nurse ran to the room. Too annoyed to interact with any kind of human being, he just waved her away. He regretted it later though, his pillow lying on the floor far from his bed.