Disclaimer: not only do I not claim any rights to psych, but 'they' would laugh at me if I did
Rating: T
Summary: Lassiet. Deal with it. Carlton & Juliet can only talk to themselves so long before they have to call in the big guns to understand their partnership, friendship, and more. Note: The first third of this chapter was previously posted as a story called Prank No More; the first line was taken from the USA Network psych slumber party skit where Lassiter bursts in to stop Shawn from making the harassing and illegal prank calls.

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. . . .

. . .

"It's a slumber party. You have to have crank calls."

She said it as if there were no simpler concept in the world.

Carlton looked at her, looked at the asshat next to her, looked at Guster—normally more likely to agree with the concept of 'right' and 'decent'—and understood.

What he understood was this: he was finished.

He lowered his weapon and said as calmly as he could manage, "It's illegal. It's fraud against the business owners and harassment against a citizen and officer of the law."

Spencer was grinning; Juliet looked complacent, and Guster looked… well, not so complacent, but still secure in the safety of his group.

"But it's fun, Lassie," Spencer said. "And geez, you don't have to answer the phone or the door, do you? That you never learn is part of why it's so much fun."

"Wrong, Spencer, because you keep forgetting I'm a cop, and unless I'm on official leave, I'm on duty 24/7, so I do have to answer my phone every time it rings, and I do have to answer my door. I can't even block your number because you're a damn consultant."

The grin had never left the asshat's face. "That's yet another reason why it's fun for everyone."

Breathing deeply, Carlton again did his best to sound calm. "Okay. Then here's how it is. If you ever prank call me again, I will begin harassment charges against you. I will get a court order to comb through your phone records, I will get the incoming call records of the various businesses who've sent me all manner of crap thanks to you, and then we'll see if you still think it's fun."

Juliet sighed, rolling her eyes ever-so-slightly.

Spencer chuckled. "So much work, so little purpose."

"I will also," he said more slowly, "name O'Hara as an accessory."

That got her attention; Spencer's too. She sat up and stared at him. "What?"

Spencer protested, "Lassie, come on."

"Well, she's sitting right there, isn't she? She just admitted she doesn't think it's any big deal for you to harass me and commit fraud, didn't she? For all I know, she's been part of this from the beginning."

Her mouth dropped open, and she stood up. "Carlton, that's ridiculous. You know I haven't—"

They were all on their feet now. Guster said, "Lassiter, Juliet never made any calls to you, and just for the record, I don't want to go to jail."

"Lassie, it's just for fun. You don't have to be like this, and for damn sure you don't have to drag Jules into it."

She was still staring at Carlton, but for once he was able to look away unscathed. "No, Spencer. You did."

"Come on, man, it's a slumber party, and—"

"Carlton, you can't be serious!" She stepped around the coffee table to come closer to him, ridiculously appealing with her pigtails despite the shock and anger in her expression.

"O'Hara, I don't know else to stop this. It's been going on for years, you know it's been going on for years, it looks to me like you've either condoned it or been part of it, and if that fact is going to help me stop the harassment, so be it." He focused his gaze on Spencer, who was looking a bit slack-jawed. "So that's how it is. If you want to keep having fun at the expense of others, you'll do so at the risk of tarnishing O'Hara's otherwise pristine record."

"You would not actually do that to me, Carlton." It was almost a whisper.

"You're talking to the wrong person," he said flatly. Pointing at Spencer, he savagely re-holstered his weapon and strode out of the apartment over the protests of Juliet and her pajama-clad idiot friends.

He was nearly to his Fusion when she caught up with him, racing across the grass in her fuzzy slippers. "Carlton, stop!"

Carlton steeled himself and turned.

"What the hell is going on? Why would you say such a thing?"

"Why the hell would you let him do this to me year after year?"

"I don't let him do anything! He doesn't listen to me; you know that!"

"You're a cop. You know the law. And once upon a time you were my friend, too, and friends don't let this crap go on."

She took a breath, wounded and clearly getting pissed off. "I am your friend. And I have not been sitting by while he prank calls you. You know better."

"Do I? Honestly, O'Hara, I don't know what I know anymore. I've seen you tolerate all kinds of idiocy and disrespect from Spencer, and it sure looks to me like you were in the middle of things tonight."

"Okay, look, I'm not proud of that, but—it was just one night, Carlton, please. One stupid night with stupid friends doing stupid things. You can't hold me responsible for his behavior—you know him!"

He clenched his jaw. "I don't hold you responsible for his behavior. I hold you responsible for yours. I know I don't matter to them, and I suspect I no longer matter to you, but This. Stops. Tonight. I get so much as a Jehovah's witness at my door on a Sunday morning, your boyfriend's going to need a lawyer."

She blocked his path to the door of his car, furious. "You know damn well you matter to me! How can you say that?"

Carlton pointed to the building. "Because of what I saw in there. Because of every damn eye-roll I've seen for the past year. Because it's obvious, O'Hara, and no matter what Spencer may spout to the world, I am not stupid. What I am is damn tired. What I've got is a partner who thinks I'm fair game for Spencer's antics."

"Carlton, no," she whispered, and there was a tear on her cheek.

"Take the warning back to Spencer. I know he doesn't give a rat's ass about me or the people he rips off, but if he cares about you at all, he'll find a new damned target. Or maybe, maybe he'll just grow the hell up."

He brushed by her and got in the car, and she was still standing on the lawn looking helpless as he drove off.

. . . .

. . .

Juliet walked slowly back inside, where Shawn and Gus were flipping through Yellow Pages ads. She felt sick and shaky.

"I didn't even know they still made phone books," Shawn marveled.

"Shawn, they get put on your doorstep every year. What did you think they were?"

"Pre-recycled paper?" He glanced up at Juliet. "Lassie storm off okay?"

Juliet looked at him, trying to see him. Trying to see him, not just through the mist still blurring her vision, but through the time they'd spent together. Trying to figure out where she'd gone so wrong.

Trying to figure out why Carlton's anger hurt so much, and why she felt she'd betrayed him even more than he clearly believed she had.

"How often do you prank call him?"

His attention was back on the ads. "Ooh, look, they'll deliver a coffin right to his door."

"Shawn," she repeated, chilled. "How often do you prank call Carlton?"

"Hardly ever. Maybe two, three times a year." Still, his gaze was on the ads.

Juliet pinned Gus in place with a single look. "Gus?"

"More like two, three times a month," he admitted.

Shawn shrugged. "I've heard it both ways."

"And how often do you have things sent to him?"

He yawned. "Maybe two, three times a year. Jules, come on. It's just for fun. Practically a victimless crime. Non-crime. It's a victimless non-crime."

Again, she focused on Gus, and this time she didn't even have to say his name before he caved in.

"At least… once a month. Uh, maybe twice. But only if it has 31 days."

Juliet dropped into the armchair, holding herself tight.

"Jules, relax. He's not going through with it. Gus! Let's look up bubble wrap!"

"He should," she muttered.

"What, to teach me a lesson? That never works." He reached over for the bowl of popcorn, highly amused.

Gus was nodding sagely.

She clarified. "No, to teach me a lesson." Rising, she paced the room, because suddenly she was full of nervous energy, full of the need to be doing something, if only to compete with the all-out action going on in her brain.

"What are you talking about? You don't need to learn any lesson. Lassie would never do anything to hurt your career. Not after he screwed up his last partner's career."

Spinning around to glare at him, she spat out, "As I heard it, you had a lot to do with that."

Shawn blinked. "Well. I may have…brought it to light, but what he and Lucinda were doing in the dark has a lot more to do with it, don't you think?"

Gus nodded again, but looked thoughtful. "Still, Juliet has a point, Shawn. You did expose something they might have been planning to end anyway. For all you know it was a one-time thing they both regretted, and you kinda blew away their chance to make it right."

"Make it right," Shawn repeated mockingly. "Guy was married, dude. There's no making it right."

"He was separated. He'd been separated and on his own for close to two years. You told me that yourself!" She stalked over to him, only the coffee table stopping her from slugging him outright.

His hazel gaze was shrewd. "You think Victoria would have thought it was 'okay' because they were separated?"

"At that point, if she were sane, yes! I do!"

He grinned. "And if you'd been his partner then, would you have fallen for the 'oh I'm so sad and lonely and separated' line he probably used on—" He stopped speaking abruptly when she leaned over and pushed up against the underside of the bowl, dousing him liberally in popcorn.

Gus got up and moved a safe distance away.

"Carlton is not that kind of man, and you know he's not that kind of man. You should be ashamed of yourself."

He stood up, shaking popcorn off himself as if he were a shaggy wet dog coming in from the rain. "I never cheated on anyone, Jules."

Gus cleared his throat.

Juliet stared at him and then at Shawn.

Shawn looked uncomfortable. "You can't count anything I did under the age of nineteen."

Gus cleared his throat again.

"Or twenty two and three quarters, and come on, man, we'd only been dating a week and that waitress was freaking hot!"

"Stop it!" Juliet commanded. "I don't care and that's not the point. I want you to stop prank calling Carlton."

"Jules…" He flicked one last bit of popcorn off his sleeve. "I told you. Lassie is never going to do anything to jeopardize your career."

"He was pretty angry," Gus pointed out reasonably.

"He won't do it." Shawn was certain.

She drew in a breath. "But you would?"

"I would what?"

"You would jeopardize my career?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You would risk my professional reputation against your need to continue this juvenile and illegal campaign against my partner?"

"Hey! Weren't you sitting right beside me when we made those calls ninety minutes ago?"

She flushed. "I was, but I was under the influence of stupid, and besides, I had no idea you'd been harassing him so long. And you didn't answer my question, Shawn. Are you so sure he's going to shield me that you'd take the risk just so you can go on sending him pizzas and egg rolls and balloons?"

"Jules," he said again. "There is no risk to take."

Truth was, she knew he was right: she knew Carlton wouldn't do that to her…

… well, he probably wouldn't.

"I'm glad you're confident, but let's look at the other angle. It is illegal. And it is defrauding the vendors you've called over the years, as well as obvious harassment against Carlton. So as your girlfriend, I am requesting that you stop doing these things. As a police officer, I'm demanding it."

He met her gaze, clearly trying to suss out his options.

"Either one of those, Shawn, should convince you to agree. But if you had any brains, the first one would be enough."

She began collecting her belongings—jacket, holster, common sense—and he followed her around the room babbling words she didn't even try to understand while Gus cautiously started cleaning up the popcorn mess.

"Don't leave, Jules. Please."

Juliet stopped and looked at him, again bewildered at herself and her choices over the past year. "It's late."

"It's a slumber party—it's supposed to be late! We haven't even frozen your bra yet!"

"Come on, son," Gus muttered.

"Are you going to stop harassing Carlton?" she demanded, close enough to see actual real uncertainty in Shawn's eyes.

He hesitated.

This was even more annoying. "Really? You have to think it over?"

"No! No, I don't have to think it over." Shawn sighed. "Okay. You win. No more prank calls to Lassie. I swear. In front of you and Gus, and you know he's my conscience."

"He shouldn't have to be." Beyond him, she could see Gus mouthing the phrase 'you know that's right.'

"Just be glad he is, sweetheart." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Now put your stuff down and let's pick out a nice movie to watch."

"No, I'm going home." She zipped up her jacket and turned away, hearing his 'tsk' of disapproval and asking herself how in the hell to make this up to Carlton.

. . . .

. . .

He was exhausted and wished for sleep.

But it wouldn't come, damn it; it had tantalized him ever since he got home from Spencer's at two a.m., never getting quite close enough for him to sink into what should have been its comforting arms.

Bastard sleep.

So he got up at what amounted to the usual time, despite it being Sunday morning, and dressed for a jog he was in no shape to take. He'd stop on the way back and reward himself with a pastry to go with the eighteen coffees he planned to guzzle.

When he pushed the doors of Prospect Gardens open and faced the pale morning light, the first thing he saw was Juliet, bundled up in a long jacket, sitting on the bench across the street.

She looked pretty close to crap, not that this detracted from her general prettiness. Her eyes were huge and her face drawn and she got up when he crossed the street, her hands shoved deep in her pockets.

"Carlton, I—"

He interrupted. "O'Hara, don't. I got home last night and realized I overreacted. You were right; I'd never drag you down with Spencer."

He'd believed it when he said so in front of the asshat, but as soon as he stepped inside his condo he understood he simply couldn't.

Yet Juliet didn't look relieved. She probably didn't trust him; he'd been pretty harsh.

He tried again. "It doesn't mean I won't go after him if he does it again, and it doesn't mean you might not get caught in the crossfire if he wants to put you there, but I promise I will never intentionally—"

"Carlton, wait." She sighed. "I came here to apologize. I didn't think you'd let me in at four a.m. so I've been waiting. I figured you'd go for a run."

"You don't have to apologize for what he does." He frowned. "You've been waiting out here for two hours?"

Juliet brushed a stray curl—she'd lost the pigtails—behind her ear. "I wanted to see you in person. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry I've given you the impression you don't matter to me. You do matter. You're my partner and my closest friend and I know I have… not been that for you. Not for a long time. And I'm sorry."

He felt a squeezing in his chest at the haunted look in her eyes. "You don't…"

"I let my personal relationship get in the way of our relationship, one that's incredibly important to me. I'm sorry I've taken such risks with it and I hope you can forgive me and give me another chance."

"O'Hara," he said weakly. He had not been prepared for this at all. He thought they'd have an icy week or two until they both thawed enough to get some real work done. He thought Spencer would be around gloating and he'd made plans for how quickly he could have the little bastard picked up for harassment and whether that would be the final blow to his partnership with Juliet.

It had never occurred to him she would be waiting out here in the cold morning light, apologizing with obvious sincerity.

"Please," she whispered. "Carlton."

"Hell," he began gruffly, and Juliet beamed and threw her arms around him in a kamikaze hug which nearly bowled him over.

"Thanks." It was muffled against his chest, and he allowed his arms to encircle her briefly. "You won't regret it, I promise."

"If you're crying on my new t-shirt, I already regret it."

Juliet laughed and stepped back, and he was sorry to lose the warmth and softness of her. "I wasn't crying yet, and that is not a new t-shirt."

"Don't cry at all," he advised her. I'm really not worth it.

Her blue eyes were suspiciously bright all the same. "I told Shawn to lay off. If he doesn't, I will stand right beside you when it's time to bring him in. I feel so stupid about last night. You have no idea."

Carlton didn't know what to say to her. He couldn't leap from emotion to emotion, not like this.

"We'll get back." She said it confidently. "If you give me a chance we'll get back."

It wasn't all on her, and he couldn't let her think so. "I should have given you a chance last night."

Juliet smiled. "You did. You didn't shoot Shawn, you told me off, and you brought me back to reality in the process."

He rubbed his face hard. "This is a crazy conversation for six a.m. on a Sunday morning."

"Maybe, but you know what fixes crazy? Breakfast. Skip your run, partner. Let's walk down to the Omletorium and have breakfast."

Carlton studied her, bemused. She was as tired as he was, with shadows under her eyes; her hair was in tangles and her clothes rumpled, but she smiled at him and seemed as fresh and beautiful as she did every damn day of his life.

"Beats licensed therapy any day," she prodded, her smile sincere.

Yeah. Well.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?"

He felt cautiously optimistic. "Eggs it is… partner."

She beamed, and he gladly kept to her pace down the sidewalk, but in the back of his mind, he had a feeling it simply couldn't be this easy.

Maybe it shouldn't be, either.

Maybe, he thought with a mix of dread and certainty, it was time to lift up the rock and see exactly what lay underneath.

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. . .

[A/N: While I will post Ch2 tomorrow, I will NOT be updating daily after that. Since only about three people admit to reading my l'il Lassiets, I'm sure there'll be nooooo complaints!]