From here he could tell that something was off. The object of his affection, or as Gus would say, "stalking", was frowning, but not in an angry, I want to shoot anything that pisses me off kind of way, but a sad considering tears kind of frown.
He should have seen this coming. Even solving the murder at the observatory wouldn't take away the fact that last night he had been drowning his divorce sorrows in a bottomless glass of scotch.
Shawn crept stealthily on the balls of his feet like his father had taught him and slowly made his way towards the detective. When he was a couple yards away he called out, "Lassie!"
There was an audible and possibly shaky sigh from the head detective as he put his head in his hands. "Spencer," he growled.
Shawn sat down on the side of the detective's desk and look down at the head of messy salt and pepper hair.
"What's up Lassie?"
"Spencer what are you doing here?" Carlton hissed.
"Better question: what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be done with the paperwork by now?"
Lassiter lifted his head up and his cool blue eyes met hazel ones that were gazing at him in…concern?
"No reason," the detective replied.
Shawn looked at him for another minute and quickly cast a wary gaze around the empty room. Before Carlton could protest, a head of messy brown hair was closing in on him. Inches before their lips met Shawn looked into his eyes and then they kissed. It was a chaste kiss, but Shawn's lips were warm and soft.
Shawn pulled away, red-faced and began to walk away. "You coming Lassie-face? I'll buy you dinner, so you don't have to go home and eat alone," he called behind him. Lassiter dazedly grabbed his coat and followed.