A little oneshot that I've been working on for a while. Lassiet if you squint. I would have posted sooner, but we were in the middle of all those tornadoes Friday night, and it got a little crazy. Luckily no one was killed or seriously hurt, but the middle of town was torn up pretty bad. Anyway, read on and enjoy!
For Loafer, since I torment her by starting great stories and never finishing them. *hangs head* One down, a thousand more to go!
Disclaimer: Not mine!
PsychPsychPsychPsych
Thursdays were always good for Juliet O'Hara.
Thursdays meant it was only one more day until Friday, then the weekend finally arrived, and she could finally relax. Being a cop, finding time to relax was often a difficult chore, but she always found a way to squeeze in time, even if it was only an hour or two. And a lot of the time, it seemed that criminals were out to interrupt that single hour that she spent in a bubble bath with wine and some trashy romance novel (one of her guilty pleasures).
So that morning, she strolled into the precinct with coffee and donuts, fully expecting to see her partner at the desk across from hers. Lassiter always arrived before anyone else, and he was usually the last one to leave. She admired his dedication, but sometimes she honestly worried about him.
So when she didn't see him in his chair working on a file, that worry increased tenfold. She set the donuts and coffee down, then made her way into the chief's office.
Karen Vick was just starting up her computer when Juliet knocked on the door. "Come in, O'Hara."
Juliet stepped into the office. "Morning, Chief. Uhm… did Lassiter call you this morning?"
Vick's brow furrowed. "No. Why?"
"He's not at his desk."
Vick swung her gaze to the clock on the wall. Now that was unusual. Lassiter was never late. "Why don't you give him a call? He's probably just stuck in traffic." But she didn't put it past a frustrated Lassiter to use his siren, badge and even his gun to get out of a traffic jam.
"Maybe." Juliet stepped back out of the chief's office, retrieving her phone from her pocket as she walked. But as she sat down at her desk and waited for her partner to answer, she could feel her concern growing. And when he didn't answer the phone after three rings, she knew something was wrong.
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Across town, Carlton Lassiter groaned as he hunched over his toilet bowl and gagged again.
It had all started the previous afternoon, with a slightly stuffy nose. But by the time he got home, that stuffy nose had evolved into a splintering headache, nausea, a sore throat, and the chills. It had taken all of his strength just to shed his work clothes and crawl into bed. He wasn't supposed to get sick. Surely McNab was to blame, somehow. Or Spencer. One of those morons had somehow infected him with Ebola or anthrax or a strain of the super-flu.
His phone began to ring in his bedroom, and he groaned again.
Damn it.
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By lunchtime, Juliet still wasn't able to reach her partner. Finally she gave up and went back into Vick's office. Trying to appear nonchalant, she told the chief that she was going to check on her partner. To her surprise, Vick told her to take the day. Before she could change her mind, Juliet hurried out of the office, thanking the chief as she went.
She stopped at her desk long enough to grab her jacket, her purse and phone, then headed toward the exit. But just as she reached the door, it swung open, and Shawn Spencer strolled in, with Burton Guster trailing closely behind. She sighed quietly and tried not to look too irritated. She hoped this wouldn't be a production. Normally she didn't mind Shawn's antics so much, but right now she had something else she needed to be doing instead of dealing with Shawn.
"Hey, Jules!" Shawn greeted her brightly.
"Hi, Shawn." She tugged her jacket on.
"Heading out?"
"Yeah…" She scrambled for something that would make Shawn unwilling to follow. He was sweet and she did like him, but right now, that was outweighed by her concern for her partner. "I'm going to talk to a witness."
Shawn lit up. "Need a hand? I know the pineapple smell is a bit overwhelming at first, but you get used to it…"
Juliet shook her head and sidestepped them. "Sorry, Shawn. Maybe next time."
"Jules…"
She was already gone, and Shawn gave Gus a curious look.
"No. Just… no."
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Fifteen minutes later, Juliet arrived at her partner's house. Not sure of what she would find, she absently touched her gun at her hip as she walked up to his front door.
His car was still there in the driveway, so he had to be home. She glanced around, then knocked cautiously on the door. "Carlton?"
There was no response, but just as she was reaching out to knock again, the door opened, and she was face to face with her partner. For a moment, she stood there, unable to speak. His cheeks were flushed from fever, and his dark hair was damp and lay flat against his head. His clothes were rumpled and clearly slept-in, and she didn't like the coarse sound of his breathing. Clearly he was very sick.
"O'Hara?" His eyes squinted against the harsh sun, and his voice was hoarse enough to make her flinch. "What are you doing here?"
"You didn't call in, and you haven't answered my calls. I can see why."
"Oh…" He rubbed the back of his neck absently. "Sorry. Not really sure where it is…"
He sounded slightly confused and dazed, and that made up Juliet's mind. Gently taking his elbow, she ushered him back inside and closed the door behind them.
Once they were inside, Juliet quickly shed her jacket and gun holster. Then she led Lassiter into his bedroom. She had been inside of his house a few times and luckily knew her way around. They went down the hall, and she pushed his bedroom door open. "How long have you been like this?" she questioned as she let him go and he sat down on his bed.
He rested his pounding head in his hands. "Since last night…"
"Last night?" She untangled his blankets and sheets, her senses nearly overwhelmed by the combination of his cologne and the scent that was uniquely his. Finally they were untangled, and she gently grasped his shoulders and urged him back against the pillows at the head of his bed.
He had no strength to resist her, and once the slight sensation of vertigo subsided, the pillows felt good beneath his aching head.
Clucking her tongue softly, Juliet pulled the comforter over him. "Close your eyes and get some rest, partner."
A soft smile tugged at the corner of his handsome mouth. "Yes, Mother."
She shook her head and laughed as she slid off of the bed. He was asleep before she reached the door.
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After a quick run to the grocery store around the corner, Juliet carried her bags into Lassiter's house. She had already called Vick to explain the situation, and the chief had insisted that she didn't want to see either of them in the squadroom until Monday morning, at the earliest. Lassiter had plenty of leave accumulated (since he refused to ever take a day off), and so did Juliet, for that matter. She just smiled as she recalled that conversation while unpacking the groceries. As much as she tried to hide it, Vick had sort of a soft spot for her head detective.
"Juliet."
Juliet looked up, confused. Was she hearing things now? Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the groceries. Then she heard it again.
Carlton was calling for her.
Without hesitation, she dropped what she was doing and headed into his bedroom. "Carlton?"
He was twisted up in the blankets on his bed. As she came closer, she noticed that his cheeks were flushed and his hair was damp.
"Juliet…"
Her heart lurched at the way he said her name. "What is it, Carlton?"
His eyes opened and focused on her. "Are you really here?" His voice was rough and scratchy.
"Yes." She came closer to the bed and slowly rested her hand against his forehead. He was burning up. Poor baby…
Baby? Juliet's brow furrowed slightly at the endearment. He certainly wasn't a baby. He was a grouch, a jerk, inconsiderate, know-it-all, obnoxious, amazing…
Shaking her own head, Juliet left the room and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she shook out several tablets into her hand. Then she offered them to her partner. "Take these, Carlton."
He looked at the pills skeptically. "What's that?"
"Tylenol. You're running a bad fever."
"I feel fine."
Juliet rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Carlton. Just take them."
Finally he took the pills from her hand and swallowed them. Then he took a sip of the water she offered before laying back against his pillows.
Juliet placed the water on his night stand. "I think you have the flu."
"Do not," he said petulantly.
"Fine. You don't." Suddenly she leaned over, resting her lips lightly against his forehead.
He froze, barely breathing. "What's that for…?"
"Checking your temperature," she whispered against his skin.
Finally he relaxed. "Keep doing that…" His eyelids grew heavy.
Her smile widened before she finally pulled away from him. "Rest, Carlton." She reached behind him and adjusted his pillows. "You'll feel better when you wake up."
His eyes closed completely. "You sure?"
"Yes." She kissed his cheek lightly, then started to stand.
Before she could get off of the bed, his hand shot out and curled around her wrist. "Juliet?"
Her heart skipped a beat. He so rarely used her first name, but when he did, it was music to her ears. "Yes, Carlton?" Her hand settled lightly over his.
"Could you…" His voice trailed off.
"Could I what?" Her thumb gently stroked his knuckles.
"Can you stay?"
"Of course I'm staying, Carlton." Someone had to look out for him.
"I mean…" He huffed, waving his free hand in frustration. "Here."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Here?"
Groaning, he pulled his hand away and rolled onto his side, away from her. His stomach churned miserably. "Forget it."
Juliet stared at him in confusion. He was obviously very sick, but he wanted her close. Was it because he was sick, or because he wanted her near him because he cared about her? The cop in her screamed at her to just leave the room; he would be fine. It was just the flu. But the other part of her, the part of her that had brought her here in the first place, whispered at her to do it. A moment later, her mind was made up.
Curling even more into himself, Lassiter scolded himself for being so stupid. Asking his partner to join him in bed….What was he thinking? Then again, he hadn't really been thinking… Damn flu.
Just a moment later, he was shocked when the bed dipped and a very warm body was pressed against his back. He held his breath as her arms slipped around him and her head came to settle beside his on the pillow. Sweet lady justice, was this really happening?
Little did he know, Juliet was asking herself that same question (only phrased slightly differently, of course). Here she was, basically spooning her partner in his bed, and instead of dread or remorse, she was feeling practically giddy. Her body molded perfectly to his, and as her hands settled on his abdomen, his much larger hands came up and gently encased hers. Being this close to him, she would probably get sick as well, but for some reason, that just didn't matter. They were both comfortable, and judging by his breathing, Carlton was on the verge of some much-needed sleep. "Try to rest, Carlton," she whispered into his ear.
He shivered and closed his eyes obediently. The smell of lilacs and vanilla, combined with something that was uniquely her, surrounded and enveloped him. "Thanks, Juliet," he whispered.
"For what?"
"Staying."
"I'll always stay," she assured him, and he was comforted by that as he drifted off.
"I'll never leave you, Carlton."
The End!
A/N: Hehehe. Poor Lassiter. I just love tormenting that man! Thanks for reading, and please review!