I have this sneaking suspicion that if I did own Psych, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction... Just sayin'.

This was written for the Whumpathon challenge for 2012. Beta'ed by the amazing Texasartchick (who I am honored offered to read it over for me).

Location: Museum

Whump recipient: Lassiter

Whump toolkit: cleaner, doorframe

Part of the challenge was to pick a certain trope to use, so I chose locking two characters in a small enclosed space. Also included, as required: Ding Dongs (snack cakes) and a conversation about zombies.

Enjoy!


Museums are fun for some people, usually educational, and almost never include near-death experiences. Shawn Spencer, however, is not a normal person.

It wasn't that Lassiter hated the man... Well, maybe he did. But either way, it was more the fact that the man (rather, the man-child) could not behave for any length of time that annoyed the head detective the most.

Take that morning for example. The station had been relatively calm and quiet as the officers and detectives arrived and got their workdays started. Then Spencer and his friend had to show up and ruin everything...


"Well, hello, detectives! How goes the day?" Spencer babbled, seating himself on O'Hara's desk and flashing one of his annoying smiles that he most likely assumed to be charming.

For her part, Lassiter's partner didn't seem to mind the antics. "Good morning, Shawn," O'Hara smiled back at the man on her desk.

"Spencer!" Lassiter had already had enough and the psychic hadn't even been in the room for two minutes. It was quite possibly a record of some sort. "Some of us have work to do, so why don't you go find something to do that does not involve me, O'Hara, or this station." He glared at Guster for good measure. "And don't you have an actual job you could be doing?"

"But Gus's office building is being fumigated, Lassieface," Spencer said seriously. "Rodents of unusual size were running around like it was their own personal fire swamp."

Guster rolled his eyes. "There was a field mouse problem, Shawn. There were no giant rats."

Nearly ready to begin banging his head against the desktop, Lassiter took a deep breath. "Spencer, if you have nothing beneficial to add to our morning, which I can assure you you do not, then you do not belong here right now."

"Would I belong here later then?" Spencer queried, a lopsided grin on his face.

Before Lassiter could respond, the door to the chief's office swung open and Chief Karen Vick stepped out. "Detectives, my office please," Vick called, nodding to them.

Spencer leaped up grinning. "See, Lassie? I told you we needed to be here."


Lassiter sighed and rubbed his temples. Right about now, he was really wishing for an ordinary murder case instead of protective duty for the kid of some friend of the mayor's. Lassiter prided himself on being the best detective in the entire department, but on days like today, he wished that certain people would not pull strings to get the mayor to get the chief to get the best detectives in the department to play baby-sitters. But apparently the guy was worried after hearing that the museum had been broken into the previous week and was convinced someone would break in again - in the middle of the day. Because that was so plausible.

The only thing worse than a paranoid string-puller was a pain-in-the-neck police consultant who claimed to have been drawn to the station to help out with whatever the detectives happened to be doing. Spencer declared he could use his "gift" to assist in the protection, and even though Lassiter had given him as many threatening looks as possible every time their eyes met, Spencer still showed up in the museum's parking lot with Guster and that ridiculous blue car.

And now, as they had been for the past half hour, Lassiter, O'Hara, Spencer, and Guster were following a group of eight-year-olds and their tour guide around the museum. Lassiter was keeping his eyes open for any sign of trouble, though he knew there would be none, and his partner was doing the same. The two grown children in the group, however, were not.

Guster was behaving for the most part, Lassiter had to admit. But Spencer was another story entirely. The man was currently waving his hand like an excited kindergartener in answer to the tour guide's asking if anyone had any questions.

The woman's eyebrows were nearly in her hairline as she pointed hesitantly at Spencer. "Um... yes?"

"I was wondering," Spencer began, looking beyond pleased with himself for being called upon, "if that dinosaur comes to life after dark, like in that movie with the monkey."

Several of the children in the group grinned and began chattering excitedly at the possibility. The tour guide looked like she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "That is ridiculous. It is a display of a dinosaur skeleton and there is no way it could ever 'come to life.'" She cleared her throat. "Now if you'll follow me, we'll continue our tour in the next room."

The group moved on, but O'Hara suddenly looked around. "Where's Rob?"

"He was in the group..." Lassiter trailed off as he realized that their charge was no longer with the other children. "Sweet justice, Spencer! You distract me for two minutes and the kid wanders off!"

Spencer had the nerve to look shocked by the accusation. "Why are you blaming me, Lassie?" he asked as innocently as possible. "She said any question. I had a question. It's not my fault he couldn't follow that list of a hundred million rules you laid out before we even left the station."

Guster looked a little pale as he glanced around the room. "We'd better find him."

"Thank you, Guster, for stating the obvious," Lassiter snapped. "Of course we need to find him. I for one am not going to let some ten year old run wild in the halls of the museum when I'm supposed to be watching him."

"He's eight, actually," O'Hara corrected. "When was the last time anyone remembers seeing him with the group?"

"I think I saw him when we were looking at the Egyptian archaeology exhibit," Guster offered.

O'Hara nodded. "I remember that, too."

"Okay," Lassiter took charge. "O'Hara, you go check the archaeology exhibit," he pointed to one of the many doors leading off from the room in which they were currently standing. "I will go the other way and check those exhibits."

"I'll go with Juliet," Guster offered. "Two sets of eyes are better than one."

"And I'll go with you, Lassie!" Spencer was far too excited.

"I don't need your help, Spencer," Lassiter stated, turning on his heel. "You go another way. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. That kid couldn't have gotten far. Call me the minute you find him."

"What if you find him?" Spencer asked, keeping pace with the head detective.

Lassiter just walked faster.

"Aw, come on, Lassiefrass. You heard what Gus said. Two eyes are better than one, right?"

"Well then it's a good thing I already have two," Lassiter rolled his eyes. "And I'm serious, Spencer. Shoo."

Spencer looked up from where he was checking behind a display case of various shells. "You really should work on lightening up, Lassie."

"There are more important things to work on. Like finding that kid," Lassiter muttered.

They passed into the next room, having looked under and behind everything large enough to conceal a child. After checking it thoroughly, they continued through the far doorway.

It was late morning, and not many other visitors were to be seen. Here and there, one or two small clusters of people moved from display to display, but the museum was mostly quiet. Or rather, it was quiet other than for Spencer's babbling.

Lassiter had resorted to simply ignoring the other man, tuning out most of what he was saying. Suddenly, however, he became aware of Spencer's incessant calling of his name.

"Lassie!" Spencer was drawing out his name in a sing-song tone. "Lassieface!"

"What now, Spencer?" the detective demanded, turning from where he was checking the interior of a walk-in model of an igloo.

Spencer was pointing at a door in the far wall. "Let's check there."

"It's just a closet, Spencer."

"Yeah, and?" Spencer prompted. "It's the perfect hiding spot!"

"It's also locked," Lassiter motioned towards the keypad beside the door. "Unless this kid is some sort of junior Houdini, I think we're okay not checking in there."

Spencer grinned. "You never know. Maybe he is."

Rolling his eyes, Lassiter turned to duck inside the igloo again. Before he could step all the way through, however, Spencer's voice interrupted him a second time.

"What if the door isn't locked?"

"What do you mean, it isn't..." Lassiter trailed off as he took in the now-open storage closet door and the self-satisfied look on Spencer's face. "What in the name of sweet Justice did you do, Spencer?"

"No need to snap like that, Lassie." Spencer had the nerve to look offended. "It isn't like I hacked the keypad or anything. I just turned the handle." The innocent look on his face would have been enough to fool most people, but Lassiter was having none of the other man's nonsense.

He crossed his arms and glared across the room. "For your information, Spencer, I am not impressed by your shenanigans one bit." He held up his hand as the other man opened his mouth. "Let me finish. I did not invite you along on this field trip. I did not invite you along to help me search. And for that matter, I never even invited you into the department six years ago. Just because you are here does not mean... What are you doing?"

Spencer seemed to have lost interest in listening to the lecture being given to him and was now halfway through the closet door. "This room is way too dark to see anything," his muffled voice floated out. "I can't see the light switch either."

"Maybe there is none," Lassiter muttered. He rolled his eyes and turned to leave the room and the annoying psychic behind, but Shawn's now-panicked voice made him stop in his tracks and turn around.

The closet door appeared to now be shut, and Spencer's voice was coming from behind it. "Lassie! Lassie, I'm stuck!"

Lassiter was tempted to just leave and let the maintenance people let Spencer out whenever they next used the closet, but the thought of having to explain things to his partner made him sigh heavily and head for the closet. "Spencer, so help me, when I get you out of there I will-"

"Gotcha!"

The seconds following Spencer's outburst and the door flying open contained several things, most of which were completely instinct for Lassiter. He had no idea how he restrained himself from actually pulling the trigger.

"Whoa! Whoa! Lassie! It's just me!" Spencer's eyes were wide and his hands were upraised as he took in the gun pointed at his chest.

Lassiter was in no mood to deal with the other man's childishness at the moment. He still had a kid to find - and he had very nearly shot a department consultant for crying out loud! The paperwork associated with that would have been messy to say the least.

"Spencer," he began, gritting his teeth and speaking as slowly and calmly as he could manage, "do you know how close I came to shooting you just now?"

"Shooting me?" Spencer had the nerve to look innocent. "But I did that to Gus the other day and all he did was turn his chair around." He looked down at the ground. "I might need to clean that up," he commented, studying the liquid that had spilled from a bottle that had been overturned when he jumped out from behind the almost-closed closet door.

"Yes, Spencer, but he does not carry a gun, nor is he trained in anything other than pharmaceutical sales!" Lassiter was at the end of his rope. He holstered his gun as he continued, "I'm serious, Spencer, I almost shot you, and if you're going to treat it this lightly, I might just actually shoot you next time!" He shook his head angrily as the other man started to reply. "Now, you listen to me. I am going to look for that kid on my own. If you want to search too, be my guest, but only if you stay at least one room away and you do not speak to me under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

Spencer, to his credit, only nodded.

"Good." That was the last of what Lassiter planned to speak to the psychic for the rest of the day - and possibly even week if he could help it.

As he turned on his heel to stalk off, Lassiter suddenly felt his feet fly out from underneath him. The sensation of being airborne registered and he had time to remember the cleaner Spencer had spilled, but that was all before the room went dark.