I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

I've been trying not to post WIPs as much lately (you guys know how long its been taking me to get new updates to the ones already up). But this story is a very late gift for someone so I'm going to start posting it now and try to get the rest of the chapters up as soon as possible. I do have a good deal of the story already written so hopefully it won't be long.

Happy Really Belated Birthday trixiteru! I hope you like it.


Carlton unlocked the door to the hotel room, glaring at the single, king size bed inside. Of course, the hotel would have only one room available, with a single bed. Apparently there was some kind of convention in town, so they were lucky to even get a room. Not that he considered being stuck in a hotel room overnight with Spencer in anyway lucky.

"I call the window side!" Spencer yelled, coming into the room and jumping onto 'his' side of the bed.

"Knock yourself out," Carlton muttered. He closed the door, dropping his bag on the floor beside it. He looked over the other furniture in the room. The chairs might be comfortable enough to sleep in, if he put them together. Much better than the floor anyway. There was no way he was sharing a bed with Spencer.

He dropped down into a chair with a groan. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. It felt good to finally be off his feet.

"Are you okay?"

He glanced up to see Spencer looking at him worriedly. "Just tired."

Spencer came over and sat in the chair across from him. "Yeah, it's been a crazy few days, hasn't it?"

Carlton grunted in agreement. He and Spencer had tracked a bank robber through three counties for the better part of a week before finally managing to arrest him a couple of hours ago. He was now sitting in a holding cell, awaiting transfer back to Santa Barbara.

"Don't worry; a good night's sleep and you'll be as good as new," Spencer said optimistically.

He sniffed under his own arm and made a face. "Though a shower first would probably a good idea." He got up, nudging the bag of takeout they had grabbed closer to Carlton. "I'll go first; you eat." He dug through his bag for some fresh clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Carlton eyed the bag dubiously. He was sick of greasy fast food but he knew he had to eat something. He dug out a burger, sighing when he found it had gone cold. The room didn't have a microwave, so he was forced to eat it as is.

Spencer exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam as he gagged down the last bite. He was wearing boxers and a loose fitting white t-shirt, toweling his hair dry. The shirt clung to his damp skin, showing off a surprisingly firm chest. "Shower's all yours," he said, voice muffled.

Carlton looked quickly away before Spencer caught him staring. He grabbed some clothes from his bag and headed for the bathroom. "Help yourself to what's left," he said, waving at the bag on the table.

Spencer pulled the towel off his head and grinned at him. His hair was sticking up all over the place, making him look even more ridiculous than normal. "Have fun," he said slyly.

Carlton rolled his eyes. A week together had made him a little more tolerant of Spencer's odd sense of humor. Still, he made sure to lock the bathroom door behind him. He wouldn't put it past Spencer to burst in, hoping to catch him doing something embarrassing.

The shower felt wonderful. The hot water relaxed muscles he hadn't even known were sore and he was able to wash off the grime from their final chase through an abandoned warehouse. Now if he could just get some sleep, he would be back to his old self.

Spencer was sprawled out on the bed when he reentered the room. He lifted his head to look at Carlton. "There's another burger left if you want it."

Carlton made a face. "I'll pass." He walked over to the table and tossed the bag into the trash. The food was nasty enough now; he didn't want to think what it would be like in the morning.

Spencer yawned loudly behind him. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to zonk out for the night."

Carlton nodded as he walked over to the bed. "For once, I agree with you." He grabbed a pillow and returned to the table. He pulled both chairs out and set them up facing each other a couple feet apart.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked as he crossed to his bags and grabbed the extra blanket he had requested from housekeeping.

"Getting ready to go to sleep." Carlton shoved the pillow against the back of one of the chairs and sat down. He stretched out his legs and adjusted the second chair until it was at a comfortable distance.

The other man sat up and stared at him incredulously. "Are you seriously going to sleep there?"

"Yep." Carlton grabbed the blanket and shook it out over himself.

"But there's a perfectly good bed right here," Spencer said, slapping the comforter next to him.

"I'm fine." He wiggled in the seat, trying to find a position that wouldn't kill his back.

Spencer tilted his head. "The floor looks more comfortable than that."

The floor would give Spencer a chance to cuddle if he felt so inclined. Not that he really thought Spencer would, but he didn't want the temptation to be there. It was safer in the chair. "Go to sleep."

Spencer sighed. "Good night." He scrambled to the top of the bed and slipped under the sheets, then flicked the bedside light off, plunging the room into darkness.

Carlton shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. A chair really wasn't the best place to sleep, as he knew from experience. He would have preferred the bed, but he couldn't sleep next to Spencer. With how exhausted he was, he couldn't trust himself.

He looked over at Spencer as the man started to snore. He could have kicked Spencer out of the bed and claimed it for himself. But that would have left him with the same problem, as he knew for a fact the 'psychic' would have climbed in after he fell asleep. He also didn't have the heart to make Spencer sleep on the floor. The younger man had hid it well but he could tell Spencer was just as tired as he was.

He let himself study Spencer for a moment, secure in the knowledge he wouldn't be noticed. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough that he could make out the features of the sleeping man's face. Without his trademark grin, Spencer seemed more serious, more mature. He had seen that look only rarely when the man was awake; usually when things took a drastic downward turn. Though he had seen it earlier today when they had finally tracked Bollinger down.

"Don't move!"

Carlton peered carefully around the shelf he was hiding behind. Bollinger was about twenty feet away with his back to the detective, holding a gun on Spencer. The younger man was holding a chunk of plywood he had probably picked up off the floor at some point, and he was watching Bollinger carefully.

Bollinger waved the gun. "Put it down. Slowly."

Spencer crouched down and carefully placed the wood on the floor. He held his hands up as he rose, stepping back from the wood for good measure. "See? I'm cooperating. So how about you put down that gun?"

"I don't think so." Bollinger moved forward, forcing Spencer to quickly step back. He grabbed the chunk of wood and threw it off into the distance. "Don't think of trying anything," he warned.

"Me?" Spencer asked innocently. "Of course not." He glanced around the room, eyes passing by Carlton's hiding place. "Though you may want to decide what your next move is going to be. It's not easy lugging a hostage around."

Carlton started creeping forward while Bollinger was distracted. He ducked behind an abandoned forklift, eying the open space between him and the two men. He could cover it in a matter of seconds but he would need to get his timing down perfect to avoid getting shot.

"I could just shoot you. Just like I did your partner," Bollinger suggested.

Spencer visibly tensed as he turned back to Bollinger. "Lassie's going to be pretty mad you shot at him."

"If he's alive," Bollinger said.

Spencer's face tightened. "I wouldn't count him out just yet," he muttered, though he sounded worried.

"Maybe I'll use you as leverage to get the detective to let me go," Bollinger said, moving closer to Spencer.

The younger man took a slow step back. "You are underestimating how much Lassie cares about me. He'd never let a criminal go free."

"You better hope he's wrong." Bollinger surged forward and grabbed Spencer's arm.

At the same time, Carlton stepped up behind him and put his gun to his head. "Let him go, Bollinger," he growled.

Spencer looked at him in relief and wrenched his arm out of Bollinger's grasp. "I told you not to underestimate him," he taunted.

"Drop the gun," Carlton ordered. Bollinger let the gun clatter to the floor.

Spencer swiftly picked it up and trained it on the thief. "I got him, Lassie."

Somewhat reassured by the concentrated look on Spencer's face, Carlton pulled out his cuffs and secured Bollinger. Spencer handed over the gun as soon as he was finished. "You should probably hold onto this."

Carlton took it carefully, making sure the safety was on before shoving it in the back of his pants. "Back up should be here by now." He gave Bollinger a shove. "Move, scumbag."

Spencer started babbling about where they should go for a victory dinner and talking up Carlton's rescue until it barely matched what actually happened. It wasn't until Carlton had passed Bollinger and the confiscated weapon off to the waiting officers that Spencer stopped and turned towards him. "You're okay, right?"

He was caught off guard by the serious question after all the fluff. He almost brushed it off until he noticed the way Spencer's eyes were traveling over him, looking for injuries. "I tripped over a pipe when I dodged that shot. I'll have some bruises from the fall but that's it."

Spencer nodded, the serious look replaced by his trademark grin. "Good. In that case how about we grab some food and I come up with a way to reward my daring rescuer?" He batted his eyelashes flirtatiously at Carlton.

"Quiet would be good. Do you think you can manage that?" Carlton asked.

Spencer shrugged. "There's a first time for everything," he said, giving Carlton a look that seemed to give added weight to the words. Before he could figure it out, Spencer was grinning again. "Come on. I'm starving."

Carlton stopped long enough to make sure Bollinger would be probably booked and transferred back to Santa Barbara before following after him.

At the time he had assumed Spencer was relieved to see him because he would save him from Bollinger. Now, in the darkness, with Spencer sleeping just feet away from him, he wasn't so sure. He was probably reading too much into; the glances he thought Spencer had been giving him during the past few days, the concern Spencer had appeared to have for him tonight. They had gotten along better than he expected but he knew better than to hope for anything more than friendship from a man that flirted with every female he came across.

Spencer snorted, grabbing a pillow as he rolled onto his side. He was keeping to 'his' side of the bed, leaving the rest open and oh so inviting.

Carlton turned away, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. At least one of them was getting some sleep. If he was lucky, he would doze off for awhile before they had to leave in the morning. He could finally get a good night's sleep once he was back home, safe in his own bed.

Using that thought as a shield to resist the temptation of the bed, he tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.


Shawn rolled over, wondering what had woken him. He lay there quietly, listening to the room around him. He was starting to drift off when he heard the sound again, a soft grunt coming from next to the bed. He looked in that direction and saw Lassiter twisting in his chair, muttering quietly to himself.

Shawn glanced at the clock. He had been asleep a couple of hours, but from the looks of it, Lassiter had not gotten any sleep at all. He sighed and climbed out of the bed.

Lassiter went still as soon as Shawn moved, pretending to be asleep. Shawn rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder. "Dude, I know you're awake."

Lassiter sighed and looked up at him. "What do you want, Spencer?" he asked wearily.

The lighting was pretty bad, but he thought the detective looked even more worn out than he had earlier. Clearly, sleeping in a chair was not going to work. "Get up," he said, grabbing Lassiter's arm.

The detective shook him off. "Leave me alone," he growled.

"Nope. You need sleep and you're not getting it like this." He pulled Lassiter out of the chair and over to the bed. "Now lie down and go to sleep." He gave the detective a shove so he landed on the bed. Figuring Lassiter wouldn't be able to resist the pull of sleep now that he was horizontal, he headed back over to the chair and grabbed the blanket and pillow. He had slept in worse places than a hotel room floor in his life; one night wouldn't kill him.

A hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around. "What are you doing?" Lassiter asked.

"Giving you the bed so you can sleep," Shawn said slowly. Even as tired as the detective seemed to be, he thought that was pretty obvious.

"I'm not taking the bed from you," Lassiter said, grabbing for the pillow.

Shawn held it out of reach. "As noble as that is, you really need some sleep. Unless you were planning on letting me drive tomorrow?" At Lassiter's glare, Shawn smirked. "I didn't think so. As I would like to make it home in one piece, you get the bed." He pushed the detective back to the bed and forced him to sit down. "Now go to sleep." He turned to walk away again, but Lassiter grabbed his arm. "Dammit, Lassie. What now?" he snapped.

Lassiter looked surprised at his outburst. "I'm not forcing you to sleep on the floor and obviously you need sleep just as much as I do," he said quietly.

Shawn sighed and drew a hand over his face. Normally he would never let the detective see how annoyed he was. Lassiter was right; he was tired. "So what do we do now?" he wearily.

Lassiter looked at the bed, then back at Shawn. "I suppose we'll have to share."

Now it was Shawn's turn to look surprised. "Really? After all the fuss you made about it?" He tossed the pillow on the bed and looked irritably at the detective. "Why couldn't you have just agreed to that earlier?"

"Because it's a bad idea," Lassiter said shortly, sounding just as irritated.

"So why are you agreeing to it now?" Shawn asked in confusion.

"Because I'm tired and you're tired and it's the only way either of us is going to get any sleep tonight," Lassiter snapped. "Now shut up and get in the bed."

Eying the detective warily, Shawn crossed to the other side of the bed and climbed in. Lassiter waited until he was settled before lying down himself, his back to Shawn. "Good night, Spencer," he said gruffly.

"Night Lassie." Shawn stared up at the ceiling for several minutes, trying to figure out the detective's strange behavior.

He had never thought of Lassiter as homophobic; he had assumed the reason he wouldn't share the bed earlier was because he disliked him. However, that didn't explain why Lassiter wouldn't let him give up the bed himself or why he had eventually agreed to share it. It was a puzzle, one that Shawn was determined to solve.

He rolled over and lifted himself up to look at the detective. Lassiter had already fallen asleep, breathing soft and evenly. Even now Shawn could see tension lines on his face, as if even in his dreams the detective could never relax. His fingers itched to smooth those lines away, to let Lassiter know there was someone here watching over him and keeping him safe.

Like he should have done earlier. They had been in life and death situations before but tonight it had struck him how easily he could have lost the detective.

He sighed and turned away. Maybe it was a bad idea to share the bed. He was pretty sure Lassiter was straight. Even if he wasn't, he doubted the detective would appreciate Shawn hitting on him. It didn't matter how well they had gotten along the past few days or the small ways Lassiter had started to trust him. The detective was off limits.

He turned his back on Lassiter and clutched a pillow tightly to his chest. He'd just make sure to stay on his side of the bed during the night and tomorrow they could go back to the way things usually were between them.

He yawned widely, the stress of the last few days and his interrupted sleep catching up with him. He closed his eyes, pushing aside thoughts of Lassiter's odd behavior, and let the darkness pull him under.


So what do you guys think so far?