Title: Guns Don't Kill People. Gun Shows Kill People, Chapter 1/5
Rating: PG
Pairings: Shawn/Lassiter.
Warning: Shassie Slash. Spoilers for High Top fade Out, Let's Get Hairy, and Shawn Takes A Shot In The Dark.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. [Thank-you to for the disclaimer]
Summary: Lassiter investigated a murder at the gun show. But will his fledgling relationship with Shawn also be a casualty? Sequel to Out of the Frying pan and into the Firehouse, part of my Heterosexual Freakout Series.
Note: The Santa Barbara Historical Arms and Blade Show is a real event that takes place at the Earl Warren Showgrounds every July. None of my research indicated that anyone has ever been murdered there.
The noonday sun was slanting through the blinds in Chief Vick's office, throwing streaks of light across the desk and making the warm ochre paint look as if it were glowing. But Carlton Lassiter didn't notice. He had been back at work for two weeks now, but had been limited to light duty, which involved filing, writing reports, and fielding telephone calls—the least favourite parts of his job.
It's as if I'm being punished for getting shot, Lassiter grumbled to himself. He didn't blame Chief Vick for benching him. If only he hadn't answered the door without his gun. Well, he assured himself, I'll never make that mistake again. Since the incident at his apartment he'd kept his gun within arms reach every moment. And light duty or no, he was certainly going to wear it to work. He didn't want to look any more useless than he felt.
A surprising number of his light duty hours had been spent fielding calls from city counsellors and the mayor, and reading cards sent by a group of grade four school children who had taken him on as some sort of class project. The sympathy was starting to grate on him, but it had got him thinking—about his job, about his future, and about Shawn.
He looked at Chief Vick who was just finishing a telephone call. When John Fenich had retired Lassiter had hoped to be considered to replace him. Now it seemed as if that dream would have to be shelved. Unless Vick moved on to a better offer, the Chief's position was hers for the foreseeable future. If he was going to map out his own career advancement Lassiter realized that he needed to explore his options. One of those options, an application to City Council, was sitting in the left hand drawer of his desk.
Vick hung up the phone, looked up at him and spoke, her voice clipped. "Carlton, I understand that you feel ready to return to full duty."
"Yes, I do." He noticed that one of the three requests he'd made to that effect was sitting on her desk. He hoped she wasn't going to subject him to a series of visits with Dr. Erlich, the SBPD psychologist, first. The last thing he wanted to do talk to some shrink about how it felt to get shot. He steeled his nerve. If that was what needed to be done before he could get back on active duty, then so be it. Of course he wouldn't mention the real reason Shawn has been visiting him that fateful night. He didn't want his occasional homosexuality going down in some shrink's notes.
"Good to hear," Vick said, "because I need you to drop whatever you're doing and get down to the gun show."
Carlton didn't respond right away. He understood the words, but in his frame of mind they seemed to have no meaning.
"Is this a joke?" He barely dared to hope it would be this easy.
"I beg your pardon?" Chief Vick's voice took on a slight shrillness, her eyes narrowed and the lines in her forehead deepened. She didn't look like she was joking. But being assigned to a case at the gun show still seemed too good to be true.
It could be a pity assignment, he thought. Maybe she wants me to do crowd control.
"Did O'Hara put you up to this?" he asked hesitantly. She knew how much he hated having his duties curtailed.
"Not unless she shot a man at the Earl Warren Showgrounds." Vick handed him a sheet of paper with the particulars. "I need you down there and I need this cleared up ASAP." Vick studied him, as if looking for a sign that he wasn't ready to accept the assignment. As Lassiter scanned the paper the dark cloud seemed to lift from his mind and he noticed the sun for the first time that morning. He was back on active duty and he was going to the gun show.
"Sweet!" He restrained his grin, not very successfully. "I mean…I'm happy to. Thanks, Chief." He turned and walked confidently to his desk and snatched up his suit jacket, ignoring his stack of unfinished paperwork.
"Grab your gear, O'Hara. We've got a 187 at the gun show."
"Really?" her eyes seemed to light up and Lassiter basked in the joy that comes from sharing a love of firearms with your partner.
"Oh yeah."
"What about your reports?" O'Hara asked, hesitantly.
"Have they murdered anyone?" Lassiter asked lightly. Without waiting for an answer he went on, "Then I think the gun show is more important."
Lassiter couldn't stop smiling as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Highway 101 and Las Positas.
Gus, seated at his desk in the Psych office, shook his head. "I'm not going to the gun show with you, Shawn." Gus was using his 'laying down the law' voice, and he meant what he said. He had earmarked that Saturday to deal with the ominous letter they had received from the Bureau of Security and Investigative Services, discussing their private investigator's permit, or lack thereof.
"Come on. It'll be fun." Shawn, leaning back in his chair, feet resting on his desk, extended his arms to represent the large amount of fun Gus would be missing.
"What part of a gun show sounds fun to you?" Gus set the letter on his desk, face down. The last thing he wanted was for Shawn to see it. Although they were business partners, Shawn didn't take the administrative side of things very seriously. As the letter indicated, Shawn had neglected some vital paperwork. Gus, on the other hand, had obtained a permit for the lemonade stand he'd run when he was nine. While the cost of such a permit had put his small business into the red, at least he hadn't had to worry about being arrested. Shawn was not like Gus. He'd never done the proper paperwork for that dog-walking business he'd started as a kid, or for the lawn-cutting, and Gus didn't even want to think about the casino Shawn had tried to start in the basement of their grade school. Trying to discuss permits with him was a lost cause.
"Where's your love of history, Gus?" Shawn asked. "The gun show is filled with historical weaponry, cool gadgets and beef jerky. Tell me you don't love a good piece of jerky."
"It's going to be a bunch of fanatics buying guns," Gus said, his hose wrinkling in distaste. "There could be a lot of shady characters there—gang members, cult leaders, white supremacists. And you know my rule about Earl Warren Showgrounds. That place is cursed for me."
Shawn pulled a piece of candy from the Red Vines package on his desk and waved the raspberry flavoured licorice at his friend. "Is it because the exhibit building looks like a tabernacle dedicated to egg yolk? Or is it because the floorplan is shaped like the box from Hellraiser?"
"That design is meant to resemble a daisy," Gus said, seriously. "And yes, the egg yolk thing does kind of freak me out. But the curse is real." Gus smoothed his tie and lowered his voice. "It made me step in horse droppings when I tried to ask Melinda Castleberg to senior prom."
Shawn sighed and bit off the end of the Red Vine. "I'm sure she didn't turn you down because of that," he said between chews. "It was probably because of those weird sweater vests."
"A sweater vest is a perfectly respectable piece of casual wear," Gus said, getting defensive.
"Sure, if you're a cast member of Happy Days."
"Why do you want to go to the gun show anyway?" Gus asked. "You're not even into guns."
"But Lassie is. And I want to get him something for his birthday."
Gus gave Shawn a confused look. "Lassiter's birthday was four months ago."
Shawn shrugged. "Obtaining the perfect gift has been more difficult than I expected. But I've been emailing a guy and he'll be at the gun show this weekend with a certain…item."
Gus put on his best James Earl Jones voice and asked, "Do you have the item?"
Shawn grinned, and not bothering to even attempt a Redford impression asked, "Can you guarantee my safety?"
Gus smiled, but shook his head sadly at Shawn's lack of organization. He'd already started planning for Juliet's birthday. "After being shot in the chest," he said, "I'm surprised Lassiter's still interested in guns."
"No, dude, it makes total sense," Shawn said. "I nearly choked to death on a peanut M&M once, but that doesn't mean I don't still love them. Except for the yellow ones. I suspect them of plotting against me."
"My cousin got the hiccups after drinking a can of Coke," Gus replied. "He had them for two weeks straight, and hasn't had a carbonated beverage since then. Frankly, I think his decision makes more sense. You know what they say: fool me once, shame on you…."
"Fool me twice you're David Blain. I get it. So you really don't want to come to the gun show?" Shawn's voice was wistful.
"No. I'm pretty sure that a gun show is going to be whiter than a Celine Dion concert and about as entertaining." Gus paused. "Although I'm sure you and Lassiter will have a great time," he added without conviction.
Shawn shrugged, and planted his feet on the floor. "Listen, I know I shouldn't mention that letter you're so obviously trying to hide from me, but I couldn't help noticing the city crest on the envelope and that anxious look on your face. If you've got tickets or the city's being all 1984 on you, go see Henry. He's like the Godfather when it comes to fixing red tape."
"You mean he'll make them an offer they can't refuse?" Gus asked.
"I was thinking more like James Brown, the Godfather of Soul. Papa don't take no mess, but he does have a brand new bag."
"Thanks, buddy." Gus smiled. "I might actually take you up on that suggestion."
"No problemo amigo." Shawn headed out the door.