Originally written in March 2009.
Betaed by Hutchster on Psychfic.
Disclaimer: Psych and all its characters belong to the creators and USA Network. I'm simply writing this for fun and making no profit from it.
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It had started out as such a good day. Why did it have to go so far south?
The day had begun like any other. His alarm had gone off, and he'd gotten up right on time. He'd showered, had breakfast, and headed out the door right on schedule. Thanks to green lights, he'd even gotten to the station and clocked in earlier than usual.
Sighing, Carlton Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. He was positive he'd grabbed it on his way out the door. He wouldn't have left without was just no concentrated harder, trying to figure out where he'd left it.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see two men enter the station. Great. It was Spencer and Guster.
The psychic, as he calls himself (Lassiter, for one, had serious doubts), headed right for the head detective's workspace. Why couldn't they ever go bug someone somewhere else? Especially on a day like today?
As Shawn approached him, Lassiter gave him the most intimidating stare he could muster. Of course, he'd never seen Spencer intimidated, but it was certainly worth a try.
Guster grabbed his partner's arm and steered him away. Smart man.
But instead of leaving, Spencer just headed past Lassiter to another desk.
"Jules!" Shawn greeted the junior detective. "I'm sensing something has seriously ticked off Lassie."
Wow, what gave you that vibe, Spencer? Lassiter growled inwardly. Maybe the scowl etched across my face? C'mon, O'Hara, give him the boot!
"Well, hopefully you can 'sense' what it is," she responded. "He's been like that for hours." Her voice lowered slightly, though Lassiter could still hear her words. "The rookies are more wary of him than usual."
Now what was that supposed to mean? Weren't partners supposed to help each other out? She was joining his side!
"Hmm." Shawn leaned over to get a better view of Lassiter's desk. "I can divine it for you if you'd like."
What was he planning to do? Lassiter could see the glint in his eyes even from this distance as he turned back towards him.
Spencer, don't even think about it!
Lassiter got up quickly, planning to head for the coffee maker, but Spencer intercepted him before Lassiter got even two feet. He could move quickly when he tried.
"Oh, Lassie!" he sang out. "I'm going to help you relax. Jules asked me to."
Lassiter opened his mouth to give Shawn a piece of his mind, but the younger man started before he could get anything out.
"Now, now, Lassie. This is not venting time. This is thinking time. Okay?" He paused. "Um, I might need you to sit down for this part. I can't reach your head."
"Spencer, if you so much as lay a finger on my head or any other part of my body, yours will be a distant memory."
"Okay, okay. Touchy."
"Shawn, I think it's touché," Guster corrected.
"Whatever, Gus. Lassie, close your eyes."
"I am most definitely not doing that anytime you are within a hundred yards of me."
"Fine, fine," he muttered. "But it'll help the bond between us while I figure out where your gun is."
Lassiter just stared at him. He probably looked like a dying fish, and he hated that, but he had no idea how Shawn had figured that out.
After what seemed like forever, he finally got his face to obey and snapped his mouth shut. "Spencer –"
"You can thank me later. Right now, I need to concentrate. Hold on."
He shut his eyes and held a hand to his temple. Lassiter wanted to slap it away but ignored the impulse in favor of the public peace.
"Try the chief's office," he finally announced, spinning away on his heel.
"The what? Why would it be there?"
He got no answer as Spencer pranced out of the station. As Lassiter turned, he caught the look in O'Hara's eye.
"What? You don't really think my gun would be in the chief's office? There's no reason for it to –"
The squeak of a door interrupted him.
"Detective Lassiter?" Chief Vick's voice called out.
Ignoring O'Hara altogether, he walked over. "Yes, Chief?"