A/N: I present to you the new and improved version of Stealing the Groom. This fic is the first in my editing projects. I added more detail, some more thinkfull thoughts for Lassie, and changed a bit of dialogue. I hope you like the changes. :)
Spencer is getting married.
Spencer is getting married.
Fucking Shawn Spencer is getting married.
No matter how many times Lassiter tried to wrap his mind around it, it still didn't sound right to him. Shawn was just a kid. Well, he wasn't a kid exactly. He was in his thirties already so the word 'kid' was no longer applicable as far as age was concerned. A more appropriate term would be 'man child' but regardless Lassiter thought he'd never see the day that Spencer would actually commit to someone. True, O'Hara was a beautiful, kind and intelligent woman whom everyone respected but Lassiter didn't think even she would be able to get Shawn to buckle down. Shawn this chaotic kid, this untamable teenager. O'Hara did a lot of good for Shawn but Lassiter didn't think she'd be the one to convince him to do something so grown up. In way O'Hara landing the fraudulant, young at heart pest just angered Lassiter even more.
Lassiter would never admit it but his partner was like a younger sister to him. Despite the fact that she always wanted to talk and had this annoying habit of trying to get him to do things (like smile) Lassiter loved O'Hara in his own way. He wanted to make sure that she was safe and making the right decision like any upstanding big brother would and as a pseudo sibling he was one hundred percent sure that Juliet marrying Shawn was not the right decision at all.
It wasn't just that Spencer was an irresponsible, childish idiot. It was something much more than that; something that caused a gut feeling in the head detective's chest. The idea of the couple being married gave the older man literal and very physical pains. Ever since the engagement was announced, Lassiter would feel this sudden, inexplicable surge of pain in his chest whenever he looked at the groom and more so if the bride was in tow. Before the detective had connected his pain to its trigger he'd gone as so far as to see a doctor who informed him that he was (of course) perfectly healthy. After the direct cause had been linked to the effect, Lassiter knew there was no other reason for his frequent discomfort than intuition as if is body was attempting to warn him that the whole wedding ordeal was wrong.
Like any cop, Lassiter headed his gut instinct and tried to talk sense into O'Hara but she defended her husband to be as any bride would and more so with her distinct optimistic resolution and genuine belief. The blonde stuck to her faith to the point that it seemed that she was trying to convince herself.
"Listen, O'Hara," the the salt and pepper haired cop had angrily argued with her, "Spencer could never support you. He's not physically capable of taking care of anything!"
The conversation had taken place in Lassiter's office. It was a bare space with everything neatly tucked away in its place and hidden out of sight. They'd been at it for almost an hour going back and forth and filling every available airy space with strong convictions and even stronger arguments. If they hadn't been careful it might have leaked into the cracks and slivers of cabinets and file drawers.
"Carlton," the blonde reasoned calmly, "It's not the 50's anymore. I can take care of myself and Shawn. Besides, if for some reason I couldn't then I trust in Shawn to step up."
His light blue eyes had rolled as if quickly asking God if this were some kind of joke before returning to the younger cop with a sternness.
"Do you?" he asked, his tone including an unwavering sense of doubt if not a bit a sarcasm.
"I do."
Lassiter remembered the response clearly but more so he recalled the look in those expressive, dark green eyes. It was the look a child bore in his or her eyes upon finding out and then fighting the fact that their favorite super hero is really just an ordinary man in colored tights and bad lighting. She wore the same face on her wedding day. Lassiter had noted it earlier when he'd sneak a glance at her in her wedding dress (his last attempt to persuade her against everything). The beautiful, sweet little blonde had repeatedly smoothed out her princess skirt and breathed deeply as if she were preparing herself for a tough case as opposed to a wedding. She'd attempted a smile at her reflection and it was that sad and pathetic excuse for a grin that prevented Lassiter from saying a word to her.
Lassiter didn't have much in his life. He had an ex-wife, an overbearing mother, a convict ex-girlfriend who'd become a lesbian and stopped writing, a sister who idolized him too much and then O'Hara. His younger partner reminded him a lot of his sister Lauren. It wasn't so much that the two were alike but that Lassiter had similar feelings for them. The only difference was that Lassiter felt that he could be more himself around O'Hara. He could make mistakes and be human and not puff out his chest and be super cop. It stood to reason then that the stubborn older man needed to back down and allow his partner to attempt happiness, as unreal as the happiness was. So, despite all the gut feelings in the world, Lassiter stood in his place for the ceremony and bit his tongue.
However as he faithfully bit his tongue the seasoned cop's mind began to doubt his tolerance for the occasion. Each and every sight brought a horrid pain to his chest that only aiding to the growing bundle of hurt nested in his rib cage. The poor man had barely pushed through the rehearsal just a week ago. The mock ceremony, the half set up tables, the stumbling and bumbling individuals within the practice of it all made Carlton feel little pinches on the inside of his body. However, it was seeing Shawn that brought about a near case of angina.
Shawn was all debonair and nerves. He was charming as usual with his winning wit and charismatic smile but there was an undoubtable nervousness to anything and everything he did. Nervous smile, nervous laugh, nervous fingers wiping off the clammy layer of thin sweat over his brow. To Lassiter's trained ear he could here the false psychic's words spilling out from the mouth like verbal vomit. It pained Shawn's superior to see him this way, so unsure and uncollected. The younger man's irises would fleeting call to Lassiter's blue's as if asking for something perhaps guidance or reassurance but Lassiter had been unable to make any reply. The minute their eyes would meet, he felt death in his chest and he had to look away.
Of course, the wedding day was a different story. So far Carlton had seen neither head nor tail of the nervous boy. Juliet was also in absence at least since her partner had last seen her anyway. Secretly, he was praying the two might be talking this out. Perhaps by some divine miracle the two young lovers would come to their senses and the whole charade would be called off or at the very least postponed until further notice.
Lassiter looked down at his ring finger to see that the pale skinned ghost of his wedding band still lined his skin. He brought a shy finger to it. It was hardly noticeable at this point but he felt a coolness to his skin as if the cold, silver ring was still on him. How long had it taken him to take the damn thing off and for good at that? How long had it taken him to put the ring away and to end that chapter of his life? How long would it take Shawn and Juliet to heal and move on when everything fell apart?
This isn't right. Lassiter thought as distant almost muted footsteps approached him. I can feel that this isn't right.
"Lassiter," Gus called, snapping Lassiter out of his thoughts, "Could you maybe do something for me?"
"It depends," Lassiter replied, generally open to assisting Guster. After all between him and his uncouth and brazen friend Lassiter preferred the one who actually managed to talk sense...on occasion anyway.
"I-" Guster looked to his left as if some assistance lied in that direction"- I need you to find Shawn."
"...you need me to what?" Lassiter asked, blinking in disbelief.
The detective took a quick look at his surroundings. He'd been so consumed in his own thoughts that he'd neglected to observe the obvious. There was impatient chatter in the seats slowly raising up and verging on a riot. From Lassiter's stand point he could see the beginnings of panic and anger in the audience. He once again found it odd that he was standing as one of Shawn's groomsmen but he had taken the duty as opportunity to closely monitor the man child granted his chest pains hindered that opportunity. Now the opportunity was primed though as Lassiter's mind began to fully process the situation.
"Shawn's missing," Gus said aloud what Lassiter had concluded.
"He's what!" Lassiter growled.
Lassiter could feel the steam coming from his ears. He felt unmitigated fury rise to his surface. True, he didn't want to wedding to happen but he didn't want its lack of occurrence to be a result of Shawn leaving the bride at the altar. And what was so wrong with his dear partner that Shawn was abandoning ship? If anybody had any right and place to flee the ceremony it was Juliet.
That little shit!
Gus very carefully, very carefully, put a hand on Lassiter's shoulder. Lassiter didn't seem to break from his building rage but the physical contact convinced Gus that Lassiter was at least stable enough to get the job done despite the odd feeling of hellfire boiling under his palm.
"Look, we don't have time for this. I'd get him myself but someone needs to break it to Juliet and, no offense, but I think this requires a little more sensitivity than you're used to."
Lassiter ignored the unintended jab with ease. His mind focused on one thing and one thing only; Shawn Spencer. It was as if all the chest pains had banded together and were fueling him instead of hindering and if the raging cop didn't find Shawn soon he might just explode his anger onto the chattering mass, subjecting them to every insult and curse Lassiter had ever known.
"Where is he?" he voice had a hinting boom that he just barely bridled.
"Would you calm down?" Gus shushed him, trying to temper the ticking time bomb, "He's probably at his apartment. Just get him down here. It's a search and rescue."
Gus handed Lassiter his copy of the apartment's key. He closed his eyes and as he did hoping that he wasn't handing over the last nail to Shawn's coffin.
"I'm going to kill him," Lassiter said as he angrily began to walk away and he knew in his bones that he was so close to meaning it.
"Killing is not rescuing!" Gus called after him but it was too late.
The salt and pepper cop's face was colored scarlet. The hue was ever present even as he got into his car, sped over to the apartment and nearly broke the key as he forcefully entered Shawn's domain.
"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted, "You'd better come out or so help me-"
"Lassie? Is that you?" Shawn called from another room.
So you're in the bathroom, Lassiter concluded as he took furious strides over to Shawn.
Lassiter threw open the door and Shawn landed on him. The younger of the two had had his face pressed up against the door, noticeable from small imprints on his cheek of the door's details. He scrambled against Lassiter to stand and looked...thankful.
"Lassie, I-"
Lassiter punched Shawn in the stomach, making the other man take a step backwards and double over in pain.
"Good to see you too," Shawn groaned.
Lassiter reached for the door behind him. This was the room that Shawn Spencer was to die in. He'd been hiding here all this time and it only seemed apropriate to make it the coward's grave.
"Wait!" he called, his voice in a panic.
The sound of the door being shut closed was eaeth shattering. It was near sonic boom that seemed to rattle the would be groom's very body.
"No!" Shawn cried.
Lassiter grabbed Shawn by the collar and shoved him against the wall. His whole body was a rage machine and steamy hatred seemed to leak from every pore and orafice. The victim of this machine fully registered this but there were more important matters at hand.
"What did I tell you about hurting O'Hara?" Lassiter demanded.
"Look, Lassie," Shawn tried to explain, "I'm not trying to hurt Jules. I-"
"You're standing in your bathroom and ditching her at the altar," the iron fisted cop growled, "that seems pretty hurtful."
"No, Lassie, I-"
"I'm going to kill you for this."
Lassiter was so many pounds and so many feet of absolute rage. Shawn eyed the door with devastation. There was no escape. He would fed to the living, breathing entity of anger known as Carlton Lassiter.
"Would you just listen to me?"
"Do you know how many ways I can kill a man?" his voice had a sudden, eerie coldness to it as if all the heat from his fury burned so hot that it felt like it was freezing.
"Lassie!" Shawn yelled louder.
"I'm a head detective too, Spencer. I can make it look like an accident."
He was truly debating it. He was so unimaginably furious with Shawn and upon seeing him there was a further spark of hate. The impassioned pains in his chest grew and fueled the cop. They seemed to whisper with every strike that the answer was to get rid of Shawn all together. However, the established policeman knew better. He'd lower his vengeance to that of a scare. Still for the sake of venting Lassiter pulled his captive away from the bathroom wall and slammed him into it.
"Damn it, Lassie, hear me out!" Shawn said, his eyes widened at the abrupt manhandling.
Lassiter was sure he had Shawn right where he wanted him if volume was to be taken as any indication. The younger man did seem fearful but he kept insisting on explanations. If he thought he could reason or babble his way out of this one then he had another thing coming.
"No one will ever even know," Lassiter concluded his voice peaking in eerily low tones.
"For the love of- I WAS LOCKED IN HERE!"
Lassiter didn't quite drop his act yet but he accidentally cocked an eyebrow up in disbelief. Shawn ran his fingers through his hair looking frustrated as ever and the previous fear shifted into exasperation.
"Nice try, Spencer," Lassiter said, quickly hiding his raised eyebrow and returning to his clenched teeth and death glare.
"Find the proof yourself, Lassie! Go ahead, try and drag me out of the bathroom to execute me. There's no getting past that door."
Lassiter looked at Shawn skeptically but he released his shirt collar. The detective could check the door without the possibility of Shawn escaping. There were no other entrances or exits other than a small horizontal window above the toilet that even a child couldn't squirm through. Lassiter turned around, giving his prisoner a definitive look and then tried the door knob.
The handle would not move. He jiggled it and shook it but it gave no indication of working. The little faux gold handle defied everything it was given. Finally, Lassiter started hitting the knob but nothing worked.
"Careful, will ya?" Shawn asked, "If you break it off then we're really screwed."
Lassiter turned back to face Shawn. Shawn had his tux on. The bow tie was untied and laid loosely around his neck. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the start of his abs and it was untucked. The jacket was draped over the edge of the bathtub.
Why would he have put on this much if he wasn't going?
"So," Lassiter pieced, "you weren't having second thoughts and didn't decide to leave O'Hara at the altar?"
"Of course I did. Oh, and the door handle breaking was my own doing too. I figured why give myself the option?" Shawn replied sarcastically as he glared up at Lassiter.
There it was again. The look he was given made Lassiter's chest hit some hard, imaginary bump that made him wince. It was different than when the pains had fueled his anger. This was quiet. It felt sort of like an air bubble had popped unexpectedly. It hurt but Lassiter did his best to ignore it.
"Well, okay maybe I kind of had second thoughts," the groom-to-be admitted, his eyes taking a nervous detour to the bathroom floor.
"What do you mean kind of?" Lassiter asked, his eyebrows lowering.
"Lassie," Shawn said, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub, "I woke up this morning, had a pop tart, and then as I was getting ready for the wedding I got locked in here. So I was stuck here, yelling and shouting for help for fifteen minutes straight and then I started to think."
The older man looked down at the younger. He was not going to sit down next to him. He was not going to comfort him. He didn't even want to hear this dribble. The only reason he was listening was because O'Hara's happiness was on the line. At least that was what Lassiter kept telling himself.
"Should I do this?" Shawn asked himself more than Lassiter "Is this what I'm supposed to do? I know I want to but...do I?"
Shawn was staring down at his feet. He was torn. Lassiter wanted to tell him that he was doing the wrong thing and that he and O'Hara should never get married. He wanted to say it was probably the worst possible mistake they could make and that it would bring nothing but misery. It was a tragedy waiting to happen. However, it wasn't the detective's place to say so.
"I can't tell you, Spencer," the cop grumbled as he bit his tongue.
"What?" Shawn said looking up, "But Lassie, I depend on your crude, brutal, insensitive honesty."
Lassiter glared.
"I've realized that you and O'Hara need to make your own mista-" he paused, "decisions. She was very adamant about your marriage and I should hope you feel the same way."
'Should' was the key word. Lassiter should hope that. He should but he didn't. Not really.
"Hold that," Shawn pointed out, raising a finger in the air "You've already talked to Jules about this, haven't you?"
"...it's been brought up."
He was trying his damn best to hold back. It was difficult not to be blunt with Shawn. It was almost impossible but he feared furthering Shawn's decision to back out of the wedding and while Lassiter personally knew what he wanted he also knew that it would be wrong to defy his partner's wishes. The head detectives attempt to subtly tell a white lie was an absolute failure though and Shawn proceeded to call him out on it.
"You tried to talk Jules out of marrying me, didn't you?"
Lassiter adjusted his tie, a tell-tale sign that he was guilty or uncomfortable. Occasionally it meant he was feeling cocky but the look on his face said otherwise. He looked uncomfortable and his neck and cheeks had taken on a tinge of agitated embarrassment.
"I may have."
Another pathetic white lie that even Lassiter knew had no hope of avoiding the topic.
"Ah, not cool, Lassie," the betrothed man complained childishly.
"Look, I just have O'Hara's best interests at heart."
"You have a heart? I thought you ran off of steam and gears like some ugly prototype robot."
Once again Lassiter glared at Shawn.
"How do we get out of here?" he asked as he changed the subject, anymore talk of the wedding and the chest pains were bound to worsen, "I'll just have to break down the door."
"What? No!"
The cop looked to the needy man child sitting on the edge of the tub with annoyance. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why did he have to argue all the time? Couldn't the door just be broken down and left at that?
"And why not?" the irritated man asked, begrudgingly humoring the request.
Shawn got that look of annoyed sarcasm. The one where his eyes widened a bit and his brow furrowed. He made that face right before giving some sort of witty complaint and this occasion was no different.
"Ah, I already have to pay for the handle to be fixed. I don't want to buy a whole new door."
That was a practical thought but the stubborn, bull headed cop didn't want to admit it. He rolled his eyes in response as if Shawn had said that the door couldn't be broken because it would begin a war between doors and humans since it was man on door violence. The strange thing was that Lassiter could honestly picture the childish psychic saying such a thing which in turn caused the older man to shake his head and pretend he didn't know Shawn so well.
"I don't have time for this," he said as he prepped himself to ram the door. He was sure to hurt himself but that didn't bother him. A little pain was the cost of freedom and he was absolutely certain that he would no doubt shake off any injury a mere door had to give. He was after all a man and men just did not whine about a displaced shoulder.
"You break my door and you buy me a new one, Lassie," Shawn's voice penetrated Lassiter's resolve, "a big pretty one with diamond encrusted handles and gold hinges- no make that silver hinges. Now that's classy."
Lassiter grimaced. There was the stupid logic he was expecting to here a few minutes ago. However it nonetheless stopped Lassiter for the time being if no other reason than how whiny it sounded.
"So then what?"
"We just have to wait until someone else shows up. I'm assuming Gus sent you to find me and he's bound to notice that you haven't come back yet probably because you've murdered me and are trying to find a discreet way of hiding the body. No offense, Lassie but I seriously doubt your ability to hide a body."
"Shut up, Spencer."
The older man furrowed his brow causing the wrinkles in his forehead to crease. He very much wanted to break down the door but if he did then he'd be 'required' to pay for a new one and Lassiter had no intention of ever buying Spencer anything. Nor did Lassiter want to be bothered by Spencer for it for the next hundred years. Lassiter cringed at the idea of being pestered for such a prolonged period of time and eventually resigned to not breaking down the door. He breathed out a deep breath to try and relax and let his fingers slowly release the fists they'd made.
"Move over," Lassiter grunted as he sat on the edge of the bathtub next to Shawn.
It was dead quiet for a few minutes. Shawn stared down at his shoes and Lassiter, without realizing it, stared at Shawn. The thirty-something year old looked nice in a tuxedo at least what was left of it on him. There was something appealing about the undone buttons and pushed up sleeves. The hanging shirt tails and the untied bow tie seemed to suit Shawn. He looked like a groom about five minutes into the honeymoon suite. He was actually handsome in a messy, mid-foreplay way. With that thought though Lassiter realized what he was doing and thinking and quickly looked down at his own shoes. He loosened his bow tie slightly and took in a deep breath.
"Why is it so damn hot in here?" the groomsman complained.
The statement wasn't just Lassiter trying to change his mind's subject but an honest observation. The bathroom, the whole house actually, was too warm for his liking. He could feel the heat rise to his skin now that there wasn't a raging fury to blame for it Lassiter found it damn near unbearable.
"Call me crazy, Lassieface," Shawn said, "but I think it has something to do with my air conditioner being broken."
"Great," Lassiter sighed as he shrugged off his jacket. He carefully folded the jacket in half and laid it over the tub's edge. He followed Shawn's example although reluctantly and rolled up his sleeves. He undid a button or two as well but not nearly as many as the exhibitionist next to him.
"Lassie," Shawn asked, disrupting the quiet "just out of curiosity, why don't you think Jules and I should get married?"
"Honestly?"
"Preferably."
"You're arrogant, rude and irresponsible," Lassiter said flatly, "You're a twerp kid who can't grow up."
Shawn feigned being taken aback. Well, he feigned to a a degree. The insult was, surprisingly, somewhat insulting.
"Ouch," he said aloud as if he needed to further voice his offense.
"To be perfectly honest with you, Spencer, you're not really a man."
"More ouch!" The insult became more legitimate but it still did not quite pierce Shawn's wall of overall sarcasm and thick skin.
"Besides," Lassiter continued, "O'Hara would have been too easy on you."
Shawn's ears seem to perk up at this though Lassiter didn't notice. Lassiter's face was an expression drenched in irritation as he pointed out what he felt was the obvious. The phony psychic began to let his observational skills take over and he watched the cop a little more intently whilst putting his sarcasm on hold.
"You need someone who's not going to put up with your crap. Someone you can't make laugh or smile all the time. Someone who means to put you in your place. You need somebody who's not going to let you charm and amuse into forgiveness. You need a strict, strong partner."
Shawn gave Lassiter a weird look at the word 'partner'. Lassiter still didn't notice. He was too engrossed in his thoughts. He'd paused and it was just long enough for the unlicensed detective to voice an observation.
"Lassie, not to freak you out or anything but you just described yourself."
Lassiter snapped out of his thoughts. He was still listing things in his head that Shawn was or needed. The list often repeated itself or was some variation of the fact that the man child was indeed a man child. The words seemed to hit the absorbed cop slowly.
"I did not," Lassiter replied as a matter of fact.
He wasn't sure what sort of odd idea Shawn was on but he was very intent to put it to rest. So he'd mentioned that the forever teen needed some structure and Lassiter just so happened to be very structured. That was just a similarity.
"Okay then, name somebody who wants to put me in my place, doesn't put up with my crap, and is neither charmed nor amused by me."
"Gus," Lassiter said quickly, not really thinking it through.
"Wrong. Gus puts up with my crap all the time besides, he's my best friend."
"Your father?"
Lassiter was starting to become a little unsure. His brain raced and racked for examples but he was beginning to realize that there weren't very many others than himself who fell under such guidelines.
"One, ew. We're talking potential partners here not parents. And also: wrong. He doesn't want to put me in my place. He wants me to reach my full potential or something like that. Either way different."
"The chief then!" he said out of exasperation.
"Is obviously charmed by me. It's in a secretive way but I can tell. I am psychic you know."
Lassiter had run out of people. He was tempted to just sum it up to everyone but he knew Shawn would retort that claim with ease. Everyone generally liked the little pest or at least grew to like him. Had Lassiter really just described himself? More importantly, did he just describe himself as Shawn's ideal romantic partner?
As Lassiter tried to deny this, the chest pains returned. It was a dull ache somewhere inside of him but even then he couldn't quite pin it. The mysterious hurt and his conflicting thoughts made his head start to ache. If he wasn't careful he might end up having a full on seizure and Shawn's prodding wasn't helping.
"Aw, Lassie," the younger man teased, "is this your way of telling me that you're in love with me?"
"Don't be an idiot, Spencer," Lassiter harrumphed trying to get Shawn to drop the subject entirely.
Shawn laughed lightly but it drifted off. This made the cop wary and he then watched the boy from the corner of his eye, seeing the usual amused grin morph into a concentrated, questioning, straight line. Lassiter felt his ears start to turn pink. He could feel his pulse shoot up. His face felt ten times hotter and it wasn't because of the room's temperature. He wished Shawn would stop looking at him like that, so hyper aware that it made Lassiter uncomfortable. He knew the wannabe crime solver was observing him and it made him flustered.
"That's not a no," Shawn said, his voice interrogating and that damn eyebrow of his hitched up.
"You're being ridiculous."
Lassiter's chest was aching pretty badly. The more the absurd subject was drawn out the more it hurt. The pain wasn't even the older man's chest itself but something inside of it. It was exuding sharp pains that Lassiter couldn't interpret or fight.
He's making a fool of himself. He can't be seriously asking me this. I don't even like the little bastard.
"Then tell me that's not what you're saying," Shawn continued to prod.
"You know exactly what I'm not saying. I don't need to be anymore blunt about it, Spencer."
The head detective's ears were red at this point and his poker face was failing. The more youthful of the pair had leaned in closer, his brows narrowed as he waited for a confirmation. Lassiter felt hyper aware himself. He could feel the edge of Shawn's breath caress his cheek and he could smell the faintest hint of cologne and pineapple. There was an urge to pull away but movement escaped him. There was no running away from this conversation.
I should just break down the door.
"Then what's the harm in just saying it? Tell me that you're not in love with me. I dare you."
Lassiter could not muster up a proper denial. It shouldn't have been difficult in the least but as his voice approached saying something definitive, it would get caught in the whirlwind of knives in his chest before it could ever reach his lips.
"Are you in love with me?" Shawn asked quietly.
The form of the question in a whisper seemed to break Lassiter's calm and he out right began to yell, his face nearing a full blood read and his hands shaking as his chest was racked with excruciating pain.
"Be serious! I can't believe you're asking me that. If you think that for two seconds that I could ever- I mean I don't even- You're an idiot, Shawn!"
There was Lassiter's best attempt coming out just as choppy and violent as the knives in his chest. He was normally a straight forward man. He was known as a mercilessly honest cop for Christ's sake but all he could do to deny feelings for Shawn was call him an idiot. Was that even really a denial?
Shawn's jaw dropped a little and he gasped. He backed away slightly. Lassiter broke from his denial and turned full face to Shawn unable to ignore the childish shock on his face.
"What?" he asked, slightly annoyed.
"You just called me Shawn," the would be comedian said, pointing at Lassiter.
"…what?" Lassiter asked again, genuinely confused. He was so confused in fact that it seemed all the violent pains he was experiencing a second ago vanished.
"You called me Shawn! You are in love with me!"
Lassiter reflected on his words for a brief moment.
Damn it. I did call him Shawn.
"Stop saying that!" the older man turned away and his ears were red hot again as the pains returned.
"You're in love with me!" the other exclaimed again as if trying to wrap his mind around the phrase. The idea was just too foreign, to out of the norm to be real and yet it was so. Shawn couldn't help himself. The words played on the end of his tongue like a new language and he said it once more, "You are in love with me!"
"Shut up!" Lassiter shouted angrily, grabbing Shawn again by the shirt collar, shaking and startling the younger man to which he immediately complied. It took the cop a second to realize that the talkative brunette was acquiescing and once the realization was made he decided to release him. As the irritated policeman freed his civilian annoyance they began to make eye contact. The cop shied away from this and turned quickly and let the silence envelope them.
This seemed to work for a few seconds. Lassiter hated hearing Shawn say that he was in love with him. It made the detective angry and annoyed and oddly embarrassed. It didn't help his odd illness either. In fact it was the worst trigger yet, provoking lava to rush to his ears and cheeks and forcing his chest to be barraged with a bouncing cluster of sharp tipped knives.
"Oh my God," the fraudulent psychic whispered his epiphany and broke the silence, "that's why you don't want me to marry Jules."
Lassiter stared in the opposite direction of Shawn. He concentrated on the edge of the shower wall with all his might as if the lines in the tile would give him strength. He'd dispute this properly God damn it and nothing would stop him, not pains, not embarrassment, not even justice itself.
"You're wrong, Spencer. I don't want you to marry O'Hara because you are highly-"
Lassiter turned to face Shawn ready to deliver his denial but his train of thought came to a screeching halt. It tried to chug forward but the brakes were on and all hope was lost as he came face to face with an expression that Lassiter couldn't hope to fight.
"You're- you are- and..." Lassiter's words stumbled out.
The look Shawn was giving Lassiter made the hairs on his neck stand up straight. Words escaped Carlton as brown eyes penetrated his own blues with a fierceness that was only afforded to someone who demanded the truth. The older man even in all of his stubbornness and authority felt as if he'd been caught. There was no amount of turning away or yelling or manhandling that could save him. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe and felt his chest suffer daggers as Shawn slowly leaned in closer and closer. He didn't even notice Shawn's traveling hands and fingers until they took Lassiter by the shoulders and pulled him into a kiss.
Lassiter's eyes grew wide with surprise and even wider as he saw that Shawn was keeping his eyes purposefully open. Those hazel browns stared at Lassiter with a search that could not be derailed. They demanded answers from Lassiter's surprised blues and it took every ounce of free will to attempt to fight them. Somehow, the will was there and Lassiter finally pushed Shawn off and jumped to a stand. He held a defensive position even reaching for a gun that wasn't there as Shawn sat before him breathlessly.
"What are you doing!"he tried using his authoritative cop voice but it came out hitched and frantic, "I'm not whatever it is that you're thinking and if I was I would not- God damn it, Spencer what is wrong with you!"
Shawn's face went soft and he looked down. This did not budge the other man's emotions though and he continued to stare him down all red and flustered and demanding.
"Well!?"
"You're right," he answered in not much more than a whisper, "Everything you think about me is right but I can't just leave her like that. I still love her y'know?"
There was another jab in Lassiter's chest but he ignored it.
"If you love her then marry her!" he said quickly, channeling the pain into the volume of his voice. It was a statement contrary to everything he personally believed but it was the first thing that came to mind.
Shawn stood up slowly and took a step toward Lassiter, never breaking eye contact. There was an odd determination to his step and it almost frightened the other man who in turn would not yet back down.
"But Lassie," Shawn looked too deeply into Lassiter's eyes. He walked toward him too calmly and too deliberately, "I'm not in love with her."
What?
Lassiter didn't know what to say. He knew that he should feel like beating the shit out of Shawn for leading O'Hara on but he didn't feel that way. He didn't feel that way at all and he was beginning to fear what he was feeling. He looked and felt confused because of Shawn's statement and because of himself.
"And to be honest," the boy continued with the utmost sincerity, "I don't think she's in love with me anymore either. I think Jules and I are just doing this because we're afraid."
"Afraid of what?" the head detective asked, trying to look intimidating as he finally gave in and took a step back to avoid those searching and resolute brown eyes.
The earned response was merely another step forward. Shawn's body was half confident and half trance-like. The well experienced officer had never felt the urge to run away so badly but they were locked in a room together. There was no immediate escape. Even then, Shawn seemed drawn to Lassiter, slowly moving closer to him as if there was a building magnetism between the two. Lassiter had the feeling that even he did escape the small, enclosed space that Shawn would follow him still even to the ends of the world.
"Being alone," he answered, "I don't want to be alone, Lassie. Nobody does."
The pain in Lassiter's chest felt ready to explode. It pulsed with quick and hard thuds. He could feel the source as it mercilessly threw itself around in his rib cage forcing him to recognize its identity which it screamed out with every hit and smack.
Oh God...it's my heart, he realized.
"I know you don't want to be alone either," Shawn said as he put a hand on Lassiter's shoulder.
The older of the two flinched but he didn't pull away. He was backed against the wall at this point. The groom's hand wandered from his keeper's shoulder to his face. Lassiter looked to the invading digits, feeling Shawn's warm palm on his jaw line. Those brown eyes still stared him down all consuming.
"What's wrong with me?" Shawn repeated Lassiter's question though it felt like it had been asked years ago, "I was making a decision to settle for someone, even if she is amazing in every way, when all I ever wanted is you. I never even dreamed you'd love me back, Lassie. Not in a million years."
...dreamed? Lassiter thought fleetingly. God did Shawn's fingers feel so inviting and God did his eyes seem so adamant. It was down right painful to fight any of it.
"You lied to O'Hara," Lassiter clenched his eyes closed and tried to ignore everything. It felt like a sad attempt at best but it was the last defense he had. If he closed his eyes maybe it would all go away.
"No," Shawn said as he put another hand on Lassiter, both of his hands now running over white, pressed fabric and feeling the heat of skin just underneath, "I was just trying to find a way to be happy without you. Jesus, why do you think I've been teasing you all these years? You said it yourself; I'm a kid. I do it because... I love you, Lassieface."
He kissed him again but this time slower. His lips lingered there soft and begging the pair they were pressed against to return the affection. The less engaged man kept his lips stiff and resilient. He would not give in to this madness. Just because Lassiter had some heart trouble and Shawn had feelings for him did not mean that-
"You can say it," the kissing fool parted from Lassiter slightly to speak and wrapped his arms further around the detective's neck and shoulders, "You've been saying it all along really."
"I don't know what you're babbling on about," Lassiter tried to fight it, his eyes shut tight as his heart repeatedly jerked and spasmed at his lie.
"No more lying, Lassie. I know the truth. I can sense it."
"You don't sense anything!" Lassiter shouted, his feelings rising as he gave his everything to prevent their onslaught "I haven't said a God damn thing to you! There isn't any indication that I feel anything at all for you!"
"Sh," Shawn said as he placed his hands over Lassiter's fast beating heart, "If I can feel that I know you can. You can't hide it forever."
Oh God, it is my heart.
Lassiter's heart had been aching ever since he knew that Shawn and Juliet were getting married. No, it was more than ache. It was breaking when he saw the other man. The cop so desperately did not want the engaged couple to get married. He knew that from the start but it wasn't because Shawn was a bad person or a terrible catch. Phony as he was the psychic was a good person and deep down Lassiter knew that. He knew that Shawn was funny and witty, that he was charming and daring. Spontaneous and fun. Handsome and pleasant to be around. He had those beautiful brown eyes and those pouty, soft lips always pulled into a grin...
Stop it! Lassiter berated himself. He could not go down this road. He refused to do this. Suddenly he grabbed the younger man's hand and ripped it away from his chest and heart. His grip was iron and Shawn was surprised.
I am not going to fall for this! I am not going to fall for you! Damn it!
Lassiter squeezed Shawn's finger tight making the other man wince but not shy away. Lassiter kept squeezing as he fought his feelings. If the idiot needed some sort of sign that Lassiter disliked him then surely this could be it. The stubborn cop's hand shook and he channeled his denial and fury into his grip. The captive fingers were beginning to turn purple but Shawn bit his lip hard and beared it.
"is this enough? Do I make myself clear now?" the raging officer asked, glaring as he got closer to breaking Shawn's fingers, "Fight me damn it!"
"No," he defied him as he sucked in deep breaths, "I'm- tired- of fighting!"
Lassiter released Shawn's hands but the previously tortured man still didn't back away. He held up his hands in place, hovering and waiting for their abuser's return. Lassiter eyed him carefully. Shawn's fingers visibly pulsated from the hurt but he still refused to run or fight back in any way. He was truly tired of fighting.
Me too. Lassiter surrendered.
Shawn looked up at Lassiter, unsure. The cop's face was as serious and sour as ever but his eyes seemed softer. Lassiter took Shawn's hands again but carefully this time. His fingers delicately apologized to the suffocated digits with a soft caress before Lassiter firmly planted Shawn's hands on his shoulders. He then grabbed the other man at the waist and brought him in for a kiss.
How long had Shawn been hiding his feelings for Lassiter? Years? A decade? It was hard to say. If the boy's teasing was a repressed form of love then it could have started from the very beginning, from those first few minutes together in the interrogation room. Was it really true? Was any of it true? Even if it was did Shawn honestly mean it all?
It made sense now or so Lassiter presumed, the whole kid with a crush on the playground. Shawn annoyed Lassiter to no end simply to get his attention. He would find ways to touch him through comedic timing whether it be sitting on his lap or grabbing his face. He would blurt out comments like: "You're so sexy right now!" The ever teen played it all off as his mocking of Lassiter and to a degree it probably was but it was more so Shawn not being able to control himself. He was, in a metaphorical sense, pulling on Lassie's pigtails and all because he was hopelessly head over heels in love.
Shawn's hands slid down off of Lassiter's shoulder. He held their kiss as he unbuttoned the last of his shirt, took it off and threw it to the side causing Lassiter to break the kiss. The older man's brow was furrowed with confusion and disapproval.
"Spencer, why are you undressing yourself?"
Shawn reached up and undid Lassiter's tie. Lassiter couldn't find it in himself to stop him as his buttons were undone. Each opened button invited air back into his lungs which had inexplicably depleted from the heat of the room and more so now that another body was pressed so closely to Lassiter's.
Shawn's torso had the lightest gleam to it. This was obviously due to the sweat the heat but that didn't bother the onlooker in the slightest. Shawn had gained some muscle over the years. His abs protruded enough to be present but not so much so that they seemed sculpted. Shawn's bicep looked firm but touchable. His pecs were defined and pert enticing the cop to touch though he resisted. This was the first time the forty-year-old man felt the urge to touch and kiss another man's body. It wasn't as if he hadn't admired the male form before but he'd never admired a man sexually which both confused him and excited him.
"It's very simple, Lassie," the object of Lassiter's affection instructed, "You're going to have sex with me right here and right now."
"...what?" Lassiter blinked at Shawn who simply rested his hands on the other man's now bare skin and smirked.
"How do I simplify this?" it was a false pondering but the coy look and now wandering hands excited Lassiter more, "You're going to fuck me."
Fuck. As in sex fuck? Oh God.
A sudden mixture of hyper embarrassment and horniness hit all at once. It was as if Shawn had spoken in slow motion. His teeth briefly bit his lower lip, a look of pure sexual intent all on its own, and then parted to express the dirtiest and most sensual of words; fuck. It was all exciting and hot and wrong, very wrong and Lassiter still had enough of a mind to realize that.
"If you think for one minute that all this means that we're-"
Shawn stuck one of his hands down Lassiter's pants and the latter's sentence, even the thought itself, was cut short. Contact had been made and the smirk on the younger man's face grew as the older's arousal grew. Gently, Shawn rubbed right above his caught cop's member, his fingers teasingly commanding the member to rise. Then, that beautiful and coy mouth approached Lassiter's ear with hot and heavy breath playing at his lobe.
"You know," Shawn whispered, his lips gently caressing Lassiter's ear with each and every word "I'm not really the type to actively pursue a man but either you're going to take me or I'm going to get you so wound up that you won't have a choice." He kept on with a soothing and dangerous tone as he skillfully undid belt, buckle, button, and zipper, "Now I preferred if we made love but I'm going to take advantage of this however I can. After all, you might change your about me after we get out of here and there's no way I'm leaving without this happening."
Then a bite, playful and yet demanding. It elicited a breath from Lassiter and made his body go rigid as his swelling dick came to full attention. Before the sexually cornered man could come to his senses, the little tease finally made good on his threat. He brought his hand to his mouth and gave it a generous lick before plummeting it past pant and boxer and allowing his fingers to meet the cop's begging cock. As he began pumping to a slow and steady rhythm, he began to kiss Lassiter pulling the poor man into a further conflict as he attempted to fight the pleasures forced on him.
Lassiter suddenly grabbed Shawn by his hair and parted their mouths from each other. He didn't ask for all this and he certainly never gave his permission. He intended to stop it all but one look at the man servicing him blew all of his argument out of his head. Shawn had a look of desire but at the same time there was a hunger and a need. Lassiter swallowed hard in between shallow breaths as he knew his eyes had an equal want and need to them and God did he want this. The head detective brought his consultant's lips back to his own. He let out an occasional grunt and groan as the rhythmic hand on his member sped up the beat and added more pressure. However there had always been a selfishness and impatience about Shawn Spencer and it wasn't long before the hand job was interrupted so that Shawn could release his own erection, tipped with precum and craving much needed attention.
Shawn pushed his body up against Lassiter with surprising force and began gyrating his hips, rubbing their members against each other. The sensation was new to the previously straight detective and it both shocked and further aroused him. It was more taboo, more kink and it made the whole scenario that much more pornographic.
Shawn grabbed Lassiter's hands and placed them on his ass. His bottom was firm but the skin was soft and it felt round and full as Lassiter gave it a hard squeeze. It gave the head detective a little power in the situation which he was grateful for and used freely as he steered the other man's humping and pulled him in as close as physically possible.
Shawn broke from their kiss and returned to Lassiter's ear;
"I want you," he said huskily.
His mouth strayed to Lassiter's neck where he began kissing and sucking. Shawn trailed his kisses back up and then gave that favored ear another bite which was responded to with a slap on the ass.
Lassiter was overcome with lust but somewhere deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong. He was groping and kissing Shawn Spencer; a man, the department's consultant and Juliet's fiancé. It was like stealing his little sister's boyfriend. Not only was that disloyal and immoral it was disgusting. Then again, that's what made it all so erotic in it's own way. It was completely forbidden.
"I love you," Shawn said suddenly, his voice breathy against Lassiter's ear.
Lassiter grabbed Shawn by the biceps and forced them to do a 180. It was all naked limbs and sweat as they turned. He shoved him against the wall forcibly and glared at him. The statement had seemed to knock sense into the lusty officer and with the sharp turn his head had stopped swimming and he'd made a choice.
"You don't know what love is," Lassiter accused.
Shawn grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled him closer still unaware that the game had changed.
"Then show me," he teased.
Lassiter hesitated. Putting aside the fact that they were both men and that Lassiter was a strict, conservative Republican, what they were doing was still wrong. Juliet was waiting for Shawn. Waiting at the altar. And they'd been together for how long? Lassiter was the woman's partner for God's sake and on top of that...they were friends. Not too mention that Lassiter, however much he tried to deny it, did have feelings for Shawn and everything they were doing and were about to do was wrong.
"Let go," he said sternly, enforcing his decision.
Shawn smirked and slipped his index fingers into Lassiter's pants as he still held onto his belt loops. He was so intent on his immediate gratification and it practically sickened the cop now.
"You're so sexy when you try to fight it," his toying mouth tried to seduce.
Lassiter grabbed Shawn's wrists. He squeezed them firmly and that evoked a look of confusion from the phony psychic.
"I mean it," Lassiter said as he tightened his grip.
The upstanding and moral Carlton Lassiter wasn't going to get sucked into the surrealism of the moment. He had sense and a conscience and he knew that it would have been wrong to let this continue. He'd already gotten a little lost in the semi-pornographic moment but he wasn't going to go head over heels into it. He'd wake up now from this disturbing wet dream before anyone got hurt even if it meant breaking Shawn's fingers to accomplish it.
Shawn winced at Lassiter's grip but ultimately let go. His eyes were wide, filled with disappointment and shock. Maybe even a little hurt. It was the hurt that almost tempted the police man to soften and apologize but he looked away before guilt could get the better of him.
"No offense, Lassie," the young, psychic imposter said, "but your playing hard to get is kind of killing my boner."
Lassiter sighed. Of course Shawn would phrase it like that.
"Can't you just be a normal person and I say I killed the mood?" Lassiter grunted before tucking his member away and zipping up his pants. He could still feel the precum at the tip of his member mixed with Shawn's precum and he sighed, annoyed that he'd have to wait his own boner out.
"Seriously, what gives?" the boy half whined, "I thought we were going to get all hot and sweaty and fucky."
"Well, that's what you thought."
All hope of a guilt trip had been shot and now Lassiter could face Shawn easily. The cocky little bastard greeted the cop's scrutinizing gaze with his know-it-all expression, eyebrow raised and lips in half pout, as he pointed a finger at Lassiter's crotch.
"I'm pretty sure he was thinking the same thing."
"It's not happening, Shawn!" Lassiter was getting aggravated, "Now just- put that thing away!"
Shawn complied and suddenly looked embarrassed. Once again Lassiter lamented his harshness a bit. He didn't want to hurt Shawn's feelings but he was so damn persistent that he didn't know what else to do. If he wasn't strict with Shawn then Shawn would seduce him and he knew that.
Lassiter took a seat on the edge of the tub and put his head in his hands. It wasn't as if he didn't want to 'get all hot and sweaty and fucky' as the younger man had so eloquently put it but this was neither the time nor the place and it wasn't absolutely not under the right circumstances. The cop glanced at what would have been his sex partner for the afternoon and briefly pondered how the rejected man must feel.
Shawn shrugged on his shirt, leaving it open and unbuttoned. He sat next to Lassiter and cleared his throat.
"Well, this is officially awkward," he said.
"Is that really all you have to say!" Lassiter yelled, sitting straight up.
He had been expecting a variation of emotions; guilt, honest to God embarrassment, maybe even anger but instead he'd received such a plain and emotionally empty phrase that it infuriated Lassiter.
"Well what else am I supposed to say?" Shawn half yelled back, unsure why he'd been yelled at in the first place.
"Does she even cross your mind!" Lassiter shouted.
There was a brief pause as the statement echoed in the room. Shawn's eyes went down cast and his whole body seemed to deflate as the words resonated in him. The expressed guilt didn't stop the angry detective and he further scolded not holding back an ounce of disgust.
"For goodness sake, whether you're in love with each other or not she is waiting at the altar for you! And all you have to say for yourself is that this is awkward? You don't feel any remorse at all do you?!"
Shawn was silent. He kept down at his feet, his body all scrunched up and small looking. The hurt was obvious but even that didn't stop Lassiter. If anything it just spurred him on.
"You really are just a big kid," he lashed though his voice lowered, "This is the kind of stuff I was talking about. I'm sure O'Hara would've seen you, all sad and vindicated and felt sympathy for you. Not me, Spencer, you face this like a man. You face me like a man."
Shawn was still quiet for a few moments. Lassiter felt the tension of his words but he had no regret saying them. People needed to stop babying Shawn and give him the kick in the ass he deserved.
Because if they don't, he'll never amount to anything.
Again there was a quiet in the air as Shawn absorbed his verbal punishment. He took the words in and let out a deep breath. He looked about ready to cry but he didn't and for that Lassiter felt a bit proud of him.
"I'm sorry," the guilty man said softly, "I guess I got a little lost in the moment."
"Yes, you did," Lassiter reinforced, "Lucky for us, I actually take the time to think."
"As soon as we get out of here, Lassie," Shawn said, "I'll talk to her. For real. I'll end it right."
The stern cop didn't give him a smile. He wasn't going to show a happy, reward like approval. Everyone did that to Shawn, treated him like he was some sort of puppy. Scold him and then give him a little pat on the head. It didn't make sense to Lassiter and instead he believed that Shawn should do the right thing not to please others but instead for the real reason; because it's right.
"You'd better," Lassiter said, "I'm an upstanding man, Spencer. I'm not going to start a relationship with infidelity."
Shawn looked up at Lassiter, his eyes round and open.
"What?"
"You heard me, you can't build a relationship on an affair and I am not about to try it."
"So...does this mean?"
Lassiter turned to face Shawn. He was so attractive, those big brown eyes trying to deduce things and those soft lips just waiting on his face for Lassiter to press his own against them. There was a lot of things wrong with what had just happened between them but there was one thing that the struggling cop had come to terms with in a matter of minutes; he wanted to try being with Shawn and there wasn't anything wrong with that.
"You told me to show you what love is," he said, his voice soft but still serious "and it doesn't start by cheating on your fiancé."
Shawn's face was of questionable expression. Lassiter wasn't sure how to read it. He seemed ...disappointed? Regretful? Scared?
"I'm not sure I'm worth showing," he finally clued the detective in.
Lassiter punched Shawn in the arm. Inadequacy would not earn the younger man sympathy. It was only going to earn him a gesture of 'man the hell up'.
"Ow! What the hell? Are you bipolar?"
Tender moment over. Back to kicking his ass.
"None of the self-deprecating shit." Lassiter said, "If I'm going to date a man, I'm not dating a sissy man. I will make a man out of you, Spencer."
Shawn laughed lightly, one breathy chuckle. He put a hand on Lassiter's shoulder and smiled.
"As long I get to be your man."
The statement sounded vaguely reminiscent of Shawn's usual sarcasm but there's was legitimacy in the ring of it. Lassiter smiled back his soon to be boyfriend, the smile faint and a little begrudging.
Damn that charming wit.
Suddenly the door opened.
"Shit," Lassiter said.
Lassiter, in a momentary panic of being caught with Shawn, pushed him over and into the bathtub. However, it was so sudden that Shawn grabbed onto the spazzing cop and took him down with him. The more overdramatic of the pair was groaning from hitting his head on the bathtub and the two were in a tangle of arms and legs.
In the end, Gus walked in on Lassiter lying on top of a moaning Shawn, the two sweaty and only partially dressed.
"Uh...do I want to know?" the intruder asked, his eyes narrowed and his hand up as if preparing itself to wipe away any and all unnecessary visuals.
Lassiter got to his feet as quickly as possible, his face beet red from ear to ear. The position he'd been in was definitely compromising and while the officer was decidedly in love with Shawn he wasn't sure yet if he was ready for anyone else to know.
"Guster, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice hitting an odd hitch that made his embarrassment obvious.
"Lassie, the better question is, at least in Gus's case, is what are we doing here?" Shawn pointed out as he lazily lounged in the tub.
The compromised cop quickly straightened himself up and grabbed the missing pieces of his attire from the floor. He silently sent mental daggers into Shawn, cursing the younger man for trying to make things worse. Ultimately, it was up to head detective Carlton Lassiter to do the damage control and he put on his best policeman face as he walked up toward Gus.
"Well," Lassiter cleared his throat, deciding to ignore the situation entirely, "I assume you can handle him from here. I'm going home."
Gus seemed to accept this pretty easily and Lassiter sighed inwardly out of relief. He wasn't so sure the best friend was going to leave it at that but the cop glare had worked. Gus even stepped aside to allow him to leave but as he stood in the doorway, Lassiter looked back at Shawn to see the cheeky bastard seductively smirking at him and with one hand lazily laying beside his half erect dick.
I'm going to have to beat him away with a stick aren't I?
"Spencer," he acknowledged with a nod and prayed that the image his eyes had would stop turning him on.
"Call me!" Shawn called after the poor cop as he made a hasty escape.
Lassiter knew that there would be many nights and days and moments in general that he'd regret all this. He'd regret it when Shawn would try to seduce him at every turn and corner. He'd regret it when the relationship became public knowledge. He'd regret when he'd have to break the news to O'Hara. That was probably going to be the worst of it. Lassiter had more or less stolen his sister's boyfriend. Worse, he'd stolen his partner's fiancé.
Maybe she'll understand...eventually. She might even thank me if Shawn's telling the truth. Maybe they were just scared to be alone.
The cop ran a calloused hand through his hair as he got back into his car. He wasn't even going to go near the wedding now. It wasn't even a wedding anymore. It was a falling out. Seemed he'd managed to break up the would be marriage after all.
Never would have dreamed it would happen like this…
He decided he would wait until after the wedding was 'officially' canceled to talk to Juliet. It could wait a few days or weeks or however long it would take her to heal. Then maybe he could tell her the truth. Then again, it was totally possible that Shawn would beat him to the punch and that required a whole new approach and a different set of repercussions.
The forty year old felt a headache coming on as he drove home. Life was full of headaches he'd decided. His love life had always been difficult but never this difficult. He'd had an affair before, he'd dated a convict, but he'd never dated a man….no, not a man, a Shawn Spencer. Even if the little bastard wasn't getting married, all this would still be complicated.
Lassiter pulled into his driveway. He reached over to the passenger seat to pick up his tie and jacket when he noticed something. The conservative cop's black bow tie had magically been replaced by a red one. He picked it up slowly and held it close to his face. The smell of a certain spikey fruit drifted faintly from it. Lassiter's heart began beating quickly. It was still unusual but it didn't hurt anymore. It actually felt kind of nice; exciting and exhilarating, things the aging man hadn't felt in a long time.
Lassiter felt a smile tug at his lips as he held the red bow tie to his chest. Everything was complicated and it wasn't going to get uncomplicated anytime soon. O'Hara was a problem. Shawn's father was sure to be another. Shawn himself was a problem being a smart ass and an overgrown teenager and just generaly annoying and bothersome. Teaching him to love properly was going to be hell in a hand basket and Lassiter knew that there would be days and weeks where he was going to tear his hair out over it all but at the very least at the end of today;
He's not getting married. He smiled.
A/N: See? Still fluffy. :D For original fans, I hope you like the changes and stuff. I worked really hard on this. And for newcomers, I hope you like this and trust me, you didn't miss out on anything from the older version. Leave me reviews and love. You can find me on tumblr as .com for updates and general fangirling. Until you read again. :)