SONG: All The Way Up – Emily Osment
A/N: I'm kind of a dork, but I thought this song described Shawn PERFECTLY. I managed to leave out the "call everyone I know at 3 am" part because I couldn't really weave that into the storyline that just flowed out of my fingers. No beta, so all errors are mine. Sadly, the only thing I own. Review after reading!
Shawn walked into the Santa Barbara Police Department, biting his nails on his left hand, carrying a suitcase in the other. People eyed him warily as he made his way to the head detective's desk.
Lassiter glanced up, groaned, and returned his attention to paperwork. The younger man plopped the suitcase on the detective's workspace, effectively scattering everything he was working on.
"Can I help you, Spencer?" the older man growled.
"Nope, not really," the fake psychic responded. "You'd have to put me in therapy or something."
"That's what I've been trying to do for the past how many years?"
"But of course, I don't really need therapy," the green-eyed man chirped, air-guitaring in front of Lassiter's desk, rocking out to his iPod.
"You can keep telling yourself that, Spencer. But in the meantime, could you please stop doing that in front of me?"
Shawn reached out, popped open the filled suitcase, and retrieved a small piece of paper. Taking it in his fingers, he slammed it down on Lassiter's desk before running out into the pouring rain.
The head detective stared cautiously and curiously at the piece of paper for a minute before unfolding it.
This life is too short and exciting to keep avoiding the question. I may or may not like you, I'm not sure. You're nice, but of course I don't want to waste my time. Either way, I'm fine with it. I hope you are too. Because I'm hoping that it's option one. Dinner at your place. I'm making it.
H&K~
Shawn Spencer
Blue eyes studied the paper again and again before the note was torn in half. Lassiter rose from his desk abruptly and went to Chief Vick's office.
Juliet looked after him, eyebrow cocked before her gaze rested on the small pieces of ripped paper. The junior detective picked up the papers, brought them back to her desk and pieced the message together.
A sudden thump on the blonde's table brought her attention away from the note.
"What are you doing reading my stuff?"
"Oh, Carlton. I was, uh…"
Lassiter swept his hand over the papers, gathering them in his hand. He turned to walk out of the precinct, but suddenly he stopped.
"If you must know, O'Hara, the answer is option one."
Juliet's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she watched the head detective slink towards his car.
"You do?"
Shawn had pretty much given up on Lassiter ever showing up to his house and was about to hop on his motorcycle when the signature red Crown Vic pulled into the driveway. The older man got out of the car, noticed the fake psychic standing on his doorstep, and looked at him sheepishly.
"So…," Lassiter mumbled.
"I'm here to make you dinner!" the younger man replied brightly.
The head detective grumbled a bit as he fumbled with his keys, unlocking the door and allowing Shawn inside. Once they were both inside, Lassiter lunged at Shawn. The green-eyed man squeaked a little as he felt arms wrap around his waist.
"I'm guessing a very strong option one," the younger man chuckled as he felt his neck being smothered in kisses.
"If you're toying with me, Spencer, I swear I will kill you right here."
Lassiter loosened his grip a little and Shawn twisted in his arms to face the detective. They stood staring at each other for a bit until the fake psychic leaned in to claim the older man's mouth.
As messy brown hair and salt-and-pepper separated, Lassiter shot Shawn a worried look.
"What brought this about, anyway?"
The green-eyed man smiled at his companion.
"I figured that life is temporary, and I might as well jump at the chance when I have it."
"Do you regret it?"
"Not at all. You?"
"Not ever."