Title: Say Okay
Author: Tigerkity
Fandom: Psych
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating/Category: PG/Slash
Prompt: The only way to get him to shut up
Summary: He didn't know why he said it. Actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he said it. It was the only way he could see that would possibly shut him up. And there was the fact that for once, just once, he saw an opportunity to turn the tables on Spencer and shake up his footing for a change.
--
"Okay"
He didn't know why he said it. Actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he said it. It was the only way he could see that would possibly shut him up. And there was the fact that for once, just once, he saw an opportunity to turn the tables on Spencer and shake up his footing for a change.
After two years of the psychic, fake psychic he reminded himself, constantly leaving him sputtering after an ill timed nickname or double entendre, he finally got his turn.
"Okay?"
"Have you got wax in your ears Spencer? I said okay."
Carlton then closed the file that he had been reading and started gathering all the paperwork on his desk into a pile which he then stuffed into his briefcase. If there was one thing his father had taught him it was how and when to make a proper exit. He locked his drawers quickly and stood up, smoothing down his tie with one hand and grabbing his briefcase with the other while making his way around his desk where Spencer sat with one leg dropping down the side and his mouth hanging open in shock.
"See you later Spencer," he said as he walked past him and nodded to his ever present keeper who stood equally shocked a few feet away, "Guster." And as he did every day, Lassiter signed out, got in his car, and drove home.
"Dude…"
"Shawn…"
"Gus…"
"Shawn… did you just…?"
"I just made a date with Lassy…"
"You just made a date with Lassiter. Carlton Lassiter. Detective Carlton Lassiter? Detective ComeAnywhereNearMeAndI'llBiteYourHeadOffAndFeedYourBodyToTheSeaLions Carlton Lassiter!"
"Hey, sea lions are cool."
God, he was such an idiot. Why the hell had he done that? Why the hell had he said okay? Lassiter had left work, driven home, and taken a shower before what he had done had truly sunken in. He stood in front of his steam fogged reflection in the bathroom and stared, trying to figure why he had thought that getting one over on Spencer had been worth it.
He only wished that he had been able to hear what Guster said after he left. He also wondered whether or not Spencer would actually go through with it. Scowling at himself, he realized that he knew that Shawn would go through with it, he never said anything he wasn't willing to back up. The question that Carlton wasn't acknowledging in any way shape or form was that though Spencer would go through with it, would he treat it like a reluctant dare or was he truly interested?
'Dinner at your place' normally sounded so innocuous but right now Lassiter cringed as if it were a shrapnel grenade. He knew he swung both ways, and he accepted it as long as no one found out: mainly his family, he winced at what his mother's reaction would be, and his coworkers at the PD. He fully believed in keeping his private life separate from work, although Lucinda had come at a time where he was vulnerable and… he wasn't going to let that happen again. Or was he?
Whether he liked it or not, Shawn Spencer was indeed a coworker. He was often, too often, hired by the Santa Barbara Police Department to lend his services on an open investigation. Most often one of his. But, despite what his ex-wife said, he wasn't blind. He noticed the way he smelled when he stood a little too close, every wriggle, every wayward spike of hair, and every time while in a fit of convulsions his shirt inched up just above his hips revealing tempting skin. He noticed, after all he was a trained detective, and then he tried to ignore it. He tried to push the psychic away, to get him to pester someone else but the man just wouldn't be dissuaded.
So now he stood in a towel in his bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror and wondering…
…what the hell was he going to make for dinner?
--
"Dude, what do you think?"
"Uh, Shawn, I've never had to do this for you before… nu-uh, lose the shirt, too flashy. This is Lassiter we're dealing with here… why do you need my help getting dressed all of a sudden?"
"I dunno," Shawn's answered was muffled due to the fact that he had stuffed his head back into an overstuffed closet, "It's just… Hey! Gus, look what I found!" He pulled his way out from the closet holding a hanger with and old pair of leather pants and a huge grin on his face, "I'm gonna go see if they still fit, be back in a jiffy!"
Gus just stood there shaking his head.
"You're gonna be late, Shawn, if you aren't ready soon. You've been fussing with your hair for over an hour! And it still looks like you just rolled out of bed."
"I know! I can't get it right. Besides, I'm not going to be late."
"Oh yeah? Shawn, you're always late,"
"Nope, not this time. I've got a whole route mapped out and I'm gonna save ten minutes with shortcuts," he ran another hand through his hair and messed with a couple more spikes before, "perfect! All done!"
"Finally,"
"Gus, you're sucking the fun out of this! What's up with you?"
"What's up with me? What's up with you! You're actually taking this seriously, way more seriously than I've seen you on any date before. And this one's with Lassiter! You're actually putting in an effort,"
Shawn sighed and looked at Gus strangely, "I just want this one to work," and he grabbed his keys and helmet and walked out the door leaving behind a stunned Gus.
It was five minutes before Gus realized that Shawn never asked him if he could take the psychmobile, not that he ever asked any other time. And that meant that he had taken his bike. He had to sit down.
"God, he really is serious…"