In my continuing efforts to spread the Christmas cheer that has been lacking in the Psych fandom lately, I wrote this two part holiday story. Unfortunately, real life interfered enough that I couldn't have it finished by Christmas. But better late than never.
A huge thank you to trixietru, without whose encouragement this story would never have happened. An additional thank you to redwolffclaw, for betaing this for me so quickly.
This story takes place about halfway through season 2. Sort of an alternate Christmas episode.
Merry Christmas and enjoy.
UPDATED 3/4/14: I added a bit about Shawn's scar so I can use it in a later story I have planned.
The department Christmas party was in full swing; gifts were being exchanged, people were laughing, and a large amount of alcohol was being consumed. General merriment was being had by everyone present with the exclusion of one head detective.
Carlton took a sip of his drink and looked around the room. The holidays were a busy time for the department. This was the first break most of them had had in few weeks and they were taking full advantage of it. He quickly stepped out of the way as Dobson and his girlfriend stumbled past, both laughing and leaning on each other for support. They headed deeper into the station, no doubt looking for an empty room for some privacy. He should probably report them but a voice in his head (which sounded suspiciously like O'Hara) said to ignore it tonight.
He sighed, wishing he was anywhere but here. He hated the holidays, mostly due to the fact that he spent them alone. When he had stupidly let that slip to O'Hara, she had insisted he come to the party tonight. So here he was, surrounded by his drunken coworkers making complete idiots of themselves.
Spencer was the worst offender. He had cornered nearly every female officer under the mistletoe someone (a fake psychic no doubt) had hung up in the middle of the room. At last count, the only woman he hadn't gotten under that thing was –
Whistles and cheering drew his attention to the center of the room, where Spencer had finally managed to wrangle O'Hara under the mistletoe. He should have known she wouldn't be able to hold out against Spencer's charms. The man was just too attractive.
He quickly squelched the thought. Thinking about Spencer like that would only lead to trouble. He thought about his gun instead, mentally going through the process of cleaning it until thoughts of the other man subsided.
Carlton watched as Spencer finally broke off the kiss with O'Hara, leaving her slightly unsteady on her feet. He certainly did not wish it was him that Spencer had been kissing or wonder what his lips tasted like (probably pineapple with the amount of that stuff he ate). Instead he was glad Spencer would finally have to stop his foolish game now that he had kissed every woman at the party.
Unfortunately, Carlton hadn't counted on the large amount of alcohol Spencer had consumed that evening. He was crossing the room to get a refill on his drink (soda this time; he did not need to add to his history of getting drunk at department parties and doing something he would regret, especially with Spencer around), when the psychic jumped in front of him. "Hey Lassie, where have you been hiding all night?"
"Spencer," Carlton said curtly, trying to step around the man.
Spencer moved to block his way. "You're looking kind of tense. It's a party. Cut loose and live a little."
"I'm fine," Carlton said, once again trying to get away.
Spencer grabbed Carlton's arm, holding him in place. "You have one second to remove your hand if you still want it attached to your body," Carlton said.
Spencer quickly dropped his arm, though he continued to stand in Carlton's way. "Do you know what we're standing under?" he asked slyly.
Carlton looked up, spotting the sprig of mistletoe over their heads. He quickly put a hand up as Spencer leaned towards his face. "Don't even think about it."
Undeterred, Spencer grabbed his hand and pressed his lips to Carlton's palm. He felt a shock jolt up his arm at the contact and froze. Spencer cupped his hand, cradling it as if he was holding someone's head. His lips continued to caress his skin, a hint of tongue finally pulling Carlton back to reality. He tried to pull his hand away, but Spencer only followed it, licking and sucking on his palm. He finally wrenched his hand free, staring in shock at the psychic. "What the hell, Spencer?"
He shrugged. "Mistletoe Lassie. I had no choice."
"I – you – that," Carlton took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "If you come near me again, I'll have you arrested on assault charges."
Spencer just grinned as he stalked away, the laughter of his coworkers following him. He went down the hallway until he was out of sight of the party goers. He leaned back against the wall, letting out a deep sigh.
That kiss had brought up feelings for the psychic that he had been trying to ignore for months now. He wasn't sure when things had changed, but he knew when he had first realized it. The counterfeiting case, when that FBI agent and fake psychic had come in to assist. He had written off the jealousy at Spencer's interest in Leikin as annoyance at his unprofessionalism. But he couldn't ignore the way his heart clenched when Spencer was being held at gunpoint on the runway or the immense relief he felt when Spencer was saved. He had finally admitted to himself he had a crush on the man before promptly burying the emotion as deep as possible. Spencer was straight, so there was no use wasting his time on him. He ignored Spencer's blatant sexual innuendos on case after case, telling himself Spencer was just trying to piss him off. The kiss was just another part of the game, that's all.
His hand was still wet with Spencer's saliva. He quickly wiped it off on his pants, wishing desperately for another drink.
Carlton hid in the corner for the rest of the evening. He would have left right away, but O'Hara tracked him down soon after the mistletoe incident. She had been drinking as well, and kept babbling about Spencer and the kiss he had given her. He tried to tune her out, not wanting to hear how skilled the psychic was with his tongue. When she asked about his own 'kiss' he snapped at her, which finally made her change the subject to safer topics.
There was one moment of enjoyment when Spencer tried to get Guster under the mistletoe. Guster took one look at his friend's puckered lips and tried to get away. Spencer managed to get a quick peck against his lips before receiving a hard punch to the stomach. Guster stormed off as Spencer bent over, gasping for air, managing to wheeze out "That was too hard!"
O'Hara apparently didn't find it as funny as Carlton did. She glared at him while he laughed before rushing over to Spencer to make sure he was OK. Rolling his eyes, he decided to go outside for some fresh air.
By the time he got back inside, the party was dying down. He went to his desk to grab his jacket and keys, planning on going home for a few hours of sleep before he had to be back in the morning. He stopped short when he spotted a familiar figure in his chair.
"Spencer, what are you doing?" he asked.
"Lassie! I thought you were still here," Spencer said, a slight slur to his words betraying how drunk he was. "I need a ride."
"Not happening," Carlton said.
"Look, I may have had a little too much to drink." When Carlton snorted he grinned sheepishly. "OK a lot to drink. I'm in no condition to drive my bike. What do you say?"
"Find someone else to drive you home," Carlton said.
"Like who? You're practically the only person here who's still sober," Spencer said.
Carlton looked around. He did have a point. The few people left were either on duty, calling someone for a ride, or heading to the break room to sleep it off.
"What about Guster?"
Spencer winced. "He's still a little mad about the incident earlier."
"O'Hara?"
"Already left."
"Your dad?"
"I'd rather walk home than call him for a ride."
Carlton crossed his arms, looking down on the psychic. "Then you'd better get started."
"Come on, where's your Christmas spirit?" When Carlton didn't answer, Spencer sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll walk. But you'll feel bad if any happens to me. There are all sorts of psychos out there that would attack a poor defenseless, handsome psychic such as myself." He got up from Carlton's desk chair and made it about three steps before he stumbled. Only a quick grab by Carlton saved him from face planting on the floor.
Carlton leaned him against a pillar, sighing in disgust. "Don't move. I need to grab my keys." He ignored Spencer's triumphant grin as he grabbed his things from his desk. He couldn't let the psychic wander around alone in his condition. If anything happened to him, Carlton knew he would be blamed for it, and with Spencer's luck something would. If there was anyone who would be attacked on his way home from a police department party, it would be Shawn Spencer.
He ignored the smirks of the few people left as he helped Spencer out of the station. At least he could still walk, though he leaned more and more heavily on Carlton the further they went. He finally got the psychic into his car, helping to buckle him in when Spencer couldn't figure out the seat belt.
He took a deep breath as he walked around to the driver's side, wondering at the bad luck that had landed him this job tonight. Someone up there must really hate him right now.
He got in and started the car. "If you throw up in my car, I'll toss your ass out and leave you there," he said.
"Got it. No pukey-pukey in Lassie's car," Spencer said, nodding seriously.
Carlton sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot. This was the last time he was letting O'Hara convince him to go to a party. At least Spencer was being quiet.
"It's too quiet in here. Do you know any Christmas carols?"
Carlton tightened his hands on the steering wheel as Spencer started to sing. He started with Deck the Halls, then moved on to Jingle Bells (all the verses of both songs, not just the popular ones everyone knows). He was in the middle of the 12 Days of Christmas (one of the most annoying songs ever invented in Carlton's opinion) when they pulled up in front of his apartment building. Next time, he was just going to let Spencer walk home, consequences be damned.
"Here we are, Spencer," Carlton said, putting the car in park. "Now get out."
Spencer huffed. "Fine, Lassie. I can tell when I'm not wanted." He struggled to get his seat belt off, before climbing awkwardly out of the car. He stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, before attempting the walk up to his apartment building. He made it halfway before tripping over his own feet and landing in the grass with a groan.
Carlton rubbed his forehead, cursing again the circumstances that had led to him being saddled with Spencer tonight. He climbed out of the car and went up the walkway to where the fake psychic was struggling to get back on his feet. "Come on," he said, yanking Spencer upright.
"I can do it myself," Spencer protested, leaning heavily on Carlton.
"Sure you can," Carlton said sarcastically. He helped Spencer inside the building, muttering a curse when he saw the elevator was out of order. Spencer only lived on the second floor, but it wasn't easy getting the inebriated psychic up the stairs. They finally reached the apartment, Spencer leaning heavily on the door frame as he fumbled with his keys.
Spencer stopped him as soon as he walked into the apartment. "Shoes off," he said, slipping his own off and leaving them by the door. Carlton slid off his shoes, deciding it was easy to do so then to argue with him right now.
The apartment was messy, but not as bad as he was expecting. Spencer directed him into the living room, which was fully decked out for the holiday. Garland ran around the border of the room, various Christmas knick knacks littered every available surface and a small fake tree sat in one corner, a pineapple perched on top. It was a far cry from his own home, where the only festive decoration was the wreath on his door, put there to pacify his nosy neighbors.
Carlton got Spencer across the room and deposited him on the couch. Mission accomplished, he turned to leave when Spencer called out to him.
"Lassie, wait." Carlton turned to see Spencer getting up from the couch and heading over to the Christmas tree. He returned holding a small wrapped package. "Here."
Carlton took the package slowly. "What's this?"
Shawn snorted. "What do you think? It's a Christmas present."
"You got me a present?" Carlton asked in surprise. The gift was slightly larger than his palm, wrapped in paper covered in pineapples with bows. He shook it gently, hearing something rattle inside.
"I was going to stop by tomorrow with it. I knew you would be spending Christmas alone and could use some cheering up," Spencer was saying. "But since you're here, I thought why not give it to you now." He looked at Carlton expectantly. "Well, go on Lassie. Open it."
He unwrapped the present, revealing a plain white box. He lifted the lid, quickly identifying the misshapen metal pieces as .58 caliber Minie balls, a type of ammunition commonly used during the Civil War. An index card in the box confirmed this, as well as siting the location the bullets were found; Piper's Cove.
"I remembered you said your great-great-grandfather was in that battle. I know a guy who collects bullets from battlefields and had him track those down." Spencer looked down, then glanced back up at Carlton almost shyly. "So, do you like it?" he asked nervously.
Carlton looked down at the gift again and nodded numbly. No one had ever given him such a thoughtful present before. "Thank you, Shawn," he said quietly.
"You're welcome, Lassie," Spencer said with a smile.
He put the lid back on the box, feeling uncomfortable. "I didn't get you anything," he said.
"Don't be so sure," Spencer said with a mischievous grin. Carlton put his gift down, the look on the psychic's face worrying him.
"Haven't you heard that song?" Spencer asked, slowly walking towards him. Carlton backed up until he hit the wall, swallowing as Spencer invaded his personal space, stopping just short of actually touching him. "All I want for Christmas is you."
Spencer's face was inches away, his eyes wide and hopeful. Carlton tore his gaze away from his eyes, but found them focused on his lips instead. They were full and inviting, glistening slightly as Spencer licked them nervously. Carlton wondered again what they tasted like.
He quickly looked away, trying to banish that thought from his brain. "Spencer, stop," he said, though it came out sounding like more of a plea than a command.
"Look up," Spencer said, his breath hitting Carlton's neck, causing him to shiver.
Carlton glanced up, anything to avoid looking at Spencer again. He saw a bit of fake greenery above them. "That's not mistletoe. It's not even a real plant." he said, making the mistake of looking down at the other man while he said it. His breath caught as he looked into Spencer's lust-blown eyes, their faces now only a couple inches apart.
"Close enough," Spencer whispered, closing the scant distance between them.
The shock Carlton had felt at the station when Spencer kissed his palm was nothing compared to the lightning bolt when their lips met. He shivered as Spencer deepened the kiss, his hands slowing sliding up the detective's chest to bury in his hair. He tasted as sweet as Carlton had imagined, the lingering hint of alcohol putting him in mind of those fruity drinks he knew for a fact he would be drinking more often after tonight. Somewhere at the back of his mind was the thought that he really shouldn't be doing this, but right now he was having trouble remembering why. Once again it was Spencer's tongue, this time running along his bottom lip, that brought Carlton back to his senses.
He pushed Spencer back, panting as he looked down at the flushed face and glazed expression on the man before him. "Spencer, you're drunk."
"No, I'm not," Spencer said, pressing forward towards Carlton.
He tightened his grip on the psychic's arms, holding him in place. "You could barely make it inside," Carlton said.
"I faked it." At Carlton's astonished look, he grinned. "Would you have driven me home and come up to my place otherwise?"
"So everything tonight was a scam?" Carlton asked, getting angry.
"Of course not," Spencer said. "I just saw an opportunity and seized it. The alcohol just helped things along."
"I thought you said you weren't drunk."
"I'm not. I'm more like pleasantly buzzed. Trust me, I know exactly what I'm doing." He leaned in to resume kissing Carlton, but the detective continued to hold him away. Spencer sighed, looking up into Carlton's eyes. "Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. Let me make it wonderful for you."
The sincere look in Spencer's eyes, coupled with his own growing desire, broke down his resistance. This time when Spencer tried to kiss him Carlton let him, a pleased sound escaping the psychic's lips. His tongue slipped into Carlton's mouth, proving just as talented as O'Hara had said. Pulling Spencer against him, Carlton quickly flipped them so the younger man was pinned to the wall. Spencer let out a surprised squeak before Carlton reclaimed his mouth, his tongue diving inside. He lifted the Spencer's shirt, sliding his hands up his chest, feeling the younger man shudder against him.
Spencer (though he really should start thinking of him as Shawn now after shoving his tongue down his throat) turned his head, kissing along Carlton's jaw line. Shawn's hands moved down to his waist, untucking his shirt so he could place his hands on bare skin. Carlton groaned at the contact, hands sliding down the younger man's back to his hips. Shawn gasped against his neck when Carlton pulled him against him, grinding against the bulge quickly forming in the psychic's pants.
Shawn's hands slid back down to his waist and started working on his belt. Carlton grabbed his hands to stop him. "Lassie, come on," Shawn whined in frustration. "We already went through this."
"I just thought there might be somewhere more comfortable to do this than against your wall," Carlton said huskily.
Shawn stared at him for a second, then grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the bedroom. Once inside Carlton paused long enough to slip off his jacket and holster, placing the later carefully on the dresser. He noticed Shawn's slight pout at this, filing it away for later.
He moved back to Shawn, who resumed his assault on Carlton's neck, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the detective's shirt. Shawn pushed it off his shoulders as his mouth moved down, nipping along Carlton's collarbone.
Carlton shrugged off the shirt, giving Shawn full access to his chest. The younger man took advantage, running his fingers through Carlton's chest hair as he pushed him backwards. The bed bounced as he landed on it, Shawn quickly joining him. His hands settled on Shawn's waist as he straddled him. He groaned when Shawn ground down against him before leaning forward for a kiss.
Carlton's hands slipped under Shawn's shirt, sliding it up and over the psychic's head, breaking the kiss momentarily. Carlton ran his hands over the newly exposed flesh, swallowing Shawn's moans when he circled his nipples.
Shawn licked and nibbled along Carlton's jaw to the base of his neck, driving the detective crazy. He bit down hard enough to leave a mark, causing Carlton to arch up against him. "Spencer," he moaned.
"Shawn. Since we're obviously planning on having sex, we should at least be on a first name basis," Shawn said, giving him another small nip.
"That goes both ways," Carlton said.
"But your name is so boring," Shawn said, looking down at him with lust-darkened eyes. "Lassie fits you so much better."
He licked his way down Carlton's body, paying close attention to his nipples. Shawn's hands, meanwhile, were on Carlton's belt, quickly unbuckling it and dropping it over the edge of the bed. One hand slipped inside his pants, rubbing his cock through his boxers. Carlton's hips bucked at the touch, causing Shawn to grin. "A little eager, aren't you?"
Carlton's answer dissolved into a moan when Shawn gripped him firmly. Shawn removed his hand, sliding up Carlton until they were face to face, bodies pressed fully against each other. Carlton ran his hands down Shawn's back as they kissed, fingers lightly dancing down his spine. He arched up against Shawn, both groaning as their enclosed erections rubbed against each other.
Shawn pulled away and moved back down. Carlton raised his hips as Shawn removed his pants and boxers, finally freeing his aching erection. Shawn removed his own clothing as well before rejoining him on the bed, both now completely naked. "Where were we?" Shawn asked.
"I think you were helping me with a little problem," Carlton said, looking pointedly downwards.
Shawn smirked. "I wouldn't call it little." He gave Carlton a kiss before slowly sliding down his body. "But I'll see what I can do."
He ran light fingers over Carlton's cock, teasing it before taking it firmly in his palm. He stroked it slowly, using just the right amount of pressure. His other hand slid up Carlton's thigh. He whimpered when Shawn cupped his balls gently, the combined sensations quickly causing his pleasure to mount.
He felt Shawn shift on the bed, and then both hands disappeared. Carlton looked down to see Shawn lowering his head towards his groin. He moaned as Shawn gave his cock a lick, swirling his tongue around the head. He went to work on Carlton's cock, proving once again how talented his tongue is. "At least your mouth is good for something," Carlton groaned.
Shawn pulled away, looking up at Carlton with a mock scowl. "I should take offense to that," he said, hand working Carlton's cock in his mouth's absence. He gave a hard squeeze, causing Carlton to jerk up against him. "Apologize."
"Sorry Shawn," he moaned, the words slipping out of him before he knew what he was saying. He would do anything at this point to get that hot mouth back on his cock.
"Apology accepted," Shawn said with a grin. He bent down and took Carlton's cock in his mouth, sucking on it gently. Carlton groaned, deciding any humiliation at being ordered around by Shawn was worth it for this.
He felt Shawn take a deep breath before he pushed forward, swallowing Carlton completely. He resisted the urge to thrust into the hot moist paradise, bunching the bed sheets in his fists in an effort to keep still, a low moan escaping his lips. Shawn slowly slid back, cheeks hollowing as he sucked his way to the tip. Then he moved back down, engulfing Carlton's cock once again.
Twining a hand through Shawn's hair, Carlton urged him to move faster. Shawn picked up the pace, holding Carlton's hips down when he gave an involuntary jerk. He could feel the pressure building and knew it wouldn't be long.
"I'm getting close," Carlton warned, expecting Shawn to pull away. Instead Shawn swallowed him completely, humming softly so his throat vibrated around him. It was enough to send Carlton over the edge, hips thrusting up as he released down the other man's throat. Shawn worked him through his orgasm, not pulling away until Carlton was completely drained.
He lay panting on the bed as Shawn climbed up him. He kissed him, his tongue dipping into Carlton's mouth, letting him get a taste himself. He could feel Shawn's erection pressing against his leg, reminding him the other man had yet to come.
He rolled them over, Shawn's surprised shriek quickly turning into a groan when Carlton's weight settled over him. "Think you can help me with my problem now?" Shawn asked.
"I'll see what I can do," Carlton said with a grin, echoing Shawn's words from earlier. He moved off of Shawn, stretching out beside him. He ran a hand along his side, then slowly over his chest. He gently traced the scar running down the middle of Shawn's rib cage. The younger man went still under him, turning his head away and almost seeming to brace himself. Clearly he was making Shawn uncomfortable and he guessed the other man had been asked many times about the scar in just this type of situation. Not wanting to break the mood by asking about what was obviously a painful topic, he moved on to exploring the rest of Shawn's chest.
He ran his hand along the smooth skin, taking the time to tease each nipple. He moved his hand lower, rubbing circles into Shawn's stomach.
"Little lower Lassie," Shawn said, trying to push his hand down.
Carlton pulled away. "Patience Shawn," he said in a low growl. "Keep your hands at your sides."
Shawn shuddered as he did what Carlton asked, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. Carlton resumed rubbing Shawn's stomach. He leaned over and licked the tip of a nipple, then sucking on it gently. Shawn moaned, pressing against his mouth, but kept his hands obediently at his sides.
Carlton moved his hand down, deciding such good behavior should be rewarded. Shawn jerked his hips up when Carlton finally touched him, letting out a low moan. "About time," Shawn said.
He stroked him gently, the pressure too light to get Shawn off. He noticed Shawn's hands inching towards Carlton and pulled away again. "I told you to stay still."
"Then quit teasing me," Shawn complained, his hands returning to their previous positions.
Carlton waited a moment to make sure Shawn wasn't going to move before taking his cock in his hand. This time the strokes were firmer, earning soft moans and whimpers from Shawn. After five minutes in which Shawn clenched his fists but they remained at his sides, he decided the younger man deserved another reward.
Letting go of Shawn's cock for a moment, he wet his hand with saliva before moving back down. He gave Shawn's cock a few pumps before sliding further down, searching for his back entrance. He felt Shawn jump when he found it, slick fingers gently teasing his opening. "Lassie?" he asked hesitantly.
"Relax," Carlton murmured, kissing the side of his neck. Shawn hissed when he slipped a finger into his tight passage. He massaged the muscle, feeling it loosen under his action. He inserted a second finger, Shawn adjusting quicker this time.
He moved his fingers around, searching for a specific spot. When he found it, he pressed it gently. Shawn gasped, hips bucking up against his fingers. "Carlton," he panted, his wide hazel eyes looking up at him in surprise. "Do that again."
Carlton pressed again, gaining a moan of pleasure from Shawn. He slowly moved his fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm. Shawn moved his hips against him, trying to drive his fingers deeper on every push in.
Shawn's hands moved again, holding on tightly to Carlton. "More," he demanded.
Carlton decided to ignore the infraction this time. He increased his pace, pumping his fingers inside of Shawn, making sure to rub along his pleasure point on every stroke.
Shawn reached up and pulled Carlton down into a kiss. He moaned loudly when Carlton pressed firmly inside him. "I'm almost there," he whimpered. Carlton twisted his fingers, hitting that spot inside him in short, quick bursts.
Shawn dropped his head to Carlton's shoulder as his whole body tensed. He cried out his release, his whole body shaking as he clung tightly to Carlton. He continued to milk Shawn through it, pulling out only when the younger man was through.
Shawn collapsed back on the bed, breathing hard. He looked up at Carlton with admiration. "Where did you learn to do that?" he panted.
"You're not the first guy I've slept with," Carlton said.
"Obviously." Shawn looked down at his stomach and made a face. "Let me get something to clean us up."
Carlton lay back on the bed, watching Shawn walk to the bathroom. He should probably leave. Things would be awkward enough the next time they saw each other. No sense in adding to it by spending the night.
Shawn returned with a damp towel, wiping both of them down before tossing it towards the corner of the room. He slid into bed next to Carlton, relaxing back with a sigh. He smiled at Carlton sleepily, his eyelids already drooping.
Carlton reluctantly pulled away from him, getting out of bed.
"What are you doing?" Shawn asked.
"I should go. I'm working tomorrow," Carlton said. He moved around the room, collecting the clothing that had been strewn about in their haste earlier.
"No, you're not." Carlton stopped, pants in hand, and turned to look at Shawn. "I talked to the Chief before we left the station. She was more than glad to give you the day off."
He should be angry that Shawn had gone behind his back to the Chief like that. All he could muster up right now was annoyance. He blamed the calming effects of sex.
"You can leave if you want," Shawn said. "Or you can stay." He kept his tone light, like he didn't care what Carlton decided to do. But there was a slightly hopeful look to his eyes, as if he really did want Carlton to stay.
Carlton sighed, dropping his pants back to the floor. There was a flash of surprise in Shawn's eyes as he made his way back to the bed, quickly covered up by his trademark grin. He moved over as Carlton slid between the sheets, still grinning like an idiot. "Go to sleep Spencer."
"OK Lassie." Shawn reached over and turned out the light.
He waited for Shawn to move towards him or try to touch him, but the other man stayed to his side of the bed. He felt oddly disappointed. One of the things he missed most about being in a relationship was the lack of physical contact with another human being. Not just sex, though he had missed that too. More the little things, like hand holding and hugs, the things most people don't think about or take for granted. He also missed falling asleep next to someone, their warm presence reminding him he wasn't alone.
Carlton reached out, feeling for Shawn's hand in the dark. He curled his hand around it, looking over at the other man. Shawn turned his head to look at Carlton, a grin crossing his sleepy features. "Merry Christmas Carlton."
"Merry Christmas Shawn." Closing his eyes, he quickly fell asleep.
Carlton woke the next morning to a rare feeling of contentment. Slowly, he became aware of someone pressed up against him, arms wrapped around his chest. Opening his eyes, it took him a moment to remember why he wasn't in his own bedroom. As the memories of last night started coming back, he turned his head to look at Shawn. The younger man was still asleep, head nestled against Carlton's side. He looked much more peaceful than he ever did awake, all that restless energy contained for now.
Carlton sighed. As much as he was enjoying this, he should get out now before Shawn woke up if he wanted to avoid the awkwardness of the morning after speech. He tried to slip out of Shawn's grasp, freezing as the man shifted against him. Shawn's eyes fluttered open, looking up at Carlton. "Good morning," he said softly, a smile on his face.
"Good morning," Carlton replied, feeling an answering smile trying to emerge on his own face. He cleared his throat and looked away, hoping Shawn hadn't noticed.
"So, any plans today?" Shawn asked.
"Probably just going to sit at home," Carlton said. "I wasn't expecting having the day off."
"Do you want some company? I have time before I have to be over at my dad's place."
Carlton hesitated. "I'd rather be alone today."
"I understand," Shawn said, sounding almost disappointed. He sat up, turning to look at Carlton, his usual grin on his face making Carlton believe he had just imagined it. "At least let me make you breakfast before you go," he said. "It is the most important meal of the day." The hopeful look was back on Shawn's face and he felt himself nod in agreement.
"You can use the shower first while I make the food," Shawn announced, climbing out of bed. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before turning back to Carlton. "Do you want your pancakes with or without pineapple?"
"Without," Carlton said.
Shawn shook his head as he left the room. "You don't know what you're missing," he yelled back.
Carlton gathered his clothes and went into the bathroom. Climbing into the shower, he was stunned for a moment by Shawn's large array of fruit scented bath products. He had had girlfriends with less girly tastes. Finding the least offensive ones in the bunch, he got to work cleaning up, knowing he would smell like a fruit basket for the rest of the day.
Climbing out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and looked at himself in the mirror. Last night had been wonderful, just like Shawn had promised. He just didn't know if Shawn saw this as just a one night stand or something more. To be honest, he wasn't sure himself which answer he was hoping for.
The only person who was going to help him figure this out was in the kitchen making breakfast. He needed to go out there and talk to Shawn. Carlton finished getting dressed and left the bathroom.
Shawn turned as he entered the kitchen. "That was fast," he commented.
"I like to get things done quickly," Carlton said.
"Not everything," Shawn said, raising an eyebrow. Carlton could feel a blush forming on his face and looked away from Spencer's knowing smirk.
Shawn scooped the last pancakes off the griddle, neatly stacking them on a plate. A second plate already had its own stack on it. He grabbed both plates and carried them over to the table in the corner. "Breakfast is served." He pointed to the plate on the left. "Those are pineapple free."
Carlton sat down, eying the pancakes carefully. They looked safe enough and smelled delicious. He looked up as Shawn sat down across from him. Despite how tempting the food was, he didn't want to put off this talk any longer than he had to. "Look, Shawn, about last night."
"No talking Lassie. There will be time for freaking out later," Shawn said firmly. When Carlton opened his mouth to argue, he held up his hand to stop him. "It's Christmas. Just forget everything else for now and enjoy the moment."
Carlton sighed, but pulled his plate towards him and started eating his breakfast. The pancakes were surprisingly good, much better than his usual fare of toast and a cup of coffee. Maybe Shawn was right. Maybe he should forget about the future for now and just enjoy himself.
He watched Shawn cover his pancakes with an obscene amount of syrup and start shoveling the messy concoction into his mouth. After a moment, Shawn glanced up, meeting the detective's gaze. "What?" he asked around a mouthful of food.
"Nothing," Carlton said, watching a drizzle of syrup run down Shawn's chin. He shook his head, surprised to find a smile on his face. Shawn smiled as well before he went back to devouring his food.
If someone had told Carlton a week ago he would be enjoying breakfast with Shawn Spencer after spending the night with him, he would have laughed and suggested they get themselves checked out by a mental health professional. As strange as it seemed though, that was exactly what he was doing.
This might be his best Christmas ever.
Part 2 is already started and I hope to have it up by New Year's or soon after.
