So I have been thinking about this fanfiction idea and I finally decided that I would put it into words! :) Please remember to review and of course I do drabbles upon request.

Author: RedCardinals

Setting: After Shawn and Abigail break up, and Juliet is working up in city hall. Ignores Romeo and Juliet and Juliet (se. 5, ep. 1) or at least begins before it happens.

Description: Lassie has a delinquent teenage neighbor making noise at all times of the night. Shawn has many pranking plans and is happy to spare one for his friends. What happens when Lassie and Shawn can be around each other without competing? No slash, just friendship!

Rating: K

Characters: Centered on Shawn and Lassie, however there are mentions of Gus, Jules, Henry, and the majority of the Psych family.

Spoilers: None, River. Stop story-hopping.

Thanks and Review! :D

Lassiter walked into the SPBD, exhausted and barely able to haul himself across the floor to his desk. He had never really thought about how much he weighed, in fact he wasn't sure, but right now he felt like he was carrying a spare 100 pounds; his shoulders nearly collapsing as he found his seat.

Across from him at his own desk, Henry Spencer was working something on the computer having to do with consultant paperwork and insurance, and Lassiter was really happy that Henry wasn't the chatting type.

Slowly his hand found it's way to paperwork he had to do now that O'Hara was in a temporary job at City Hall; and he began to scribble away in the blanks.

It was, thankfully, the same work over and over again whenever filling out paperwork. They were detectives, after all, and they only dealt with homicides or at least that's the only work that required paperwork. There was an imaginary checklist he could do mentally: Victim's name, Guilty Party's name, Detective(s) names, Statements, Witness's name; and then he attached a copy of Woody's autopsy reports.

His blue eyes met the stack of paperwork- easily 15 cases worth- and he sighed. He could barely focus on the words right in front of him on the page. After misspelling his name on the first try, Lassiter decided to pull himself up to his feet and get a coffee.

McNabb was sick, and Lassiter could feel himself paying for it.

"Morning,"

Lassiter recognized the voice, but the mood and dialect of the voice was different. "Spencer?"

Shawn looked absolutely awful. His eyes were still red and raw, but Lassiter saw the attempt he had made to cover up his crying. His fingertips bitten to nubs and his clothes wrinkled from being slept in.

Carlton decided he must have looked equally awful, because Shawn took a double-take. He had seen the bags beneath his eyes that were an annoying shade of purple clashing with his pallid demeanor this morning when he got up to shave.

"What's wrong?" Asked Shawn, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nothing." Lassiter cut through Spencer's concern, marching to his desk with his coffee; nearly spitting the stuff out when he realized he had forgotten to sweeten and add cream to it.

Shawn had already picked up three creams and four sugars for Lassiter and plunked them onto his desk beside the cup. "You never forget to fix your joe," The pseudo-psychic contradicted.

Lassiter argued back, "I never have to get my coffee in the first place," His eyes glared at Shawn's. "Ever think of that?" He immediately stopped glaring when he remembered what had happened a few days ago: Shawn getting dropped like the hot potato that Abigail was afraid would burn her for holding. And if that wasn't enough, Gus had left him for a conference in Florida over mucus controlling medicines. He could really relate, thinking about his own ex-wife- not that he would ever comfort Spencer. "Thanks," He managed.

Shawn hummed in response, and Henry looked up to acknowledge Shawn's presence. He nodded, and Shawn slumped his head down on his shoulders to communicate with his father that he wasn't in the mood for a chat with him that moment.

Looking over his shoulder at he started to walk away, Shawn whirled back around. "What's wrong, Lassiter?" He repeated.

Carlton's eyes got darker when Shawn addressed him by his full last name, and he carefully responded, "Nothing's wrong." With a soft, audible fleck of doubt within his own voice.

"You misspelled homicide," Shawn corrected. "Even if you- the great Head Detective- forget to fix your coffee correctly, you wouldn't also forget how to spell homicide- your favorite word- on the same day." His eyes glinted as he caught another detail: "And you misspelled your name earlier?"

Lassiter threw his pencil against the desk, slightly annoyed by the pathetic 'ttt' noise it pathetically made instead of a slam like a mighty door might make. "There's a delinquent teenager playing music all night long at my apartment and I can't get him to stop. I've already asked him five times."

The head-detective expected his pseudo-colleague to smirk or laugh, but his face was straight and his hazel eyes were sincere. Shawn cocked his head to the side, and Lassiter expected him to say something unintelligent or sarcastic, but instead Spencer responded with, "You know.. I think I could take care of that for you," He raised his eyebrows to seek Lassiter's approval.

"Trust me, I've tried getting him sent to juvy. It won't work for something as 'low-grade' as neighborhood disturbance." Lassiter sighed, putting his fist beneath his chin and leaning forward; resting his elbow on the desk.

"It doesn't involve political punishment." Shawn's eyes gleamed.

Carlton's ears perked up. "I'm not allowed to do anything illegal-"

"It's not illegal either!"

This caught the detective's full attention. After a moment, he turned and looked Spencer in the eye. "I'm listening.."

Denny Robinson, seventeen years old and a high-school drop-out, pulled his bike into the parking spot beside a dark blue car that belonged to his favorite mark for pranks: Some loser detective who had fifty year old threats written on his wrist. He sneered when he saw that the neighbor diagonal from his room walked by- she was about twenty-eight, however she had curves and hair that seemed to always smell like honeycomb; her name was Lily. She glared at Denny, hurried towards he door, and slammed it when he pulled his leg off the motorcycle and stood; slouching.

"PENELSKI!" Came a shout that Denny was very familiar with, except that it was usually Robinson that the detective was shouting across the country. "I'VE WARNED YOU FIVE TIMES BEFORE, AND THAT'S THE LIMIT!"

Denny raised his eyebrows and leaned against his bike curiously.

A young guy- Denny guessed he was about twenty or so- ran out of the hallway towards the sidewalk, running past the cars and Denny's bike. He was wearing baggy jeans that fell off his waist and revealed some of his boxers, a black t-shirt with a logo from a bar Denny passed on his way to clubs, and a bunch of golden chains around his neck. He also fashioned a backwards ball-cap with a Yankee's logo.

Following him with a gun pointed at his back, Lassiter sprinted by in his usual attire- lounging men's casual shoes and a pressed and ironed business suit. "PENELSKI!" He stopped, pointed, and shot three rounds.

Each round pelted 'Penelski' in the back, and he fell flat on his stomach; arms still outstretched and legs curled inward. Blood seemed to pool around his body.

"You aren't going to be playing loud music around my apartment ever again, got that?" Lassiter shouted, kicking the dead Penelski in the leg as hard as he could and spinning around with a wild look in his eyes. His eyes made contact with Denny's, who's leg seemed to turn into spaghetti.

"Uhh-uhm," Denny shook like he couldn't control his limbs and he hitched up his pants.

"Do I need to take you out while I'm at it, or are you going to stop at your fifth warning?" Lassiter asked, cocking his gun and taking a step towards the teenager.

Denny fumbled for words. "N-n-no!" Lassiter eyed him and continued stepping. "N-no s-si-sir!" Denny's eyes squinted and it looked like he was about to cry.

"Then you best be on your way so I can store this old thing with the rest of the bodies," Lassiter snarled.

Denny Robinson fumbled around his pocket for the motorcycle keys he had just dropped in there, ignited the engine, and sped off on his motorcycle, hoping to find his landlord and move out as quickly as possible.

"AND ROBINSON!" Lassiter shouted at Denny before he left. Denny skidded to a stop and turned his head. "YOU LEAVE MY GIRLFRIEND, LILY, ALONE!"

Denny's eyes got huge and he nodded, shocked that such a pretty young girl could be dating such an old, evil guy, but he got the message. He revved the motor and nearly crashed into a mailbox as he took off down the street.

Lily peeped her head out of the door, "Is it clear?"

Carlton nodded with a long-overdue grin. "He's gone."

"Thanks for getting him away from me," She said with a quick smile, her brown eyes flashing gratefully.

"Thanks for agreeing not to call the police." He replied simply, and he jogged slowly over to Shawn. "He's gone, Sp- Shawn." Lassiter corrected himself.

Shawn peered out of one eye, then sat up, sighing. "Do you know how hard it is to hold your breath so long?"

"You didn't have to hold your breath."

The false-psychic gripped fists and kicked at the sidewalk, then got himself off the ground. He pulled off the pants and boxers he wore over his everyday clothes, happy now that he had worn them beneath the costume. He threw them into the back seat of Lassiter's car through the window.

"Ouch.." Shawn mumbled, wiping at the blood-bullets on his back. They hadn't penetrated the shirt, thankfully, but they left blood over his clothes and poured some onto the ground where he had laid. They had left welts where they hit, but no other damage had been left to his back. He was slightly limping from where Lassiter had kicked his leg, but he had no doubt that after four years of annoyances, he did deserve it a little bit.

"Sorry," Lassiter mumbled beneath his breath, eyeing the bruise on Shawn leg before he pulled down on his jeans.

Shawn shook his head. "Nah, that's nothing!" His eyes shined brightly.

"You can stay for dinner if you want," Carlton offered slowly, knowing full and well that he would be ticked off by the end of the dinner.

The younger man's eyes lit up. "There's a Cops rerun on tonight!"

Carlton had to admit, he really was a Cops fan. The theme song was still his ringtone from when he went off the deep end. "We could watch it with dinner." He suggested, trying his best to hide a smile.

Shawn made his way up to Lassiter's door and allowed himself in, starting to microwave hot dogs and toast hot dog bread. Lassiter sighed and followed along, smiling a little. Maybe Shawn and himself could be friends. Maybe.

"Hey Carlton, I hope you don't mind, but I put cheese on your hot dog!"

Lassiter furrowed his eyebrows and growled under his breath, "Ugh.. Maybe not."

Hope you liked the story! Please review!

I also do requests, so feel free to suggest story ideas! :)