"Well, this is awkward."
Carlton Lassiter rolled his eyes at the back of Shawn Spencer's head. "This is all your fault, Spencer."
"My fault?" Shawn asked in mock-surprise. "Lassy, you know I was just trying to help!"
And he was helping. Even if he had gotten them both stuck in a closet that was most definitely not made for two people — or even two very small dogs — it wasn't all bad. He'd just gotten the last clues as to who had attempted to murder the school's principal, too; there was a very formal-looking letter to one of the janitors, Gary, stored under a bucket, informing him that he had two weeks to get out, and there was a heart-shaped locked with the name "Hannah" on it stored carefully in the back corner of the closet. He'd met Hannah in the vice principal's office — she was in detention — and she'd said something about an older boyfriend who would "take care of" anyone who hurt her, so...
"I think I'm getting a vision," Shawn said, shaking slightly.
"Oh, no you aren't," Carlton said, a note of warning in his voice. "Don't even think about it."
"I can't stop it, Lassy!" Shawn cried, his entire body wiggling, and Carlton felt the blood rush out of his face.
It wouldn't be so bad, really, if not for the fact that they were pressed together in the cramped space, and Shawn's ass was dangerously close to Carlton's groin. It didn't help that it had been six months since Lucinda had transferred and Carlton hadn't been laid since, and, hell, he'd even found that drugged-up talent show judge erotic. Snap out of it, he told himself. Concentrate. It's not like he'd grinding against you or anything.
Except Shawn chose just that moment to start grinding back against him, and Carlton prayed that Shawn wasn't really psychic. "Ooh, Gary!" Shawn half-moned in the same falsetto he used to badly imitate Juliet. "You big, strong man, you."
"Spencer!" Carlton nearly shouted, grasping the other man's shoulders in a useless attempt to still him. "Stop it!"
"I just know you'll protect me from anything, won't you?"
Carlton bit the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes tight. He had to concentrate — but it felt so good — but he needed to stop—
"You'll even—"
Carlton shuddered.
"—take care of—"
Carlton considered punching Shawn in the side of his head, but couldn't quite maneuver his arms correctly for it.
"—that dumb bitch—"
It was too much. Carlton just couldn't take it.
"—principal for me, right?"
Carlton moaned.
Shawn's eyes snapped open, and he did his best to twist around, trying to look at Carlton's now red face. "Carly?"
"Spencer."
"Did you... did you just come?"
"Um." As if the wet spot on the front of his pants wasn't enough evidence.
"Well. Now it's more awkward."
Carlton was suddenly sure God had it in for him, because one of the school's janitors — Fred, not Gary — chose that moment to swing the door open.
"Most awkward."
Carlton wished he could die. Or that Shawn would, maybe.
"Well, Lassyface," Shawn said, wiggling again to try and get out the door, "I think it's time we come out of the closet."