A/N: In the true spirit of (commercialized) Christmas, I give to fanfiction my holiday special! Cozy up to your computer screen, sip your hot cocoa and gather 'round the children for a truly marvelous holiday story of snowball fights, mistletoe and SEXY MAN LOVE :D ...on second thought...don't gather 'round the children... D:

Carlton Lassiter was a man of his word. He'd always had been and nothing would stop him from coming through on his promises. He could put up his life for a bet and even if there was a way to escape the lost gamble, he himself would put the gun to his head and shoot. It was a matter of being a man, of having honor and dignity.

Not that Lassiter gambled much. In fact, he rarely gambled making it very easy to keep his word. Nonetheless, something on that particular day in December had compelled him to make a bet.

Perhaps it was the way the wind blew that day. Maybe it was the bit of extra caffeine in Lassiter's coffee earlier that morning. Or, most likely, it was the fact that Lassiter was so cock sure of his physical abilities that he knew he could outrun a snowball any day of the week.

At least, he though he knew.

Lassiter had treated himself that year to a quick skii trip for Christmas. Not that Lassiter skiied much. No, he preferred to bundle up and traverse into the wilderness where he could stand, breathe in raw nature, and feel like a man. He had the urge to chop down a tree on numerous occasions. How impressive would he be if he chopped down a tree and dragged it the odd hundreds of miles all the way back to to the Santa Barbara police department, throw it to the ground and stand proud before his doing? It had to be a big tree, ten feet tall and as thick as a pine could be. He'd present it to whole department, holding it with his bare hands and swung over his shoulder.

I'd like to see the look on Spencer's face. Lassiter thought smugly as he stood out in the powdered forest, smirking to himself about his fantasy.

Lassiter knew that his daydream was but a daydream but he allowed himself a few quiet moments to enjoy it. He did that sometimes, emersing himself in little daytime fantasies. He caught himself doing it all the time during the Civil War reenactments but even those were fantasies. Wars weren't fought like that anymore, gun to gun and man to man. No, now there were bombs and machine guns, covert missions and spies and the like. Things Lassiter was sure would fill Shawn's fantasies that was if Shawn ever daydreamed of war. It certainly wouldn't be anything close to Lassiter's daydreams. Shawn's were sure to be full of elaborate frivolity.

Nothing simple and honest in Spencer's head.

And it was that exact thought and moment in which Lassiter was hit in the back of the head with a snowball.

Lassiter turned around quickly and his hand pawed at his hip for the ghost of his gun. A look of absolute irritation was transfixed on Lassiter's face.

"Who's there?" he called out.

While Lassiter had his backed turned before, someone had forged a barricade of snow a good few yards in the distance. Lassiter looked at it critically now, searching. The barricade wasn't high enough though and the enemy's head poked out above it, revealing a blue and green knit beanie.

"Come out with your hands up!" Lassite demanded.

A pair of gloved hands came up, showing surrender.

"That's it," Lassiter encouraged, "Now come out and I won't retaliate."

"I'm sorry mister! I didn't mean it!" a high voice squeaked out.

Lassiter raised a questioning eyebrow. So a child had thrown a snowball at him? Well, children are children or so he supposed and the little offender had apologized. Besides, Lassiter knew he couldn't in good conscience throw a snowball back at a kid. It was undignified and childish and, most importantly, his mandated therapist said he wasn't allowed to do things like that anymore.

"So you're sorry then?" Lassiter called out.

The beanie rose quickly and under it was Shawn Spencer with a snowball in his hand.

"Not really, no." Shawn mused before he threw the snowy bomb towards Lassiter.

Lassiter ducked quickly, his face barely avoiding a barrage of powdery shrapnel. He looked over his shoulder and saw the snowball explode into pieces against a tree behind him before looking back to Shawn.

"Spencer, what are you doing here!"

Shawn grinned as he held his arm back to fire another snowball.

"I believe I'm trying to pelt you with snowballs. It'd be much easier if you stopped moving."

Shawn catapulted the snowball with expert force, a shot only years of baseball had prepared him for.

Lassiter ducked again. He could hear the snowball whiz past his ear. Shawn was pretty good at power but his aim seemed off. It was probably the weight difference between a baseball and a snowball. It was throwing Shawn off just the slightest bit.

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted.

"Tell you what, Lassie," Shawn paused, "if you can get to me without getting hit by a snowball, I lose and you win but if I hit you first, you lose and I win."

"Win what?" Lassiter growled in annoyance.

"The ability to make the other do whatever he wants. I'd be careful, Lassie, my demands might have something to do with a monkey suit and a stick of butter but I've yet to decide."

"I'm not going...wait...anything?" Lassiter asked as he began to get out of his crouching position.

"Anything," Shawn replied.

Anything...Lassiter pondered.

With Shawn at Lassiter's command, Lassiter could fulfill a number desires. He could make Shawn back off any case at any given time. He could force him to never say something stupid in his presence ever again. He could get rid of the accursed 'Lassie' nickname forever and all of its subnames like 'Lassy face' and 'Lassafrass'.

Or...

Lassiter could make Shawn admit that he wasn't psychic.

"Fine! It's a bet!" Lassiter shouted.

"Really?" Shawn asked, unsure.

"Yes really! We've got a deal, Spencer!"

"Sweet! Game on!" Shawn shouted as he threw a snowball full force at Lassiter.

Lassiter escaped the snowball just in time. His target wasn't far. A quick enough sprint and he'd have the enemy in no time.

It' just a matter of getting past the gunfire.

Suddenly, Lassiter was his brave and bearded Civil War counterpart, heading toward enemy lines. He ducked and rolled away from rapid snowball fire, even crawling at some points. He was close to his victory, liberating his department from the phony psychic. He'd be a hero.

"Wait, Lassie! Wait! I can't make snowballs that fast! Time out!" Shawn yelled frantically, disappearing behind his barricade wall.

He's out of ammo.

Lassiter got up from his crawling position and sprinted the last few feet at full force. He was going to win. Finally, he was going to outdo Shawn.

Lassiter approached the barricade, arms ready to reach out and tackle the enemy and claim his prize. And then...it happened.

In slow motion, Lassiter watched as Shawn rose from the behind the barricade. He looked frightened at first as if he knew that the end was near and then he grinned. From behind his back, he pulled out a snowball. It wasn't possible for him to make one so quickly especially one so perfect in form. He'd been hiding it. The lack of ammo had been a ploy to get Lassiter into a more convenient position.

Brilliant. Lassiter thought briefly before the snowball hit him square in the face.

The icy snow was as cold and painful as the defeat Lassiter felt.

"I win!" Shawn cheered, "Yes! In your face Lassafrass!"

Lassiter wiped the snow off his face in one constricted and violent movement.

"SPENCER!" Lassiter fumed.

Shawn's face dropped conveying an expression that could only be described as his 'oh shit' face. Shawn turned around and started running with full speed just as Lassiter began to chase him.

"Lassie! We have bet remember? If you kill me then I can't make my demands! Oh, God, how are you running this fast at your age?"

A/N: How is Lassiter running so fast? Because he is not Lassiter but Civil Lassiter! Using his uber beard and combed mustache, Civil Lassiter can run at superhuman speeds, leap buildings and disapprovingly glare at you until you disintegrate. :/ Lol, more to come, I promise.