Apologies: Yes, I know I said this chapter would be called "With a nice ass in tight jeans", but I think this title suits it better and is a little more subtle. Though I will pick this subject up in later chapters. Probably Shawn will say it some time.
And anyone who can tell me why this title is a good deal better gets a virtual cookie from me.
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Just the vendetta against Lassie's chest fur. And I will avoid this mass of hair as long as I can, thank you very much.
H&K: Goes to and TheInkgirl. Great thanks to you two for your reviews. They build me up, really.
Side information: If you find any mistakes in spelling, grammar or anything, please be gentle. I have to translate everything from German thoughts into English script. But tell me, so I don't make them anymore.
With Alice walking through the looking-glass
With a blissfully blank mind Carlton stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and with another one he was drying his salt-and-pepper hair.
Sighing he heaved a big sports bag out of his locker. Blessed with great foresight, as ever, Lassiter had brought changing clothes with him today.
Just in case.
He had to admit the clothes weren´t as good as his suit, but they were his favourite casual ones and so they would do a good job of comforting him until he was finally save back home.
So the detective slipped into a pair of black boxers, an old blue washed-out jeans, of what he hadn't expected to fit so well like it did – hey, after three years of not wearing who would it? - and a fir green T-Shirt with a black four-leaf clover in tribal style crossing from his right to his left side.
Accidentally, while stuffing the bag with the coffee-stained suit, he glanced at the mirror near the door and had to smile.
The person who watched him from the other side of the room looked nothing like the Carlton-hard-in-his-job-ass-Lassiter – yes, he knew how the other officers and detectives at work saw him – who observed him every morning.
No, this Carlton Lassiter looked calm, almost content and nothing like the stressed man with this grim face even he hated on some days.
He sighed again and ruffled slightly through his now dry hair. Perhaps he would wear such an outfit more often…when no one was around, of course.
With a slight smile on his face he returned to packing the bag.
After the dirty clothes were tucked away Carlton braced himself a last time for the storm of unneeded, annoying chattering that would so certainly follow after exiting this room like the sunrise after every night.
A last sigh and he grabbed the doorknob entering the lion's den.
"Lassie!"
Damn. He'd been so close at the entrance door of the department and had actually hoped nobody had seen him. But it seemed faith didn't smile on him today. And after the second escape – yes, he still tried to escape a Shawn Spencer after being spotted – which failed miserably because of a sneaky little hand grabbing his upper arm in an almost lovingly way.
"Now Alice, don't run away from us."
Alice? Really? He called him Alice, as from Alice in Wonderland? Seriously, how mad could this guy actually be?
As he finally turned around to face his fate in form of this crazy bunch of people – yes, he had seen O'Hara and Guster hiding behind the corner a few feet away – Carlton told himself why not playing along with it? His day was a perfect disaster up to now, so it couldn't get worse, now could it?
Wondering whether this was a good decision the head detective decided he would face everything Spencer could possibly throw at him the rest of the evening.
So he answered: "Why not? There's only this odd Cheshire Cat staring at me like I'm a fish ready to eat, a White Bunny hiding together with this curious Mad Hatter over there and the Queen of Hearts from who I wish to behead me right now."
According to his wide eyes, Spencer obviously didn't expect this sort of answer from him and a smile of triumph crossed the Irish man's face.
Then, after a few more seconds of silence, resounding laughter was heard in the SBPD, coming from the brunette in front of him, which went for – Lassiter looked at his watch in annoyance – six minutes and the younger man didn't seem to stop soon.
Assured there was no danger coming from Lassiter – at least today – Juliet and Gus approached the two men in front of the entrance.
Smiling happily - this made Lassiter cringe inwardly - the blond detective gazed at his outfit. Seemingly she liked it.
"So you're in a better mood now, I see."
A nod came from her partner.
"Well that's great. Because we wanted to invite you to our own Saint Patrick's Day party."
No!!
Everything in him screamed this small word in agony. He would not drink himself into oblivion with this three people at his side. No way! That was never going to happen, ever. He did it once with his wife - correction, ex-wife – and it was, friendly said, something he wouldn't want to experience again.
So he said the only thing possible in this situation.
"Fine, if you're paying…"
And there he had fallen right into the rabbit hole in a land he would certainly hate the next morning – most probably even this evening.
And like the poor, little, blond girl he was doomed.
So doomed.
Next Chapter: Either "With too much glasses of Scotch" or "With a night in Crazy Manor". See ya later, says your friendly Joker next door.
