Green stands for health and illness, Shassie

Warning: There is lots of puking in this story! Hehe, an unrealistic amount of puking

Dedicated to: I dedicate this one-shot to.....MEDICINE!! I was feeling sick today and had no medicine.....*sniff* But that is where this chapter came from\

Enjoy C:

Lassiter was mad.

Of course, Lassiter was mad a lot. He just didn't like people, and being around people made him mad. It was a vicious cycle that caused him to be mad all the time.

Today though, he was downright pissed.

Carlton Lassiter was the head detective at the Santa Barbara Police Department. He could not be sick. Well, he could, but he wasn't supposed to be.

Lassiter had never gotten sick before today, and he never wanted to be sick again.

He was seriously considering moving his bed into the bathroom so he would have easy access to the toilet. It seemed like every ten seconds he was barfing. But he really didn't have that kind of room in his bathroom, so he had to deal with the bad smell and keep a bucket by his bed.

A bucket that was already almost full with puke even though he had replaced it only an hour ago.

When the doorbell rang he groaned and had an overwhelming urge to shoot whoever was at the door.

He fell/rolled out of bed and shuffled towards the door. For once he wasn't in a suit, he was in a pair of flannel pajamas. Oh, and he looked absolutely horrible.

So, when he opened the door and it revealed Shawn Spencer, he had to use all his willpower to keep from shooting the psychic. This was definitely going to give Spencer a lot of stuff to tease him about.

"What the hell do you want Spencer?"

Shawn grinned sheepishly and to Lassiter's surprise he held up the bag he was holding in his hand.

"I brought soup."

Lassiter was about to slam the door in Shawn's face until he saw Shawn's hopeful eyes.

He blamed it on the sickness, but he let the younger man in.

As Shawn was taking a styrofoam bowl out of the bag Lassiter felt the now familiar feeling of bile in his throat. He ran to his bedroom (it was closer) and puked inton the bucket by the bed.

He was startled when he felt a hand on his back, but he didn't risk turning around for fear of puking on the floor.

Shawn rubbed circles into Lassiter's back as he puked and then dry-heaved. Apparently, the back rubbing helped though because Lassiter was done in about half the time it usually took him.

The exhaustion set in with a vengence and Shawn had to help the detective into his bed. Lassiter was asleep in seconds.

Shawn smiled and took the bucket away to empty it.

For the rest of the day Shawn was there to offer comfort whenever Lassiter woke up to puke, and to force Lassiter to eat in the hopes that some of the nutrients would be absorbed before they were brought back up.

When Lassiter finally fell asleep and didn't wake up to empty his stomach, Shawn didn't really know what to do.

Despite Lassiter's normal gruffness when Shawn asked the older man if he wanted him to leave he looked almost panicked.

That's why Shawn didn't want to leave.

Well, and he wanted to stay as long as he could.

But, he was tired. It was almost midnight and he had actually woken up early today. He thought about sleeping on the couch but then he wouldn't be able to hear Lassiter.

Finally, he just decided to lay in Lassiter's bed. Screw it, Lassiter was the one who wanted him here, so he could sleep in Lassiter's king sized bed if he wanted to.

And he really, really, really wanted to.

GreenGreenGreenGreenGreen

When Lassiter woke up he expected he would need to puke again, but surprisingly, he didn't.

In fact, he almost felt like his normal healthy self.

He went to sit up but he finally noticed the pseudo psychic. He had his head on Lassiter's chest, and to Lassiter's dismay, he had an arm around the younger man. Then, he got over the shock and smiled.

Shawn had stayed, and judging by the small smile on his lips, he had enjoyed it.

Lassiter tightened his arm around Shawn and pulled him a little closer. Shawn shifted and pressed himself closer to the older man.

For the first time in a very long time, Lassiter fell asleep with a smile on his face.

IllnessHealthIllnessHealthIllness

Lassiter was woken up when Shawn moved suddenly.

He opened his eyes and saw that the fake psychic was leaning over him and puking into the bucket that was still on the floor.

Lassiter was better, but now Shawn was sick.

Carfeul not to move Shawn so much that he would miss the bucket Lassiter moved into a position where he could rub the younger man's back. When Shawn was done he fell back into the older man's lap.

"Sorry." Lassiter said weakly.

Shawn shook his head. "I'm glad this happened. Kinda."

He smiled up at the detective and Lassiter rolled his eyes.

Then, ignoring Shawn's protests, he moved Shawn out of his lap and into a more comfortable position. Next, he got out of bed and went into the living room to find his phone. When he finally found it he called the police department.

He had planned on returning to work as soon as possible, but he decided he needed to stay home again today.

Shawn had nursed Lassiter back to help and now he would return the favor.

He walked back into the room and found Shawn pouting.

"What?"

Shawn sighed. "You have to go to work now don't you?"

Lassiter smiled and walked over to bed. Then, he crawled in and laid next to Shawn.

"No. I'm going to help get you better."

Shawn smiled and snuggled closer to Lassiter.

"Good."

Lassiter smiled and pressed a kiss into Shawn's forehead.

"Lips when I get better?" Shawn asked.

"Of course."

The younger man grinned, then turned green, and puked again.

Lassiter didn't really mind spending all day in in bed with Shawn, but he couldn't help but be eager for Shawn to get better.

Both for Shawn and himself.

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