A/N: Don't get too excited…I don't have my computer back yet – though it is safely in the hands of the Geek Squad at Best Buy – I'm just using the free time I don't really have in between writing my Anthro paper and doing my Sociology homework to type this out. A whole lot of this story is now scribbled in a notebook. I don't know when I'll actually get my computer back, and I really don't have much free time – it took me three days to type this chapter out, if that gives you an idea – but I will try my hardest to keep my updates at least semi-reliable. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter Seven: The Greatest Puzzle of All
Still Gus' View…
"Shawn," Gus began, not three seconds after he'd demanded that Shawn keep on rolling with the blabbering.
"You know, at this rate, we may very well be here forever." The pineapple-loving man couldn't help but mock his friend's seeming inability to make up his mind. "Seriously, you're worse than Patrick with your decision making."
"Patrick?" The bald man got distracted from whatever it was he was going to say. Shawn was good at distracting people – be it intentional or not.
"Dude…" Shawn dragged out, "The slightly brain dead starfish from Sponge Bob Square Pants?"
"That stupid cartoon you Tivo?" The man on the other end of the phone snorted in an oddly sophisticated manner. "Please. My taste in television is a little more mature than that."
"This coming from the guy who pouted for a month when he missed American Duos." Shawn's snort was significantly less sophisticated, but he was pretty sure he got his point across.
"Hey," Gus snapped, "It was the finale, Shawn. The finale. And you made me miss it."
"We had a case," the other man pointed out. "And you're the one who forgot to Tivo it."
"I had a season pass set up," Gus reminded angrily, "Someone messed with the plasma."
"Can you blame me for wanting to know what would happen if I pressed all the red buttons on the remote at the same time?" Which, to him at least, was a very legitimate question.
"Yes." Gus answered snippily, but then took a deep breath and Shawn was sure that, for now at least, that particular remembrance would be left in the past. "And, all I was going to say…"
"Yes, Patrick?"
Shawn knew that Gus was being serious when he ignored the quip. The following serious voice – the damn thing should have a patent, really – make it painfully obvious as well.
"…you know that you're dad was wrong, right?" And Shawn let the contradictoriness of that sentence go, just because he knew where the other man was headed with this. "About everything that he said."
"God knows you already haul Gus all over the damn place…Really? And he thanks you for that, does he?"
Shawn had to admit that that bit of his father's rant had hit…okay, that was a lie. The whole thing hit pretty damn close to the bone – emotionally speaking. But bringing Gus into it was an extreme – and never seen before – low.
He had, in truth, been hoping that by sharing that part of the story, he would get some kind of reassurance from his life-long partner in crime. Because, with Gus, silence on an issue always pointed towards something bad and dreadfully foreshadowingish. Which, granted, wasn't a word. But it should be.
So when Shawn spoke again, it was lightly and gratefully. "Yeah, buddy, I know."
"Good." His normal, not-so-serious-but-kind-of-clipped-from-impatience voice returned. That was all that needed to be said on that subject, really. "Now, can we get back to this story before we get too much older?"
"Gus…" Shawn smiled genuinely, even if his friend couldn't see it, he had a feeling that it was audible in his tone, "We're never gonna get old."
Still Six Days Ago…
Back at Shawn's apartment, the pseudo-psychic was feeling much better about life in general than he had been a few hours previously – thanks in large part to the hot shower he'd grabbed the second he'd made it through the doorway, the old T-shirt and boxers he was now sporting and the presence of a certain detective.
That detective, by the way, was now hearing exactly why and how everything would turn out alright.
"My dad'll get over it," Shawn was saying, "He'll apologize…maybe. Probably."
"I can't believe you're defending him." Lassiter shook his head as he took a seat next to his lover on the couch. "After he-"
"He just doesn't do well with change." Shawn interrupted before that thought could be completed. He himself didn't want to get into the deep, psychological issues behind his current choice of words.
"Is that…" and for probably the first time the younger man could remember, Lassiter's voice sounded almost tentive, "…why it took him so long to get divorced?"
Shawn felt fondly for his lover just then, knowing that – for whatever insane reason – his personal history had become somewhat of an interest for the older man. But still, he said only, "Kinda…that's a much longer story."
Lassiter nodded, seemingly accepting that answer, before letting his head fall back on the couch he was seated on and groaning marginally. "So…" he began, "what are the chances the whole police force heard…about us?"
"Seventy-thirty," Shawn answered lightly, at once. "Depending on how much of an echo there really is in that hallway." He smiled as he moved in closer to his lover.
"Seriously?" Lassie responded in that typical Lassie way. See; dryly.
Shawn tried, for the sake of all things grown-up, to remember that Lassie really did have a job and a reputation at that place and while the fake psychic may not care – or believe it important – what other people thought, Lassiter was not him.
The older detective was very set in his ways, very fond of his routines. Shawn couldn't blame him for caring.
"Some people heard, Lassie," Shawn made an effort to keep his voice calm and level – not something he attempted often or in a non-mocking manner, but he was trying. That was the best he could do. "But I think it was just a few rookies."
"And the chief."
Shawn couldn't help but roll his eyes – though in his defense, he kept it only semi-mocking dramatic. "The chief doesn't care."
"Your dad does," the older man said again.
"He's not gonna tell anybody." Shawn pointed out, shaking his head. "Like I said, Lassie, he'll get over this. The chief's not gonna give a crap. No one else knows or cares if they do." He took a deep breath. "Don't worry, man, everything will be fine."
Lassie snorted, but reached a hand out and lightly grabbed Shawn's, "That's what you think about everything."
The younger man smiled, "And have I been wrong yet?"
"Just because the world doesn't end, doesn't mean that everything's fine." There was an almost playful quality to his words, but Shawn could sense the seriousness, the worry and even the fear, leaking through in tiny increments.
Thus he tried very hard to replicate Lassie's playful, almost careless tone, and leave the rest alone. Because who really needed any of that, anyway? "It means you're worrying about nothing."
He took a deep breath and had the sudden inclination to rest his head on the taller man's broad shoulder – and he didn't fight it. "We're here. We're all right. We've got each other…" Shawn realized how sappy and out-of-character this sentiment was becoming and decided quickly to do something to rectify that. "…and pineapples and Sponge Bob Square Pants and alcohol. Plus, the bad guys are in jail. It's fine."
Lassiter just grunted.
Shawn sighed a sigh that wasn't quite the one he detested with a passion, but it was close. Too close, really, but he could just chalk it up to extenuating circumstances and what he was about to say. "If it makes you feel any better… I haven't told Gus yet."
Lassie started a little, "About us?" He seemed surprised at first when Shawn nodded, but went on to say, "And how exactly would that make me feel better Not that I need something to make me feel better, as it is. I'm not a child."
"Of course not," Shawn's smirk was fleeting. "And I just meant…I haven't even told Gus yet. I hate that my dad found out just as much as you do."
Shawn felt Lassiter's chest deflate as he let out a deep gulp of air. The younger man lifted his head and eyed his lover. Lassie looked a mix of sad, affectionate and trying so hard to keep his stoic mask of…stoicism in place.
"How's your neck?" Were somehow the words that made it out of the older man's mouth.
Shawn smiled. "I've had worse." He shrugged. "How's your gun hand?"
"I…probably shouldn't have shot him, huh?" And if he hadn't looked so guilty and humbled – not two things you ever saw on the Irishman often – just then, Shawn might had to have laughed at him.
But all he managed was to reach up and fist the front of his T-shirt lightly, pulling just hard enough to get his point across.
They leaned in together and kissed in a lightly intense manner, where they both knew they wanted it and they both knew how bad, but they had the time they were willing to take to examine and appreciate that want in full.
"Thank you," Shawn mumbled between their kisses, "For catching the bad guy."
Lassie chuckled; Shawn felt it deep in his chest and couldn't quite fight the urge to sigh slightly, contently, as it reverberated through his chest. They resumed their kissing and soon the older detective was pulling the younger one on top of him, leaning back against the couch, positioning them horizontally.
Shawn loved the feel of another man beneath him, and in fact, was quite disappointed that it had taken him so many years to figure out that this was what he wanted. See, the playful young man had always loved sex, and he'd always had it with women because that was just… how it was.
What he'd never understood was why the women always seemed to get more out of the sexual encounters than he did. Sure, he'd always found them fun, enjoyable – he was a flirter by nature and it felt good when that paid off. But he'd never put any real stock in relationships – what they meant on any level past that of a physical one.
Turns out that he'd just never considered exactly what it felt like to be this close to man. There were no soft, delicate curves here. No instinctual want or need to be gentle.
Lassiter was all hard planes and rough dips and incredibly angular angles. And Shawn loved every second of it. Every inch of it. Because he'd finally found what he'd been missing.
And if his father, the chief, Juliet, the police force as a whole or even Gus couldn't understand that – this – than that was okay. That was fine. He could deal. He'd dealt with worse throughout the course of his life, and this time he had Lassie here to keep him tethered to reality.
With a sudden realization that wasn't really all that sudden, Shawn figured it out. He pieced it together like the magnificent puzzle it was and could finally see the whole picture that it presented.
Carlton Lassiter was stability. A strong foundation. Something he could lean against and admit needing and wanting and having in a way that was so much different from anything he'd ever experienced before.
In one brilliantly clear moment – an euphony, if you will – he understood. He understood why Gus kept dating, why he went through all the drama and uncertainty to try and find again what he'd had in college with Sara. He understood why his father wasn't satisfied with memories alone. Why one-night stands weren't all that he needed after all.
He'd just stumbled across an understanding of the greatest mystery of life. And this puzzle reaped a larger foundation of rewards than he had ever before experienced.
Because Shawn Spencer just figured out that he was in love with Carlton Lassiter.
Breaking their kiss to study the face of the man who had aided him in his revelation seemed the most natural thing to do at that moment. Breathing labored, lips swollen and parted, Lassie stared back for several lifelong seconds before asking – mumbling – almost – completely and totally – gently, "What?"
Shawn smiled. He didn't grin or smirk or quirk an eyebrow or make a funny face – he smiled, and spoke the only word that would come to him, "Bedroom?"
And all was right with the world – every crisis averted, every tragedy irrelevant and every single human being on the planet as happy as he was at that very moment – when Lassiter whispered hoarsely,
"Yes."
End Chapter.
