…Still not owning. Beware the ensuing drama.
… … .. .
It was strange, definitely, to see Carlton so casual. Spiked hair, cheep sunglasses, blue jeans, and a collared shirt not buttoned all the way to the collar. Shawn's smile widened into a face-splitting grin at the sight and, with a whoop, they were headed out the door. Jules hadn't even known her partner owned a pair of blue jeans, but he was wearing the undeniable proof.
Shawn noted with some annoyance that they were all taking separate cars. Well, other than him. He slid in next to Lassiter, waving at Gus with a childish grin. The fake psychic muttered the directions to the bar he had selected for the night, singing 'following the leader' every chance in between. By the end of the ride, Lassie was gripping the steering wheel tightly, a pained expression of fury on his face.
"Give me my gun. I'm going to shoot you." He reached for the glove box.
"No! Lassies! I'm just not ready yet!" Shawn flailed about sporadically, effectively blocking the glove compartment.
"Not ready for what Spencer?"
Shawn wiggled his eyebrows teasingly and was promptly booted from the detective's car. Gus and Juliet both waited patiently as Shawn darted around the car and Lassiter pursued with empty threats. He finally pinned the psychic roughly to the hood of his car, breathing heavily through his nose. In spite of the pain in his shoulder from the graceless placement of his arm, Shawn was chortling madly. Gus coughed awkwardly into his hand and Lassiter let the younger man go with a begrudging growl.
With a wide grin, he led them into the bar. It was a nice place, not overly upscale, but far from seedy. It was also upbeat and full of young, happily-drunk people. Not exactly Lassiter's ideal bar, but he could ignore the music and have a drink. Gus spotted a lovely looking girl across the room and made his way over. Jules headed out onto the dance floor, enjoying the peppy music. Shawn's eyes followed her, but he stayed rooted in his spot.
"You can ask her to dance." Lasstier sighed as he started off to the bar, away from Spencer.
"I can't believe Gus just bailed on me." He hurriedly ignored the suggestion, following the detective. "We were all supposed to be hanging out.
"If you like her, at least ask her to dance." Carlton growled in annoyance, hoping to get to drink in peace. "You can't just not talk to her."
Shawn bit his lip, looking back at Lassie, who had finally caught a bartender's attention and was being served a scotch. Obviously he wanted to drink alone, or not with him at least. Glancing back at Jules, he noticed how she was dancing alone. At the very least, they could hang out and have fun, right?
He clapped Lassiter on the back, grinning as he decided to set out. "I'll be back. Don't drink yourself under the bar."
Said detective snorted, positive he didn't want to get drunk and leave his getting home safely to Shawn. The fake psychic made his way out to the dance floor and tapped Juliet on the shoulder.
"I'm sensing you don't have a dancing partner."
"Cute Shawn." She rolled her eyes, but agreed to dance with him. "I should have invited Luntz. Then I would have had someone to dance with and you could have kept hanging out with Carlton."
Shawn stopped dancing, looking slightly hurt. "You can't really be serious about that guy. You don't even call him by his first name."
"Shawn! That doesn't matter. And I am." She put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.
"Why can't we try-"
"No Shawn. We tried once. It didn't work out."
"Maybe we didn't try hard enough. We were too worried about it interfering with work. If we tried again, I'd be willing to stop consulting and just do my own thing." Shawn pleaded, reaching for her hand.
"Stop it Shawn." She pulled back. "We have more fun as friends. We just don't belong in a relationship. I'm sure you'll find some really nice person that you'll finally have a lasting relationship with, but that can't be me Shawn."
"But…Jules…"
"No Shawn." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I was hoping to have a good night tonight, without anything like this. I can't do this with you."
Shawn kept his mouth closed as she walked away. He turned towards the bar, rather than watch her walk out the door and leave. Sitting down next to Lassie, he ordered something strong and fruity and gulped it down bitterly. Lassiter looked over at him skeptically, resisting the urge to yank the drink from his hand and stop the binge before it started. Shawn set down the empty drink though and seemed disinterested in ordering another.
"So much for 'can't not talk to her' eh?"
"So?" He had to admit, he was curious about why his partner stormed off.
"So? So it didn't work. She's pissed at me. I should have known it wasn't worth the effort."
"No wonder she said no. You clearly don't give a damn and didn't try hard enough."
Shawn froze, knowing Carlton hadn't heard, but angry to have been slapped with his own words anyway. The slight buzz from the alcohol he just downed didn't help his judgment and he snapped his head to the side, glaring at the older man.
"Like you even know what it takes to get back the girl of your dreams. I should have known better than to listen to you for love advice."
"Excuse me?" Lassiter snapped, slamming his drink down.
People surrounding them stepped aside, but paid no heed to the elevated discussion forming. Shawn's hands were fisted at his side, his green eyes focused on Lassie's blue. Now that he started, he couldn't stop.
"I shouldn't take relationship advice from a man that not only ruined his marriage, but couldn't put it back together when he finally realized what he was missing. At least I knew what I was loosing when I stepped away from Jules."
"Look Spencer. I did my best with my ex. I loved her but she had moved on."
"Maybe you just didn't try hard enough. Or didn't love her enough. I didn't love Juliet. I STILL love her." He snapped bitterly, not thinking before he spoke.
Lassiter leaned back from Shawn, a cold look on his face. "You don't even know what love is Spencer. Get a ride from Guster. I'm leaving."
He placed the price of his drink on the bar and stormed off, out the front door. The bartender took the cash and glanced at Shawn, who shook his head, pushing off to find Gus. Said friend was chatting casually with another girl, who seemed mildly interested, but bored.
"Did you hear about that new planet they found? Pretty cool hu?" Gus nodded smoothly to the girl, who rolled her eyes and walked away.
"Gus. I need a ride home." Shawn mumbled.
"I though you were going with Lassiter?" He frowned, disregarding the girl who had shunned him.
"He left. So did Jules. I…yeah."
He sighed. "Yeah. You know I would."
"Thanks. Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna go get plastered."
With a shrug, Gus followed, mostly to make sure Shawn didn't hurt himself. It was bound to be a long night.
… ..
"Mmmh. Shanks fur being an awshome pal Gussy." Shawn mumbled as he leaned against the blueberry's window.
"Just don't vomit. This is a company car."
"We shuld buy one fur Pysch." He giggled lightly, watching lights stream by.
"We don't need one Shawn. Where am I taking you?"
"Lashies. I should 'pologish."
"That's a bad idea. You're drunk." He started that direction anyway.
"Yup. Ish why I drank sho mush. He'sh not sho scawy if I'm drunk."
"That is terrible logic Shawn."
"Yup. Shank you Gussy."
… ..
Lassiter groaned, climbing out of bed to answer the incessant pounding on the door. It was late. His clock read close to midnight. Gun in hand, he wrenched to door open, causing the psychic leaning on it to tumble inward. He barely caught Shawn before he hit the floor, a confused, agitated look on his face.
"Dats poor gun shafety Lashies." Shawn mumbled into the detective's chest, pointing the gun away from his stomach.
"Not if I plan to shoot you. What are you doing here? And drunk." Carlton wrinkled his nose at the heavy alcohol scent and glanced outside to see if Gus was around.
He wasn't.
"How long have you been outside?" He quickly followed up.
"Ah…hour I shink? Gussy dropped me off and I shold him to go. But I didn't know what to shay."
"You're an idiot." He decided, closing the door and leading Shawn to the living room.
After situating the drunken Psychic on his couch, he started for the kitchen, deciding water might help. Shawn grabbed his arm, only effectively stopping him because of surprise.
"Don't go yet. I'll forget what I wanted to shay."
"You're slurring Spencer. Don't worry about it." He hoped to get out of the awkward responsibility of caring for him soon.
"I'm sorry." Shawn whispered, slurs diminished with the volume. "You were right, sort of."
Carlton supposed that was the best he would get. As much as he didn't want to forgive Shawn, he knew where he was coming from. Nodding slightly, he continued into the kitchen and Shawn let him go, leaning back on the couch. When he returned, Shawn was snoring obnoxiously, laying on his back on the couch.
Lassiter shook his head, setting the water on the table and turning to Spencer. That wasn't really a safe position for a drunk. He leaned Shawn up on his side, tucking his arms around him to keep him propped up. Heading back into the kitchen, he grabbed a couple pots and headed back out. Looking at Shawn, he set a pot on the ground in front of him, to make clean up easier. Deciding it was, however, Shawn, he placed one at the end of the couch, in case he woke up and puked over the arm of the couch.
Once he was sure the psychic wouldn't do too much damage to himself, he threw a blanket over him and returned to his bed. With luck, he would wake up and it was a dream. Then he wouldn't feel guilty about Shawn getting drunk because of him.
… ..
When Lassiter was fully awake, showered, and armed, he headed into the living room. Shawn was sitting woozily on the couch, sipping at the glass of water. He headed into the kitchen to make coffee and eggs. Caffeine helped with some of the pain from headaches and breakfast would help with the nausea. He jumped when he heard the water turn on, and turned to see Shawn washing out one of the vomit buckets.
"Who's idea was it to put this at the end of the couch?"
"Mine. You're weird enough that you would vomit over my armrest."
"Hm. Sorry. About what I said and for showing up at your house drunk." Shawn shut off the water, turning to watch him prepare breakfast.
"You're not the first drunk I've dealt with." He shrugged. "And…I now how it feels to loose your temper when you're dealing with your love life."
"Thanks." He smirked, watching him. "I…uh…didn't do anything to weird last night…did I?"
"Not for you." Lassiter glanced over his shoulder, interested in what he thought would happen. "Why?"
"Oh…not reason. Sometimes spirits just find it easy to possess me."
"You can be possessed?" He turned around fully, a skeptical look on his face.
"Well…maybe more influenced than possessed." Shawn waggled his eyes, sashaying up to the detective. "I'm easy to influence."
"You're certainly easy." Lassiter shook his head, turning around to continue cooking.
"Jokes! Ow…" Shawn rubbed his head to relieve the throbbing his raised voice induced.
"That's why I was speaking softly." Lassiter informed him, grabbing plates to dump the scrambled eggs onto.
"Here I thought you were trying to seduce me." Shawn smirked, accepting his plate.
… ..
Lassiter folded the blanket up and set it on the end of the couch, content that everything had been cleaned. He could hear Shawn splashing about in the shower, singing a song about pineapple wine. He didn't bother hiding his smile as he sat down on the couch and leaned back, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure what it was that was making him smile, but he had a feeling the quiet morning had something to do with it. Shawn with a hangover was a quiet Shawn.
His phone started ringing, and he lazily brought it up to his ear, not bothering to open his eyes and check the caller-ID. "Hello."
"Detective Lassiter." Chief Vick's voice rang in his ear, causing him to sit up like a bolt.
"Chief. Is something wrong?"
"I'm afraid so. I hate to do this, but I need to cut your vacation short. I need you to come to a crime scene immediately. And see if you can't get a hold of Shawn or Gus. We need their help on this one."
"Yes Chief. We'll be there soon." He hung up, too overjoyed at his return to duty to realize what he said.
She, however, stared down at her phone, pondering the word we greatly.
"Hey Lassie?" Shawn called, stepping into the living room in just a towel. "Can you take me home so I can get clothes?"
"No time. Throw something of mine on." He called, heading into his room to grab a jacket and tie.
"Vick is letting you back on because of a tough case?" He followed, surveying the drawers and hangers for something acceptable.
"How did you?" Lasstier stopped, shaking his head. "Never mind. Yes."
"Cool." Shawn grabbed a small looking pink shirt and another of Lassiter's pairs of jeans.
"You never wear these things. Why do you even have them?" Shawn noted they were decidedly too small for the cop, but still too large for him.
"My wife bought them for me. Couldn't even remember my size." He growled, straightening his tie and leaving to room.
Shawn glanced down at the offending material, feeling slightly betrayed. He slipped them on though, knowing Lassie wouldn't wait for long. Stepping out into the living room, where Lassiter was tying on his shoulder holster, Shawn felt overdressed. He told himself it was just dress-up and he could work it in his favor, only to trip on the longer pant legs.
Carlton glanced up at him and noted the almost falling off clothes. Sighing, he headed back into his room and returned with a belt. As Shawn applied said belt and tucked his shirt in, Lassie knelt down to fold up the cuffs on the pants.
"Aww. Lassie. Worried I'll trip and hurt myself?"
"Even If I don't wear them, I don't want you ripping up the cuffs of any of my pants stepping on them." He kept his eyes down, ignoring how strange the scenario was.
Shawn had his shoes on shortly and Lassiter jumped in the car, turning the police scanner on for the first time in close to a week. Shawn was on the phone with Gus as they raced to the scene. He managed to reach it at the same time as them.
"Props man. That was quick."
"Please Shawn. I know these roads like the back of my hand."
"Really? Because I bet I know the back of your hands better than you do."
"Shut up." Lassiter growled, "And try to behave professionally."
Gus looked Shawn over, catching his arm to speak privately with him.
"Are you wearing Lassiter's clothes?"
"Yeah. Turns out his ex didn't know his size."
"Why the hell are you wearing his clothes?" He squeaked, watching the officers greet the detective warily.
"Well I didn't have a change of clothes at his house last night, Duh. And we were in a hurry this morning so he lent me some clothing and his shower. I couldn't come to a crime scene with paint still in my hair." Shawn rolled his eyes, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That's weird Shawn."
"Don't be one of those big eyed forest creatures that we saw on the nature channel the other day." Shawn huffed. "I steal your shirts all the time."
"I know that." Gus hissed.
"Is that what this is about? I'm not replacing you with Lassie."
"That's not what I think Shawn. Come on. We have to get inside."
Shawn frowned, but followed into the motel room. He quickly noted the red splatters on the door. Paint splatters in an 'X' pattern. The paint didn't continue onto the frame though, so the door was open when the perp put the 'X' there. There were no signs of struggle in the immediate entry way. The victim hadn't heard him enter the room, most likely.
Lassiter was frozen in place in front of the bed, where the two victims were laying. Juliet and several officers were staring at him, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment on his part. Shawn slid up next to him with Gus and froze too at what he saw. Gus turned away from all the blood, and imagined no one was willing to say anything because it may have still been too early for the pair to see something like that.
"Lassie." Shawn croaked. "This is bad."
Lassiter couldn't help but agree, but only because he was staring down at the bodies of the adulterous pair they had played paintball with the morning before. Juliet narrowed her eyes, glancing between Shawn on the bodies. Before she could speak, he was dragging on Gus and Lassiter's arms, backing them away from the other officers.
"What is bad Shawn?" Gus hissed, glancing back at the confused officers.
"We were playing paintball with these people the other day." Carlton growled, voice low.
"We could get kicked off the case if Vick gets word of that." Shawn explained quickly.
"So we should tell her!" Gus insisted.
"No. She just called us back." Lassie frowned. "We don't really have a connection to the case. But she might use it as an excuse…"
"Uh…Guys?" Juliet called, confused. "What's going on?"
"Nothing!" Shawn called merrily, breaking off. "Just discussing."
"What?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, again.
"Lunch. We're getting sick of Shenanigans."
"Spencer." Lassiter clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Chief Vick may have invited you, but I will kick you out of this crime scene."
"Hey…Uh...Shawn?" Buzz paused as he entered the room, multiple coffees in hand. "Why are you wearing Detective Lassiter's belt?"
All eyes turned to him, his belt, and subsequently Lassiter. Buzz hurriedly handed the coffee out, realizing his error once again. He hadn't meant to recognize his gift to the officer the Christmas prior, but he had. Lassie had fixed an annoyed look at him, but turned to the body.
"What do we know about the victims?"
"Ah…Not much we haven't found their IDs yet." One officer hurried.
While he went through his routine chewing people out, Shawn glanced over the bodies. Two shots, the first while they were cuddling, the second while pleading for her life. Something was very weird about the shots though. The bullet holes weren't like they should be. First they were unusually messy and large. Second, they were into the soft tissue at the side of the neck, severing the arteries and causing the bleed out.
He caught sight of a different shade of red and quickly checked the other wound visually. The blood had mostly hid it, but there was no mistaking that bright red. He leaned over to Gus, ensuring no one was watching.
"Hey Gus…How hard would it be to kill someone with and ice bullet?"
"It's ridiculous Shawn. The heat of the propellant used to force it out the barrel would melt it."
"But what if it were, like a paintball or something."
"Paintballs can break the skin at close ranges. Frozen ones could do real damage, but why would someone use a paintball to kill someone?"
"Don't know, but we're about to find out." He scooted himself into position, readying for the show. "Gah! C-c-cold…So cold."
A collective eye roll turned to witness the drama. Shawn had been starting to tone down his visions, but apparently was back at it, flopping about. The psychic raised his hands to cover his head.
"No! That hurts! It's wet! And icy! Gah! They're piercing my skin!"
"Is it hail?" Gus offered.
"Yes! Ah." Shawn shifted touching his temple and kneeling down. "Lincoln…no…Lennon…RFK? No that's not right…"
"All of them were assassinated!" Jules jumped on the train of thought. "Were the couple assassinated?"
"No…No…Oswald…"
"JFK?" Lassiter asked.
Shawn snapped his fingers and pointed at the detective. "That's right. JFK. He was assassinated with an ice bullet."
"He was not Shawn. That's just a crazy conspiracy." Gus huffed.
"Why is that the one conspiracy you don't believe?"
"It's ridiculous Shawn."
"No it isn't."
"Are you telling me you think the pair were shot with ice bullets?" Lassiter sighed, not really in the mood for more of these antics.
"Not ice. A frozen paintball."
… … .. .
So yeah. Soon we will be in the thick of the plot. Hope you're liking it so far.