After they're checked into a decent hotel, Lassiter braving the check-in desk despite the fact that he knows he looks completely disreputable, Shawn drags him into the shower.
"Why waste water? And then afterwards, maybe a post-sex sex nap."
"Post-sex sex?"
"Well, yeah. Obviously we're gonna do it again in the shower. Who passes up shower sex?"
Lassiter can hardly argue with that kind of logic.
Later, they're both stretched out on the bed, Spencer in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt with a pineapple wearing sunglasses on it and Lassiter in his pajama pants and an SBPD t-shirt. Shawn had gone across the street and gotten them hamburgers from a fast food place, and now they're watching iPaths to Love/i at Shawn's insistence. It all feels ridiculously domestic and way too good.
"Have you considered not going back?"
Lassiter is startled by the question, because, well, no, of course he hasn't thought about that. He has responsibilities in Santa Barbara, and he reaches for the remote to mute the TV before saying as much.
"I have a career there! And also a mortgage."
"I know," Shawn says, sounding a bit sad, "but there are other police stations, Lassie. Face it, you're never going to make chief as long as Vick is there. You might have a better shot somewhere else."
"I don't even know if that's what I want anymore," Lassiter admits. "Karen spends so much time pushing paper at her desk. I think I might hate that."
"Still," Shawn persists "there are plenty of police departments out there that would be happy to have you. With your case solve rate? They would totally overlook all the personality issues." Shawn says this with a wink and a grin, and while Lassiter feels like he should be offended, he chooses to ignore it, mostly because he has a sneaking suspicion that Spencer is right.
"And as for the mortgage," Shawn continues "does the family next door to you still want to expand? You know they have to want more room for that creepy demon kid of theirs. You could sell."
Spencer is right. There's nothing really tying him to Santa Barbara. At the same time, he does have a job and a home there, and he isn't sure he wants to give any of that up.
Lassiter reaches over and lays his hand on top of Shawn's, needing to establish some sort of connection before he attempts to dive into this topic.
"Shawn, why are you so reluctant to go back?"
Shawn bites his lip, looks everywhere but at Lassiter, and for a moment Lassiter is sure he's not going to answer, that he's going to brush off the question with a joke, so he's surprised when Shawn replies.
"I'm scared to go back."
"Scared of what?"
"Lassie, I can't shake the memory of what happened to my dad. I still have nightmares more nights than not. How much worse is that going to be back home, where everywhere I go will be a place I remember being with him? If I go home, I'll have to deal with his house and all his things, and all those memories that are sitting in the back of my brain waiting to be triggered. I don't think I can do it."
"Have you considered that maybe what you have to do is confront all those memories before you can move on?" Lassiter winces because he thinks he probably sounds like the therapist he occasionally visits at her most pedantic, and Spencer is bound to make fun of him for it, but Shawn only offers up a wan half smile.
"That sounds like a very responsible, grown-up thing to do, but as we've established in the past, I suck at being a grown-up."
"You wouldn't have to do it alone, Shawn. Guster would be there." Lassiter hates himself even as the words come out of his mouth. Man up, Detective, he thinks in disgust "Me too. I mean, I would be there too if you wanted me to be."
Shawn turns his hand palm up so that his fingers are laced with Lassiter's and squeezes hard, then pulls away and folds his arms across his chest.
"Oh, we're just scratching the surface of things I'm afraid of. I'm also scared of going back and running into Jules. Why should she be forced to see me again? It's a lot easier for her if I stay away."
Lassiter wants to be exasperated by this, since Spencer brought this particular situation on himself, but there's no denying the fact that with this newfound dimension to his own relationship with Shawn that the Juliet thing is awkward.
"Look, I don't think it would be as bad as you're thinking. Yeah, O'Hara was pissed and hurt, and she had good reason to be, but it was months and months ago, Shawn. She has a new career and a new life now. The last time I talked to her she told me she was worried about you. She's moved on. So," he says sternly, "don't use her as an excuse."
"There's also Gus. Not that I'm afraid of Gus!" he adds hastily, "I could totally take him in a fight and don't let him tell you any differently, Lassie. That time in eleventh grade was just a fluke. But I don't…I've been such an asshole. It wasn't just me who lost Psych, it was him too. Screwing up my life is, you know, my right, but I also screwed up his. Gus is too good of a person to ever hate me for any of that, but he probably should."
"Guster misses the hell out of you. He's lonely. And if he were here right now, he would tell you not to patronize him, that he knew what he was doing when he chose to be a part of Psych."
"Well," Shawn says, and he's smiling slightly but his voice is tight "you have an answer for everything."
Lassiter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I know it's not all as easy as I'm making it sound. I just want you to know that it's not impossible, and that I'll, you know, help if you want me to." Damn it, why is he so terrible at saying anything meaningful?
"I'm still so angry," Shawn says softly, and Lassiter turns to look at him more closely. His hands are clenched so hard that his knuckles are white. "I don't want to scare Gus by letting him see that side of me. I mean, he's seen me lose my temper before, obviously, but not this kind of long-term…" he trails off and turns to meet Lassiter's gaze.
"I'm still pissed at him." For a moment, Lassiter is confused, because why would Shawn be angry at Gus? But then he realizes that he's talking about Henry. "I don't like being so mad all the time. It messes with my mojo. How could he not have known? I grew up thinking he had to be the most amazing cop in the world, but he couldn't even tell that the guys working with him were a bunch of crooks. Maybe he deserved to get shot."
Lassiter stares at him, shocked "How can you say that?"
"Why shouldn't I? His own partner, his best friends on the force. How could he not know that they were dirty?"
"He trusted them, Shawn. Cops have to trust each other, or someone will get killed. You know that."
Shawn laughs bitterly "Yeah, and look how that turned out. He trusted them and someone did get killed. Him."
"I've thought about it a lot," Lassiter admits. "I don't know that I could ever suspect my partner of anything like that either."
"Yeah, but your partner was iJules/i. Of course she would never do anything like that."
"Exactly. Didn't you call your dad's partner Uncle Lou? He was like family to you and Henry. How could Henry ever have suspected him of covering up a murder? Accepting a bribe?"
Shawn sighs and rubs his hand over his eyes. "I know that. I do. But Henry was the one who taught me to be suspicious of everyone, that most people are capable of bad things if they're pushed hard enough, and he's the one who taught me to be observant about other people's behavior. There had to have been signs, but he missed them. He would have told me that I needed to take emotion out of the equation and look at the facts, but he couldn't do that himself."
"So Henry wasn't perfect," Lassiter says softly "big surprise. You have to forgive him for that. He was still a good cop, and a good friend, even if his trust was misplaced." He hesitates, then adds, "And while you're at it, forgive yourself too. You couldn't have known, Shawn."
"I should have known!" Shawn snaps, his voice choked with anger. "What good is my so-called fucking gift if I couldn't even use it to save my dad?"
"You didn't have all the facts! How could you have known? You're not actually psychic, Spencer, remember?"
"Thanks Lassie, that's really helpful."
Lassiter takes a deep breath, letting Shawn's sarcasm roll off of him, but even as he does, Shawn is standing up and pulling on a pair of jeans.
"I think I'm going to go for a walk."
"Shawn-"
Spencer holds up a hand to stop him from talking. "We're cool, Lassie. I just need some fresh air and some 'me' time, okay?"
"All right," Lassiter says carefully, watching as Shawn puts on his shoes. "Don't forget to take a key." Jesus, could he be more useless? He has no idea how to help Shawn through any of this, and now he's probably making it all even worse by saying things that are stupid and obvious.
But Shawn just flashes a quick smile and holds up a hotel key card. "Got it. I'll be back later, 'kay? Don't wait up for me."
And then he's gone.
After Shawn leaves, Lassiter numbly picks up the remote control and unmutes the television. iPaths of Love/i is still on, with some young idiot pledging his eternal devotion to the blandly pretty girl sitting next to him.
"I knew from the first moment I saw you, when fate brought you to my cash register and you ordered the grilled chicken sandwich, no mayo, extra pickles, that it was love at first sight. When I handed you your Diet Coke and our fingers touched, I knew we would be together forever!"
Lassiter snorts in disgust at the TV. "Stalker," he mutters under his breath, while at the same time there's a clip of the girl sitting alone saying "I admit, when Jeremy said all that stuff about the chicken sandwich and the Diet Coke I thought it was kind of creepy, but it is sweet that he remembered my order. The idea of love at first sight is so romantic!"
What a bunch of crap. The closest thing he's ever experienced to love at first sight was what he had with Marlowe, and even that was probably closer to lust at first sight and a lot of wishful thinking. In the end that connection had proven to be far more fleeting than he had hoped, the relationship unable to stand up to reality.
With Victoria, while it wasn't love at first sight, there had certainly been a strong mutual attraction: the poor little rich girl who wanted to be rescued from her overbearing father and the young cop who saw himself as her knight in shining armor. There was certainly a lot more to their relationship than that, and they had shared some good years together before it all went to hell, but there was no fairy tale ending to keep them together happily ever after.
And now there's Shawn, and whatever they have together, it definitely hadn't started with love at first sight. More like violent dislike at first sight, followed by years of grudging acceptance. Only that had changed a long time ago, hadn't it? Lassiter wasn't sure when the grudging acceptance had given way to a certain amount of admiration, even fondness, and yes, a healthy dose of sexual attraction, hidden beneath layers of macho bullshit and self-preservation.
Because he always knew that if he ever really let himself give in to just how much he liked Spencer, then…well, then he would be in the situation he was in now, where he feels like Shawn has the power to crush him with a word. Is this love? It feels more like some sort of torture dreamed up by his enemies. Back in Santa Barbara, before Henry died, before Shawn left, it had been easy to keep all of these feelings carefully repressed. It wasn't as if he was the most self-reflective guy on earth, after all, and he had always been so busy with work. It's a lot harder to ignore all of these obnoxious feelings here so far from home, with nothing to focus on but Shawn. Harder also to ignore the feeling that nothing he does is going to have any meaning if he doesn't have Shawn in his life.
Goddamnit, he's in love.
Somehow, Shawn Spencer had slipped through the bars of the steel cage that Lassiter imagined around his heart.
Shawn might not even come back, he realizes with something like terror. He could have already charmed someone into giving him a job in one of the tourist trap restaurants littering the area, or even worse, gotten a ride out of town from a friendly stranger. Stop it, he thinks to himself. If he can't trust Spencer to come back when he says he will, then this whole thing is definitely doomed.
It's a little more than three hours later when Shawn returns. Lassiter has been lying in bed with the TV on, though he can't remember anything he watched. When he hears the door opening, he closes his eyes to feign sleep, because he doesn't want Shawn to think he was waiting for him or anything (well, and he also reaches over to the nightstand to put his hand on his Derringer, just in case it's not Shawn at the door. You can never be too careful).
He can hear Spencer kick off his shoes, shuck his jeans, turn off the television, and finally climb into bed next to him. Lassiter is on his side with his back to Shawn, and Shawn spoons up behind him, wrapping an arm around him and splaying a hand across his chest.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," he whispers against Lassiter's neck, and Lassiter shivers from the sensation of Shawn's lips just barely grazing his skin. "I don't know if I can face going home yet. But I'm crazy about you, Lassie. I have been practically since the day we met. Like, I'm Lloyd Dobler and you're Diane Court kind of crazy about you."
Lassiter huffs out a breath in exasperation, trying to hide the fact that his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. "I don't know who those people are, Spencer."
He can feel Shawn smile against his skin. "We have GOT to work on your movie education. First up, a John Cusack marathon. What I was trying to say – before I was so rudely interrupted – is that I'm not ready for this to be over in a week."
"Me neither," Lassiter says softly.
"Good," Shawn says, and Lassiter can tell that he's still smiling. "I'll figure something out. I'm better at making spontaneous decisions than long-term planning anyway."
