Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Psych-Os like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Through season six finale

Chapter Fourteen: Whirlwind

"The bear…is giving me the stink-eye."

Juliet giggled. "He might be a little bit jealous. When I needed to snuggle, I used to turn to him."

She yawned, stretched, and cuddled closer to him. He hugged her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "This is some sort of hallucination, isn't it?" he asked. "Right now I'm lying in a hospital bed with a bullet in my brain from the gun of some scumbag drug dealer, and as the trauma team works to save me I see this instead of the white light and long-dead relatives other near-death whackadoos get."

"No, this is not an hallucination. No, you are not dying. This is real, Carlton."

"Well, assuming that's true and not just another part of the hallucination, then it can only mean that you, my darling girl, have lost your mind. I suggest you immediately make an appointment with a qualified psychiatrist, you clearly need to get started on some powerful anti-psychotics as soon as possible."

"It's interesting that you'd say that when I'm involved with you, but you never said a word about my being crazy, even in jest, when I was involved with Shawn."

"Because, even if I'd said it in jest, it would have done nothing but offend you. I figured I was doing a good enough job of that without it."

"You were looking out for me, best you could in the face of my rampaging stupidity. I appreciated it, even when you were annoying."

"Liar. And quit ragging on yourself."

"Only if you stop, first. I'm here, Carlton, we're here, and I'm not crazy or making a mistake." She rolled over on top of him and took his face in her hands. "This is going to work. I know that's kind of a snap decision to come to, after only one real date, but I've known you for seven years and I know in my heart that this is where I belong. Trust it."

"Then why did you keep the giant snuggle-bear?" Carlton asked, clearly endeavoring to give her the puppy-dog eye.

She burst out laughing and collapsed onto his chest. "If the bear bothers you, I'll get rid of it."

"Nah, I'm just a territorial male. I'll learn to share my hunting grounds with another predator - as long as he doesn't mess with me, 'cause if he does then it's on."

"Great. My boyfriend is going to wage some big vendetta against a stuffed polar bear."

"No, I was joking, actually."

"I know, Carlton. I was playing along."

"Oh. I might have been able to tell if I weren't still completely blown away by the fact that your stuff is here in my condo, which is no longer my condo, it's our condo."

"Blown away in a good way, I hope?"

"Oh, in a very good way," he said fervently. "In fact I believe I was blown in two or three very good ways tonight. I hope I managed to reciprocate."

"I believe you did, Sir."

"Give me a couple of hours and maybe I can give you a certainty."

She grinned, nuzzled his chest, and kissed him. "You're more than welcome to, but rest assured I was certainly blown away. Three times, in fact."

"Not bad for an old guy, I guess. I'll try harder next time."

"Oh, you're welcome to try as hard as you want. Every time you top yourself we'll both win."

He smiled and traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder with one finger. "You know we're going too fast, right? Yes, we've known each other for seven years, but in that time you've rolled your eyes at me so often that I have real fears they're going to roll right out of your head one of these days."

"What woman doesn't spend ninety percent of her time rolling her eyes at the antics of her man? Of all men, actually. Even at your worst, you're not that bad."

"Not that bad for a guy you spend eight to sixteen hours a day at work with, maybe really freakin' bad for a guy you then proceed to go home with at night."

"I'm not scared. Your off-duty personality shows definite signs of being considerably less eye roll-worthy than your on-duty personality, at least as long as I can ensure that you're nice and relaxed and thoroughly well-sexed - which I believe I can."

"Oh, please do."

There ensued a brief interlude of heavy petting that ended only because both parties were thoroughly exhausted from a long day of sex and moving house. Juliet drowsed on his shoulder, thinking conversation was at its end for the night, until he spoke.

"We still don't know how we'll handle the whole…professional…aspect of this relationship," he said. "Or maybe it would be more accurate for me to say that we don't know how I'll handle it. Are you at all afraid I'll screw things up?"

"In what way?"

"In any way. In all ways. Even if Vick doesn't have a problem with the idea of us being both professional and personal partners, it's going to take some finesse to convince her that we can actually handle it in a practical sense - and finesse isn't exactly my strong suit. Then, too, you know I'm probably going to get a bit overprotective of you. I won't be able to help it; I know you're a competent officer and tough enough to take care of yourself, but I haven't been this happy since…ever, maybe, so I'm going to get paranoid. More paranoid."

"We'll sort it out. On Monday we'll talk to Vick, tell her what's happening. If she wants to split us up then I suppose she'll split us up, but I actually think she's got a lot invested in keeping us together - we do work together pretty damned well, if I do say so myself. As for your paranoia, well, we're partners, we're supposed to look after each other - you're just going to have to keep your paranoia in check enough to let us do our jobs."

"I hope I'm capable of it."

"You are. I have faith in you."

"That makes one of us."

She traced the lines of his collarbone and pectoral muscles. "How can you be such a brash man and still have so little self-confidence?"

"I lost half of it in the divorce settlement."

"Was that a joke?" she asked. "Because it sounded serious."

"Take it as a joke with a grain of truth."

"Poor baby. You've had it rough."

"Maybe a little bit, here and there. Things are looking up, though."

"Yes, they are, because I'm going to spend the rest of the foreseeable future making sure you're happy."

A half-bashful smile split his lips. "Likewise."

Eventually they both slept, and spent the next day together finishing the move from Juliet's apartment to Lassiter's condo. He offered to let her swap out his furniture for her own, but with only a few exceptions - small pieces like the jewelry armoire her mother gave her, and her wicker rocking chair - she elected to leave it behind. With a few brightly-colored throws and a couple of nice Moroccan rugs to offset the nearly monochromatic design scheme she found the place quite invitingly livable, even with the picture of the uzi sprouting a spray of flowers on the wall and the hand grenade-shaped candles on the sideboard. They finished in time for lunch, stuffed grape leaves and falafel at a Mediterranean restaurant Juliet liked, then settled in at home for a House marathon for which neither of them really had much attention to spare.

"Four wrong guesses and a Code Blue," Lassiter growled during one of those intermittent moments when they actually watched the show. "Every damned time. It would remind me of Spencer, if Spencer was smart enough to be a doctor."

Actually, apart from his dishonesty and willful rebellion against authority and maturity, the cranky doctor with the gimpy leg reminded Juliet more of Lassiter than Shawn, although granted that was eliminating the better part of the character's personality. She opted not to say anything, and instead she asked, "You don't think Shawn is smart?"

"I prefer to think of Spencer as an idiot savant - emphasis on idiot."

Soon enough their attention wandered away from the screen again. "Nervous about tomorrow?" Lassiter asked after a long, leisurely interval.

"Not too bad. I'm less worried about Vick than Shawn, to be honest with you. I hope he steers clear for awhile."

"I wonder if we could ever be that lucky."

"Well, we're going to have to find some way to work with him, sooner or later. I just hope he can put his ego aside long enough to manage it."

"As pissed off as Vick was after he showed up at the station with McNab's bullhorn, we might not have to worry about it for awhile."

"I suppose there's no point worrying about it until it happens anyway," Juliet said. She yawned and stretched. "I'm getting sleepy. It's been a wild couple of days."

"Dinner and then bed?" he offered. "I could whip up a pot of spaghetti, or make us a couple of burgers if you'd rather have something quicker."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not especially."

"Neither am I. How about we just hit the hay?"

"Sounds good to me. I can make us omelets for breakfast."

"Green peppers?"

"You know it."

"Deal."