Shawn did fall asleep almost immediately after Lassiter left, waking up disoriented and confused a few hours later to find a nurse checking his bandages.
It all came back to him in a rush, the shooting and the abduction, the terrifying hours in which he thought he might actually die, the car chase and Lassiter calling him "Detective," a memory that made him smile for a moment until he also remembered that Lassiter was ready to wash his hands of their entire relationship.
Maybe he should be grateful. The whole thing with Lassiter, it was too scary and strange, too intense, particularly in the weeks since Lassiter had revealed that he knew that Shawn wasn't psychic. Shawn had been trying to work up the courage to end it himself, but he kept coming back to the fact that he didn't want to. He liked the time they spent together too much. And that brought him full circle to being scared again.
It made him think of his mom, who had left, and his dad, who had rejected everything that Shawn wanted his life to be in order to try and re-create his own life, only better. If there was one lesson that Henry had taught him that had stuck, it was to not trust other people. Gus was the only person he had ever completely broken that rule for, and he was the only one who had really stuck by him no matter what, even after the secrets Shawn had kept from him. So he wasn't surprised that Lassiter couldn't deal with the reality of being involved with him, but knowing that the end was coming didn't make him any less sad.
The nurse asked him a few questions to establish that he was coherent after the concussion he had received, and he answered straightforwardly, too tired to even make jokes, which usually came as natural to him as breathing.
"Good," she said, pleased with his responses, as she moved to adjust a monitor. "You're friends were very worried about you, Mr. Spencer. Your father said to tell you that he would be back in the morning, as soon as visiting hours start."
Shawn nodded, the pain medication already starting to pull him back under. His last thought before he fell asleep again was that he wished he hadn't fucked everything up.
**
Henry insisted that Shawn come stay with him for at least a few days once he was out of the hospital, and while Shawn argued, he was secretly a little relieved, because his whole body still ached and it might be nice to have someone to help him out for a day or two, even if it was his dad. Madeline had come and visited him in the hospital, and helped get him settled at Henry's house when he was released, before she had to go back to work. It had been nice to see her, both because he hadn't seen her in a while and because since the divorce, Henry was usually on his best behavior around her, meaning he didn't complain nearly as much.
Now that it was just him and his dad again though, both of their tempers were starting to fray. The evenings were better, because Gus would come over after work and hang out, but even just two days alone with his dad was making him crazy, especially since he didn't have anything better to do than replay those last moments in the hospital with Lassiter over and over in his head. He cringed a little at how drama-queeny he must have sounded throwing Lassie out of the room before he could say that he wanted to break up with Shawn. It wasn't as if the words themselves made any difference; Lassie hadn't been by to visit again, and Shawn hadn't expected him to come.
It didn't help on the second night at his dad's house when Henry said out of nowhere, "I'm sorry about you and Lassiter."
"It's cool," Shawn said, in a tone that suggested that it was not cool at all. "I knew that Lassie and I were just a short-term thing. Besides Pop, you would flip out if I ended up with someone like that. I'll find myself some nice girl when I'm ready to settle down. Which will not be anytime soon."
"Please," Henry snorted, "you would eat someone nice for breakfast."
"Hey, I'm nice!" Shawn protested, wounded.
"No, you're good. You're a good person, kid, and you try to do the right thing. But you're also a stubborn, bullheaded jackass who always thinks he's right."
"Gee, thanks, Dad," Shawn said. "Have I mentioned how much I love this enforced bonding time?"
"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. All I'm saying is that you don't need someone nice. You would bulldoze right over them."
"Gus is nice, and I don't...I mean, sure, sometimes I give him a little push when he needs it, but I don't..." He paused and frowned, glaring at Henry. "I'm nice!" he said belligerently.
"Calm down, kid. It's not an insult. I'm just saying that you're strong-willed, and you need someone equally strong-willed to stand up to you when you're being an ass."
"I think you might want to re-evaluate what you consider an insult," Shawn muttered.
"My point," Henry said loudly, "is that Carlton is a good man, and a good cop, and he can be almost as much of a stubborn ass as you can be. I can see how he might be good for you."
Shawn frowned. "He's not broccoli, dad. I didn't start sleeping with him because he provided daily nutrients."
"Shawn, would you give it a rest?" Henry said, his tone laced with impatience. "What I'm trying to say is that while I was surprised at first that you were dating a cop, if you wanted to pursue something with Lassiter, I would support you."
"So what is this, are you giving us your blessing? That's sweet, Pop, but since Lassie can barely bring himself to look at me right now, it's a little too late."
"And who's fault is that, Shawn? Huh?" Henry snapped.
Shawn leaned his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. His shoulder was throbbing and his head hurt, and he wished that he could wake up and find out that the past week had been a dream.
Henry sighed, and in a much calmer voice he said, "I've watched you mope around the house for the past two days, looking like you lost your best friend. Only, I know that's not the case because Gus was here last night and ate all of my ice cream."
"Would you stop bitching about that? He said he'd buy you some before he comes over tonight."
"That's not the point, Shawn! A man has a right to find the ice cream that he bought for himself waiting for him in his freezer when he expects it! I wanted some Cherry Garcia last night and..." Henry stopped and took a deep breath, visibly pulling himself together. "Never mind. I didn't raise you to be a quitter, Shawn. God help me, I can't believe I'm saying this, but if you want Lassiter, go after him."
Shawn didn't move from his spot on the couch, but he felt all the antagonism drain out of him, only to be replaced with sadness. He wasn't going to embarrass either himself or Lassiter by pursuing something that Lassiter didn't want. "It's not that easy, dad. But thanks."
Henry sighed and stood up. "Fine, kid. Just sit here and brood. You'll never get anything you want that way."
Which was when Shawn decided that it was time for him to go back to his own apartment. He stayed for one more night, watching movies with Gus, and went home the next day, happy to be back in the familiar confines of Mee Mee's Fluff and Fold.
The only problem with being back at his place was all the little reminders of Lassiter lying around. While they hadn't spent quite as much time at his apartment as they had at Lassiter's, particularly over the past couple of weeks when Shawn had been trying to figure out if he wanted to end the relationship before he was in any deeper, there were still obvious signs that Lassie had spent time there, from his favorite beer in the refrigerator to the crisp white shirts hanging from the spinner in the front room to the tie draped over the headboard of the bed, which, along with the jar of lube on the nightstand, Shawn kind of hoped Juliet and Gus hadn't noticed.
His phone rang, and when he pulled it out of his pocket he was mildly amused to see that it was Juliet; it was as if thinking about her had conjured her up.
"Hi Jules," he said as he answered, "please tell me you have a case. I'm bored."
"No cases," she said firmly. "There's no way that Vick is going to hire you until after you've had a chance to heal."
"I got shot! Haven't I been punished enough?"
"I don't think that argument is going to work on the Chief. However, if you wanted to come by the station and say hello to Carlton—"
"No," he said automatically, his stomach doing flip-flops at the thought. "Besides, if he wanted to see me, it's not like I've been hard to find the past few days."
She sighed. "He told me that the last time you saw him at the hospital, you told him to get out. Is that true?"
"Yeah, but…"
"Shawn, you know how stubborn he is. If you told him to leave you alone, then he's going to do that for as long as you allow it to go on."
Shawn remained silent, because he knew she was right but he didn't want to admit it. Besides, wasn't Lassiter supposed to be the mature one? Oh god, what if neither of them was the mature one?
"Anyway," Juliet said, her tone a little kinder, "the reason I called was to see how you were feeling, and if you were up to having lunch with me today."
"I'm better," he said, "and Gus and I are going to lunch at the burger place near the pier. You should join us."
"Sounds good," she agreed.
Almost as soon as he hung up with her, Gus called to say that he was going to be late, so Shawn ended up taking a cab to the restaurant to meet Juliet, which was a pain; he was used to being able to get around on his own, but he couldn't ride his bike with his arm in a sling.
She already had a table on the patio for them when he arrived, and she stood up to give him a gentle hug.
"How are you feeling really?"
"I'm good, Jules. There's no way one little bullet wound could keep me down."
"Shawn, you can tell me the truth."
He shrugged uncomfortably then winced; even shrugging with his good shoulder hurt. "The truth is that basically my entire upper body feels like I went ten rounds with Mike Tyson back in his ear-biting days, but I am way too macho to admit to that."
"Noted," she said gravely, "so I'll change the subject: were you ever going to tell me that you were dating my partner?"
"Um, I don't know if you would really call it dating," he said awkwardly, "and are you sure you wouldn't like to talk about last night's episode of American Duos or something?
"No, I think I want to talk about this," she said, and Shawn's heart sank as he realized that she had her implacable cop face on, though it disappeared momentarily as she sweetly smiled at the waiter who came to take their order.
"I'm sorry we kept it a secret from you, Jules. We were trying to keep it just between us. You finding his stuff in my apartment was not how either of us meant for you to find out."
"I know that, Shawn. I understand why you were keeping it private. What I don't understand is what's going on between you now. You know how much he cares about you, don't you? The only question in my mind is wondering how much you care about him."
Shawn looked down at the glossy menu in front of him, unwilling to meet her eyes. "I…it doesn't matter. It wasn't anything serious. Honestly, I think we were both surprised that it lasted as long as it did."
She made a sound of frustration, and he looked back up at her to see that she was glaring at him in a way that she normally reserved for criminals and people who broke in line in front of her when she was waiting for coffee.
"Can't you tell psychically how Carlton feels about you?" she asked.
"It doesn't work that way, Jules. Lassie is all closed off and manly and repressed...well, maybe not as repressed as he used to be, but psychically repressed. And I think the sternum bush might be a barrier to my powers."
"But Shawn," she said, frowning, "I've seen you use Carlton during your visions dozens of times. How did that happen if he's psychically repressed?"
"Uh, it's different when you're personally involved with someone. The spirits consider it cheating."
"Okay, assuming that's true," she said, ignoring his sound of outraged protest, "you're still a very perceptive person, Shawn. Are you really telling me that you can't see how strongly Carlton feels about you?"
Shawn sighed and kicked at the table leg. He was starting to regret agreeing to have lunch with her. "Jules, it's complicated. Look, before this," he said, pointing to his sling, "I know that Lassie...tolerated me. Tolerated me better than he tolerates most people. Maybe, possibly, even liked me a little, especially when we both had our clothes off. But he and I agreed from the beginning that we were just, you know, blowing off some steam."
Juliet stared at him in disbelief. "I'm surrounded by idiots," she said, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.
"Tell me about it," Gus agreed as he walked over to their table, just as Juliet's phone vibrated. She pulled it out and read the text she had received, standing as she did.
"I'm sorry guys, I have to go. Carlton just arrested a suspect in the State Street robberies and he wants me there for the questioning." Her phone vibrated again and she sighed. "Correction: he wants me there five minutes ago. For some reason," she said, glaring at Shawn, "he's been extra cranky this week."
"I can't be held accountable for Lassie's mood swings!" Shawn said defensively, and Gus and Juliet shared disquietingly identical eyerolls.
"Will you try and talk some sense into him?" Juliet said to Gus as she started to walk away.
"I can't work miracles," Gus said, "but I'll try."
He sat down in Juliet's vacated seat, but before he could say anything, Shawn held up a hand to forestall any conversation. "Can I at least enjoy my lunch without any discussion of Lassiter, or me and Lassiter, or my sex life in general?"
A different waiter than the one who had taken their order came by and delivered their food. Gus checked out the burger Juliet had ordered, shrugged, and picked it up to take a bite out of it before replying.
"Shawn, I would be more than happy to never discuss, think about, or acknowledge the existence of your sex life ever again. How's your shoulder today?"
"Not bad. I think I still have a shot of making the Olympic tennis team."
"As what, their waterboy?"
"Hurtful. Uncalled for. You're a dream killer."
"Uh huh," Gus said doubtfully, "and for how long have you had this Olympic tennis dream?"
"Since this morning, when I saw a picture of Serena Williams hanging out at a party with Laurence Fishburne. If I win an Olympic medal, maybe I could party with Morpheus!"
"Shawn, Laurence Fishburne does not want to party with you."
"You don't know that. I'm cool."
"Since you've been through a painful ordeal this week, I'm going to let that slide. But just so you know, no one thinks you're cool."
"How was that letting it slide?" Shawn wondered. "And, I am so!"
"Whatever, Shawn," Gus said, changing the subject. "So, you're back at your place?"
"As of this morning. Three days was more than enough time alone with Henry."
"I hear that. How are you doing really?"
"I managed to dress myself this morning. Uh, mostly. I might need you to come by tomorrow and help me tie my shoes and button my shirt and, uh, put on my pants. Or maybe I'll just keep wearing these clothes until my ribs are completely healed."
Gus made a face at him. "You need to get back together with your boyfriend, because there's no way I'm helping you put on your pants."
"I thought that we agreed that this was a No Lassie Zone," Shawn said, "and that you didn't want to talk about my sex life. Which, let me add, does not include Lassie dressing me. Usually it's the other way around."
"You dressing him?" Gus asked, confused.
"No! Clothes coming off, not clothes going on."
"And we're back to me not wanting to hear about your sex life."
"If you haven't figured out yet that it's better without clothes, then maybe we need to talk about your sex life."
"Shut up, Shawn. Are you done?" he asked, gesturing to Shawn's nearly empty plate.
After they left the restaurant, they walked along the path near the beach, Shawn enjoying the fresh air and sunshine after days of being stuck inside. Unfortunately, not even the beautiful Santa Barbara weather could make him stop thinking about Lassie. His mind drifted back to the terrible day at the gas station and the desperate phone call he had made.
Hesitantly, he said "You know, I had to tell Lassiter that I loved him."
"Was it weird?"
"Well, there was a dude standing over me who had already shot me once threatening to do it again if I said anything suspicious, so, yeah, it was kind of weird."
"That's not exactly what I meant, Shawn."
"I know," Shawn said, looking off into the distance, instead of at Gus. "It was weird...but it also wasn't."
"Because you meant it," Gus said softly, and Shawn felt a panicky flutter in his chest that made him want to retreat.
"Don't be the dude with a tiny bladder who sits in the middle of the row at the movies. The thing with Lassie wasn't serious...owwww! What was that for?" Shawn yelped, rubbing the spot on his (previously uninjured) arm where Gus had just thumped him.
"That was for being a damn fool, Shawn! 'Oh, it's casual,'" he said in a high-pitched falsetto. "'It doesn't meeeeaaaannn anything.'"
"I don't sound like that," Shawn protested, insulted.
"'We're just fooling around, it's not serious, blah, blah, blah,'" Gus continued, saying the final "blah" in his normal voice. "Shawn! It's serious, okay? Have you ever known Carlton Lassiter to not be serious about anything? And you! For the first time in your life, you've been with the same person for months. You've had fights and made up. You've spent all kinds of time together and not gotten bored. And then you go around trying to tell everyone that it's not SERIOUS?"
Gus took a deep breath and turned to look Shawn directly in the eye, which was kind of freaky, and put a hand on Shawn's shoulder. "For the love of God, would you please just admit that you're in love with the man so the rest of us can move on with our lives?"
The deflecting comment that Shawn had been prepared to give in retort died on his lips at Gus's sincerity, and the panicky feeling in his chest seemed to expand outward. He looked down at his shoes and fidgeted uncomfortably.
"But Gus, what if he doesn't feel the same way?"
Gus shook his head. "I don't believe you, Shawn. You have all these freaky observation skills, and an IQ that is, frankly, ridiculous, and yet somehow, you're still a dumbass. Lassiter is nuts about you. He wouldn't have put up with half of your crap over the past few months if he wasn't."
"But he's not putting up with my crap anymore," Shawn pointed out miserably.
"Well, why should he? You didn't want anyone to know that you were seeing each other, you keep insisting that the relationship doesn't mean anything, you run off in the middle of the night and get yourself shot...can you blame him for wanting out?"
"But he and I agreed, Gus! It wasn't just me saying that it was a...a fling, or whatever, it was him too! So what makes you think that he feels any differently about it now?"
"Why else do you think he's so mad, Shawn? Have you ever seen him get this pissed off over a civilian who puts himself in danger? No. He's upset because you scared the hell out of him, and he doesn't want to see you get yourself killed. And, speaking as your best friend, I don't want to see that either."
"Gus..."
"What's the point of you sleeping with the most well-armed man in Santa Barbara if you're not going to take him along when you go to crime scenes in the middle of the night? If you weren't going to call him, you could have at least waited for me."
"Believe me," Shawn said, gesturing to his shoulder, "I've learned my lesson. I'm sorry I screwed up."
"I know," Gus said. "Now you just have to convince Lassiter of that."
"I don't know. Maybe I should respect his decision and leave him alone. Isn't that what grown-ups do?"
"Shawn, the man loves you. If you let him know that you love him back, it might change everything."
Shawn blinked, his hazel eyes wide and startled as he looked at Gus. "You really think that Lassie loves me?" he whispered.
"Yes, Shawn," Gus said slowly, as if he were speaking to a toddler, "I thought you were supposed to be some kind of detective. That's why he's so scared. That's why he's letting you off the hook for lying about being psychic. That's why he worries so much about you, whether it's because you're fighting with me or because you've gone and gotten yourself kidnapped. Even though I can't figure out how or why, and I think it might be one of the signs of the apocalypse, Carlton Lassiter is clearly crazy in love with you."
"Oh," Shawn said, as he put all of that together with things that Gus couldn't know, like how gentle Lassie had been when he told Shawn that he knew he wasn't psychic, and how much he had trusted Shawn to do anything he wanted in bed, and realization finally, finally dawned. "Well. That changes everything."