A lot of set up before we get into it, but bear with me. I know this is an old show, but I'm hoping that Shassie fans looking for something new to read will enjoy this.

(-)

Things had changed since Shawn Spencer had been shot and thrown in a trunk. Detective Carlton Lassiter had worried about the twerp before (against his will), but knowing he'd actually taken a bullet had left the detective more shaken than he would ever show or admit to.

That jolt of honest emotion wasn't the only thing that changed. When working with Spencer Senior proved much like working with Shawn, he considered that dumb luck wasn't the only thing that got the idiot through so much chaos intact.

It was confirmed when he heard the psychic say, "You were right, dad. Thanks for chasing me through the forest and tossing me into a trunk as a child. It did save my life. Now, I have the greatest craving for a Pineapple Ice Cream Sandwich Explosion. Can we get one on the way to the hospital?"

Lassiter re-opened his Psych investigation files that night. He had started them after he first encountered Spencer and his sidekick Guster, when they first started making his life Hell. They had been set aside after it was clear that the fake psychic was helpful at putting bad people away where they couldn't hurt anyone else, and the detective decided his time was better spent chasing down actual scum, not pests with positive impact.

The more he reviewed what he'd written about those early cases, the more he was sure: Shawn Spencer had been groomed to be the pain in the ass that he was. Certainly not the way Henry Spencer had intended, but even meeting Shawn for the first time, Lassiter could tell the kid would never want to be a cop. Too many rules, not enough fun.

Henry was extremely perceptive in the way that a highly skilled and experienced cop could be. And if he was tossing his son in trunks and teaching him to avoid pursuit in wooded areas (which even Lassiter thought was questionable parenting, and thought it explained a lot about Spencer), it was no stretch to imagine the idiot had been raised learning every trick of the trade that Henry could give his son.

But that wouldn't be enough to make a monstrous pest like Shawn Spencer. No, as much as Carlton hated to admit it, Shawn was a rare creature. His insights and "predictions" never ceased to surprise him, especially the most ridiculous ones, like murder by dinosaur.

And then he remembered spending time with Spencer's mom. While he had initially been wary at talking to a psychologist, she had won him over and made him comfortable enough to talk about things he'd never told anyone; even a few things he hadn't realized. Of course, as soon as she admitted who her son was, all that trust transformed to horror.

Before he had opened up, she had assured him that she wasn't recording because she didn't need it: she had an "eidetic tonal memory". He was suspicious, but by the end he was a believer.

Now, add a cop with an eye for detail with a psychologist with eidetic tonal memory. The idea that their son might have an eidetic memory that the cop father wanted to hone was more than possible; it was probable given all he had observed about Spencer.

Worse was the realization that Shawn Spencer probably possessed genius-level intelligence. Even with an eidetic memory, making all the connections and leaps required an extraordinary mind. All that knowledge, skill, and experience, and he lived like Peter Pan and passed himself off as a psychic. It was nearly sickening until Lassiter realized that if anything was different, it wouldn't be Shawn Spencer. And he didn't like the idea of Shawn not being Shawn. That revelation revolted him. When did he start liking who Spencer was?

Another horrible change: Lassiter couldn't stop watching Spencer. After he had his theory, all his observations confirmed it. The way the psychic's eyes darted everywhere all the time, his eagerness to get just a glimpse of a crime scene or file…those eyes became like weapons that made Carlton nervous every time they trained on his. Like Spencer would read into his interest and figure out what he was thinking.

Which was ridiculous, because aside from noticing how Shawn's actual gift worked, nothing had changed. He wasn't noticing little things about Spencer's movements or the way he looked because of all the time spent studying him. There was only loathing, never sheer admiration at how that ridiculous mind worked.

"You've been nicer to Shawn lately. Did you guys come to a kind of truce?" As always, his partner was too nosy for his own good.

"I don't know what you mean, O'Hara." He just kept working on his paperwork, not looking up.

"I mean that you haven't put up much resistance to him joining us on cases. It's like you suddenly find his psychic powers fascinating or something."

He rarely hated a good detective, but his partner turned her magnifying glass on him often enough to make him wish she were a bit more dense. "He doesn't have psychic powers; he's a fraud. Geez, I still can't believe the way you people buy into that!"

"Do you have a better explanation for everything he knows?"

Lassiter couldn't answer, because he did. And, he realized, Shawn himself was the one who had tried to explain himself originally. It was when Lassiter didn't accept his explanation and threatened to put him in a holding cell that the ingenious little pest pulled that psychic crap out of his ass to get out of it.

Shawn started masquerading as a psychic and started a whole new career because of Lassiter.

"Carlton, are you sick? You look terrible."

"Yeah, Lassie, do you have worms or something? There's a vet down the street."

Of course the most annoying pain in his ass would magically appear just then. "Shut up, Spencer. Just leave and take your sidekick with you."

"I'll have you know that I'm no one's sidekick. If anything, I'm a co-star who ends up in his own spin-off." Guster was ridiculous as always.

"You got that right, buddy," Spencer said. Lassiter looked up just in time to see the fist bump.

Then he met those eyes. So perceptive, so dangerous. And Lassiter wasn't a cop because he enjoyed being safe. Yeah, that was the reason he found them so attractive. He was just attracted to danger. The fact that Spencer had proven more than once that he wouldn't hurt the detective didn't matter. The way the psychic had unwavering certainty in his innocence when he was accused of murder was simply because he could see that someone else had done it, not psychically, but in his idiot savant fashion. His faith in Lassiter hadn't been touching.

The way he had let Spencer blindfold him wasn't a reflection of trust, it was desperation to clear his name and get his job back. And it hadn't hurt to see Spencer's reaction to the fiction that they were former lovers. He had called it "misinformation" and said Drimmer was hoping they wouldn't look too close, but, in all honesty, it was about the worst lie if that was his goal. Anyone who knew them would see right through it and take a microscope to the note, not binoculars.

Because the worst change of all: Carlton Lassiter admitted he had feelings for Shawn Spencer. And that fact becoming common knowledge would be met with more ridicule than he thought he would survive. Especially from Spencer himself. It wasn't like the idiot felt uncomfortable flailing around and touching the detective all over, falling in his lap; the one time he had knelt and hugged the detective's leg was a little too memorable. But Shawn would probably think it was hysterical that Lassiter would now enjoy that attention.

He hadn't realized they were having a staring contest until Gus made an awkward comment and excused himself and O'Hara to get some water. Once he and Spencer were alone, the fake psychic smirked. "Wow, Lassie, it's like you're trying to read my mind. You a psychic too?"

And that was too much. Shawn didn't have the upper hand anymore, and the snarky little ass should know it. "Yeah, actually," he said as casually as possible.

Shawn snorted and chuckled a little. "And what are your powers telling you?"

Lassiter put a finger to his temple as the fake psychic was so fond of doing and said, "I'm sensing that you're a fraud, and the reason why is becoming clear. You have a gift, but it has as much to do with your eyes as your mind."

"Amateur hour, Lassie. Call me when you want to go pro," Shawn said.

The younger man made to leave, but stopped when Lassiter said, "Your mother has a gift too. It's something like yours, but not quite as useful when pretending to be a psychic. She has a gift to do with hearing things; you see things."

It was gratifying to see Spencer startled. When those eyes just stared at him, he continued. "Yeah, almost like the 'spirits' are just photographs in your mind. And I bet you grew up with your dad training your 'gift'. How are my psychic visions doing so far?"

"You, uh…" Seeing Shawn at a loss for words almost made Lassiter feel guilty for ambushing him. Almost.

Guster seemed to realize something was wrong. He came running to his friend's rescue, pulling the fake psychic away. "Come on, Shawn, let's get a Pineapple Smoothie. It's half-off today."

But Lassiter didn't want to let him off that easily. "When you're ready to have that conversation, I'm sure you can find me."

(-)

"He knows, Gus," Shawn said as soon as they were in the Blueberry.

"Knows what?" Gus asked as he pulled away.

"Lassie just outlined how my gift actually works," Shawn said. However much he admired the striking Irish detective, he wanted to have as much distance as possible between them now.

"WHAT?!" Gus braked suddenly and nearly got rear-ended. The chorus of horns honking fell on deaf ears as he stared at his best friend. "He can't know that, Shawn. He's been trying to expose you for years; he'd have told everyone by now."

"Except Lassie is a detective. I'd bet he's gathering evidence to build a case."

Gus started driving again. "Look, you said it yourself when we started this: the only way they can prove you aren't psychic is if you tell them."

"I know I like to tease him, but Lassie is good at what he does. I have to take him seriously about this."

A strangled noise escaped his friend before he said, "I did not just hear those words leave your lips pertaining to Lassiter."

Shawn didn't answer. He hadn't even told Gus how he'd started feeling about the detective. It was weird. Sure, he'd always delighted in invading the older man's personal space; making him as uncomfortable as possible by touching him. But things had changed after he was held at gunpoint in Lassie's house.

There was something about the way the detective looked at him after his knee-jerk protest to the story about them being ex-lovers. Something that made him feel bad about his reaction.

It almost felt like Lassie had been disappointed in him. And that wasn't something he was used to; the detective didn't really expect anything from Shawn except that he was himself. He liked that about the gruff cop. And while that might seem like a low bar, it meant that he could never disappoint Lassie if he just acted like he normally did; the detective expected nothing less.

But examining why that had affected him brought some uncomfortable conclusions. He had no idea when, but at some point, liking to annoy Lassie and invade his space had just turned into liking Lassie. Sure, he still liked annoying and invading, but for different reasons. When those blue eyes blazed and glared at him, it was like being pinned by lasers. All that heat focused only on him got him excited for entirely new reasons. And luckily Lassie wasn't as eager to pin him up against walls anymore; that would get inappropriate fast.

Because, even if this new development had taken getting used to, and even if he still wasn't sure what to make of it, he knew it would never go anywhere. Lassiter thought he was a pest, and he hated Shawn. Case in point, the detective had figured him out and wanted to talk to him alone about it. Maybe to blackmail him into staying away from the police. No, Lassie wasn't a bad cop. Well, he might have excessive force issues sometimes, and Shawn knew he used department resources to keep tabs on his wife when they first split up (which should probably have given the psychic pause but of course didn't), and he discharged his gun more than the department considered "acceptable".

Thinking about it, Shawn was actually probably one of the best people for Lassiter; he knew the bad, the weird, and the unsettling about the detective and still liked him. Exposing a date to even one of Lassie's more questionable hobbies or personality traits was always enough to send them running. At least literally once if the story Juliet told him was true.

"What are we going to do? If he can find a way to prove you aren't psychic, we aren't just out of business; we could face charges of fraud and interfering with an investigation!"

That actually hadn't been worrying Shawn. "Vick won't charge us with interfering unless we're in the middle of pissing her off when Lassiter outs us."

"Is that supposed to comfort me? You've got to figure out what to do about him, Shawn."

That was the question. What to do with Lassie? Well, Shawn had a few ideas about what to do with him, but none that were appropriate, and none that were useful in resolving the situation.

"I'll think of something."

(-)

"What were you saying to Shawn? I've never seen him look like that before." O'Hara was immediately on him.

"Nothing important."

"Carlton, he looked almost scared. That wasn't nothing," she said, fixing him with a determined stare.

Scared? No, Shawn wouldn't be scared…except when Lassiter's brain caught up with his temper, he realized why he would be. He had just shown the younger man his hand and put the ball in his court. Now Shawn had to decide how to deal with potential exposure. And while the kid did some good work under pressure, a crisis like this was more serious than he was used to taking things.

"Look, it doesn't matter. He'll get over it and it'll become a joke like everything else in his life."

O'Hara leaned against his desk and crossed her arms, looking down at him. From the resolve in her demeanor, he knew this wasn't going away. "I know you think Shawn doesn't care about anything, but the truth is that even the things he takes seriously he makes jokes about to cover it up, and don't pretend you haven't noticed how important you are to him."

Lassiter thought his heart might pound out of his chest. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're the one he pesters and teases constantly, you're the one he wants to fight with and show up: you're the most important cop here when it comes to him."

"I'm Head Detective; that makes me the most fun to humiliate and disprove."

His partner sighed and stood up. "For being Head Detective, you sure miss a lot when it comes to Shawn. You're more than a rival; you're his grumpy friend."

Please. Shawn might call him "pal" and "buddy" but it was only to be obnoxious. When he told her as much, she said, "Just don't say whatever you said to him again. What you say matters, and if it made him look that way, it was bad. You aren't a bad guy, and you don't hate Shawn." After making those assertions, she sat down at her desk, shooting him a meaningful look before returning to her paperwork.

What he said mattered to Shawn? Since when? It only mattered so the kid could do the exact opposite or prove him wrong.

His phone rang. "Lassiter."

"Hey, Lassie. Guess we should talk, huh?"

The detective sat up straighter and avoided looking at his partner. "When and where?"

"Your shift ends at seven, so we'll just meet in front of our office once you get off work."

Carlton wasn't going to bother asking why Shawn knew his schedule. "Fine. See you then."

As soon as he hung up, O'Hara asked, "Who was that?"

"Just a CI with a possible lead," he said, the lie coming easily and immediately. "He's squirrely though, so I'll go alone."

"Because you're the squirrel whisperer, riiiight," his partner said, rolling her eyes. "Just don't shoot him."

"I won't if he doesn't make me," he said. He wondered what Spencer planned to say to him. Would he confess? Deny everything? Carlton lived for his job, but for once he really wanted the end of his shift to come quickly.

(-)

As soon as he pulled up, Spencer exited the office and met him at his car. He couldn't help but notice that Guster's little blue car was missing, leaving only Shawn's bike parked out front. "No sidekick?"

"Gus is my partner, and he think's I'm crazy, so I'm alone."

"And why does he think you're crazy?"

"Because I've decided to trust you."

Lassiter would have been less surprised if Shawn told him he was studying nuclear physics. "Trust me? Why?"

The fake psychic looked him up and down. "If you think you know my secret, why haven't you told anyone yet? Why haven't you gotten me fired and arrested me?"

It was something he had only asked himself at the start of this insanity; afterwards it was all too clear. He liked having Shawn around, even when he hated the little pest's antics. And jail wasn't an option, because Carlton wasn't going to visit the idiot, and he still wanted to see him. It made the most sense to let the fraud keep on conning his coworkers, and, boy, was that something he was surprised to find the only acceptable option.

"You're useful, even if you're a fake and a liar. Getting you fired and locked up makes you useless to the department." It was a much more acceptable explanation than the real one.

A look so excited and hopeful stole over Shawn's face that Carlton's heart beat erratically. "See? You're trustworthy."

There was that faith in him again. Sure, plenty of people put their faith in him, but it was for things he was well-known for. He could be counted on to relentlessly pursue justice, to have two or more weapons on him at any time, to ruin any date he managed to get. Shawn seemed to see things in him that no one else did.

"Maybe. Are you admitting I'm right?" That would be the real test. Shawn could say he trusted Lassiter, but admitting he was a fraud would prove it.

"You wearing a wire?" Shawn asked, sounding idle.

"What? No." It hadn't even occurred to him. Mostly because he wasn't looking to have proof that he knew Shawn's secret. If he really planned to know the truth and let Spencer keep playing psychic, he'd end up pegged as an accomplice when this came out some day.

"Let's take a walk; the frozen yogurt guy will be down the street and his pineapple flavor is so authentic."

Of course Spencer wanted to turn this into a reason to eat. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'll talk when we have our yogurt. I'm so hungry I can't think."

"Liar," Lassiter said as he followed the younger man's lead and walked away from the Psych office.

"Okay, I can still think, but not much when I'm obsessing over Johan's Pineapple Frozen Yogurt."

When they got to the cart, Shawn ordered his pineapple flavor while Lassiter picked cherry. Without thinking about it, he paid for both their cups. The look Spencer gave him was of wonder and slight adoration, and it made him feel warm and borderline aroused. Not good. Of course the way to Spencer's heart was through his stomach, but that look just gave him false hope.

"Lassie…you just bought me dinner."

The detective cursed mentally as he felt his face heat up. "Frozen yogurt isn't dinner."

"I've heard it both ways."

Sighing, Carlton just looked at the kid as the cart moved away. The sun was setting and with the breeze coming off the ocean, this was starting to seem romantic. He had to bring this back to reality. "Spencer, I need to hear you say it."

The younger man just stared intently at him for a moment before he said, "I'm not actually psychic."

Those words that Lassiter had been longing to hear since Shawn started his stupid ruse filled the detective with relief instead of the triumph he'd always expected. Probably because, more than proof of Lassiter's theories, it was now proof that Shawn trusted the detective to keep his secret.

"Eidetic memory?"

"Yeah. And like you said, Dad trained me growing up because he wanted me to be a cop like him." Shawn dug into his yogurt now, at ease.

"By tossing you in a trunk," Carlton said flatly, still faintly disgusted with Henry's child-rearing techniques. He started eating his own yogurt, and he agreed that the flavor didn't taste artificial.

"Among other bad parenting, yeah. But he was right; it did save my life."

Lassiter shook his head. "The more I learn about you, the more your insanity makes sense."

Spencer grinned at him. "I was a crazy kid too; can't blame all of that on Dad."

"You shouldn't have gotten yourself into that situation in the first place, you idiot. Getting yourself shot…" He took another bite of yogurt to muffle his grumble.

"Aw, Lassie, it almost sounds like you care," Shawn said, a teasing tone to his words. He grinned around another spoonful of yogurt.

That irritated the detective. "Of course I care, you moron! I wouldn't be standing here keeping your secret if I didn't care. You're the one who doesn't take anything seriously!" Whoops, he hadn't meant to say that.

The younger man drew back a bit. "I…you're a great cop, Lassie. You take the whole 'protect and serve' thing really seriously. I really just thought it was about the job for you. Protecting me, that is."

"And what part of 'protect and serve' says that I should let you keep on playing psychic? If this is just the job, I'd turn you in."

It was distracting when Shawn licked some excess yogurt from his lips. "So you're going to let me keep playing? Keep working with you?"

"Like I said, you're useful." He couldn't let the idiot read into it. Another mouthful of yogurt kept him from adding anything unnecessary to that statement.

Shawn gave Carlton a grin he usually reserved for food and O'Hara. "You're awesome, Lassie. I told Gus we could trust you."

Carlton's mouth was dry as he met those hazel weapons. Surely Shawn was reading him right now and seeing just how much he was into the idiot. Because that kind of adoration and praise was something the detective had never received from Spencer. Hell, he'd never even gotten that kind of look from his ex-wife or his mother.

He scooped up the rest of his cup into one big spoonful and put it into his mouth to keep from saying anything stupid. A stab of brain freeze made him wince, and the fake psychic chuckled. "Too eager, Lassie. Johan's masterpieces are meant to be savored."

Waiting until he could swallow his mouthful, he finally said, "It's the best frozen yogurt I've had, but it's not a masterpiece."

"That's because you got the cherry. Here, try mine."

There was a split second when he thought Spencer was about to spoon-feed him, but the younger man just plucked the spoon from Lassiter's empty cup, scooped up some of the remaining pineapple yogurt, and offered the handle of the spoon. The detective took it, still thinking it strange that the psychic wouldn't mind his germs, and put it in his mouth.

Okay, he might not have Spencer's obsession with pineapple, but he could understand calling it a masterpiece. Shawn smirked. "Ha, see? It's the best!"

The detective just let out a grumble of non-disagreement. Wouldn't do to let this get out of hand; Shawn still had no interest in him, and all this positive interaction would only lead to trouble. "I'm still going to call you a fake, and I'm still going to try to keep you off cases and do it myself."

"Naturally," the kid said, grinning at him. "Not only does that make us less suspicious, I expect nothing less, Head Detective Lassiter."

Heart beating faster not just from the use of his proper name and title, but also the pronoun "us", Carlton said, "And I expect you'll keep being the same Peter Pan pain in my ass as always."

Shawn looked like a child who had just been praised for a good report card. He bit his lip and hesitated a moment before saying, "You know, Lassie, it's really nice to have someone appreciate me for who I am and not expect me to change."

There was a visceral response to those words; they rang so true with him as well. He was the oddball, the creepy guy, the guy who didn't know how to socialize. He had weird hobbies and weird personality traits and weird secret fetishes. He was never going to find someone who would appreciate who he was and not expect him to change.

"You have Guster."

The younger man shrugged. "Gus and I are what we are, forever. This is different. You're part of the outside world."

Letting this continue was not an option; Shawn's words were starting to make Lassiter feel special. Hope was for fools who would risk being crushed for an illusion of potential happiness. Carlton had told himself after his divorce that he would stop being one of those fools. But just receiving that earnest, pleased expression from Spencer…that resolution would be hard to keep.

"Look, I'm not special, Spencer."

Shawn laughed a little. "Of course you are, Lassie. You're as weird as I am, just a very different kind of weird. And, for the record, I appreciate who you are and don't want you to change either."

Lassiter thought his chest might explode from the way his heart was racing. The little pest had to be playing with him. "You don't know me that well, Spencer."

"I know about the Civil War reenactments, the seven or more guns you stash around your house, the squirrels, your little black book of criminals…other things…"

The reluctance on the last words had the detective honing in on the twerp. "What other things?"

Now Spencer looked uncomfortable. "Um, let's talk about those things another day. Point is, I know more than most, and I still think you're cool, Lassie."

This had to stop. "So now that we've talked, I'll be leaving."

"Aw, already? We were just starting to have a heart-to-heart."

No. "There's no hearts; we're just clarifying things. And on that point, I expect you to be honest and not hide behind that psychic crap when we're alone together."

That face split open with a blinding grin. "So you're planning on having a lot of alone time with me now, Lassie? Sounds fun."

Carlton just turned and left, knowing his face had just gone red. He stopped when Shawn said, "Next time I'll buy you dinner."

The idiot was going to give him a heart attack with meaningless teasing. "I don't eat frozen yogurt or whatever other ridiculous snacks you do for meals."

"Oh, I know that. Don't worry, I know how to feed my Lassie."

He all but ran at that assertion, the possessive "my" making him far too hot and bothered. Spencer made it sound like the detective was his dog…

(-)

So, hopefully this was interesting/entertaining set-up. And, I'll be honest, I'm 90% sure this is going to get BDSM-y. That last sentence was probably enough to tip you off, but it won't be really hardcore, more like a show of trust and affection and love. And, given Lassie's trust issues, it will obviously take a while to get there.

I'd love it if you'd let me know what you thought of this; I have way too many fics, and indications that someone is reading and enjoying keeps my attention better. But, as I always say, it's your choice; I'll keep writing either way.

Oh, I try to have status updates on my stories on my profile; often something simple like "six pages into chapter three" or something. In case you were curious.