I would like to take this time to thank everyone who has been waiting for me to update. Thank you LilyPsychLover and LiaShaw for reviewing my last chapter before my sudden hiatus. I own only who I've claimed to own in the previous chapters, and I thank you.
"What the hell just happened?"
Shawn wakes up, sitting straight up in bed, only to lean over and vomit promptly after. He glances around; unsure of how he ended in his bedroom when the last thing he can remember is talking to squirrels in the park after having a big fight with Lassie. Then he remembers the fight. He cringes as he can once again feel every punch and kick Lassie had given him. He flinches at every hit he had inflicted on his favorite detective. Sitting up again, he winces at every harsh insult that had flown between them to instigate the harsh fight and bring them to suspension.
Cautiously, Shawn stands in place. He makes another glance around and is thankful to find the aspirin and water. After taking the medicine, he tiptoes into the hall and nearly barrels into his hammock. As he reaches to push it out of the way, he happens to notice a body in dark navy blue clothing – that absolutely must belong to Carlton Lassiter. Surveying his options as this is the only hall to lead to the front and the back is boarded up, Shawn realizes there are only three options. Option A is to wake Lassiter up, and he really doesn't think that is smart.
Option B is to crawl under. Unfortunately, the slightest nudge can move Lassie in any direction and could unknowingly hit Shawn mighty hard. Shawn gulps as he initiates Option C: climb over the detective. Spencer figures he can most likely climb over Lassiter's feet to the wall and out again. The younger man is forced to swallow his fear and projectile vomit as he clears the first half. All dread comes through as Shawn lifts his leg for another crossing. He touches ground and is positive he is free as he carries his other leg over. Before it reaches the other side however, an unwavering arm shoots up and grasps his shirt – effectively pulling him to the hammock. The man in the hammock moves so swiftly. By the time Shawn is lying on the bed choice, Carlton is already leering over him.
"That was fast." Shawn comments.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Carlton barks.
"I don't even know what happened." Shawn answers tentatively.
"Well let's see if this sounds familiar," He replies sardonically with a deep-cutting edge of malice. "You got bitchy with Guster, had a pissy fight with a fucked up detective that got you screwed at work. Then, you went off and got shit-faced in god-knows-where, only to crawl over and get wasted in my hellhole, refusing roofies from a shady molester."
Shawn gawks back at him in disbelief. He remembers the fight with Gus but he wasn't the one being the bitch. He remembers the fight he'd started with Lassiter.
"You're not fucked up." Shawn answers quietly.
"Like hell I'm not." He responds bitterly.
"You're not." He continues, more confident now that Lassiter is no longer in his face but rather sitting at his feet. "I mean, maybe you had a mistrust or two between your parents," He pauses at Lassie's obnoxious laugh. "But you've gotten married, dated and landed head detective. That's something. Yeah, you got married. I've never actually been married. I thought I married a goat once. But Victoria, you know? She seems nice. And she's rich, so that has to count for something, right?"
"Spencer, if you're so psychic, you should know when to shut the fuck up." He glares to the younger man as he stands.
The hammock sways as Lassiter walks to the storefront. He switches on the hum on the conveyer belt as he removes a flask of gin from behind the counter and starts guzzling it. Shawn walks in, roughly eight minutes later, to find Carlton fully dressed. He isn't wearing a suit like Spencer would guess. Instead, he is wearing a long-sleeved graphic T-Shirt that reads 'Shut the Front Door!', jeans and a pair of sneakers. Shawn gapes at the change, then tilts his head toward the drink in the man's hand.
"Is that my gin?"
"Yes." Lassiter answers bluntly.
Shawn cocks his head to the side but lets it go. "So, what are we doing today?"
"We?" Lassie raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah?" Shawn bounces on the balls of his feet. "Since we're suspended, we could go to the mall, or rollerblading, or laser darts, or mini golf, or"
"Knock yourself out, Spencer." He hisses, relishing another burning swig. "I'll be somewhere that doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me?" Shawn asks in a pout. "Why? What's wrong, Lassiface?"
The older man glares strongly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and screwing the cap on. "Dammit, Spencer. Just don't get drunk and don't get killed and I'll see you at five."
"Five?" Shawn raises an eyebrow, surely confused.
Carlton sighs with a nod. "Yes, I'll be back here at five."
Lassiter leaves the dry cleaner's so he can piece his mind back together. He doesn't have a set plan for the day. He knows he needs to avoid work, the pub and home. He reaches into a pocket; thankful he remembered to grab his wallet. He frowns, however, when he doesn't see his keys. Rather than head back in for the small detail, Lassiter decides to head out on foot.
He winds up in the jogging park. Having no intention at first, he is eventually jogging around with a clear mind. Deep in his subconscious, he knows he'll need to talk it out with Shawn. If they're going to be living together, things can't just slip out of his mouth and start arguments out of nothing. He also realizes that he'll need to sneak back into his house soon to grab one of the several guns hidden around. He needs to be able to protect himself and Spencer.
Speaking of Spencer, Shawn is again within his line of view. Lassiter has been jogging around the park for the last hour or so. Shawn, at some point, has come out to the same area. Rather than jogging though, he's sat at a picnic table. He's eating an ice cream cone. Carlton takes a breather as he slows his run, staring up to the consultant. He watches each meticulous lick as though he were hypnotized. So hypnotized… that he trips over a plaque and hits the ground face-firs.
Shawn hears the commotion in the park, but he doesn't think twice about it. He's distracted by a mobile jingle and runs off in its direction. While following the mysterious chimes, he loses his focus again when he bypasses an antiques shop he's never seen before. The boy wonder chooses to spend his afternoon inside the establishment. It's dimly lit, but there are plenty of interesting things available. One particular table definitely catches his eye. He knows it could be the perfect conversation starter.
Shawn returns home at four-thirty, carrying crates from the antiquity shop. He immediately begins setting up his goods, hoping to have everything arranged by the time Lassiter gets back. By four-forty-five, Shawn is putting the finishing touches on the newly decorated dwelling. By four-fifty, Shawn is worried that something might've happened to Lassiter. By four-fifty-five, he's worried that everything was a lie and Lassiter is still too mad at him to come back.
His worries are over when the front door opens precisely on the dot at five o'clock. He grins like a child at Christmas. Lassiter takes this in, glancing up to all the fairy lights twinkling as he shuts the door. When it's shut, they glimmer once more before turning off on their own. His eyes fall on a straw-like replica of himself. A water pistol is even in its hand. Lassiter feels a twinge creep up on his lip. Shawn looks almost anxious as Carlton ventures farther into the building. He clicks on the conveyor to find some sweats to borrow… when he sees a plethora of conversation starters.
"What the hell did you do?"
Ooooh! What the hell did Spencer do? Any guesses? I'm glad you guys are sticking with me despite the everlasting interval. I wasn't even sure about returning to fanfiction for awhile there… welp, I'm glad I did. I love to read your reviews!
