"Lassiter, three, and Spencer, zip. I think it's time we evened that score." (other: to shut them up)

"He kissed you?"

Gus's voice was hard to understand over the spotty connection between their cell phones, but Shawn could hear the incredulity in his best friend's voice, clearly.

"That's what I said," Shawn told him. "Hold on, Gus, let me put you down for a sec."

Shawn grasped his leg in both hands, wincing at the pull of the muscles in his leg as he maneuvered the cast-covered appendage onto a footstool in front of his couch, trying to ease the constant ache that even high grade pain medication couldn't alleviate.

When he'd been released from the wheelchair and graduated up to crutches, the doctor had downgraded his cast, as well. Now, it just came up to his knee, which still made movement awkward, but it wasn't as bad as when he'd first been released from the hospital.

"He kissed me," he went on, picking the phone back up as he relaxed back into the couch. "Twice."

"Like, on the mouth?" Gus asked, skeptically.

"No, not like that," Shawn told him. "That would be weird."

"Well, where, then?" Gus pressed, sounding impatient.

"Well, the first time was on my toes," Shawn said, and he could hear Gus stifling a laugh behind his fist.

"Right, because Lassiter kissing your feet isn't weird at all," he said, incredulously.

"It wasn't like that," Shawn protested, automatically. "He was just trying to make me feel better."

"By kissing your feet," Gus echoed.

"It was the only part of me not covered with bruises or this damn cast," Shawn told him, knocking lightly on the plaster for emphasis. "You should see me, Gus. Two weeks later, and I still look like I was run over by a truck."

"Ouch," Gus said, and Shawn could almost see him wincing in sympathy. "You're not healing, at all?"

Shawn could hear the worry in his voice, and he hastened to reassure him.

"Well, some of it is from a couple of days, ago," he told Gus. "We had an unexpected cold snap, and I wiped out on the ice in the hospital parking lot the first day on my crutches. Almost broke my neck."

"We don't get ice in Santa Barbara," Gus pointed out. "Especially not in late October."

"Well, we do right now," Shawn said. "Believe me, I was as surprised as you are."

"So, other than an inability to walk across a parking lot," Gus teased him, "you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Shawn insisted. "And you will not tell my dad about any of this when his fishing boat docks in Port Angeles," he added, suddenly, knowing that Gus was likely to do just that.

"You don't want your dad knowing that you got hurt?" Gus asked.

"I don't want him killing himself trying to get back here when there's nothing he can do," Shawn corrected him, sternly. "Just leave it alone, Gus, and don't tell him anything. Got it? Not one word."

"I got it," Gus said, and Shawn imagined him rolling his eyes. "So, what about the second time?"

"Huh?" Shawn asked.

"You said that Lassiter kissed you, twice," Gus reminded him. "What was the second time?"

"I went to Tom Blair's for lunch," Shawn told him, "and these guys got all bent out of shape when I accidentally stepped on one of them with my crutches. I tried to apologize, but they wouldn't have any of it, and that's when Carlton stepped in."

"Your knight in shining Kevlar," Gus said, a mocking tone in his voice.

"So, Carlton comes up with his badge and gun showing," Shawn said, ignoring Gus's comment, "and I thought he was just going to pull the tough-cop act and make them back off. But, he goes and puts his arm around my shoulders and kisses me on the cheek."

"He what?" Gus asked, openly laughing, now. "He kissed you on the cheek?"

"He said, 'Glad you could make it to lunch, honey,' and then he just smirked at the men," Shawn told him. "They took one look at the badge and gun and hightailed it out of there."

"What did you do?" Gus asked, still laughing.

"What could I do?" Shawn asked, rhetorically. "I didn't want to screw up Carlton's ruse, so I just played along."

"And now he's avoiding you like the plague, right?" Gus guessed. "'Cause he's embarrassed about kissing you."

"That's the weird part," Shawn said. "He isn't avoiding me. He's just acting like absolutely nothing happened, like everything is normal between us. Which is also weird," he added, thinking about it, "because Carlton and I don't do normal. Our relationship, such as it is, is as dysfunctional as it gets."

"And you're sure that Lassiter hasn't taken any hard blows to the head, recently?" Gus asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

"Considering the way he's avoiding the issue, I'm starting to wonder if I'm the one that got hit on the head," Shawn muttered.

"Well, you know what you have to do, don't you?" Gus asked.

"What?" Shawn asked. "Pretend it never happened? Act like Carlton never kissed me?"

"No," Gus said, drawing the word out as though Shawn was trying his patience. "If he's not going to talk to you, then you need to talk to him."

"Like that's going to work," Shawn shot back.

"Well, if he won't talk about it, you could always kiss him," Gus said, chuckling. "Maybe the third time really is the charm."

"I'm hanging up, now," Shawn said, rolling his eyes even though Gus couldn't see him.

"Hey, be careful on those sidewalks," Gus said, quickly. "You've got a hard head, but even you've got limits."

"Will do," Shawn reassured him. "Have fun in Seattle."

"It's seventy degrees and sunny," Gus told him, gloatingly. "Enjoy your snowfall."

Gus's laughter filled the air as Shawn hung up on him. Then, he snapped his cell phone shut and tossed it onto the cushion beside him, staring out of the window. As if Gus's words had been an omen, it had started snowing while they'd been talking, tiny, wet flakes that weren't even sticking to the sidewalk. But, it was snow, nonetheless.

"And, yet," he mused out loud, "getting kissed by Carlton Lassiter is still stranger than snow in October."

Maybe Gus was right. Maybe he should make Carlton talk to him. After all, the man couldn't keep ducking the issue, forever. Sooner or later, the subject was going to come up between them.

And really, it wasn't like it was a bad subject. Yeah, he'd been surprised by the kisses, both of them, but it hadn't been an unpleasant surprise. More of a shock, really, especially the second one, but he'd gotten over it fast enough. He'd actually relaxed at the feel of Carlton's arms over his shoulders, something that still surprised him.

He still wasn't sure what to make of Carlton's reaction to the whole thing. Why kiss him in the first place, when he could have just intimidated the men into leaving him alone? And what was up with calling him honey, anyway? For a second, he'd almost been fooled into buying the ruse that Carlton had been selling, and even now, he wondered if the other man had really just been acting.

"That's it," he said, decisively. "Tomorrow, I get some answers."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That'll be twenty-one fifty."

Shawn stared at the cab driver in disbelief before digging for his wallet and pulling the money out. Then, while the man sighed in irritation, he maneuvered his crutches out of the cab and made sure that his footing on the ground was secure before he got out. No way did he want to wipe out on the icy asphalt, again, especially so near a running vehicle.

Getting carefully out of the cab, he slowly made his way across the parking lot of the police station. By the time he reached the foot of the stairs, his arms were shaking, the muscles burning from the exertion of holding himself up. His left arm, especially, hurt like crazy, the barely-healed muscles of his dislocated shoulder protesting every movement.

For a moment, he regretted giving up the wheelchair so quickly for the crutches. But, his apartment wasn't exactly wheelchair friendly, and he'd broken more than he could afford trying to maneuver around his apartment. In the long run, he'd figured that it would be more financially secure to stick to the crutches.

But, at the moment, neither the crutches nor the wheelchair was of much use to him. Not when he was stuck at the bottom of the stairs with no idea how to get up to the door. He hadn't been back to the station since he'd been released from the hospital, and he hadn't thought about trying to get around while he was still hurt.

"Hey, Shawn," he heard from behind him, and he turned, carefully, to see McNabb standing at his shoulder.

"Hey, Buzz," he returned, and he watched shock play out over the other man's face.

"Wow," he said, his eyes going wide. "They were right; you do look like hell."

Then, he blushed, furiously, as he realized what he'd just blurted out.

"I mean," he stammered, "that is-"

"It's okay, Buzz," Shawn told him, cutting him off. "I've seen myself in the mirror."

"Need some help?" Buzz asked, clearly desperate to change the subject as he nodded at the stairs.

"Yeah," Shawn told him. "Unless you have a ramp somewhere around here?"

"Over there," Buzz answered, gesturing to the side of the building. "But, you'd better let me help you."

When he started across the parking lot, with Buzz hovering at his shoulder, he felt like someone's grandmother being helped across the street by a Boy Scout. But, when he nearly slipped twice on the way to the ramp, he was grateful for Buzz's strength and quick reflexes.

The trip up the ramp was nearly as treacherous, and he silently cursed the deity that had decided that freezing temperatures in Southern California was a good idea.

"So, are you here to ask the Chief about a case?" Buzz asked, holding the front door open for him as he awkwardly maneuvered himself inside.

"Actually, I came to talk to Lassiter," Shawn told him, and Buzz got another surprised look on his face.

"Willingly?" he asked, and Shawn laughed.

"See you later, Buzz," he said, and the other man walked over to his desk.

As Shawn made his own way across the squad room, he watched Carlton look up at the familiar clicking of his crutches on the floor, hearing his approach even over the noise of the station. A smile flashed across the other man's face when he spotted Shawn, but it was gone so quickly that he wondered if he hadn't imagined it.

"What do you want, Spencer?" Carlton asked, as Shawn stopped next to his desk.

Carlton's voice was as brusque as it usually was, but Shawn was pretty sure he was putting on an act. He didn't have that irritated air about him that had marked so many of their previous encounters. In fact, he almost seemed friendly. Shawn wasn't sure how he felt about this new Carlton Lassiter.

"We need to talk," he said.

"About?" Carlton asked.

"I think you know what we need to talk about," Shawn told him. "And I also think that this isn't a conversation you really want to have in front of the entire squad room."

"In that case," Carlton said, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to save his work, "let's go somewhere more private."

He pushed his chair away from his desk and stood, gesturing for Shawn to precede him across the squad room. As they walked, he kept pace with Shawn, even though he was moving slowly because of the crutches and the slow speed had to be driving Carlton crazy.

They ducked into an empty conference room and Carlton closed the blinds to discourage any nosy cops. Then, he turned to face Shawn, who was leaning against the wall to take the pressure off his bad leg.

"Well?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow at Shawn. "You wanted to talk?"

"You kissed me," Shawn said, bluntly.

"Yes," Carlton replied.

"Twice," Shawn continued, insistently.

"Yes," Carlton repeated, and his calm demeanor had Shawn huffing out an irritated sigh.

"Why did you kiss me?" he demanded, hotly, and Carlton shrugged.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" came the answer, and Shawn stared at him in disbelief.

"Have you taken any blows to the head, recently?" he asked, incredulously.

He'd scoffed at the idea when Gus had brought it up, but given Carlton's current behavior, it was fast becoming his favorite theory.

"I'm in perfect health," Carlton assured him. "And, really, Spencer, why are you getting so worked up? It was just a kiss."

"It was two kisses," Shawn snapped, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "And it wasn't just a kiss, it was that you kissed me! And you and I, we don't have a kissing relationship, we have a knock each other upside the head relationship, and now you've changed the dynamic, and – umph!"

The breath was knocked out of him in a rush as Carlton grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward, sealing his lips over his. The rational part of his brain, that tiny percentage still capable of actual thought, took note of the fact that Carlton had been very careful in pulling him forward, supporting Shawn's body against his own so that his weight wasn't on his broken leg.

The rest of his brain was a gibbering mess, a high pitched shriek of 'He's kissing me, he's kissing me!' running on an endless loop through his mind.

His usually-hyperactive senses were in overdrive as he clung to Carlton, the feel of the other man's lips on his, the rough hand that Carlton had cupped around his cheek, the smell of his shampoo and the residue of gunpowder lingering on his skin, all of it was burning into him, making a permanent impression. This was one moment he was never going to forget.

He'd just started to relax into the kiss, forcing aside his initial shock, when Carlton pulled away, drawing a small whimper of protest from his lips that he quickly silenced. Then, while he was still stunned, Carlton pushed him backward, gently, until he was being supported by the wall, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt before he stepped back.

Shawn gaped at him in wordless shock, pretty sure he was doing a fair imitation of a fish, while Carlton smirked at him.

"What the hell?" he demanded, when he finally found his voice, again.

"You're kind of cute when you babble," Carlton told him, and then he was sweeping by Shawn and out the door.

"Cute?" Shawn echoed, incredulously. "Lassie, get back here! You can't leave it like that!"

But, the other man had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone in the conference room. Shawn stared at him in disbelief for several seconds before he shook himself back to full awareness.

"He did it, again," he said, out loud to the empty room. "I can't believe he did that, again."

A passing cop shot him a suspicious look when she heard him talking to himself, but Shawn didn't pay any attention to her.

"That's Lassiter, three, and Spencer, zip," he mused, out loud. Then, a slow grin spread over his face as he realized the implications of what he'd just said. "I guess I'd better do something to even up that score."