A/N: So I lied a little bit. I should be studying, but I'm here presenting you folks with the rest of Tim McGraw. Hope this cheers you guys up, although it IS still categorized as angst and then some H&C. Thanks to those who have waited so long on me. Please review with anything you want afterwards, it really makes writing these worthwhile. :)
When you think happiness…
I hope you think my head on your chest
And my old faded blue jeans.
When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me.
Then…
The head detective could only stare at his boyfriend in awkward silence.
Sure, they had been going out for awhile, but they had never actually experienced the whole sappiness of relationships. They had been rather physical, sprinkled with a few sweet moments. So it was no surprise that those three words caught the older man off guard.
Shawn's head had already returned to Lassiter's chest before he could say anything.
"…I love you too, Shawn."
Now…
Carlton stumbled out of the pub, flagging down a cab. He could feel the dry tear stains stinging his face, but he did his best to look drunk. Which was, in a word, easy. The head detective mumbled his home address before collapsing into the back seat.
The sun through his window woke him up from his slumber. He blinked his eyes groggily, not even registering that he had somehow gotten himself inside to his couch.
I'll get up once the world stops spinning…
Hangover mornings were the worst. Especially ones that involved potentially dead people.