[[Author's Notes:
Dear readers: I love you all! :D
I'm sorry I keep making chapter breaks in such torturous places: my intention was never to torture any of you, promise! Thanks especially to my reviewers, torchil, DaiKuro-Chan, jj, whyamisoclever, The Last First Elk., and blackm00n5.
This is winding down, but thanks to brainstorming with dear fmapreshwab, I've settled on the fact that there will be a sequel. With 100% more crime solving action! Yay.
Okay, dears: read, review, enjoy.
H&Ks, Elske]]
Shawn's glad he's in the position he's in: neatly propped up between Carlton Lassiter and the wall, because he's growing increasingly light-headed and he doesn't have to worry about staying steady on his feet. And he wants, so desperately, skin-to-skin contact, enough that he dares to shift his hands up under the hem of Lassy's shirt, twitch-splay his fingers against the other man's back, and that must have been the moment he's gone too far.
Lassy draws back, just a bit, murmurs a breathless "Spencer," followed by "I think…I think…I can't…I need to sit down," he declares, finally, letting Shawn go, dashing to sit on the edge of the futon.
And Shawn, Shawn wants to follow him down, wants to straddle his legs and shove him back against the faded cushions and unbutton his shirt, stroke his fingers through that glorious chest hair, do whatever it took to make him moan and whimper and beg…and then he realizes he's too caught up in his daydream, and that Lassy's giving him a funny look, and he wonders how long he was silent, staring.
"The world, it didn't end," Lassy murmurs, and he almost sounds sad about it, and that's striking and almost painful.
"Yeah, well, it's a proven fact that it's impossible for me to communicate accurately with the spirit world when I have a hard-on," he jokes, and when Lassiter flinches, so does Shawn. Could it be possible, he wonders, that the other man would actually have preferred it had the world actually ended?
Carefully, cautiously, he takes the three steps to the side of the futon, puts one – slightly trembling – hand on Lassiter's shoulder. "Carlton?" he says, actually daring to use the given name, and he's delighted at the sudden happy smile that rewards him for that risk. "Is this…are we…okay?"
"I'm not any good at this," Lassiter replies, staring at a fixed point on the opposite wall.
"I beg to differ," murmurs Shawn with a smile, and Lassiter turns to look at him.
"Relationships, Spencer." A long pause. "Just ask Victoria. Ask any of the women who've made a run for the bathroom before dinner was even served. Call up William-fucking-Mayfair and ask him what happens when…"
Shawn goes with an earlier tactic: leans down and kisses him quickly, gently, enough to interrupt that train of thought because it's never going to go anywhere that'll benefit him.
"Lassy?" he asks, finally, moving to perch next to him on the edge of Juliet's futon. "Are you attracted to…do you have feelings for…me?" The twenty thousand dollar question, although with inflation who knows how much more it'd be worth! And part of his brain itches to figure that out while he waits for an answer, because Shawn Spencer can't ever think of just one thing at a time, but he's afraid he might miss the answer.
"Spencer!" There's a hint of outrage in his voice. "Do you think I would have…" a pause, a sigh, and then "Trust me, Shawn Spencer, I would never have kissed you if I hadn't…"
It's Shawn's turn to smile, then, one of his bright irresistible smiles. "Know something? I was attracted to you from the first time I saw you – the first time you manhandled me – but it was that night in the bar I really fell for you. Remember? Or were you too drunk."
"You astound me," Carlton murmurs, without daring to look at Shawn. "I almost remember. Yeah."
"The thing of it is, is that I'm not any good at relationships either." He rolls his eyes, tries to pretend he's not nervous as hell about asking Lassiter this. "But- I'd be willing to try? Because I think you're kind of worth it."
If Shawn thought Lassiter's smile earlier was blindingly happy, the one he gets after asking that question is infinitely more so. "I think I'd like that. But - does everyone have to know?"
There's a sudden chill in the air, and Shawn asks, "Are you ashamed of me, then?" in a very small voice.
"Sweet justice, Spencer, I'm ashamed of me." Lassy closes his eyes. "I can only picture your father, Gus, Jules, the Chief! The looks on their faces, and just in case it doesn't work…it'll be easier for me to figure things out if it's just between us, for right now. If you're willing."
"Yeah, you're kind of worth it." Shawn laughs, wraps his arm around Lassiter's shoulders. "Lassy? Kiss me?" He gives him that irresistible pouty smile and Lassy has no choice to comply, and they're too busy kissing there on the futon to hear the sound of the key in the locked door.
(The little squeal that Juliet makes, though, that captures their attention: especially coupled with the way she's bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands and then suddenly launching herself at the futon for a group hug: that would have been pretty damn hard to ignore.)