"I can't believe you actually volunteered to take me to pick up Gus at the airport," Shawn says, smiling one of those ridiculously-happy smiles at Lassiter.
Without looking away from the road, the other man raises one eyebrow. "Do you think for a moment that my motives were entirely altruistic, Spencer? If I didn't do it, you might have called your father and you might have told your father…"
"…we agreed I could tell Gus," Shawn interrupts, in a small voice, trying once again to pretend that it doesn't hurt, that Lassiter doesn't want people to know, because if it were up to Shawn he'd make a banner, hire a skywriter, Carlton Lassiter kissed me and I liked it! And vice versa!, or something quite like it.
( But that's the childish part of him; somewhere within is just enough of an adultish part of him that understands where dear sweet Lassipants is coming from. )
He's skittish. He was hurt pretty bad, by just about everyone he ever cared about. And yeah, relationships are tricky, but Carlton Lassiter is definitely, totally worth it.
"You said that if my best friend knew so could yours, not that I was aware that O'Hara was my best friend…"
Shawn gives him a look. "Who else, if not Jules?" He reaches out, puts one hand gently on Lassiter's knee, and is pleased when there isn't any sign of protest from the other man.
"It'll…I'll learn how to calm down," Lassiter adds, in a not-so-convinced voice, and Shawn just grins, leans over and kisses his cheek.
"I'll learn how to calm up."
"That makes absolutely no sense, Spencer."
"You'll get used to it," Shawn says with a grin, and he slides his hand up Lassiter's thigh a bit. Still no protesting, which means there's a whole lot of promise.
They get to the airport, take a ticket from the machine, begin an endless circle of the parking garage, finally end up in Green D: a part of the garage that looks nearly deserted, and Shawn's pretty sure he saw some free spaces back down a level in Yellow C, but he's not willing to argue. He squeezes Lassiter's thigh, before unbuckling his seatbelt, getting out of the car.
And it seems no sooner that he's out of the car that Lassiter's moved to his side, catches the roundness of his shoulders in his hands and Shawn finds himself firmly pressed up against one of the concrete walls of the almost deserted floor of the parking garage.
"Oh," he murmurs, and the reason for not searching farther in Yellow C is suddenly crystal clear, and then he's watching Lassiter's eyes go closed, feeling the press of the other man's body against his own and then – finally! – he's being kissed. He whimpers low in his throat, grabs at Lassister's hips to drag himself even closer, to make it perfectly obvious how much he really does enjoy the combination of surprise parking garage kisses and Carlton Lassiter. He shifts his hips, is gratified to hear Lassy whimper once before drawing away.
"You'll make me into an exhibitionist at this rate," he mutters, but there's a smile in his eyes and Shawn grins again, grabs for Lassiter's hand, twines his fingers through Lassiter's.
"Gus should be here by now," he answers simply, and is gratified by this small show of affection: holding hands with Carlton Lassiter, all the way to the elevator, all the way into the airport proper, and Lassiter only lets go when surrounded by a crowd of people on the plane from Chicago.
"Bruton Guster!" Shawn calls out, bouncing on his toes and waving his arms exaggeratedly in the air, and he sees Gus, in the crowd, flinch. "How was your trip how was Chicago which baggage carousel are we going to? Oh how I love the word carousel and wouldn't getting your luggage be more fun if there were horses?" He's rambling, to keep himself from saying something he shouldn't, something about Lassy: and at the same time he's searching Gus, trying to find clues, trying to figure out who, what, where.
The scent of the perfume is familiar: it drags him back to the earliest days of Psych, a red-haired woman: and he frowns, looks at Gus a bit closer, notices three lipgloss kiss prints: one on his forehead, one on each cheek.
It clicks. "Regina Cane? You went to Chicago to go on a date with Regina Cane?"
"I told you, Shawn, I was going to Chicago to catch up with an old friend. You're the one who said ti was a date." Gus looks at Lassiter, looks nervous, looks back at Shawn. "Which it wasn't."
Shawn raises one eyebrow. "Dude, she kissed you at least three times."
"Four, Shawn, four times," and Gus shakes his head. "She is a nice lady Shawn and she likes me and I don't want to hear anything about the fact that the body she lives in is sometimes inhabited by a guy. She's Regina almost all the time now, Shawn, Regina's the most stable part of her."
"I'd be more concerned with dating a murderess," Lassiter mutters under his breath, and both Shawn and Gus look at him for a moment.
"What is Lassy doing here?" Gus asks, and Shawn just laughs, grabs for Lassy's hand again. "Come on Gus, I'll tell you all about it in the car."
[[fin.]]