A/N: Here's Reason 7! This is the last chapter that will be coming fast because I have yet to write out chapter 8. These normally flow pretty smoothly, but chapter 8's a little hard to get through my fingers and onto the paper. Thank you all so much for your support! Please review, even if it is just a comment! I like to see those, it motivates me GREATLY. Be prepared for a sappy ending. You might be able to make syrup with it. (PUN INTENDED.)


7). Dinner's always for two.

Carlton Lassiter had been used to a quiet, empty kitchen waiting for him after he got home from work.

It still takes him by surprise that Spencer—Shawn, he reminds himself, Shawn—can make such a racket in the cooking space. Simply, by either doing nothing at all or doing everything at once. Literally everything.

So Lassiter tries to walk into their house coolly, not reacting to the clang and clatter of pots and pans.

"Shawn, what are you doing?"

"Dinner."

"What happened last time you tried to make food in a real oven?"

There was silence for a moment, followed by light chuckling.

"Lassiekins, I know how to use a real oven now. You can wait."

The head detective laughs himself, sliding into his bedroom to change.

*~*~*~*

Lassiter continues to stare blankly at the television, waiting hungrily for his meal.

"SHAWN! Are you finished yet?!" he asks for the millionth time. The head detective, being the pessimist the he is, is expecting a resounding no.

"Yeah, let's eat!"

The older man jumps to his feet and dashes to the table, which is surprisingly set with fancy decorations.

Blue cloth napkins are set neatly on top of fine porcelain dishes Lassiter didn't even know he had. The lights of the candles flicker as Shawn sits waiting.

"I… hope you like it," he mumbles, blushing.

The blue-eyed man walks unusually slowly to over to his boyfriend to place a gentle kiss on the younger man's lips, and then presses their foreheads together.

"I love it, Shawn. It's perfect."

"No, you're perfect."