Chicken soup for the stomach.

AN: sorry this is so short. The third chapter is underway as I write this. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed!

*flashback*

"Dad?"

"yeah, Shawn? What's up?"

"What if I told you I didn't want to be a cop?" he looked at the floor. "What if I told you I didn't want anything to do with the police?"

"What?"

"What if it's not what I want to do? What if I want to be a pilot, or a fireman, or a rodeo clown?"

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little. Maybe."

"You're underage, kid. Go and sleep it off, or I'll arrest you."

"Dad. Are you even listening to me?"

"You're drunk, Shawn. Go to bed."

"But Dad..."

"Bed. Now. And I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense. You're lucky your mother isn't here."

"She isn't here because you drove her away!"

"GO TO BED. Sleep it off, and I want an apology in the morning."

*end flashback*

He woke up in a house that's not his home, in a bed that's not his own.
"urgh. Wha' happened?"

"Good evening, Spencer."

"Oh, ow. Can we just pretend that last night never happened?"

"Which bit? The part where you showed up at my door, drunk? When you admitted to fraud? When you told me I hated you?"

"The part where I dressed up in drag and did the hula."

"here. You're dehydrated." Lassiter puts the bowl of Chicken Soup on the coffee table, with a glass of water and two aspirin.

Shawn drank the water slowly, downing the pills. He sipped at the soup. And all the while, he stared at Lassiter. Lassiter was looking after him. Being nice to him. But he knew. He knew.

"Why aren't I in handcuffs right now?"

"Spencer, I didn't know you were so kinky!"

"What, you're channelling me now?" Shawn shook his head, exasperatedly. "Go ahead, clap me in irons and haul me away. I know you want to."

"First of all, a year or so ago, yes, I would have arrested you without a thought. But now? As much as I hate to admit it, and I will shoot you if you tell anyone, you're almost a friend. Well, an acquaintance, at least."And usually Shawn would have gotten the message and grinned and relaxed, but today he was having doubts.

"You don't want anyone to know you consider me an acquaintance? Don't put yourself out for me Lassie-face." He sighed. "Maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement. I don't have much money, but I can get

some, or I could leave town, take 'Psych' with me. I just..." he looked at his feet. He realised his socks didn't match, but the way his life was going? Not a surprise."I don't want the people I helped... I want the cases to stand. They won't if you tell."

"Oh God, you're going to make me say it aren't you?" Lassiter groaned.

It's odd. Lassiter had been drunk once. And the few words he'd said to Shawn then had bolstered him, made him feel it was all worth it. "You astound me." Shawn gets drunk and leaves Lassiter wondering how badly he screwed up. "You hate me!"

"Look, Spenc...Shawn. I like you. You're a nice guy. You are a great detective. You save lives all the time."

Shawn stared in shock. He couldn't believe these words were coming from his almost enemy. The man his father wished was his son. The guy he hated to admit he looked up to.

"You don't have to do that." Shawn said, getting up angrily and heading for the door. "You don't have to make crap up to make me... I know you hate me. Remember? You want to slam me into a wall half the time, and I get it, I do. It's because you see who I really am. I think I'd hate me if I were you too. I'm going home."

"Oh, no you don't." A hand grabbed his arm. Somehow he wasn't surprised when a cold metal ring closed around his wrist.

"And you called me kinky?"
"We're doing this."

"Lassie, I didn't know you felt that way!" Shawn protested as he was dragged into the spare room and cuffed to the bed.

"Don't do that! You go on about how you hate hiding, but you're still doing it!" Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. "We are going to have this conversation out, whether you like it or not. We both have the week off, so no one will wonder where we are. We need to discuss this."

"What's there to discuss?"

"Well, you were crying into a bottle of whisky last night. You go on about what a fraud you are. You think I hate you." Lassiter listed. "Something is wrong and I don't know what."

"What does that have to do with me being chained to the bed? If you want to come out, the closet's over there."

"I'm not stupid. If I let you out of my sight, you'd run away, give up. Because that's what you do."

"Fine. Can I have some more water?"

For the first time in his life, Shawn was sticking with something. He was responsible. He was relied upon. And he didn't want to run away. But, instincts are hard to foil, and he's at his wits end. Just because he doesn't want to leave, doen't mean he won't try and run. He's fed up of lying. Of working his ass off, for table scraps. Of the look on his father's face.

Lassiter considered how to make Spencer talk as he ran water into a glass. Shawn was infuriating. And it wasn't supposed to be the Head Detective's job to play shrink to some consultant. Guster was supposed to take care of Spencer, stop him doing crazy stunts like getting drunk and coming round Lassiter's place and admitting that he's not a psychic. He wished O'Hara was here to be Good Cop. Maybe then. he'd get some answers.

When Lassiter went back in, the handcuffs were empty and so was his bed.

I promise there will be more! Reviews are love! (as my mood improves, this story will get less and less angsty and more fun. so more reviews if you want a happy ending!)

Oh, and all mistakes are my own. no beta.