Insert witty title here.
Can't think of a good chapter heading.
I don't own psych.
An: hi guys, hope you're still reading, after that brief hiatus. You'll be pleased to know I handed in my Rossetti essay on time, now I just have my portfolio, identity project, and Novel essay to do, and I have between 4 and 6 weeks for those so I'll be updating fairly regular. Sorry to all those Henry fans out there, this chapter may start off as being a little anti-Henry. Now I like Henry fine, most of the time, but sometimes, I just want to climb into the flashback and steal little Shawn. I was watching season one on my DVD's and the flashback which has Shawn building the dog house.... he was trying and Henry doesn't even acknowledge that. So, I rant a little.
Also, I've gotten a couple or three requests to keep this gen. Like I've said before, I'm writing this on the fly. But, I do like slash. On the other hand, Shassie isn't my fave pairing ever. There's just not enough chemistry. This could still go either way, but if I do decide to slashy Shassie I will put up heap big warnings 'Kay? In fact I think I'll try and make this ambiguous, so that the readers can decide whether or not they want the boys to boink.
After their conversation that morning, Lassiter had decided to go easy on Shawn. He had moved the man to the sofa and they'd sat and watched movies. Shawn wanted a comedy, but Lassiter only owned action flicks. So, they ended up watching the Die Hard movies. All four of them in a row. Shawn's wrists were still chained.
They'd ordered Pizza for dinner. Half pepperoni and half Hawaiian (obviously). Both of them were surprised at how well they got on, chatting about the films, carefully avoiding discussing anything serious. Shawn had gotten quite upset that morning and Lassiter had ended up punching a wall as Shawn explained his childhood.
He had to admit that his first thought upon hearing Shawn's story, before he knew all the facts, was child abuse. That's when he punched the wall. And yeah, it wasn't abuse. Not really. But Lassiter thought back to fishing with Spencer Senior. How nothing he did was good enough. About how Henry had treated him when they were looking for Shawn after he was taken. If Spencer had grown up with that attitude directed at him...
It was made worse by the fact that both felt incredibly uncomfortable talking like this with each other. They were barely even friends, and yet they were discussing their dysfunctional childhoods. Shawn had managed to get Lassiter into a game of quid pro quo (although did he really have to call him Clarice?) so he ended up spilling about his overbearing mother, absentee father and Old Senora.
Before they'd even gotten to the teenage years, Carlton was really angry. He'd always thought Henry was an upstanding guy, a real hero. But the way he treated his kid sometimes! And from what Shawn said, the Spencer household had never really been as happy as he liked to make out. Henry and Madeline fought constantly and they were complete opposites as far as parenting was concerned. When Maddy was around, not often as she travelled a lot, she gave her son lots of hugs, and let him do whatever he wanted. Even when what he wanted was something like watching Nightmare on Elm Street, in the middle of the night, when he was just a kid. Henry on the other hand, never hugged, never said I love you, or well done. He said; 'Not bad kid. But you need to work on...'
When they got to the arrest, Lassiter wasn't sure what to think. Shawn had been locked up for borrowing his dad's truck without permission. Who would lock their kid up with the criminals? Because that's where Shawn had been stuck, in with the drunks, rapists and (according to Shawn) serial killers (but Carlton suspected he was exaggerating). Lassiter knew the importance of discipline. He accepted that Shawn had been acting up a lot when he'd taken the truck. He understood that the divorce was final, and the father/son relationship was strained. But still. He couldn't imagine putting his own kid in with the scum he arrested every day. Not the mention, ending the chances of a great detective's career. Most academies don't accept recruits with even a misdemeanour on their record, but Grand Theft Auto? Given how much Henry had wanted Shawn to be a cop, it just didn't make sense to Carlton.
When Shawn was done though, Carlton realised that Henry had just been doing whatever he could to prepare his son, giving him the tools he would need to survive as a detective. The older Spencer had done the best he could. Yes, he was emotionally constipated, but what cop of that generation wasn't? It wasn't helped by the fact that he was the only half of the parental unit that ever punished the younger Spencer. Mrs Spencer wasn't the best parent, because she didn't really know her son that well, and when she was home, she wanted him to be happy. Which wasn't always what was best for him. As for the arrest, even that made a certain sense, especially if Henry had really looked at his son and realised the kid would never willingly be a cop. He wasn't made for it. Oh, he was brilliant at solving crimes, but Shawn wasn't someone who could be faced with the darkness cops deal with everyday and walk away unscathed. The little break-down at four in the morning proved that. The kid just wanted to see the best in everyone.
Lassiter might not entirely agree with Henry's methods, but he could see where the man was coming from. What really pissed him off though, is that the stern upbringing obviously hadn't worked. He wondered if Henry thought it was worth it.
When the knocking came on the door, both of them jumped.
"Spencer, go back to the spare room." Lassiter ordered.
"What? Why?"
"Because as far as anyone knows, both of us are off sick with the flu. I don't want to have to explain this." He motioned between the two of them and looked pointedly at Shawn's wrists.
"Okay fine. But only because I'm tired, and that bed is like lying on petals and clouds." Shawn shuffled into the spare room and sat on the bed. He couldn't help but feel hurt, it was almost as though Lassiter was ashamed that he was here. And after Lassie had told him he didn't hate him and everything.
"Carlton!" A voice came along with the banging.
Lassiter went and answered the door. He put on his best 'sick' face.
"Cough cough. 'Lo?"
"Carlton. Are you alright?"
"O'Hara? What are you doing here?"
"You're sick, I just wanted to check up on you." She smiled. "Look, here these are for you." She handed him a bag of soup and grapes.
"Thanks."
"How are you feeling?"
"Not too terrible. In fact, I could go to work -cough cough-ยด if you need me." Lassiter replied.
"No, no. If you're ill you should stay home." She smiled again. "Speaking of ill people who should be at home..."
"Nice segue."
"Thanks. Shawn wasn't at his place when I stopped by, and with Gus out of town, you know how he gets about his own health."
Lassiter thought for a minute. He was going to have to tell her at least part of the truth.
"Shawn's in my spare room. He has a high fever and I didn't want him going home by himself. He showed up here delirious and high on cold medicine, that's how he gave this to me. I couldn't just let him wander off by himself!"
"Carlton! That's... almost sweet!"
"Thank you." Lassiter replied, warily. He took a step back, in case she leaped towards him for a hug or something.
"Here. This pineapple is for him. Tell him I said to get well soon."
"I will." Lassiter started to shut the front door.
"Carlton?"
"Yes?"
"Shawn.... he is okay, right? It's probably nothing, and it might not even be about him, I mean I could be overreacting..."
"Spit it out O'Hara!"
"I overheard a bunch of patrolmen talking about a mockery and the devil and how he had gotten the message and I think they were talking about Shawn and what if they hurt him?" She said all this at about 50 miles per hour. Lassiter saw red. He'd suspected when he saw the bruises but the idea that someone could hurt Shawn, someone who was supposed to be one of the good guys, who was supposed to protect him, it actually made him physically ill.
"I'll deal with it." He said, his voice cold.
Juliet knew better than to keep talking to Lassiter when he was in this mood. She smiled, nodded and got out of there as fast as she could.
Meanwhile, Shawn was sitting on the bed in the spare room. He could hear Jules' dulcet tones, and considered going out to say hello. Then he remembered the handcuffs.
But, what if Lassie was spilling his secret right now? What if he was telling Juliet all about his embarrassing break-down? Jules would hate him. She would be disappointed. Shawn curled up and laid down on his left side. He'd really screwed everything up. His whole life was over becausehe;d let it get to him. Because he'd had one drink too many.
Why did I do that? What the hell was I thinking?
He curled up tighter, snuggling into the covers. He wasn't lying about the bed being as soft as the clouds.
He felt tears threaten for no good reason and bit down on the inside of his mouth.
What's wrong with me? Why am I such a freak? Why is it so hard for me to control my emotions suddenly? I've been pretending for years! He wondered. The answer was right in front of his face. Shawn, his inner voice said. Weirdly his inner voice sounded a lot like Gus. You're having trouble because you know you don't have to pretend anymore. It's a relief. At least not with Lassie. He knows. And he's still here. Taking care of you with that inimitable Lassiter style.
Shawn realised his inner-Gus spoke sense. Much like his outer-Gus. Boy, did he miss his outer-Gus. But he'd be back in a few days. He was going to be so mad at Shawn for telling. Gus could be arrested too. He'd have to fix that. Tell Lassie Gus had no idea. He yawned. This bed was so nice and warm. And he was so tired. Tired of fighting. Of pretending.
Soon it would all be over.
To be continued. Will Shawn spill all about the bashing he's received? And what have those guys got against snarky psychics anyway? (I know it's a little short, but it's an update, 'kay?) More soon.
