Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Psych-Os like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Through current episodes, particularly strong from Heeeeere's Lassie.

Chapter Fifteen: Never Say Trust Me

In his dreams Lassiter was transported back through several weeks of memory. It was a stakeout, holed up with O'Hara and Spencer and Guster in an empty apartment with a good view of the abandoned storefront across the street, which Spencer claimed was the headquarters of a gang of jewel thieves. Lassiter was certain that had been true at the time Spencer had scoped the place out before "sensing" it publicly in Chief Vick's office, but it wasn't true anymore and they were wasting a lot of police resources on it - something they actually spent a lot of time doing chasing Spencer's leads, a fact the media always neglected to mention when they were propping up the egotistical little freak once he finally got it right.

It was late. They'd been watching the blacked-out building for hours, and both consultants had been sound asleep in a heap on the floor for at least the last two. Lassiter and Juliet were both at the tail end of a very long, hard double-shift, and they were exhausted. Lassiter took a position propped against the wall with a good view of the window and told Juliet to take a breather. She was too tired to argue.

He closed his eyes for only a moment, but long enough to be taken completely by surprise when she snuggled into his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be doing this with Spencer?" he said, trying and failing to keep a note of bitterness out of his tone.

"You fit me better," she said, more than half asleep already, but he was no longer remotely tired. You fit me better. He knew what she meant - he was bigger than Shawn, big enough for her to fit rather comfortably under his arm and in the hollow of his shoulder. But he hadn't been able to keep himself from thinking of all the other ways he fit her better than Spencer did, if she could only see it.

Spencer hadn't even seemed jealous when he woke up later and found them that way. In fact, he'd been insultingly amused.

"Look Gus," he said. "Isn't that adorable? It's like an old Coke advertisement where the little girl is waiting for Santa but she's fallen asleep on the rug curled up next to her big, fuzzy Irish Rockhound."

"Wolfhound."

"What?""Irish Wolfhound, Shawn. An Irish Rockhound is an amateur geological enthusiast named Seamus O'Mallory."

"Gus, I can't do this with you right now."

Okay, so on one hand it was a good thing that O'Hara was dating a man who wasn't jealous, but on the other it was damned insulting to be viewed as so unthreatening as to qualify as another species…if Spencer had actually meant wolfhound and not rockhound, at any rate. Lassiter wouldn't put it past the snoopy bastard to have ferreted out his secret love of all things igneous and occasionally metamorphic. Sedimentary, my dear Guster…

The dream was getting unpleasant and his mind shied itself down a different track. A track dictated by the music playing in his condominium and the gentle hand that stroked his hair while he slept. Once again he heard her innocently-intended words, "You fit me better," but the context in which she said them was considerably less innocent than it actually had been. Nothing pornographic, it wasn't that kind of dream, but certainly hope-inspiring and on-turning. Filtering through from outside the realm of REM sleep was always the music.

"Sweet dream baby, sweet dream baby, sweet dream baby, how long must I dream? Dream baby, got me dreaming sweet dreams, the whole day through. Dream baby, got me dreaming sweet dreams at nighttime, too. I love you, and I'm dreaming of you, but that won't do. Dream baby, make me stop my dreaming. You can make my dreams come true."

"Maurice, knock it off already," he mumbled, coming partly awake.

"Who's Maurice?" Juliet asked.

Lassiter answered without waking any further. "The condo."

Juliet's hand hesitated near his temple. A faltering smile played about her lips. "The condo's name is Maurice?" she asked.

"Actually he's the whole building. But he's not really a he, he's just…drawing from me."

"He's the musical one, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"Is there any particular reason why he seems to be trying to disc jockey a romance?"

"He's got it in his…head? bricks?…that you and I ought to be together."

She giggled. "Wonder where he got that idea?"

"I guess he knows I've been half in love with you for a long time."

Her hand stopped its gentle petting again. "Carlton, do you think you're still asleep?" she asked.

"Yes." Then his eyes popped open. "Shit."

She laughed and planted a kiss on his brow. "It's okay, you didn't confess anything I wasn't already fairly certain of. Although the fact that the building has a name did come as something of a surprise."

"What…what are you doing here, O'Hara?" he asked. "How did you get in?"

"Maurice opened the door for me," she said, with a smile. "And put on an impromptu concert for me, too. Who sings a song that goes, 'They say love conquers all. You can't start it like a car, you can't stop it with a gun?'"

He sat up. "That's 'Searching For a Heart,' by Warren Zevon."

"Is he also the one that sings the song that says 'reconsider me' about a dozen times?"

"Yeah. That song is called 'Reconsider Me,' appropriately enough."

"I recognized Garth Brooks when I heard him, but the song was a new one on me. Something about a guy who sends roses but doesn't sign the card?"

He thought for a minute. "'Anonymous,' I suppose. It's the special bonus track off the limited edition of the album In Pieces."

"And then there was 'Sweet Dream Baby,' which I'm pretty sure was Roy Orbison."

"Yeah, I heard that one."

"Can I ask you something about that?"

"I…suppose so," he said warily.

She smiled shyly. "Were you dreaming about me?"

He blushed. She laughed. Then she kissed him - on the brow again, but it sent shivers through his entire body. "I think that's very sweet," she said.

"O'Hara…why did you come over?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. I didn't really plan on it, I just wanted to sort some things out in my mind and found myself here. Doesn't surprise me all that much, actually. You're always the one I come to when I need to talk or when I just need to be around someone who won't talk unless there's something important to say."

"What is it you need to talk…or not talk about?" he asked.

She laughed. "Oh, just something kind of silly. I tried to talk to Chief Vick about your musical poltergeist, and she may have gotten the wrong idea about you and I."

"The…wrong idea? About you and me?" His eyes got huge. "W-w-what did she say? She didn't say anything about a transfer, did she? I mean, you told her there was nothing to it, right?"

"Relax, Carlton, she was actually kind of cool about it. Sort of a 'don't ask don't tell' stance, as long as our professional partnership stayed strong. And no, I didn't tell her there was nothing to it. Partly because it took some thinking before I really understood what she was getting at, and partly because I'm not so certain there is 'nothing to it.'"

"W-what do you mean?" he gulped. She placed one hand on his cheek.

"Carlton, I know I broke your trust in me, and I'm sorry about that. More than you can know. Do you think there's any chance I can ever earn it back?"

The silent record player burst into life again. "What will be will be, yeah. That is all that I know, girl. You should never say trust me, 'cause I know you'll be there, yes I know you'll be there. I'll be as right as rain can be, this is our love affair. Never say trust me. My faith in you is all you need. Love is all I need. You should never say trust me, it's already been done, it's already been done, beneath the seas, beneath the trees, and under the sun, and under the sun."

"Marvin Rainwater?" Juliet asked.

"Gordon Lightfoot," Lassiter replied.

"I get the names mixed up," she said. "Lightfoot was the one who sang the really long song about that ore ship that sank in Lake Superior, right?"

"'The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,' yeah."

"I like that one."

"O'Hara…Maurice's interference notwithstanding, I just wanted to tell you…when I said that I didn't trust you anymore I was mostly just upset and lashing out. I trust you. I do. And I want to say that…I see and appreciate the fact that over the time we've been partners you've tried really hard to see the best in me. Most people give up on that pretty quickly, where I'm concerned. I just want to say thank you, for that. For not writing me off."

"I would never write you off, Carlton."

Gordon Lightfoot piped up again.

"You said you were through with romance. Why take a chance on anyone? You're so beautiful, too, I can tell by the way that you dance. They say that people don't change, but why rearrange the original? You do something to me that my eyes cannot see at a glance.

"Signs of a new beginning. Signs of a life worth living. The better to forget than to be all that upset. It's the time to taste the wine. And maybe someday things will change and come within range, and be laughable. Everything is okay, I can tell by the way that you dance. They say that people don't try. Well, that's just a lie. They work miracles. It's a gift from above when we talk about love and romance.

"Signs of a new tomorrow. Signs of a life without sorrow. The better to forget than to be all that upset. It's the time to taste the wine. And maybe someday you will be romantic like me, when I'm with you. And I think you might say I can tell by the way that you dance. They say that people don't change. Like 'Home on the Range,' it's original. You do something to me that my eyes cannot see at a glance. You do something to me when we talk about love and romance."

"Maurice is a little pushy, isn't he?" Juliet laughed.

"Reminds me of my grandmother," Lassiter said.

"Mine, too. But I think he's onto something. Don't you?"

"I'm…not really sure how to take what you're saying, O'Hara."

Her hand brushed across his cheek and through his hair. "Maybe you'll know how to take this," she said, and kissed him, full on the mouth.

Now that she had his undivided attention, she drew back. "What would you say to me," she asked, "if I told you I wanted you to take me for a ride in a hot air balloon?"

"A hot air balloon?" he repeated, blinking. "I'd say it sounds kind of expensive, I guess. I'd have to put off getting my tooth fixed. But if that's what you really want to do…"

"Carlton," she said, with a half-hearted slap at his chest.

"What? Did I get it wrong? I don't mean that I mind the expense, honest. I'm just a little bit strapped right now, with the condo and all."

"No, you put off the expensive and unnecessary balloon ride, not the bad tooth, silly ass. You're just looking for an excuse, aren't you?"

He blinked again. "No. Well…maybe. But I don't want to put you off. If you said you wanted me to book you a flight to the moon I'd find a way to make it happen."

She smiled. "You know what? I believe it. And I don't want you to take me up in a balloon, I just wanted to know that you would if I asked you to. I didn't really need to ask, I knew you would, but it's nice to have my suspicions confirmed."

She kissed him again, deeper, and the record player once again began to play "The Liberty Bell March." Neither of them paid any attention to it whatsoever.