Lassiter took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and winced. Why were his palms damp? Why was it so hot? Was... was he sweating? "Calm down, Carlton" he whispered to himself. Well, that was easier said than done. His heart was pounding in his chest like a drum, showing no signs of slowing down. God, he didn't like this at all. He wasn't the type to get flustered—or at least, that's what he kept telling himself. Carlton Lassiter was a police detective, a kick-ass police detective.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and loosened his tie slightly, trying to focus. Yeah, he was a ten-year veteran of the Santa Barbara Police Department. He was fearless. He was composed. But as he glanced through the glass wall and saw Shawn and Gus laughing and joking in the chief's office, his confidence wavered. He drew one last shaky breath, straightened his posture, and entered the room with his head held high.
"Spencer, can I have a word?" Lassiter asked, his mouth suddenly dry. The two friends stopped talking and turned to him. On the outside, he probably looked like his usual self, but inside, he was losing it. Shawn raised an eyebrow, curious. Gus, on the other hand, frowned, clearly unamused by the interruption. There was an awkward pause before Lassiter added "I meant a word alone with Shawn, Burton"
Gus glared at him, visibly annoyed, but Lassiter didn't budge. He stood firm, unaffected, even when Gus dramatically got up, bumped into his shoulder, and stormed out. The impact must have stung—Lassiter was built like a brick wall—but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he waited for the door to shut before turning his attention to the only other person in the room.
"What's up, Lassie?" Shawn asked, standing and walking toward him. He stopped just a few inches away, so close that Lassiter could smell his aftershave. Pineapple. Of course. All of Lassiter's carefully built confidence evaporated. His mind went blank, and his words came out as an incoherent slur. Shawn, now visibly confused, frowned and leaned closer, raising a hand to touch Lassiter's forehead. "Are you feeling okay? You're sweating, and I've never seen you sweat before..."
"Stop touching my face! I'm fine!" Lassiter snapped, grabbing Shawn's wrist and pulling it away. The reaction was too strong, and as soon as he realized it, he let go of Shawn's hand and took a step back, his face burning with embarrassment. Damn it. Why was this so hard? Shawn tilted his head, concern flickering in his eyes. Lassiter closed his own eyes briefly and swallowed. It was now or never. Time to rip off the band-aid. "I have something to ask you" he said, his voice low.
"Sure, man. Fire away" Shawn replied, smiling to put him at ease.
"..."
"..."
"Will you go out with me?"