I do not own Psych. I am not making any money off of this, merely having some fun. They all really belong to Steve Franks and USA Network. Enjoy!

"Hi, welcome to Marvin's, home of the –"

"Yes, yes, we know, the world-famous Blarney Stone fajitas, right?" Lassiter said. His unoccupied hand twitched, as if to go for either his gun or his badge. "Table for two, please." Shawn smiled winningly at the new host.

The man gave them a withering look – and not just because of their entwined hands. He dropped the accent as he spoke, and Shawn got some serious déjà vu. "Look, man, it's St. Patrick's Day. We are completely booked until at least two in the morning. You'd think that we're the only Irish place in Santa Barbara!"

Shawn's smile took a rare frosty glint. He would make sure that the holiday was spent among other people for once in his life, instead of him and Gus making up drinking games to TV shows like every other year, gosh darn it! "You know, man, I think Saint Paddy would be disappointed. I mean, he'd probably want the people who caught the murderers working in this very establishment to have at least a round of drinks on the house."

The new man gulped and glanced at the table chart in front of him. He muttered something about a manager and scurried off.

Lassiter turned an upturned eyebrow over to Shawn in surprise. Shawn sighed and looked down at their fingers, seemingly for strength, before he answered. Yet even his response came out flippant. "C'mon, Lassie, I figured you should spend this day amongst your fellows. I mean, not everyone has that strong Irish hairline. But you'll be surrounded by fellow Irishmen! Ooh! Do you think there will be any leprechauns here?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes yet still placed a fond kiss on Shawn's temple. He hoped fervently that the crazy bell woman from the speed dating was no longer here, even as the new host scurried back to them.

"Right this way."

Shawn bounced up as far next to the guy as Lassiter would allow, given the status of their hands. "Dude! Will you say 'Lucky Charms' in that accent of yours? Please? The last guy, the murderer, wouldn't.."

Shawn garnered a startled look and menus shoved in his hands before the poor host ran off from their table. Lassiter let out an out-of-character guffaw and took a menu from Shawn as he sat.

The psychic detective sat as well, as close to Lassiter as propriety would allow. "So, Lassie. I have a today-themed joke for you."

"What is it, Shawn?" Lassiter asked, skimming the menu for changes and typos.

"Why did the leprechaun giggle?"

An eyebrow was raised again in the direction of the too-bouncy Shawn.

"He was getting his sham-rocks off!" And off Shawn was, laughing and grabbing onto Lassiter's knee for support as he almost fell out of the small booth.

Briefly, Carlton wondered why he was with the immature man. Then Shawn looked at him with such love and trust and yes, giddy humor, and he remembered.

This came out of nowhere because I wrote another Psych drabble today, and suddenly realized that hey, it's St. Patrick's Day! Miraculously did not get pinched or anything, despite the fact that I forgot. A friend of mine made up the punchline of the joke, so I had to include it to pacify her... Not to mention the fluff was a complete surprise for me. But Lassie wanted an 'aww' moment, so I gave him one.

Well, I hope that everyone is well, and I hope you review!

Best,
Cat