Lassiter Learns How to Bend

Rating: MA for M/M, oral sex

Pairings: Shawn/Lassiter

Warning: Shassie Slash. Takes place after Lassie Did A Bad Bad Thing. Contains spoilers for that episode.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Lassiter is alarmed at finding himself attracted to Spencer following the Drimmer incident. He visits a friend in San Francisco, looking for advice, but Spencer has tailed him. Lust overtakes them in the gayest city in the world, but can their relationship survive returning to Santa Barbara?

***

The next morning Lassiter barricaded himself in the bathroom and spent five minutes using his electric toothbrush and thinking. He felt completely unsure about how he was supposed to interact with Spencer now. Sure, the sex had been great, but it wasn't like this was the start of anything. Spencer's life didn't seem to include relationships. In the three years he'd known him he didn't think he'd seen him with the same girl twice. And he was pretty sure Spencer didn't have a regular boyfriend. Unless he and Guster were....No. Guster was definitely not into Shawn that way. Right?

Lassiter came out of the bathroom and began to gather up his clothes. Shawn was sitting naked on the bed, the comforter pulled discretely around his midsection, his clothes hanging over one arm.

"So...," Shawn said. "I'm going to take a shower, and dress. Will you still be here when I come out?"

Lassiter looked at him, surprised. "You think I'd just take off without you?" What kind of guys was Shawn used to picking up? he wondered.

"The thought did occur to me."

"I'm not going to ditch you. Take your time." Besides, Lassiter had learned early on in their acquaintance that Shawn having unsupervised access to a hotel room secured with his credit card resulted in an expensive room service and mini-fridge bill.

Shawn went into the bathroom and started to run the water in the shower.

"So I figure we'll get brunch and then drive back to Santa Barbara," Lassiter said loudly toward the bathroom.

"Sounds good," Shawn shouted back. "Let's take the PCH though, it's prettier."

Lassiter considered pointing out that would add three hours or more to the trip, but changed his mind. The scenic route would mean more vista gazing and less talking. He wasn't very good at post-coital chit-chat, and this situation was even further outside his comfort zone.

Ten minutes later, their belongings packed, Lassiter led the way downstairs and paid the bill. Marie was behind the counter.

"Good Morning Mr. Lassiter," She smiled at Carlton, "And you too Mr. Cassidy."

"Thanks, Marie." Shawn said, leaving Lassiter looking confused.

"Did you win the train contest?" She asked as she processed Lassiter's credit card.

"We sure did," Shawn said. "It was just trains and tunnels all evening." Lassiter took his card back from the blushing clerk and pushed Shawn out to the car.

"Don't you ever stop?"

During the first six hours of the drive Shawn kept himself entertained with searching for radio stations and talking about movies and television shows. Lassiter joined in occasionally, grateful that he wasn't discussing anything about the previous evening. Of course that didn't stop him from keeping a running discussion with himself.

You've got to talk to him about last night at some point.

Can't we just carry on and pretend nothing happened?

Great, and we'll just have whether or not he intends to out us to the entire SBPD be a surprise then, shall we?

Shawn wouldn't do that.

Are we talking about the same person? He's been undercutting you at work since you met him.

I think I can trust him. I want to trust him.

Don't start thinking this is more than it is just because he's had your cock in his mouth. For all you know that's just a regular Thursday night for him.

Lassiter was so caught up in his internal argument he barely noticed the passing trees, cliffs and breaking surf until they were an hour outside of Santa Barbara.

They ate dinner at Theresa's Tamale Shack, one of Lassiter's favourite on-the-road pit stops. Finally, as got back into the car he addressed the issue that had been burning a hole in his gut for the past two hundred and fifty miles.

"Listen Spencer, I accept that you're going to tell Guster about last night. But please, in the name of Smith and Wesson, do not tell O'Hara or Vick or anyone else at the station."

Shawn looked at Lassiter quizzically. "You think I'd out you at work?"

"Maybe not maliciously," Lassiter allowed. "But your behaviour might lead people to put two and two together."

"Relax, Lassie, I'm not going to come into the station and start dry-humping your leg."

"Actually, Spencer, that's a pretty accurate description of the way you normally behave around the station."

"I won't say a word about San Francisco. Beyond what I've already written in my blog this morning while you were brushing your teeth."

"Please be joking." Lassiter closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath in and out.

"Of course I'm joking. Frankly, I'm amazed that you even know what a blog is."

"I'm not living in the middle ages."

"No. But you'd look great at Medieval Times. We should go. Can you swordfight?"

Lassiter pulled out of the parking lot. No wonder Spencer didn't have any relationships. How did anyone ever know when he was serious?

An hour later he pulled up in front of Shawn's apartment and turned the ignition off. Shawn unlatched his seatbelt and turned to face him.

"Well, I don't really know what I'm supposed to say now." Lassiter sat there holding the steering wheel, looking down.

"Thank-you for a lovely evening?" Shawn suggested.

"In any event, it was an interesting experiment." Lassiter was trying hard to keep his face from betraying the mixed emotions flooding through him.

"I see. Who exactly is the control group in this experiment?" Shawn cocked his head at Lassiter. "Will anyone be getting the placebo sex?"

"Okay, maybe experiment wasn't the right word," he admitted.

Shawn moved out of his seat and onto Lassiter's lap. Gripping the headrest, he began to trail kisses down the detective's neck.

"Stay over," he whispered. "You've got a suitcase packed with what, three days worth of clothes?"

"I live less than 15 minutes away," Lassiter pointed out.

"But my place has oral sex and Chief Vick said that you weren't due back until Monday."

"That's true." What would it hurt, Lassiter wondered, if the experiment were extended just one more day? He unlocked his seatbelt and looked at Shawn, who sat grinning on top of him. "Get off my lap, Spencer."

***

Late the next afternoon Shawn was returning from the market with a bag of groceries when his cell phone rang. The sounds of Michael Jackson's Thriller ringtone told him it was Gus.

"So how did your stalking go?" Gus asked. "Did Lassiter catch you and send you home in shame?"

"I think he may have caught a glimpse of me when I was blowing him in his hotel room. And he may have spotted me doing it again last night at my place." Shawn let himself into his apartment and began to unpack the groceries.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then Gus said, "I'm not hearing this, Shawn."

"Don't be a ticket-writing meter maid. I want to talk about my dirty weekend."

"No. Absolutely no."

"Lost Weekend? Weekend at Bernie's? Well, dirty Thursday-Friday. It may end up spanning into the weekend. I'll keep you posted." He pulled a pot and a bowl from the cupboard and put them on the counter.

"Even assuming that I did want to hear about your sex life—which I don't—why would I want to hear about Lassiter's? The man scares me. He has a gun and he's not afraid to use it."

"Your lips say 'no,' but your remarks about his gun cry out for sexual innuendo."

"I'm saying goodbye now, Shawn. Call me when you're free."

"Wait! I need your advice." Shawn tucked his cell against his ear with his shoulder, took the vegetables to the sink and began to wash them.

"My advice is to never mention this to anyone else. How's that for a start? I'm pretty sure Lassiter would kill you if it gets back to the station."

"I couldn't agree with you more. Which is why I'm keeping it super-secret. I'm only telling you. Possibly Henry, just to make him squirm."

"You definitely shouldn't tell your dad. Hell, you shouldn't even have told me."

"I need you. I need your relationship know-how. Be my Dr. Phil. Be my Oprah."

"Relationship? Is that what you're calling this?"

"Maybe. Technically, today could count as a third date. That's practically a silver anniversary for me." Shawn left the clean vegetables on a tea towel to dry.

There was a long pause.

"It is true, I do have a lot of wisdom to impart. You really don't know anything about relationships."

"I dated Rebecca Solomon for a whole year."

"She was your lab partner. Those weren't dates, they were chemistry assignments."

"Oh, there was chemistry. At least on my part."

"A real date involves at least two people, each of whom are aware they're on a date, Shawn."

"Then I have a date with Lassiter tonight. He's coming over for dinner." Shawn emptied a bag of arugula into a bowl and began tearing up leaf lettuce.

"Really? And he knows it's a date-date?"

"Yep. And I hope he's a hungry hungry hippo, because I'm making an enormous amount of pasta with basil and oregano. And garlic bread. And some kind of salad to start." Shawn looked down at the green leafy pieces in the bowl.

"That's a great idea," Gus said. "What's for dessert, an EpiPen and a visit to emergency?"

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Gus."

"Lassiter's allergic to mint. Basil and oregano are both in the mint family."

"He didn't say he was allergic to basil or oregano. Besides, what's the worst-case scenario? Sneezing, watery eyes?"

"Uh-uh. Try itching, hives, headaches, nose bleeds, vomiting, or his throat closes up and he can't breathe."

"Good to know. That would put a bit of a dampener on my after dinner plans. See, this is why I need your advice."

"I'm hanging up now Shawn."

***

"Can't talk, Shawn. It's poker tonight." Henry was carrying a bag of snacks and beer out to the truck. "So whatever little case you're stuck on will just have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe if you called first, this wouldn't happen."

"Okay, sure. You're right. I just wanted to give you the heads up. Lassiter and I are sleeping together. It's nothing too serious, although I have been looking up Canadian wedding packages."

Henry climbed into the cab and gave a long-suffering sigh. "I don't have time for this, Shawn."

"I know, you're freaked out by the whole hot man-love thing. It's understandable for your generation to be a little uncomfortable."

"If this is about you making me feel uncomfortable about your interest in men, you're a decade and a half too late."

"A decade and a half? Are you thinking about that Frankie Says Relax shirt? Cause those were all the rage. I was surfing the crest of fashion on that one."

"You had a Val Kilmer poster on your wall through all of junior high, Shawn. No completely straight guy likes Val Kilmer that much."

"Okay Dad, maybe the Real Genius pinup should have been a hint. But do I at least get points for picking someone you can relate to? You like Lassie, right?"

"Is this about me, Shawn?"

"Why would this be about you?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's an older man. He's a cop. It's not a stretch to see daddy substitute written all over this."

"Gross. No way. Carlton is not a substitute you. Just…gross."

"Or maybe you thought that sleeping with him would piss me off more. I don't care. You're a grown-up. You don't need my approval, as you keep telling me," Henry said. "But I will say that I thought I raised you to have more respect for the department."

"What's my respect for the department got to do with this?"

"Do you think about anybody but yourself Shawn? There are dozens of gay men in Santa Barbara that you could hook up with. Guys whose life won't be ruined when you lose interest and move on."

"Why do you always assume that I have the attention span of a goldfish?'

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you've had 57 jobs since you left high school? It doesn't exactly say stable long-term commitment."

"I've been running Psych for three years."

"You do realize that your little fling could cost Lassiter his job, right?"

"Really? Cause the guys at the station like Lassie and they looove me. I think they'd be happy."

"Yeah, well, if you like Lassiter at all you'll stop this ridiculous charade and leave him the hell alone." Henry started the truck and turned his head to pull out of the drive.

Shawn stepped back from the truck. "But this could be something," he said, almost inaudible over the motor.

Henry heard him anyway. "Being an adult is about making sacrifices, Kid. Welcome to the real world."

"So what, I'm supposed to lie about how I feel?" Shawn shouted after him. Henry paused and leaned his head out of the truck window.

"You've been lying to him since day one. So don't play all injured innocence with me. I know you too well." He drove off, leaving Shawn feeling disappointed, but not in Henry.

***

Lassiter looked up to see O'Hara looming over his desk.

"Can I help you?" he asked, barely looking up from the stack of paperwork.

"Did you and Shawn have a fight?" she asked.

Lassiter groaned inwardly. He didn't want to have personal discussions at work (or anywhere, really) and talking about Spencer was now a personal discussion even if O'Hara didn't know it.

"What makes you ask that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from betraying any emotion.

"He's kind of avoiding you, don't you think? Normally he's touchy-feely with you and teases you and when he comes in now he's just ignoring you."

Damn. Despite her strange exuberance, O'Hara was a detective. How long could he hope to keep anything from her?

"Well, I did smack him into the wall and tell him to leave me alone," Lassiter said. "So this change in behaviour is probably him leaving me alone. Like I asked."

But was it? They'd had four days of intense sex, and some non-sex time that actually felt like dates. But since he'd returned to work Spencer had been avoiding him. No calls, no flirting, no inappropriately touchy visions. It was exactly what he'd asked for, but it wasn't what he wanted anymore. Also, it was suddenly extremely suspicious.

Be realistic here, he told himself harshly. He hasn't had a job for longer than six months. How much shorter do you think his longest relationship has been?

He and Guster have been friends since grade school.

Yeah, but friendships and relationships are two different things. And you and Spencer have never been friends.

This is the same thing you always do. You over-analyse everything. You never take a chance and just go with your emotions. What kind of a cop can't trust his gut?

That's a good question.

Lassiter suddenly realized he'd been standing in front of his desk staring into space for some time. Detective Miles and Officer McNab were looking at him curiously.

"What are you looking at?" he growled. "Don't you have any work to do?"

The next time Shawn entered the station Lassiter pulled him over to the secluded corner where they'd had their altercation the previous week. He pushed him against the wall and leaned in toward his ear.

"Are you blowing me off?" Lassiter asked.

"Given how we spent last week, I can't believe you chose that phrase."

"You know what I mean. I asked you to be discreet, but I didn't ask for you to treat me like I'm invisible. O'Hara is getting suspicious."

"You told me to leave you alone. I remember it pretty clearly. Smack me into the wall again, maybe you'll remember it too."

"Ignore what I said before. Just act normal."

"I can't do normal."

"Well normal for you. Listen, can we meet somewhere and talk? I'd like to get some things straightened out—," Shawn raised an eyebrow at Lassiter's choice of words "—you know what I mean—about us."

"There's no 'us' Lassie."

Lassiter's stomach sank at the words. "Well, whatever you want to call what's going on. If we're going to be seeing each other outside of work then we should—"

"I don't think we should see each other that way anymore," Shawn cut in. "You don't need that."

Great. He was getting dumped after less than four dates, even going by the most lax definition of the term 'date'. I knew it. I've been a total sucker to think this was going to be anything other than one long joke on Spencer's part. But I'll be damned if I let him pretend he's doing this for my benefit.

"Excuse me?" Lassiter's voice took on an edge he usually reserved for interrogation. "What the hell do you know about what I need?"

"You don't need me. I'm pretty sure on that one. You need this." Shawn gestured in general around the police station. "You and I are done."

"Fine. Fine." He raised his hands slightly, surrendering to Shawn's decision. "I knew this wasn't going anywhere. I mean, I should have known." And then muttering more to himself than to Spencer, "Nothing I like ever does." He stepped back a step and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on.

"I'm doing this for you." Shawn had reached out and touched Lassiter's chest. His heart rate was skyrocketing.

Lassiter glanced about to ensure they were still alone. "I'm not your fucking girlfriend, Shawn. You don't have to be chivalrous here."

"I care about you Lassie—with feelings and everything. I want you to be happy."

"Really?" Lassiter hesitated to believe this. If it was true, then maybe this was something. Of course that opens a whole new can of worms.

"Absolutely."

"Well then how about treating me like a grown-up and letting me make my own decisions?"

"The decision's been made, Lassie." Shawn said. "You made it a long time ago, and I'm going to respect that."

"That's bullshit. Other people go on dates after work, why am I the exception? Why do I have to pick between work and having a life?"

"Because with the kind of work you do, you might have to."

"I won't pretend the job isn't dangerous, certainly not to you. But you also know that most of the time it's just routine. Hell, sometimes it's even boring."

"Sure." Shawn laughed. "It's routine and boring right up until someone shoots you in the head."

"Which is why it makes even more sense that I do what makes me happy before that day shows up." Lassiter sighed. He wasn't getting through. Maybe it is all a bluff and Spencer's just bored and looking for an easy way out. "If you're dumping me fine, just be honest. All I want is for you to tell me the truth."

Shawn looked up at him and chewed on his lower lip. His eyes were green today.

"The whole truth and nothing but the truth? Okay." Shawn nodded as if he'd come to a decision. "Can we meet up after work?"

***

Shawn had invited Lassiter out to Crab Shack Willy's for 6:00 p.m.

It's a public place so I won't make a scene. Yep, he's dumping me. I knew it. And I even changed my shirt and wore a new tie.

"I like the new tie," Shawn said. He was wearing the same lime green t-shirt and grey jeans he'd word earlier.

"Thanks."

"So. I invited you here because we need to talk," Shawn said once the waitress had taken their order.

"Okay." Lassiter eyed the basket of cheese rolls on the table. If he was getting dumped he should load up on rolls now, because he wasn't going to be staying for the surf and turf he'd ordered.

"There are some things I need to tell you, and I hope you won't freak out."

"Just get it over with, Spencer." Lassiter was a 'pulling the bandage off quickly' kind of man. He grabbed a cheese roll and took a large bite.

"Oh. We're back to Spencer. Should I call you Detective Lassiter?"

"It's Head Detective," he mumbled around the cheese roll.

"And out of respect for you, I'll let that go right by with no dirty repartee."

Lassiter swallowed. "Get to the point, Shawn."

"You've always said that my being psychic was a crock. I appreciate that you've continued to be honest about that even when we've been sleeping with each other."

"My opinion hasn't changed."

"Well I brought you here to tell you that you're right."

"I'm right?" Lassiter looked puzzled. This wasn't where he'd expected the evening to go at all. He set the roll down on his bread plate.

"Yep. I'm not psychic."

"You're not?" This has to be some kind of a trick, he thought. There's no way Shawn Spencer is just coming clean to me over cheese rolls in a crab shack.

"Come on, you never thought I was." Shawn smiled at Lassiter with an air of conspiracy, as if Lassiter had been in on the deception since the start.

"Then what are you?" Maybe this was another Spencer put-on. He'd say he was a spiritual medium, or a telepath or a Betazoid.

"You're a detective. Detect." Shawn had that smug look Lassiter remembered from his criminology professors. I know the answer, the look said. Let's see if you do.

"Maybe I'm not a very good detective, " he said, "I thought you were bringing me here to dump me."

"And you came anyway?"

"Of course I did."

"Aw, that's sweet. Are you cool if we don't break up? Or did you already have another date lined up for 8:00? Is she meeting you here or are you picking her up?"

"There's no other date. I did buy a bottle of J&B. I thought I'd go home and drink and listen to Vic Damone."

"Add in some sex and we can do it together. But back to my not being psychic."

"First I thought you were getting inside information. But surveillance reports showed that you weren't meeting with anyone connected with the department. Also, some of your mail may have gotten…misdirected. But it all turned up clean. Whatever you do, it's all upstairs." Lassiter tapped his temple.

"And what do you think is going on upstairs?"

Lassiter shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, perplexed. Really, Lassiter thought, If I'd figured it out don't you think I'd have called you on it before now?

"I don't know. You're some kind of idiot savant?"

"We don't call people that anymore, Carlton. The proper terminology is Rainmen."

"Whatever. You're just figuring it all out before everyone else."

"Exactly."

"But how?"

"Allow me to demonstrate." Shawn took a deep breath. "The man sitting by the bar when we came in is named Roger Miller—not to be confused with the songwriter—this one works in Social Services. I know this because I saw him signing his credit card slip and spotted the union card in his wallet. He had the crabcakes and four beers, and paid with American Express. He's been stood up. I surmise he was waiting for a date because he's not comfortable in his dress shirt and his tie is choking him, so he doesn't wear them all the time like you do. Also, he's got cologne on and he got his hair cut today. I guess he's been stood up because he ordered an appetizer, but no dinner. He was expecting to be eating with someone. He's not going for dinner elsewhere, because who drinks four beer before dinner? He's been waiting and drinking. He's wearing a wedding ring, but it's loose on his hand, so he's lost some weight. Married men usually drop a few pounds when their wives leave and they have to do their own cooking. Or he might be trying to lose weight for the dating market. Either way—recently separated. I'm guessing he was supposed to meet his ex here, because he'd have removed the ring if he was meeting someone new. She's not coming. That's just a guess, but I don't think I'm going out on a limb with that one."

"That's amazing." Lassiter broke into a smile. "You got all that in what, the four seconds it took us to walk past his table on the way in?"

"Two seconds. I also noticed the situation between the two lesbians in the window seat. They're going to have a baby. The birth-mom-to-be is excited. The other mom is feeling a little anxious. I think she was hoping to make partner in her law firm first."

"Of course! This all makes sense. Your mother doesn't use a tape recorder. You've inherited some kind of memory gene."

"Yep. I remember everything. Also, Henry's been putting me through police academy bootcamp since I was seven, so I notice everything."

"Bootcamp?"

"Ask me how many hats there are in the room. Come on, it'll be fun."

"You would have been an amazing cop. Why didn't you—"

"I would have been a lousy cop. I'm easily distracted and bored. I don't like being told what to do. Also, if my heart rate goes below 100 BPM I explode, killing everyone on board. So I can't be stuck in some boring stakeout or chained to a desk doing paperwork."

"And you have a felony record for that car theft, so you can't be a cop."

"I can't even be a regular private investigator. It's psychic detective or nothing."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because we're dating. You're my boyfriend—at least that's what I call you when I talk to Gus and Henry about it."

"You told Henry?"

"Relax. He can keep a secret. He's the reason I'm telling you. He made me feel bad for lying about it." Shawn looked up at Lassiter, his smile doing nothing to hide how anxious he was feeling. "So…are you going to bust me, ruin my business and destroy Gus' dream of being Axel Foley on his days off?"

"No. I'm not."

"Great. Will you pretend to have a change of heart and believe I'm psychic in front of the rest of the department?"

"Absolutely not."

"Didn't think so, but it never hurts to ask."

The End

[Please check out the sequel, Carlton's Worst Inhibitions]