My take on how the first Shassie kiss should take place. It will probably stay a one shot but I keep getting this feeling I could continue it, so review with your opinion on that matter, and otherwise enjoy.

Everyone in the department classified tough cases differently. For Juliet, the cases involving young women in situations of murder and rape were the most difficult. For Chief Vick, it was mothers. But for Carlton Lassiter, the cases that affected him the most involved children. Victoria had divorced him partially because she believed he didn't want children, when in fact, Carlton wanted them more than anything. But now that the divorce was finalized and Carlton's attempts at dating usually ended with him alone watching reruns of Cops, he feared he would never find love again, let alone have a family.

And so, the night after one of these such cases, Carlton Lassiter found himself hanging onto a bar stool at Tom Blair's pub, having downed a few too many scotches. The bartender had confiscated his keys and now he was wobbling his way towards the door to try for a cab home. However, on his way out, he met with a solid wall of warm body, which carried a familiar tropical scent. Large hands steadied him as he stumbled back from the collision, and he looked up at whom he had run into with a frown.

"Whoa, Lassie, need some help there?" Shawn Spencer asked, not relinquishing his grip on the older man.

"I'm fine. Just on my way home." Carlton bit out.

"And how are you planning on getting there? They'll be no driving for you, and I'd hardly like to see you get smushed in traffic trying to hail a cab on a Saturday night."

"I can take care of myself, Spencer." Carlton tried to wrench his arm from Shawn's grip but he held fast.

Shawn's expression softened, "I know you can, Carlton. But please let me take you home? I'll feel better if I know you got there safely."

At the use of his first name Carlton looked up, wondering what had caused the change in demeanor he'd been seeing more frequently on the young psychic. Lately it seemed there was a more affectionate air to his teasing, and when his 'visions' got physical, Lassiter was always the recipient of the touching. Hell, he'd even sat on his lap once during a particularly spastic episode. And Carlton himself had noticed a change in his own behavior towards the man in question. He found his obnoxious antics less unbearable and sometimes even amusing. And without fail, every time the younger man hung off Lassiter during a vision, he felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach he couldn't blame on bad takeout food anymore. Something was developing between the two and Carlton was reluctant to attempt to name or rationalize it.

With a sigh, he nodded at the psychic and allowed him to lead the way out the door. Shawn fit his helmet onto Lassiter's head, fastening the straps meticulously despite the detective's protests that he wasn't a child.

"Just making sure you're safe, Lassie. Besides, have you ever ridden a bike before?"

At his silence, the younger man smirked and climbed onto the motorcycle, motioning for him to mount it behind him. Lassiter did and hesitantly looked around for where to place his hands. Shawn grinned and pulled the detective's arms around his waist, settling the older man snugly against his back before starting the bike.

"Hold on tight, Lassie. We don't want you falling off."

The short ride to Lassiter's apartment was torture as he studiously tried to ignore the peculiar effect his proximity to the psychic's warm body was provoking. It seemed to take quite a bit of willpower to not reach forward and kiss the slender neck just inches from him. And it was simply impossible to not run his fingers through the back of Shawn's tousled hair, to see the reaction it would draw. So when the bike roared to a stop in front of his apartment complex, that was just what he did. Shawn shivered, humming a pleased note at the action and then shook his head, leading Lassiter off the bike and up the stairs by the hand.

Lassiter didn't stop to think about the fact that he'd never told Spencer where he lived, but he'd managed to find his floor and apartment with ease. Shawn had wrapped an arm around his waist at some point, and had reached into Carlton's pocket to retrieve his keys rather than asking for them. He let them into the apartment, hanging the keys on a peg next to the door and flipping on the lights.

"Thank you, Spencer, for bringing me home. You really didn't have to."

Shawn stepped closer to the older man until they were a small breadth apart.

"You're welcome, Carlton."

Shawn met the detective's eyes before sliding his hand up his chest and connecting their lips. Lips and teeth and tongues met ferociously, desperately and with more passion than Carlton had ever experienced. And then, as quickly as it had begun it ended, and Shawn disappeared in a whirl of sage green eyes and perpetual sex hair.