Romances weren't supposed to go like this.

They were supposed to be work. They were supposed to be something that both parties agreed to out of necessity. Out of the need to obey chemicals the brain and body fed to each other and the need to produce offspring.

They were supposed to be based off of a mutual, selfish need to not be alone anymore, to have at least one person in the world that wouldn't leave you; at least for a little while.

Storybook romances, romantic comedies, love stories- these were all nonsensical, whimsical fantasies to sugarcoat and glorify something that in reality was actually just downright horrible.

Lassiter tried to convince himself of this over and over again as he peeked over his computer at a very cheerful and completely oblivious Shawn Spencer. Nothing Lassiter was feeling right now could be described as anything less than a stereotypical, head-over-heels-puppy-dog-love crush. One-sided and filled to the brim with emotions and feelings Lassiter couldn't even begin to express, he found it hard to fit it in with his views of the few ways romance should be.

It was hard for him to process, and he found himself unable to meet the other man's expectant eyes, waiting for an answer to an innocent question. Lassiter frowned as Shawn spoke, repeating himself as though the detective hadn't understood.

"C'mon, gimmie an answer before break is over, Lassi-licious. Do you wanna go to lunch or not? I'm totally thinkin' pizza!"

Lassiter looked up at the ridiculous man-child before him. He wanted to say something meaningful. He wanted to give him some sort of clue to how he felt. Some sign, something. Anything.

"Fine."

Maybe one day, he would tell Spencer everything.

Maybe one day he would fully admit it to himself. For now he resigned himself to his thoughts and walked silently beside an excited, chattering Spencer to a small pizzeria down the street, content to be spending time a person he never wanted to leave.