A/N: I could tell you I own all the characters, but I'd be lying. Steve Franks and the USA network own everybody in the story except for Thomas, Joanna, and Regina (and those guys are all nutters and not even in this chapter).

Anybody ever wonder if we'll ever see a US of A network? Yeah, I think it's dumb, too.

The station's interior was quiet as Lassiter and Spencer entered. It seemed Lassiter hadn't been exaggerating by quite as much as he might have thought when he said half the force had shown up on the scene at the psychiatrist's office. Most of the desks had been abandoned, seemingly in the middle of their tasks. Paperwork sat on most desks, half-filled out.

Under normal circumstances, Lassiter might have been annoyed that the officers had left their work half finished, but, considering the circumstances, he was willing to let the slight go unmentioned. After all, they'd done it for him. Lassiter felt himself smiling again, and he could see Shawn grinning at him from the corner of his eye.

It was something else, though. It wasn't just that the station was nearly empty; Lassiter had never seen the building so still. Some few officers had stayed behind, but it was still so quiet. But quiet was good, quiet meant they could get in and get out without—

"Detective." Lassiter sighed, turning toward Chief Vick, who stood in the doorway to her office. She had a quizzical eyebrow raised, and her hands were resting on her hips. "Mr. Spencer. What are you two doing here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"

Lassiter hedged, trying to play off the implication without actually lying. "There were paramedics on the scene," he told her, pushing back his hair to show her the dark, jagged stitches in his forehead. She whistled low.

Then Spencer took over, and any hope Lassiter had had of getting through the conversation without lying went straight out the nearest window. "Yeah, the EMTs checked us both out. They cleared us and everything." He was smiling like he expected the comment to pass in the flow of the conversation, but after he stopped speaking, a silence stretched between the three of them.

Then the chief smiled, turning to Spencer. "Is that so, Mr. Spencer? Because I just got off the phone with Detective O'Hara, who says you two snuck off when no one was looking, which has the EMTs quite upset. She actually told me, Detective, that the paramedics said that you," she said, pointing to Lassiter, "had a very serious concussion and shouldn't be driving under any circumstances, and that you, Mr. Spencer," she said, turning to point at Spencer with the oddly unnerving smile still firmly in place, "were at great risk of going into shock." And just like that, the smile was gone. The familiar glare had settled in to place, and her voice had taken on that hard-edged tone that Lassiter had come to recognize as her "not today" voice. "Lassiter, I shouldn't have to tell you that you aren't supposed to be here. You should be at the hospital, getting that head wound checked out. And you, Mr. Spencer—."

"Actually, Chief," Lassiter cut in, hoping to avoid the threats of suspension if he didn't do as he was told, "I just came in to get Spencer's official statement filed so I could take tomorrow to…recuperate."

That seemed to stop the chief dead in her tracks. The angry glare of a teacher handling two impetuous students was replaced by a mask of deep, if pleasant, surprise. "You-you want to take a day off, Detective?"

Lassiter nodded, adding a deferential, "With your approval, of course, Chief."

The chief looked him over suspiciously. Her eyes said 'Who the hell are you and what have you done with Carlton Lassiter?', but her mouth said only, "Of course, Detective. We can do your debriefing when you get back. You've got quite a bit of time off on the books, and god knows you've earned it." She shot Spencer a look. "Enjoy it." She turned to leave, but thought better of it. "One condition, Carlton," she said, holding up a finger.

Lassiter quirked an eyebrow at her use of his first name. "Yes, Chief?"

And just like that, Vick was smiling again. "When you two are finished here, Spencer drives you to the hospital. The last thing I need is a head detective with brain damage."

Lassiter couldn't help grinning at that, and he was beginning to wonder if he should go and get himself checked out. He nodded sharply, trying to cover the odd behavior, but that only caused a wave of sharp pain to spread through his skull. "Of course, Chief," he said, trying not to grunt the words.

Vick turned back to her office, laughing quietly, and Lassiter could only speculate as to why. But something in the look she had given Spencer before she left told him he already knew. There would be questions when he returned to work, he was sure of it.

But, for now, Lassiter turned to Shawn, determined to file the paperwork he had come here for. He found the younger man grinning over at him. "Don't worry, she's cool with it." And Lassiter couldn't bring himself to question the assessment.

After making Shawn fill out paperwork, most of which merely said "and then some bad stuff happened", Lassie had grabbed his keys and made his way back out the front door to his car.

"No," Shawn pronounced as Lassie went to unlock the car door.

Lassie turned one of his patented indulgent looks over to Shawn, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Shawn took quite a bit of pleasure from the grin on Lassie's face as he asked, "No, what, exactly?"

"No, there's no way in hell I'm letting you drive again," Shawn informed him matter-of-factly. He crossed his own arms and tried to appear as determined as Lassie always did.

The detective simply raised an eyebrow. "You're not driving my car, Spencer."

Shawn laughed. "Let's put aside your promise to the chief for a second, Lassie. Do you remember our ride over here?"

Lassie frowned. "There was nothing wrong with the trip over, Spencer."

Shawn cocked his head, grinning. "Either that ice cream guy was on your crap list, or you were swerving out of control. Your eyes were all glazed, we were doing, like, sixty through some neighborhood, and, from the look on your face, you don't remember any of it, which is even worse. Give me your keys." He caught the keys without taking his eyes off the tall detective.

Shawn almost hadn't expected Lassie to fold. The keys in his hand meant as much to him as the kiss in the parking lot; Lassie was starting to open up to him, to trust him. Awesome.

Shawn grinned at the detective over the hood of his car. "You just sit back and relax, and we'll be there before you know it, Lassie." The older man looked unhappy, but he climbed into the passenger seat all the same, not saying a single word.

Shawn couldn't help laughing as he clambered into the car. He took Lassie's hand in his as he looked over at the other man. "Love you, Lassie pants." And though the detective still said nothing, the smile was enough.

Lassiter closed his eyes for a moment as the engine roared to life, his hand still enclosed in Spencer's. When he opened them again, he was staring at the front of his house. Wow. I really shouldn't be driving. He unfastened his seatbelt and, when he went to open his door, found himself face to face with Spencer. He let the younger man take his arm and lead him into the house without even debating the necessity. It was nice, having someone want to care for him.

Lassiter was already settling into his favorite part of the couch when he realized that his home hadn't been their intended destination. "What happened to the hospital?" he asked, staring up at Spencer.

The younger man rolled his eyes. "Lassie, you have a concussion. They're going to charge you a bunch of money to tell you to rest and have somebody watch you to make sure you wake up in the morning. I can do those things here for free." Spencer walked around the coffee table where Lassiter had propped his feet, settling in to the space next to him on the couch.

Lassiter thought about what Spencer's assertion implied. He wants to stay with me. He wants to spend the night. He wants to know that I'm okay. Grinning, he still felt he should voice his concern. "What about the chief? We promised her we'd go to the hospital after we got that paperwork filed."

"Well," Spencer said, scrunching his face up in thought, "Yeah, I never agreed to that, so I'm not lying, and you promised you wouldn't drive, so there's really nothing for you to do about it, so you're not at fault. And, besides, as long as you show up on Friday with no major dings or dents in that big ol' brain of yours, she won't know the difference. This way, pretty much everybody wins. Well, except for Gus."

Lassiter could feel his face contort in confusion. When had Guster even entered the equation? "What about him?"

Spencer shrugged, looking for all the world like the answer should be obvious. "We were supposed to go to laser tag after the hospital."

Lassiter shrugged in return. "You can make it up to him on Friday," he told the psychic, his tone nonchalant.

Spencer quirked a brow, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "Friday, huh? Not tomorrow?"

Lassiter stretched, letting his arms fall to either side of him across the back of the couch. And if one just happened to settle around Shawn's shoulders, well, so much the better. "I've got a whole day off tomorrow and nothing to do but stew over this case. I was hoping you could find a way to…distract me." Lassiter grinned over at Spencer as the younger man's eyes lit up.

"Hmmmm…." Spencer squinted, making a show of trying to think. "Well, COPS would just remind you of work, so that's out. We could see a movie, but that won't open until one. I'd hate for you to have to sit through a Care Bears marathon, and, besides, you'd ruin it with all your gloomy brooding." Spencer shrugged. "I'm sure I can think of something," he whispered, leaning in and taking Lassiter's lips in a deep kiss.

Lassiter enjoyed the kiss, leaning back to let Shawn stretch out on top of him. After a moment, the two were sprawled out on the couch. Carlton let the moment extend, thinking about all he'd gone through to get here, all he'd seen and done and said. And all the things he wouldn't change for the world.

As Shawn's hands found their way to his hips, as he felt his own travel under the younger man's shirt and up his back, all he could think was that this was right. This was what he had been searching for since…since his world had been shot all to hell. Since Victoria. Since before Victoria. Since his mother had read him stories as a child about the prince who always rode off into the sunset with someone he loved.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, the soft light streaming in through the living room windows. The orange and gold made Spencer glow, and Lassiter pulled back from the kiss a moment to enjoy the effect. Shawn grinned down at him, and Lassiter realized that, at some point, the younger man had unbuttoned his shirt without his knowledge. Not one to be outdone, Lassiter ripped the T-shirt off over Shawn's head.

Carlton kissed Shawn again, letting his tongue wander the warm, wet expanse of the younger man's mouth. As he pulled back once more, he whispered the only word that had been on his mind since the arm of the couch had begun digging into his neck. "Bedroom." He kissed Shawn again, and felt the other man grin into it.

"Race you," Shawn said, jumping off the couch and running up the stairs.

Carlton handled the stairs with something less than his usual aplomb, and as he entered his room, he almost tripped over the pair of jeans that had been left in the doorway. He looked up to see Shawn lying in his bed, staring at him eagerly.

Suddenly, Carlton began to feel the tugging of doubt. He wasn't sure if he could make Shawn understand, but he wanted more than anything to try. "If we do this now…it'll be…."

"Hot?" Shawn guessed. "Amazing? A dream come true? The perfect way to forget all the crappy stuff about this day?"

Carlton could feel a pressure in his chest. He didn't want to disappoint Shawn, but he wanted it to be real. "It'll be because of what happened. It'll be the adrenaline and the drugs and the thrill of being alive and free and…I don't want our first time to be because we survived together. I want it to be because I love you."

Carlton was afraid, so afraid that Shawn would gather himself up and leave, but instead the young man smiled. "Oh, Lassie, no. You thought? Carly," and there it was again, that look, that "you're an idiot, but I love you look" that he had seen a hundred thousand times without recognizing it for what it meant. Until now, Carlton had just thought of it as a Spencer look, but now it was one more of so many that had a name. "You have a concussion. Neither of us is in any shape to make it what it should be. Tonight, I just want to be sure you're all right. In a few days, when we're both back on our feet, there will be time for that. We have all the time in the world; I already told you, I'm not going anywhere."

Shawn's smile was sweet and innocent, but still, something didn't quite add up. Carlton looked down at his feet, prodding the pair of jeans with his toe, then looking back up at Shawn with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

Shawn's grin widened. "Oh, that. Pants suck, Lassie. Fact of the universe."

Carlton climbed into his bed and felt Shawn's arm snake protectively around his waist as he laid his head against the pillow. His eyes began to shut of their own accord almost immediately, and he decided that Shawn had been right about two things: one, they needed sleep now more than anything, and there would be time for everything else later; and two, pants did totally and completely suck.

So there you have it. I'm really proud of how well this story turned out, and I want to thank everybody for sticking with it, especially NekodraK., MoonWiccan6, Elske, Shassiefan, dreamerswaking, Jess, aki, izzy, psychlover23, theflamefangirl, picabone99, Lilbakasaru, torchil, and AkaiKitsuneKegawa. You guys are great, and every review pushed me to create the best story I could. Thanks to everyone who read, and, if you enjoyed it, keep an eye out for my next project: "Operation: Romantically Challenged".