A/N: Allow me to explain. XD

This idea popped into my head a couple months ago, and I haven't been able to get rid of it. I kinda like Henry/Lassie – not as much as Shassie, but I like it. I also love writing about Lassie as a teenager; I think he was much less reserved and buttoned-down than he is now, and I think that he would be really embarrassed by that.

So far, here's what's going down: I am planning on there being smut. There are points in the story where Lassie and Henry are sexually involved while Lassie is still under the age of eighteen. This is by no means PWP, but it is a rentboy fic, meaning sexual situations are pretty much impossible to avoid. I have no idea if there will be any present-day relationship between Lassie and Henry by the end. So far, I don't think there will be, but I will have to see how the story develops. So far, the only present-day ship will be Shules, and it won't be focused on.

As for WARNINGS: Sexual situations (sometimes involving minors), cursing, possible mention of rape, self-harm, and/or drug use.

I really hope you guys like this idea as much as I do, and please forgive me for the first couple chapters; I've never really written Gus and Shawn alone before, so let me know what I can do to improve that. Also, forgive the very long AN. = _ =

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Psych, or any other publicly recognizable figures or copyrighted material. The title comes from a KGB song.

Undercover Lover

"Shawn, I don't think we should be going through your dad's stuff."

"Gus, don't be a kangaroo with no pouch." Shawn kicked aside yet another box. He had no idea how his dad managed to get around the attic with so much crap in it. "I'm looking for my stuff. Remember when he tried to give away my Airwolf jacket?"

"That was my Airwolf jacket, Shawn!" Gus snapped, tripping after his friend. "I told you that!"

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn said, overturning a box of Christmas lights. "The point is, Gus, I won't get burned again."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Fine. But when your dad gets mad at you for rifling through his attic when he's not home, be sure to tell him that it was not my idea."

"After I tell him he has no right to be angry at me for wanting to get my personal belongings before he donates them to thumbless orphans or something." Shawn frowned and tore open another box. "Why does he even let me store stuff here if he's gonna give it away?"

"He doesn't let you store stuff here. You just keep breaking in and dropping it off when you can't find room for it."

"Yeah, well, now that I'm moving in with Jules, I need it back," Shawn said with a shrug, tossing the box away. "As long as you're here, you might as well help me look."

Gus sighed. He hated to admit it, but he kind of saw the point his partner was making. He started rifling through boxes, his eyes finally landing on a particularly dusty and weather-beaten one. "Look at this! It's deplorable. What exactly is your dad's definition of cleaning? Leaving this around has got to be a safety hazard."

"Yes, Gus! The horrors of old boxes! I hope he doesn't feed it after midnight!"

"I'm serious, Shawn! Do you know what kind of bacteria could be in this?"

"He probably just overlooked it last time he was cleaning. What does it say on it?"

Gus squinted at the faded Sharpie label. "Booker."

Shawn frowned. "Booker? What's a Booker?"

"I don't know, Shawn. Booker T. Washington?"

"Why would my dad have a box dedicated to the guy who invented the printing press?"

"That was Johannes Gutenberg, Shawn. I'm pretty sure you could literally not be more wrong. Aren't you ever ashamed of your ignorance?"

Shawn didn't answer, just grabbed the box and started working at the yellowing packing tape. He ignored Gus's frantic reprimands and pulled it open. "Look at this. What's my dad doing with all these photo albums?" He pulled out a large stack of the offending materials and wrinkled his nose. "This is the guy who wouldn't even put my high school senior photo on the mantle because I looked like a 'hippie.'"

"Judd Nelson looks like a hippie?"

"Everyone looks like a hippie in Henry's world." Shawn opened the album and frowned. "Huh. This is weird. It's a bunch of pictures of…" He turned the page and almost instantly tossed the album away with a scream.

"What? What was it? Was it black mold? I told you it was a health hazard!"

"I wish it had been black mold!" Shawn said shakily. "Then I wouldn't have to live for fifty more years with that image burned into my brain!"

Gus gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh please, Shawn. Stop being so overdramatic. I'm sure it's not that bad." He picked up the album and flipped to the second page. With a shout of "oh my GOD!" he whipped it at the opposite wall. It fell to the floor, looking for all the world like an innocent photo album.

The two men stared at each other in horrified silence. After several stunned moments, Gus sank to the floor. "That was your dad."

"Yeah."

"In a very compromising position."

"Yeah.

"With another guy."

"… Yeah."

"Why would he have a picture of that?"

Shawn glared. "Why do most people keep that stuff around, Gus? It's because my dad is an old pervert, that's why!"

Gus shook his head, eyes wide. "That man needs Jesus." He looked at Shawn, who had his face buried in his hands. "You okay?"

"Thoroughly not, Gus." Shawn looked out through the cracks in his fingers. "Did that other guy look familiar to you at all?"

"I didn't exactly take time to study his face, Shawn!"

"Lucky you."Shawn stood and grabbed the album. He held it grimly toward his best friend. "Because if you had, you would know that the other guy was none other than our favorite grumpy detective, Carlton 'Lassie' Lassiter."

"What?" Gus shook his head. "No. It can't be."

"It is, Gus. That's a picture of my dad sticking it to Lassie."

"There's no way! They don't even like each other!"

"What do you want me to say, Gus? I'm not happy about it either, but I know what I saw. And what I saw was my father – the man who gave me life – having sex with a guy we have to see almost every single week." Shawn tossed the album on the floor, looking sick to his stomach. "The two people I least wanted to see naked, and they decided to document their gross sex."

"But it doesn't make any sense," Gus protested. "I mean, they didn't even know each other back then. How would they have… done that?"

"Well, Lassie was working at the SBPD at the same time as my dad for a little while," Shawn replied, still staring down at the offending album. "Maybe it was then."

"Does the photo have a date on the back?"

Shawn glared. "You can't be serious. You really think I'm going to look at that again?"

"You don't have to look at that one. There were pictures on the first page that weren't that bad, right? Look on the back of one of those."

"You do it," Shawn said stubbornly.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because he's not your dad! Plus, you're the one who couldn't keep his stupid hands off the stupid box!"

Again, Gus could kind of see where his friend was coming from.

With a look of utmost disgust on his face, Gus grabbed a corner of the cover with two fingers and tugged it toward him. Looking up at the ceiling, he opened it to the first page and - with a lot of awkward, blind maneuvering – pulled one of the photos out of the clear casing. He chanced a look down at it. To his great relief, there was nothing romantic about it; it merely showed a younger Henry in a heavy coat, snow sticking to his blonde hair, and standing next to what was unmistakably a smirking young Lassiter. He flipped it over – the other side was labeled, in Henry's neat scrawl, "New York winter trip, 1987."

"1987?" Shawn frowned. "That doesn't seem right. We went to his 38th birthday part. Remember, that one where he pulled his gun on everybody?"

"And that was in 2007," Gus frowned. He squinted at the photo, doing calculations in his head. "If he was 38 in 2007, then he was born in 1969, which means…" He looked over at Shawn. "He was 18 in this picture."

Both men looked at each other for a moment before throwing out identical "ewwww"s and shuddering.

"So not only did Henry hook up with Lassie, he robbed the cradle to do it," Gus said, shaking his head. "That's messed up."

"'Messed up'?" Shawn repeated. "Dude, nothing will ever be okay again. I have to move and change my name and grow a beard now. Just so I can try to forget that I'm related to the man who slept with Lassie."

"I just don't get it," Gus marveled. "Look at this picture. They took a trip together. They weren't just hooking up, they were a serious couple. And this picture was taken in the winter, meaning, at most, it was a year after Lassie turned 18. Either they moved really fast, or…"

"Or my dad is creepier than I could ever imagine." Shawn sank to the floor, looking faint. "That's it. I think my heart's about to give in. I'm dying."

"You are not dying, Shawn."

"I am! There's a bright light. I'm going to walk towards it."

"Shawn…"

"I think I can see my Aunt Clara!"

"Your Aunt Clara is still alive, Shawn."

"I know. That's why it's so weird to see her here."

Gus slapped the hand that Shawn was extending toward the invisible "bright light." "Will you get it together? We have to figure out what's going on!"

"I wouldn't say we have to," Shawn hedged, but Gus cut him off.

"Your dad slept with Lassie. While he was still married to your mom. And possibly while Lassie was underage. You really think this doesn't warrant some line of questioning?"

Shawn gave a groan of pure misery. "Okay, okay, fine. You're right." He stood and fixed his face into a pout. "But you're buying me a smoothie on the way. Because you've upset me."

"I buy you a smoothie every other day, Shawn."

Shawn started to descend down the ladder that led out of the attic. "Well, that's because you're a very upsetting presence."

Gus sighed. He was going to have to call in sick to work.