Spencer, why are you here?" Carlton rubbed his eye tiredly and worked to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"I figured it was about time you and I had some man time. You know, you, me, and some very manly movies. That's what Gus and I do when I'm sick. I mean, I know you're not sick, you're hurt, but it's the same principle right?" Shawn's arm movements were erratic as he worked up more and more energy, but Lassiter could see that the psychic detective was exhausted.

"Why are you really here Spencer?" Lassiter struggled to soften his voice, but he thought that the end result was rather comforting sounding.

"I already told you Lassie. It's movie night!"

Lassiter sighed.

"Alright Shawn, if you're going to be like this then I'm going back to bed," Lassiter replied impatiently. Shawn stared dumbly in response. His former energy seemed to leave him and he just stood there forlornly in front of the couch. His shoulders slumped as he realized that Lassiter wasn't joking, and prepared to leave. His hand was touching the doorknob when Lassie called out softly to him.

"Where are you going?"

Shawn didn't dare turn around and instead seemed to slump over even more as he leaned his head against the door.

"I didn't come for a movie night Lassie."

Shawn stiffened as he heard Lassiter chuckle.

"I know," the detective replied.

Suddenly Carlton was placing a hand on the psychic's shoulder and gently nudging him to turn him around.

"I didn't mean for you to leave," Carlton said. He brought his hand away from the man before him and scratched his head nervously. "Listen, I can tell something's up with you. Why don't you stay here?" He held out the blanket in his other hand like a nervous child giving a gift.

Shawn hesitantly took the blanket, all the while his eyes wouldn't meet Lassiter's.

"It's just nightmares," Shawn said with a smile plastered to his face.

The detective considered the man before him. He wanted to ask him about the dreams, because he wanted to know what kept the psychic up for so many nights, but judging from the bags under Shawn's eyes, the man just needed some sleep and not an interrogation.

"Come on Spencer," Lassiter said. In a very uncharacteristic gesture of kindness, the detective put a hand at the small of Shawn's back to guide him. He walked the detective out of the living room, shutting off the lamp on the way out. They made their way down the darkened hallway, Shawn nearly swaying on his feet. When they got to Lassiter's bedroom Carlton made his way to the closet and got into his pajamas. It was only when he was ready for bed that he noticed Shawn hesitating by the doorway.

"You can't get any sleep from over there, Spencer," Lassiter said in mock annoyance. He walked over and again guided Shawn, like a child. The psychic laid down on the bed and curled up under the soft blankets. Carlton considered sleeping on the couch for a moment, but his arm still ached from earlier scuffle. He vaguely recalled a scene in a movie when a man brought an injured woman back to his house and just as he was leaving her in the bed to sleep, she begged him to stay and keep her safe. He nearly snorted, but then he noticed Shawn peering up at him cautiously from under his eyelashes.

"Go to sleep Spencer," he commanded.

The mattress sunk down as he got into bed as well and the warm covers surrounded him. Just as he began to feel his eyelids grow heavy, a warm body scooted closer to him and Shawn's head settled somewhere near his shoulder.