He hated feeling like this. His heart was beating against his rib cage like a gorilla trying to escape, and he was actually kind of almost sweating. It was like being some dumb teenager again. Even with Victoria, he hadn't been this nervous.

He fiddled with the box in his pocket and waited for the telltale sound of Shawn coming in. Usually, Shawn was home first, but he'd asked Vick for a shorter shift today so that he could be here first. He'd spent his extra time making the meal, getting things in order and trying to sort himself out, all for this one moment. This one moment, which would more than likely define the rest of his life.

No pressure.

The silence of his home (their home) pressed around him, not easing his anxiety in any discernible way. Dinner, made optimistically for two, was staying warm in the oven, and the table was set with the nice china. Everything was ready and in place, but that didn't mean he couldn't worry about it. Time and silence stretched on, allowing him ample time for doubts.

Shawn could say no, could run away like Henry and Guster said he had before. Carlton wouldn't put it past him. He knew what Shawn was like and what he'd gotten into when they started dating. Most people were lucky to pin him down for a few weeks, maybe a month or two if they were really special. Every day, he prayed that Shawn would be there when he woke up and when he got home, and marveled that Shawn really did stick around.

He'd run away once, a little over a year ago when he realized how settled he was living in Santa Barbara. Lassiter had been devastated then, but Shawn had returned within days, apologizing profusely and telling Carlton that, as he'd driven away, he'd realized that he was happy here, with the life he'd found. Even though it had been hard trusting the fake psychic for a while after that, they'd made it through that and were hopefully better for it.

He knew that, if Shawn left again, for real, that would be the end for him. As absurd as it seemed sometimes, he was sure that Shawn Spencer, pain in his ass for years now, was all he wanted. He was utterly head-over-heels invested in being with Shawn; he just hoped that the younger man's continued presence meant he felt something similar.

Finally, Shawn opened the door, sending the detective's stomach into flips. Lassiter could hear him kick off his shoes, almost see him looking around and sniffing at the air as he noticed things were a little different. He made his way into the dining room, where Carlton stood, attempting not to fidget.

"Carly-bear, what's going on?" he asked, looking around at the unusually nice set-up of their dining room. His eyes fell on Carlton, who took a deep breath and fell to one knee, popping the ring box open. Shawn's eyes went wide, extraordinarily green today, and the older man felt a small flash of pride in being able to surprise the unnaturally observant man.

"Shawn, will you marry me?"

There it was, the words were out. Now was the moment of truth.

Shawn could say no, and make this awkward.

He could just run, and pretty much destroy Carlton.

Or, if he was lucky, Shawn would say yes.

His heart pounded as the possibilities reeled in his mind. Time dragged on, feeling like hours instead of seconds.

And then Shawn opened his mouth, stealing Carlton's breath away in the second long silence.

"Are you kidding me, Carlton?" he murmured, eyes wide and penetrating. The detective's chest momentarily clenched, fearing that Shawn was saying no, and then the younger man continued. "Of course! I thought you'd never ask." Shawn dropped to his knees to pull Carlton into a emotional kiss, which the detective ecstatically returned as his chest swelled in elation.

Yes.

Shawn had said yes.

As the realization sunk in, he broke away from their enthusiastic kiss and smiled like a loon at Shawn. The younger man smiled back, eyes shining even brighter than before, and leaned back a little further to look at the ring. Carlton glanced down at it dumbly before his brain kicked into gear. He fumbled with it for second, but quickly got ahold of it and took his fiance's hand, slipping it onto Shawn's ring finger. The fake psychic stared at it for second, absolutely enthralled, and then looked back up to Carlton.

"I love you," Shawn said reverently, cupping Carlton's cheek with his hand. "I'm yours." The cool metal of his ring reminded Carlton just what those words meant; that small allowance, that implication of ownership, calmed him in a way he hadn't been calm for weeks. Maybe even years, since his first marriage had begun to fall apart. Shawn was here, just as committed to Carlton as Carlton was to Shawn. They were in this together, and this time, he was sure they could make it work for the long haul.

"I love you, too." At these words, Shawn pulled him into another kiss, shorter and more chaste than the last one but still more than fantastic to Carlton. They broke apart a second later, foreheads pressed together as they soaked in the moment.

Breathlessly, Shawn murmured, "Just wait 'til I tell Gus. He will flip."