Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Carlton's Worst Inhibitions	By : MsTeragram Category: M through R > Psych Views: 2179 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych. I make no money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
"What is this?"
Hara sat at her desk looking at the contents of an envelope.
"What's what?"
Lassiter asked absently. His arrest reports weren't going to write themselves.
"These just came in
the mail. They're pictures of you and Shawn."
Lassiter dropped the
reports and grabbed the photos. They were surveillance shots of him and Shawn
at a gay coffee shop in Ventura.
I knew that
trip was a bad idea, he thought.
Coffee was coffee to
Lassiter. Driving for half an hour to drink it in a gay cafe didn't make him
feel any different. Shawn, on the other hand seemed to enjoy dragging him to
such places and talking about things like whether Carlton fit the definition of
an otter. In Lassiter's opinion some manly chest hair did not make him a marine
mammal. Luckily, even in a gay venue in another city Lassiter wasn't
comfortable with public displays of affection. The photos were odd, but not
incriminating. The photographer hadn't even got the cafe's big rainbow flag in
the shot.
Oh hell, he
thought, was this Spencer's way of prodding him to come out
at work?
O'Hara looked at the
envelope. It was addressed to the Police Department and postmarked in Santa
Barbara the day before.
"That's weird. Why
are we getting photos of you and Shawn?"
As if it had been timed,
Shawn walked into the station carrying a cup of coffee and a box of croissants.
He was wearing a lime green shirt and tight black jeans.
He's been home
to change, Lassiter noted. Shawn had been staying over several
nights a week lately, leaving when Lassiter went to work. He was considering
asking him if he wanted to leave some clothes at his place. Maybe giving him a
bureau drawer. It wasn't like moving in together; it was purely practical. Of
course if Shawn had pulled this little stunt with the photos, maybe the offer
was premature.
"Photos of me?"
Shawn asked. "Am I holding a tub of ice cream? Because I was in a
short-lived Ben & Jerry's campaign." Shawn set the box of croissants
on O'Hara's desk. "Delicious flaky pastry? Anyone?"
Lassiter handed him the
photos and glared at him, looking for any sign that he'd been anticipating
their arrival. Shawn looked at them briefly and then passed them back.
"Oh, these. Lassie's helping me out on a case. It's payback for our
helping him on the Drimmer thing." He sipped his coffee as if nothing out
of the ordinary had really happened. His face betrayed no indication of
surprise or concern.
Either he sent
them himself, Lassiter thought, or he's the
best liar I've ever met.
"Oh. That's
nice." O'Hara smiled at Lassiter. "I was worried your only thank-you
was going to be those ridiculous coupons."
"Nobody could be
that cheap," Shawn said, catching Lassiter's eye and grinning.
"So what's the
case?" O'Hara asked as she pulled a chocolate croissant from the box.
"Infidelity."
"Petnapping."
Shawn and Lassiter spoke at the same time.
"A cheating spouse
has taken the client's pet," Shawn said smoothly. "And these photos
are evidence." He pointed to a small white dog visible in the corner of
the picture.
"Why did you have
them sent here?" she asked.
Her tone was
innocent enough, Lassiter thought. She wasn't
suspicious, only curious.
"They're for
Lassiter. I need him to borrow an identical dog for when we go undercover at
the pet psychiatrist."
As soon as O'Hara was
occupied Lassiter pulled Shawn into the file room and slapped the photos on the
table.
"Is this your idea
of respecting my timeline, Shawn? Cause it doesn't feel like it." It had
been a month and a half since the San Francisco trip. Their arrangement was
business as usual during working hours, and what Shawn insisted on calling
"risky business" after work. Lassiter knew Shawn would rather be
upfront about them at the station but he'd promised to defer to Lassiter's
comfort level. Thus far he was nowhere near comfortable.
"You think I did
this?" Shawn looked at Lassiter with shock. "How? I'm in the
pictures."
"You talked Guster
into taking them." Lassiter wasn't so sure of himself now. If these
pictures were an attempt to provoke him to come out, why had Shawn covered for
them with O'Hara?
"Strike two, Lassie.
How about the old benefit of the doubt? Innocent until proven guilty? Remember
that old chestnut?"
"If you didn't take
them, then who did?" Lassiter shifted gears. Looking for a suspect
together was something he was much more familiar with. He preferred it when he
and Shawn were on the same side.
"Good question. If I
remember correctly, it's between a blue Sunfire and a grey Ford Explorer. They
were both parked across the street at the approximate angle to have taken
these."
"You remember the
cars that were parked across the street?"
"Do you not recall
out little talk at Crab Shack Willy's?" Shawn asked. "I thought we
went over this. Maybe I dreamed it. No�I was wearing pants, so I'm pretty sure
I was awake."
"I remember. But
that Ventura trip was a week ago."
"Would it make you
feel better if I pretend I'm having a psychic flashback?" Shawn put a hand
to his head dramatically, grabbed Lassiter's shoulder and trembled. "I see
two cars..."
"It's still useless
without something more to go on. There must be thousands of Sunfires and
Explorers in Santa Barbara. It's not even worth doing a printout of registered
owners."
"I'm not sure we
want evidence to start accumulating in this case, Lassie. Who knows what the
next batch might show."

That evening Lassiter
answered a knock at his door. Shawn stood on the stoop holding a takeout bag
from Kingston's and a DVD box set.
"Hey Lassie. I come
bearing jerk chicken and Dragnet."
Lassiter let Shawn inside
and then peered into the street looking for either of their suspect vehicles.
The street was clear. Of course the culprit could
have switched cars. In fact, if I were him that's exactly what I'd do.
When he came back inside
Shawn was sitting on the sofa and unpacking the food. He smiled at Lassiter and
jerked his head toward the windows.
"I suggest we draw
the blinds unless you want to get a photo delivery tomorrow with you, me and
Sergeant Joe Friday in a compromising position."
"Already on
it," Lassiter said. He pulled the curtains for good measure then joined
Shawn on the sofa.
When their
one-night-stand had first stretched into a long weekend Lassiter told himself
he was doing it for the sex. It had been almost three years since he'd had sex
regularly. Then their long weekend had turned into a week, then a month. We
are not dating, he thought, we're just letting off some
long pent-up sexual tension. It was only logical to have
dinner together beforehand. They had to eat sometime. And they both enjoyed
classic police drama, so why not watch Law and Order, NYPD Blue, and Streets of
San Francisco? It would be rude to just kick Spencer out after sex. Maybe there
were some men who could do that, but Lassiter wasn't one of them. So it made
sense for Shawn to sleep over. It hadn't taken too many evenings of cuddling in
front of the television and falling asleep next to him before Lassiter
acknowledged that he had been kidding himself. He was dating a man.
Now, as they sat together
on the sofa and watched Sergeant Friday and Officer Frank Smith collecting the
facts, Lassiter reflected how unexpectedly happy his off-duty time had become
since he started spending it with Shawn. Of course his recent dating
experiences hadn't raised the bar very high. He'd arrested one date for
prescription drug fraud, another had gone to the restaurant bathroom and never
returned, and a third had turned out to be a hooker. Since seeing Shawn, he'd
actually started looking forward to going home, which was an unusual
experience. He was definitely having feelings for him that originated above the
waistline. And with that realization came the anxiety he always felt, that he
would lose the people he cared about. He'd tried to convince himself this fear
was irrational, but his relationship history suggested otherwise.
The latest mental torment
he'd come up with was the possibility that Shawn was simply hot for cops. It
wasn't completely far fetched. Hell, he
admitted, even I think the gun is hot.
"So level with me,
Shawn," he said. "Do you find any of these television cops
attractive? Friday, McGarrett, Keller?"
"Nope. I only have
eyes for you, Lassypants. Well, you and Val Kilmer, and he's not returning my
phone calls. Although I have been getting letters from his lawyer. How far away
is 150 yards?"
"I meant this
seriously, Shawn. Are you sure this isn't just about the badge and the gun for
you?"
"I don't have a cop
fetish, if that's what you're getting at. Although if this is your roundabout
way of asking if I'd like to do some roleplaying, the answer is yes. Or should
I say, yes, Officer?" He looked at Lassiter and raised an eyebrow. When
Lassiter didn't respond he continued.
"Seriously, Lassie,
I'd like you even if you decided to quit the force and raise meercats."
Lassiter wasn't wasn't sure he knew what a meercat was, but like so many things
Shawn said, it wasn't really relevant to the issue at hand.
"I'm not saying I'd
have a problem with it if you did," he said, "I'd just like to know.
Have you dated a cop before?"
"Well, I dated
O'Hara and McNab and Dobson and Martinez, and Drimmer and I lived together last
summer...." Lassiter's stomach knotted, then gradually uncoiled as he
realized Shawn was joking.
"Don't mess around
here Spencer."
"Less than ten
percent of cops are women, Lassie. Many of those women bear a closer
resemblance to Malden's Lieutenant Stone than they do to our Detective O'Hara.
So that's a negative."
"What about male
cops?" Lassiter persisted.
"Sure, I've liked
the occasional Y chromosome in blue, but it always ended in rejection and
tears. At least I'm pretty sure it would have if I'd said anything to them
about it."
"So the men you've
dated have all been civilians."
"Surprisingly, I've
been too busy fighting crime to explore the limpness of my wrists before now.
Well, fighting crime and learning to bungee jump. You think it's just falling
with an elastic cord attached, but there's much more to it."
"Fine Shawn. Forget
I asked." I should have known we couldn't just have this
discussion like normal people.
"I was stuck in an
elevator with one of the guys from N-Sync, but I doubt that counts as a
homosexual experience. Besides, I don't think it was the gay one."
"The gay one was
Lance Bass." Even Lassiter knew this. He'd seen it on the cover of People
in the checkout line.
"Wasn't he the
cyclist that had cancer?"
"You're thinking of
Lance Armstrong."
"No, I'm pretty sure
he's an astronaut."
"That's Neil
Armstrong."
"An astronaut and a
musician too? I love his rendition of Cracklin' Rosie."
Lassiter leaned forward
and shut Shawn up the only way he'd found effective.
A few minutes later Shawn
and Lassiter were in the hall en route to Lassiter's bedroom. His tie was askew
and his shirt was unbuttoned. Shawn was topless and his hair was finger raked
into spiky abandon.
Shawn began to tease
Lassiter's nipples with his tongue while gazing up at him mischievously.
"How about stepping it up a notch tonight?" he asked.
"What did you have
in mind?" Lassiter's voice was throaty and deep, carried along by the lust
of the moment.
"I want you in
me." Shawn's eyes met Lassiter's in an unwavering lock. They were hazel
tonight.
Lassiter stepped back and
took a few slow deep breaths. During their seven weeks of dating they'd been
having plenty of sex. They'd been trading blowjobs and handjobs and engaged in
some frottage so energetic it had given them both bruises. But that was as far
as they'd gone. Shawn hadn't been pushy, but Lassiter knew it was only a matter
of time before the issue came up. He'd steered clear of raising it himself, but
now it was unavoidable.
"I'm not ready for
that yet, Shawn," he said, all trace of arousal gone from his tone.
"Oh." Shawn
tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Are you sure? Cause I
feel pretty ready." He stepped closer to Lassiter, who was slowly moving
back toward the living room.
"That's good to
know. I'm just not there yet. Are you okay with that?"
"Sure. Whatever.
That's totally cool," he said with studied nonchalance. "But just so
you know, you already have boy cooties, if that's what you're concerned
about."
"There's just a lot
to work out between us before I'm ready to take things to that level."
"What kind of
things?" Shawn looked concerned.
"Could we not talk
about it now?" He wished Shawn was
psychic. Maybe then he'd know that if he hadn't initiated the discussion, he
wasn't ready to have it yet.
"Sure. No problemo.
Let me know when you're ready." Shawn had switched on his enthusiasm
again, but Lassiter suspected it was just a fa�ade. "We'll have a
codeword. The code word is Oz."
"As in the movie
musical or the television series?"
"Whichever you find
hotter, Lassie." He motioned toward the bedroom. "Are we still going
in there?"
"Do you still want
to, now?"
"Hell yes. Although
my ability to give great head may be diminished by the heartbreak of
rejection."
Lassiter wasn't
completely sure Shawn was kidding.

Henry was in the kitchen
setting a steak into marinade when Shawn walked in.
"Okay, what's so
important that I had to hurry over?" Shawn asked.
Things with Henry had
been strained since Shawn and Carlton had started dating. Henry had made it
clear that while he liked Carlton and loved Shawn, he resented being party to a
secret he hadn't wanted to be in on. Also, he still felt convinced that Shawn's
relationship was going to cut the legs off Carlton's career. Shawn wasn't
entirely certain that Henry was wrong about that. Unfortunately, there was no
way to tell until the cat was out of the bag, or the worms were opened, or
whatever metaphor one wanted to go with.
"Hey there,"
Henry greeted him. "I got some interesting mail this morning. Thought you
might like to see it."
"Is it Publisher's
Clearing House? Are you already possibly a winner?"
"It's pictures. Of
you and Carlton."
"Oh." The
evidence was accumulating.
"Is this your
childish way of taunting me, Shawn? Cause I don't care. Date whomever you want.
Really. At least Carlton's a nice guy." Henry washed his hands and began
to peel potatoes.
"Why does everyone
think I'm sending these photos?" Shawn threw himself onto the sofa in
exasperation. "They got one at the station, too."
"If it's not you
then who is it?" Henry paused mid-peel.
"That's the 50
thousand dollar question."
"Actually, it's the
sixty-four thousand dollar question."
"I've heard it both
ways."
"No you haven't.
Trust me, I saw the show."
"Interesting..."
Shawn said as he picked up the envelope and looked at the photos Henry had
received.
"What's so
interesting?"
"These aren't the
same photos that Jules got. Hers were of us at Judy's Caf� in Ventura last
week. These were taken at Willy's Crab Shack seven weeks ago." Seven
weeks. How long had this psycho shutterbug been following them? Shawn
ran over all the things in his mind that he and Carlton had done in public that
might look bad in a photograph. Luckily, Carlton had said no to his suggestion
of hand jobs at the drive-in.
"Then they're
additional evidence," Henry said, wiping his hands on a towel and coming
to lean over Shawn's shoulder. "So what do these photos tell you?"
"The first set
narrowed our paparazzi vehicle down to a Sunfire or an Explorer."
"Great. Did you see
either of those type of vehicles at Willy's?"
"Just the
Explorer."
"Bingo! There's your
stalker."
"But we have no
suspects and no more clues. Everyone and their dog owns an Explorer."
"Well then you'd
better ask yourself who you've pissed off this much."
"So you're saying it
isn't you?" Shawn looked at his father with mock seriousness. He hadn't
really thought it was Henry. He'd never do anything that might out Lassie at
work.
"Very funny, Shawn.
No, it isn't me. I have a life. I don't have time to be running all over town
hoping that you and your boyfriend do something incriminating."
"Good point."
Shawn threw the photos onto the coffee table. The suspect
would be someone with a lot of time on his hands. Unemployed or retired, maybe.
There weren't any pictures of Shawn or Carlton alone. Whoever it was
knew they were a couple, and didn't mind revealing their secret to the SBPD.
"Listen, Shawn,
there's something I've been meaning to ask."
"Is it which of the
characters on The Facts of Life lost their virginity first? Because the answer
is Natalie. Very progressive of them, letting the chunky girl get her groove
on."
"Can't you be
serious for one minute?"
"Sure." Shawn
removed all trace of smile from his face and furrowed his brow. "This is
my serious face."
"You and Carlton
have been dating for what, a month and a half?"
"Forty-five days.
Not that we're counting."
"Well I was
wondering if you'd like to bring him over for dinner. I can grill up some
steaks and we can get to know each other."
"You already know
him. You've been fishing together."
"Get to know him as
your boyfriend. That's a whole different ballgame."
"Maybe." Shawn
could think of a dozen very good reasons not to expose Carlton to a dinner with
Henry. At the top of the list was his suspicion that Henry might somehow talk
Lassiter out of seeing him anymore. "I'll talk it over with him about it
and get back to you."
The next evening Lassiter
pulled the Crown Vic into Henry's driveway and he and Shawn sat contemplating
the ordeal ahead. Shawn had made it perfectly obvious that he was passing the
invitation along purely as a formality. He expected Lassiter to back out,
ideally citing work as an excuse. Lassiter had thought it his responsibility to
accept Henry's invitation. It was a father's job to protect his kid and meeting
whomever his kid was dating was part of the job description. Of course, Lassiter
admitted, all of his experience with meeting fathers had come about when he was
dating their daughters. He was used to being the clean-cut career-oriented boy
that parents liked more than their daughters did. As he turned off the engine
it occurred to him that this dynamic might be radically different now. Henry
had been a cop in the 70s and that wasn't exactly a notoriously gay-friendly
time for the service. Not that it's all rainbows and
parades now, he thought.
"Come on, Lassie.
Last chance to pretend we're sick and go home with a really nice bottle of
wine," Shawn said, holding up the Pino Noir Lassiter had bought.
Lassiter unlatched his
seatbelt and opened the car door.
"Let me point out
that none of this would be happening if you hadn't told Henry about us."
Lassiter stepped out of the car.
"Oh�I see,"
Shawn said, his voice heavy in sarcasm, "It's my fault."
"Yes, Shawn. Yes it
is." He shut the door, smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit and adjusted
his tie. Time to face the firing squad.
Henry greeted them at the
door.
"Hey Shawn. Carlton,
nice to see you."
"Mr. Spencer."
Lassiter naturally reverted to the formality that had seen him through similar
situations before.
"Henry is fine.
There's no need for this to be any more awkward than it already is." Henry
led them inside to the living room. Shawn and Lassiter sat on the sofa and
Henry went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with beers. Lassiter took
his gratefully. Drinking would give him something to do other than sweat under
the glare of Henry, the human lie detector.
Henry took a swig of
beer. He asked Lassiter a few harmless questions about work, congratulated him
on his recent arrest of some car thieves, and asked if he'd been doing any
fishing lately. They made pleasant chitchat for fifteen minutes and Lassiter
finished his drink. Thus far, it was like all his previous visits to the
Spencer house. Maybe I've gotten all worked up for nothing,he
thought. Just as he began to relax, Henry broached a new subject.
"So Shawn tells me
he came clean to you about his psychic gift."
"Yes he did,"
He glanced over at Shawn, who had finished his beer and was now slouching into
the sofa. "He told me about his memory and about the�special training you
gave him growing up." And I'm not sure whether to shake
your hand or punch you in the stomach, Lassiter thought. But
I'll keep that to myself.
"Then do you mind my
asking why he's still walking around free?" Henry asked. "If I were
you I'd have charged him with fraud by now."
"Thanks Dad,"
Shawn said. "That would put a bit of a crimp in the romance, don't you
think?"
"So this is a
romance for you, is it Shawn?" Henry asked. "Would you agree with
that Carlton?"
"Uh, I guess so.
Yes." Lassiter was beginning to feel flustered. He did not want to get
into a discussion about his feelings for Shawn or the direction this
relationship was headed. He hadn't worked that out in his own head yet, let
alone even broached the subject with Shawn. He certainly wasn't ready for a
'what are your intentions toward my son' talk with Henry.
"It's not just about
sex, if that's what you're getting at with your usual complete lack of
subtlety." Shawn stood and walked to the fridge for another round of beer.
It suddenly dawned on
Lassiter that he was being interrogated. It was classic: the first few minutes
of chit-chat on their shared interests to establish a rapport, and now the
confrontation in which Henry states his guilt and waits for him to confirm or
deny it. Well if that's how it was going to be, fine, he
thought. Henry's not the only detective in the room.
"It was nice of you
to invite us over for dinner," Lassiter said, shifting the focus of the
conversation. He stood up and walked over to Shawn, accepted one of the beers,
then circled around to stand behind Henry and leaned slightly into his personal
space. "I know that Shawn means a lot to you, and it's natural for you to
be concerned about him and interested in his relationships." Lassiter
developed his theme: Henry as the concerned parent, replacing Henry's own theme
of himself as the police interrogator.
"Look, I stopped
trying to protect—," Henry began, craning his neck awkwardly to look
at Lassiter,
"—No, really,
Henry," Lassiter interrupted Henry's denial and prevented him from
shifting the subject. "I respect your desire to protect him. I would do
the same thing in your place." He patted Henry's shoulder in a gesture of
camaraderie and walked around to the front of the sofa again, keeping Henry
shifting in his seat. Now he offered the suspect two possible motives, one more
attractive than the other.
"You know, Henry,
some people might think you invited me here to dissuade me from seeing Shawn. A
lot of fathers would be disappointed if their son brought a boyfriend
home." Lassiter looked down at Henry, who was sitting back, arms crossed.
That was option one, Henry the insecure homophobe. He continued, moving into
option two.
"But I think you
invited us here to show that you're not one of those guys whose masculinity is
tied up in his son. I don't think you're threatened by anything Shawn does. And
I don't think you're so insecure that you're going to be freaked out by the
mere fact of us dating."
"Okay detective, I
confess!" Henry raised his hands in mock surrender. He grabbed his beer
and stood up. "Let's quit the playacting and eat before you get to the
part where I give you both my blessing and help you pick out china
patterns."
As they went into the
kitchen Shawn leaned over to Lassiter.
"That was fun. You
didn't tell me you guys were going to do Spy vs. Spy."
As they ate Henry
broached a new topic.
"Did Shawn tell you
I got some pictures of the two of you in the mail?" He gestured to them
with his fork.
Lassiter finished the
bite of steak he was chewing and took a drink of beer. "Yes. That's the
second batch we know about."
"Well if you ask
me—and I don't know why Shawn hasn't—the perp is probably another
cop."
"Really?"
Lassiter furrowed his brow and glanced over at Shawn then back to Henry.
"Why do you say that?"
"Well for starters,
you put a fellow cop behind bars. I hear that internal affairs is putting the
gang unit under a microscope because of you two."
"To be
accurate," Shawn said, "they're doing that because of Drimmer."
"The other guys in
the gang unit, not to mention the rest of the department, might not see it that
way. When I was on the force cops stuck together. And Shawn is an outsider who
put away a cop and brought IA down on all their heads."
"Thanks a lot,"
Shawn said.
"I'm just telling
you how I think they might see it in the gang unit."
"I'm glad IA is
investigating them," Shawn said. "They're probably all crooked."
"What are you basing
that on?" Lassiter asked. However much he liked Shawn he still felt a
surge of defensiveness when he criticized the force.
"Come on! I've
watched The Shield. If Drimmer was dirty then maybe the whole gang unit
is."
"Real life isn't
like The Shield, Shawn." Lassiter said. "At least not in Santa
Barbara."
"A cop doesn't have
to be dirty to resent one of his team getting dragged through court and thrown
in jail, Shawn. Prison isn't a great place for an ex-cop. Any one of those gang
unit guys might be pissed about it."
"Henry's
right," Lassiter said. "The photos could be some kind of a payback
for Drimmer designed to make us sweat, or dissuade us from testifying against
him at the trial." If it was someone in the gang
unit that narrowed it down to detectives Garcia, Miles or Connors. Miles
was just obnoxious enough to pull something like this, but Lassiter suspected
he lacked the self-control to engage in a war of nerves involving anonymous
pictures. Garcia or Connors, then.
"Or since one of the
packages you know about was sent to the station it could be intended to turn
potential witnesses in the Drimmer case against the two of you.'
Lassiter felt his stomach
drop. Henry's theory was pretty sound. Also, the idea that there might be more
photos out there that he didn't know about yet made him want to vomit.
"Outing you two
before the trial would be a nice distraction," Henry continued.
"Since it was part of Drimmer's story that the two of you were dating it
might make people question how much of his other statements were true."
"We wouldn't have to
worry about being outed if we just told everyone," Shawn said.
"If I were
you," Henry addressed Lassiter. "Well let's be honest here, if I were
you I wouldn't have considered dating Shawn in the first place. But if I did, I
wouldn't even think about letting anyone at work know."
"Luckily dad, things
have changed since the 50s. Cops spend less time beating people with rubber
hoses and trying to keep schools from integrating. I hear you're even required
to read suspects their rights now."
"I wouldn't be
making jokes in your position, Shawn." Henry pointed his fork at Lassiter.
"You can sure as hell bet this isn't funny to Carlton."

At Lassiter's place that
night Lassiter turned to Shawn as they settled down to sleep.
"I don't want you to
think that there's anything about us that I'm ashamed of here," he began.
"That's not why I don't want to tell people at work."
"Then what is
it?" Shawn asked.
"I still..."
Lassiter struggled to find words that didn't sound so stupid in his head, but
came up empty. "I don't feel gay. Coming out seems pretty stupid when I
don't feel any different."
"I'm cool with
however you want to define yourself, Lassie," Shawn said. "You can be
the Anne to my Ellen—although given the way that relationship ended maybe
it's not such a good example. If you ask me to call you Celestia I'll have to
send you back to the mothership." He tilted his head thoughtfully for a
minute. "But just so you know, this—" he motioned to the two of
them and to the bed they were in, and laughed. "This is pretty gay."
"I don't dispute
that what we're doing is gay, but I don't feel gay."
"What do you think
gay feels like?"
"Well I still like
women. That doesn't feel very gay."
"I like women too
Lassie. O'Hara had this green blouse on today that really—well you get
the idea. Does bisexual feel like a better label? Or do you want to go with
queer? I didn't think you'd like bent, because 'bent cop' means something
different in cop-speak."
"The whole label
thing just feels weird. I'm exactly the same as I was before. Just because
we're together doesn't mean I suddenly fit into a subculture."
"You're right,
Lassie. You're the only guy in history who's dating another guy but has no urge
to watch musical theatre or redecorate his apartment."
"Forget it." He
sighed. "Maybe it's a time release thing."
Shawn moved over to press
his body against Lassiter's.
"The tingle tells you it's working."
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Carlton's Worst Inhibitions