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Lassiter Learns How to Bend	By : MsTeragram Category: M through R > Psych Views: 2237 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
The next morning Lassiter
barricaded himself in the bathroom and spent five minutes using his electric
toothbrush and thinking. He felt completely unsure about how he was supposed to
interact with Spencer now. Sure, the sex had been great,
but it wasn't like this was the start of anything. Spencer's life didn't seem
to include relationships. In the three years he'd known him
he didn't think he'd seen him with the same girl twice. And he was pretty sure
Spencer didn't have a regular boyfriend. Unless he and Guster
were....No. Guster was definitely not into Shawn that way. Right?
Lassiter came out of the
bathroom and began to gather up his clothes. Shawn was sitting naked on the
bed, the comforter pulled discretely around his midsection, his clothes hanging
over one arm.
"So...," Shawn
said. "I'm going to take a shower, and dress. Will you still be here when
I come out?"
Lassiter looked at him,
surprised. "You think I'd just take off without you?" What
kind of guys was Shawn used to picking up? he wondered.
"The thought did
occur to me."
"I'm not going to
ditch you. Take your time." Besides, Lassiter had learned early on in
their acquaintance that Shawn having unsupervised access to a hotel room
secured with his credit card resulted in an expensive room service and
mini-fridge bill.
Shawn went into the
bathroom and started to run the water in the shower.
"So I figure we'll
get brunch and then drive back to Santa Barbara," Lassiter said loudly
toward the bathroom.
"Sounds good,"
Shawn shouted back. "Let's take the PCH though, it's prettier."
Lassiter considered
pointing out that would add three hours or more to the trip, but changed his
mind. The scenic route would mean more vista gazing and less talking. He wasn't
very good at post-coital chit-chat, and this situation was even further outside
his comfort zone.
Ten minutes later, their
belongings packed, Lassiter led the way downstairs and paid the bill. Marie was
behind the counter.
"Good Morning Mr.
Lassiter," She smiled at Carlton, "And you too Mr. Cassidy."
"Thanks,
Marie." Shawn said, leaving Lassiter looking confused.
"Did you win the
train contest?" She asked as she processed Lassiter's credit card.
"We sure did,"
Shawn said. "It was just trains and tunnels all evening." Lassiter
took his card back from the blushing clerk and pushed Shawn out to the car.
"Don't you ever
stop?"
During the first six
hours of the drive Shawn kept himself entertained with searching for radio
stations and talking about movies and television shows. Lassiter joined in
occasionally, grateful that he wasn't discussing anything about the previous
evening. Of course that didn't stop him from keeping a running discussion with
himself.
You've got to
talk to him about last night at some point.
Can't we just
carry on and pretend nothing happened?
Great, and
we'll just have whether or not he intends to out us to the entire SBPD be a
surprise then, shall we?
Shawn wouldn't
do that.
Are we talking
about the same person? He's been undercutting you at work since you met him.
I think I can
trust him. I want to trust him.
Don't start
thinking this is more than it is just because he's had your cock in his mouth.
For all you know that's just a regular Thursday night for him.
Lassiter was so caught up
in his internal argument he barely noticed the passing trees, cliffs and
breaking surf until they were an hour outside of Santa Barbara.
They ate dinner at
Theresa's Tamale Shack, one of Lassiter's favourite on-the-road pit stops.
Finally, as got back into the car he addressed the issue that had been burning
a hole in his gut for the past two hundred and fifty miles.
"Listen Spencer, I
accept that you're going to tell Guster about last night. But please, in the
name of Smith and Wesson, do not tell O'Hara or Vick or anyone else at the station."
Shawn looked at Lassiter
quizzically. "You think I'd out you at work?"
"Maybe not
maliciously," Lassiter allowed. "But your behaviour might lead people
to put two and two together."
"Relax, Lassie, I'm
not going to come into the station and start dry-humping your leg."
"Actually, Spencer,
that's a pretty accurate description of the way you normally behave around the
station."
"I won't say a word
about San Francisco. Beyond what I've already written in my blog this morning
while you were brushing your teeth."
"Please be
joking." Lassiter closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath in and out.
"Of course I'm
joking. Frankly, I'm amazed that you even know what a blog is."
"I'm not living in
the middle ages."
"No. But you'd look
great at Medieval Times. We should go. Can you swordfight?"
Lassiter pulled out of
the parking lot. No wonder Spencer didn't have any
relationships. How did anyone ever know when he was serious?
An hour later he pulled
up in front of Shawn's apartment and turned the ignition off. Shawn unlatched
his seatbelt and turned to face him.
"Well, I don't
really know what I'm supposed to say now." Lassiter sat there holding the
steering wheel, looking down.
"Thank-you for a
lovely evening?" Shawn suggested.
"In any event, it
was an interesting experiment." Lassiter was trying hard to keep his face
from betraying the mixed emotions flooding through him.
"I see. Who exactly
is the control group in this experiment?" Shawn cocked his head at
Lassiter. "Will anyone be getting the placebo sex?"
"Okay, maybe
experiment wasn't the right word," he admitted.
Shawn moved out of his
seat and onto Lassiter's lap. Gripping the headrest, he began to trail kisses
down the detective's neck.
"Stay over," he
whispered. "You've got a suitcase packed with what, three days worth of
clothes?"
"I live less than 15
minutes away," Lassiter pointed out.
"But my place has
oral sex and Chief Vick said that you weren't due back until Monday."
"That's true." What
would it hurt, Lassiter wondered, if the
experiment were extended just one more day? He unlocked his seatbelt
and looked at Shawn, who sat grinning on top of him. "Get off my lap,
Spencer."

Late the next afternoon
Shawn was returning from the market with a bag of groceries when his cell phone
rang. The sounds of Michael Jackson's Thriller ringtone told him it was Gus.
"So how did your
stalking go?" Gus asked. "Did Lassiter catch you and send you home in
shame?"
"I think he may have
caught a glimpse of me when I was blowing him in his hotel room. And he may
have spotted me doing it again last night at my place." Shawn let himself
into his apartment and began to unpack the groceries.
There was a long pause on
the other end. Then Gus said, "I'm not hearing this, Shawn."
"Don't be a ticket-writing
meter maid. I want to talk about my dirty weekend."
"No. Absolutely
no."
"Lost Weekend?
Weekend at Bernie's? Well, dirty Thursday-Friday. It may end up spanning into
the weekend. I'll keep you posted." He pulled a pot and a bowl from the
cupboard and put them on the counter.
"Even assuming that
I did want to hear about your sex life—which I don't—why would I
want to hear about Lassiter's? The man scares me. He has a gun and he's not
afraid to use it."
"Your lips say 'no,'
but your remarks about his gun cry out for sexual innuendo."
"I'm saying goodbye
now, Shawn. Call me when you're free."
"Wait! I need your
advice." Shawn tucked his cell against his ear with his shoulder, took the
vegetables to the sink and began to wash them.
"My advice is to
never mention this to anyone else. How's that for a start? I'm pretty sure
Lassiter would kill you if it gets back to the station."
"I couldn't agree
with you more. Which is why I'm keeping it super-secret. I'm only telling you.
Possibly Henry, just to make him squirm."
"You definitely
shouldn't tell your dad. Hell, you shouldn't even have told me."
"I need you. I need
your relationship know-how. Be my Dr. Phil. Be my Oprah."
"Relationship? Is
that what you're calling this?"
"Maybe. Technically,
today could count as a third date. That's practically a silver anniversary for
me." Shawn left the clean vegetables on a tea towel to dry.
There was a long pause.
"It is true, I do
have a lot of wisdom to impart. You really don't know anything about
relationships."
"I dated Rebecca
Solomon for a whole year."
"She was your lab
partner. Those weren't dates, they were chemistry assignments."
"Oh, there was
chemistry. At least on my part."
"A real date
involves at least two people, each of whom are aware they're on a date, Shawn."
"Then I have a date
with Lassiter tonight. He's coming over for dinner." Shawn emptied a bag
of arugula into a bowl and began tearing up leaf lettuce.
"Really? And he
knows it's a date-date?"
"Yep. And I hope
he's a hungry hungry hippo, because I'm making an enormous amount of pasta with
basil and oregano. And garlic bread. And some kind of salad to start."
Shawn looked down at the green leafy pieces in the bowl.
"That's a great
idea," Gus said. "What's for dessert, an EpiPen and a visit to
emergency?"
"I'm not sure where
you're going with this, Gus."
"Lassiter's allergic
to mint. Basil and oregano are both in the mint family."
"He didn't say he
was allergic to basil or oregano. Besides, what's the worst-case scenario?
Sneezing, watery eyes?"
"Uh-uh. Try itching,
hives, headaches, nose bleeds, vomiting, or his throat closes up and he can't
breathe."
"Good to know. That
would put a bit of a dampener on my after dinner plans. See, this is why I need
your advice."
"I'm hanging up now
Shawn."

"Can't talk, Shawn.
It's poker tonight." Henry was carrying a bag of snacks and beer out to
the truck. "So whatever little case you're stuck on will just have to wait
until tomorrow. Maybe if you called first, this wouldn't happen."
"Okay, sure. You're
right. I just wanted to give you the heads up. Lassiter and I are sleeping
together. It's nothing too serious, although I have been looking up Canadian
wedding packages."
Henry climbed into the
cab and gave a long-suffering sigh. "I don't have time for this,
Shawn."
"I know, you're
freaked out by the whole hot man-love thing. It's understandable for your
generation to be a little uncomfortable."
"If this is about
you making me feel uncomfortable about your interest in men, you're a decade
and a half too late."
"A decade and a
half? Are you thinking about that Frankie Says Relax shirt? Cause those were
all the rage. I was surfing the crest of fashion on that one."
"You had a Val
Kilmer poster on your wall through all of junior high, Shawn. No completely
straight guy likes Val Kilmer that much."
"Okay Dad, maybe the
Real Genius pinup should have been a hint. But do I at least get points for
picking someone you can relate to? You like Lassie, right?"
"Is this about me,
Shawn?"
"Why would this be
about you?"
"Oh, I don't know. He's
an older man. He's a cop. It's not a stretch to see daddy substitute written
all over this."
"Gross. No way.
Carlton is not a substitute you. Just...gross."
"Or maybe you
thought that sleeping with him would piss me off more. I don't care. You're a
grown-up. You don't need my approval, as you keep telling me," Henry said.
"But I will say that I thought I raised you to have more respect for the
department."
"What's my respect
for the department got to do with this?"
"Do you think about
anybody but yourself Shawn? There are dozens of gay men in Santa Barbara that
you could hook up with. Guys whose life won't be ruined when you lose interest
and move on."
"Why do you always
assume that I have the attention span of a goldfish?'
"Oh, I don't know,
maybe because you've had 57 jobs since you left high school? It doesn't exactly
say stable long-term commitment."
"I've been running
Psych for three years."
"You do realize that
your little fling could cost Lassiter his job, right?"
"Really? Cause the
guys at the station like Lassie and they looove me. I think they'd be
happy."
"Yeah, well, if you
like Lassiter at all you'll stop this ridiculous charade and leave him the hell
alone." Henry started the truck and turned his head to pull out of the
drive.
Shawn stepped back from
the truck. "But this could be something," he said, almost inaudible
over the motor.
Henry heard him anyway.
"Being an adult is about making sacrifices, Kid. Welcome to the real
world."
"So what, I'm
supposed to lie about how I feel?" Shawn shouted after him. Henry paused
and leaned his head out of the truck window.
"You've been lying
to him since day one. So don't play all injured innocence with me. I know you
too well." He drove off, leaving Shawn feeling disappointed, but not in Henry.

Lassiter looked up to see
O'Hara looming over his desk.
"Can I help
you?" he asked, barely looking up from the stack of paperwork.
"Did you and Shawn
have a fight?" she asked.
Lassiter groaned
inwardly. He didn't want to have personal discussions at work (or anywhere,
really) and talking about Spencer was now a personal discussion even if O'Hara
didn't know it.
"What makes you ask
that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from betraying any emotion.
"He's kind of
avoiding you, don't you think? Normally he's touchy-feely with you and teases
you and when he comes in now he's just ignoring you."
Damn.
Despite her strange exuberance, O'Hara was a detective. How long could he hope
to keep anything from her?
"Well, I did smack
him into the wall and tell him to leave me alone," Lassiter said. "So
this change in behaviour is probably him leaving me alone. Like I asked."
But was it? They'd
had four days of intense sex, and some non-sex time that actually felt like
dates. But since he'd returned to work Spencer had been avoiding him. No calls,
no flirting, no inappropriately touchy visions. It was exactly what he'd asked
for, but it wasn't what he wanted anymore. Also, it was suddenly extremely
suspicious.
Be realistic
here, he told himself harshly. He hasn't had a job for longer than six months.
How much shorter do you think his longest relationship has been?
He and Guster
have been friends since grade school.
Yeah, but
friendships and relationships are two different things. And you and Spencer
have never been friends.
This is the
same thing you always do. You over-analyse everything. You never take a chance
and just go with your emotions. What kind of a cop can't trust his gut?
That's a good
question.
Lassiter suddenly
realized he'd been standing in front of his desk staring into space for some
time. Detective Miles and Officer McNab were looking at him curiously.
"What are you
looking at?" he growled. "Don't you have any work to do?"
The next time Shawn
entered the station Lassiter pulled him over to the secluded corner where
they'd had their altercation the previous week. He pushed him against the wall
and leaned in toward his ear.
"Are you blowing me
off?" Lassiter asked.
"Given how we spent
last week, I can't believe you chose that phrase."
"You know what I mean.
I asked you to be discreet, but I didn't ask for you to treat me like I'm
invisible. O'Hara is getting suspicious."
"You told me to
leave you alone. I remember it pretty clearly. Smack me into the wall again,
maybe you'll remember it too."
"Ignore what I said
before. Just act normal."
"I can't do
normal."
"Well normal for
you. Listen, can we meet somewhere and talk? I'd like to get some things
straightened out—," Shawn raised an eyebrow at Lassiter's choice of
words "—you know what I mean—about us."
"There's no 'us'
Lassie."
Lassiter's stomach sank
at the words. "Well, whatever you want to call what's going on. If we're
going to be seeing each other outside of work then we should—"
"I don't think we
should see each other that way anymore," Shawn cut in. "You don't
need that."
Great. He was getting
dumped after less than four dates, even going by the most lax definition of the
term 'date'. I knew it. I've been a total sucker to think
this was going to be anything other than one long joke on Spencer's part. But
I'll be damned if I let him pretend he's doing this for my benefit.
"Excuse me?"
Lassiter's voice took on an edge he usually reserved for interrogation.
"What the hell do you know about what I need?"
"You don't need me.
I'm pretty sure on that one. You need this." Shawn gestured in general
around the police station. "You and I are done."
"Fine. Fine."
He raised his hands slightly, surrendering to Shawn's decision. "I knew
this wasn't going anywhere. I mean, I should have known." And then
muttering more to himself than to Spencer, "Nothing I like ever
does." He stepped back a step and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could
feel a headache coming on.
"I'm doing this for
you." Shawn had reached out and touched Lassiter's chest. His heart rate
was skyrocketing.
Lassiter glanced about to
ensure they were still alone. "I'm not your fucking girlfriend, Shawn. You
don't have to be chivalrous here."
"I care about you
Lassie—with feelings and everything. I want you to be happy."
"Really?"
Lassiter hesitated to believe this. If it was true, then maybe this was
something. Of course that opens a whole new can of worms.
"Absolutely."
"Well then how about
treating me like a grown-up and letting me make my own decisions?"
"The decision's been
made, Lassie." Shawn said. "You made it a long time ago, and I'm
going to respect that."
"That's bullshit.
Other people go on dates after work, why am I the exception? Why do I have to
pick between work and having a life?"
"Because with the
kind of work you do, you might have to."
"I won't pretend the
job isn't dangerous, certainly not to you. But you also know that most of the
time it's just routine. Hell, sometimes it's even boring."
"Sure." Shawn
laughed. "It's routine and boring right up until someone shoots you in the
head."
"Which is why it
makes even more sense that I do what makes me happy before that day shows
up." Lassiter sighed. He wasn't getting through. Maybe it is all a bluff
and Spencer's just bored and looking for an easy way out. "If you're
dumping me fine, just be honest. All I want is for you to tell me the
truth."
Shawn looked up at him
and chewed on his lower lip. His eyes were green today.
"The whole truth and
nothing but the truth? Okay." Shawn nodded as if he'd come to a decision.
"Can we meet up after work?"

Shawn had invited
Lassiter out to Crab Shack Willy's for 6:00 p.m.
It's a public
place so I won't make a scene. Yep, he's dumping me. I knew it. And I even
changed my shirt and wore a new tie.
"I like the new
tie," Shawn said. He was wearing the same lime green t-shirt and grey
jeans he'd word earlier.
"Thanks."
"So. I invited you
here because we need to talk," Shawn said once the waitress had taken
their order.
"Okay."
Lassiter eyed the basket of cheese rolls on the table. If he was getting dumped
he should load up on rolls now, because he wasn't going to be staying for the
surf and turf he'd ordered.
"There are some
things I need to tell you, and I hope you won't freak out."
"Just get it over
with, Spencer." Lassiter was a 'pulling the bandage off quickly' kind of
man. He grabbed a cheese roll and took a large bite.
"Oh. We're back to
Spencer. Should I call you Detective Lassiter?"
"It's Head
Detective," he mumbled around the cheese roll.
"And out of respect
for you, I'll let that go right by with no dirty repartee."
Lassiter swallowed.
"Get to the point, Shawn."
"You've always said
that my being psychic was a crock. I appreciate that you've continued to be
honest about that even when we've been sleeping with each other."
"My opinion hasn't
changed."
"Well I brought you
here to tell you that you're right."
"I'm right?"
Lassiter looked puzzled. This wasn't where he'd expected the evening to go at
all. He set the roll down on his bread plate.
"Yep. I'm not
psychic."
"You're not?" This
has to be some kind of a trick, he thought. There's
no way Shawn Spencer is just coming clean to me over cheese rolls in a crab
shack.
"Come on, you never
thought I was." Shawn smiled at Lassiter with an air of conspiracy, as if
Lassiter had been in on the deception since the start.
"Then what are
you?" Maybe this was another Spencer put-on. He'd say
he was a spiritual medium, or a telepath or a Betazoid.
"You're a detective.
Detect." Shawn had that smug look Lassiter remembered from his criminology
professors. I know the answer, the
look said. Let's see if you do.
"Maybe I'm not a
very good detective, " he said, "I thought you were bringing me here
to dump me."
"And you came
anyway?"
"Of course I
did."
"Aw, that's sweet.
Are you cool if we don't break up? Or did you already have another date lined
up for 8:00? Is she meeting you here or are you picking her up?"
"There's no other
date. I did buy a bottle of J&B. I thought I'd go home and drink and listen
to Vic Damone."
"Add in some sex and
we can do it together. But back to my not being psychic."
"First I thought you
were getting inside information. But surveillance reports showed that you
weren't meeting with anyone connected with the department. Also, some of your
mail may have gotten...misdirected. But it all turned up clean. Whatever you do,
it's all upstairs." Lassiter tapped his temple.
"And what do you
think is going on upstairs?"
Lassiter shrugged his
shoulders and shook his head, perplexed. Really,
Lassiter thought, If I'd figured it out don't you think I'd have
called you on it before now?
"I don't know.
You're some kind of idiot savant?"
"We don't call
people that anymore, Carlton. The proper terminology is Rainmen."
"Whatever. You're
just figuring it all out before everyone else."
"Exactly."
"But how?"
"Allow me to
demonstrate." Shawn took a deep breath. "The man sitting by the bar
when we came in is named Roger Miller—not to be confused with the
songwriter—this one works in Social Services. I know this because I saw
him signing his credit card slip and spotted the union card in his wallet. He
had the crabcakes and four beers, and paid with American Express. He's been
stood up. I surmise he was waiting for a date because he's not comfortable in
his dress shirt and his tie is choking him, so he doesn't wear them all the
time like you do. Also, he's got cologne on and he got his hair cut today. I
guess he's been stood up because he ordered an appetizer, but no dinner. He was
expecting to be eating with someone. He's not going for dinner elsewhere,
because who drinks four beer before dinner? He's been waiting and drinking.
He's wearing a wedding ring, but it's loose on his hand, so he's lost some
weight. Married men usually drop a few pounds when their wives leave and they
have to do their own cooking. Or he might be trying to lose weight for the
dating market. Either way—recently separated. I'm guessing he was
supposed to meet his ex here, because he'd have removed the ring if he was
meeting someone new. She's not coming. That's just a guess, but I don't think
I'm going out on a limb with that one."
"That's
amazing." Lassiter broke into a smile. "You got all that in what, the
four seconds it took us to walk past his table on the way in?"
"Two seconds. I also
noticed the situation between the two lesbians in the window seat. They're
going to have a baby. The birth-mom-to-be is excited. The other mom is feeling
a little anxious. I think she was hoping to make partner in her law firm
first."
"Of course! This all
makes sense. Your mother doesn't use a tape recorder. You've inherited some
kind of memory gene."
"Yep. I remember
everything. Also, Henry's been putting me through police academy bootcamp since
I was seven, so I notice everything."
"Bootcamp?"
"Ask me how many
hats there are in the room. Come on, it'll be fun."
"You would have been
an amazing cop. Why didn't you—"
"I would have been a
lousy cop. I'm easily distracted and bored. I don't like being told what to do.
Also, if my heart rate goes below 100 BPM I explode, killing everyone on board.
So I can't be stuck in some boring stakeout or chained to a desk doing
paperwork."
"And you have a
felony record for that car theft, so you can't be a cop."
"I can't even be a
regular private investigator. It's psychic detective or nothing."
"Why are you telling
me all this?"
"Because we're
dating. You're my boyfriend—at least that's what I call you when I talk
to Gus and Henry about it."
"You told
Henry?"
"Relax. He can keep
a secret. He's the reason I'm telling you. He made me feel bad for lying about
it." Shawn looked up at Lassiter, his smile doing nothing to hide how
anxious he was feeling. "So...are you going to bust me, ruin my business and
destroy Gus' dream of being Axel Foley on his days off?"
"No. I'm not."
"Great. Will you
pretend to have a change of heart and believe I'm psychic in front of the rest
of the department?"
"Absolutely
not."
"Didn't think so,
but it never hurts to ask."
The End
Sequel is Carlton's Worst Inhibitions
- 3
- 4
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Lassiter Learns How to Bend