Shawn cringed a little more than necessary as he watched Lassiter adding his sugar and cream to his morning coffee.

"You know that's terrible for you, right?"

"So I've been told." Lassiter paused just before adding the last sugar, narrowing his eyes at the fake psychic standing before him. "What are you doing here, Spencer?"

"Saving you from a tragic coffee-related death," Shawn answered, grabbing the coffee mug. "I like the men I work with to be alive, thank you."

Lassiter snatched his coffee back, dropping the sugar in and stirring it quickly, mumbling something Shawn couldn't quite hear.

Shawn leaned forward, grinning slightly. "What was that, Lassy?"

Lassiter took a sip of his coffee before clearing his throat and answering. "I i said /i , 'I bet you like your men like you like your coffee.'"

Shawn's grin grew wider. It wasn't often that he got to hear a real comeback from the detective — it was usually just a stern reprimand that would ultimately fall on deaf ears. "Oh? How's that?"

Lassiter's eyes darted over to where Gus was standing, saying something to Juliet that was making her smile and laugh. "Black and cowardly."

Shawn barked out a "ha!" that started Lassiter. "Actually, I like to add a little bit of pineapple — don't make that face, it's delicious." He leaned in a little further, just close enough to begin pressing in on Lassiter's personal space while still leaving enough room to run on short notice. "And Jules just shows a change in Gus's tastes, you know. He used to like his women like he likes his coffee."

Lassiter couldn't help but take the bait, because for once Shawn wasn't throwing all the barbs his way. "And how does Gus take his coffee?"

"Bitter and weak."

Lassiter fought the smile that came at that, but it managed to break through just a little. "That sounds about right."

Shawn opened his mouth to say something more, but a sudden call of "Shawn!" got his attention first. He turned to Gus.


"We have to go." Gus nodded his head in the direction of the door, his eyes widening a little as if to send some message to the fake psychic. "Now."

"Two seconds, Gus!" Shawn turned back to Lassiter, still in his personal space, and smiled conspiratorially.

"What?" Lassiter asked. He didn't like that smile. It rarely made things urn out well for him.

"Actually, Carly," Shawn replied, his voice just a little lower than it had been seconds before, "I like my men how I like my sugar."

Lassiter was relieved to hear that it was still in the same line before, but that smile was i still there /i . He raised his eyebrows slightly.

Shawn picked up an empty sugar packet from Lassiter's desk, tossing it into the air and catching it. "Sweet 'N' Low."

At Lassiter's confused look, Shawn sighed, straightening up, out of his personal space.

"It would be so much easier if there was a sugar called 'On Their Knees.'"

Shawn turned to leave, shaking his head, but he knew Lassiter was gaping back at his desk.

Two weeks later, Shawn told Lassiter he knew it was the beekeeper who'd stalked and kidnapped a woman because "he likes his women like he likes his coffee: covered in bees" and Lassiter couldn't help but smile.