Disclaimer: I own no rights to the beyond hilarious and wonderful show, Psych.

"Hey, Lassie!"

Detective Carlton Lassiter had been scanning through a few cold case files, but froze when the familiar voice reached his ears. Staring dead ahead, his body reacted immediately into a defensive/horrified stance. He inwardly battled if he should turn around to face his addresser; or try his best to blend in with the fake plantlife and pretend to be a tree. Unfortunately for the SBPD's head detective, Shawn Spencer never backed down without a (very persistent) fight. Skipping over to Lassiter, the department's lead (fake) psychic stood next to his favorite torture toy.

Shawn stood in front of Carlton and beamed. As Shawn's mood brightened, Lassiter's mood darkened. Glaring dead ahead, Lassie tried to keep from keeping eye contact as way of discouragement.

"Spencer," he began, trying to make his voice sound as annoyed as possible.

"Yes, Lassie?" Shawn smiled, batting his eyelashes. Against his better judgement, Carlton found his focus traveling upwards. When he saw the batting eyelashes, he stared blankly.

Shawn continued to smile.

"What do you want?" Lassiter growled through clenched teeth. The avoiding eye contact routine had failed (Lassiter mentally scratched that off his list of Things to Get Spencer to Go Away). His usual short-tempered and irritated attitude had never worked in his favor-- but there was always hope. Lassiter just prayed that his give-in approach would inspire Shawn to go away quicker.

Unfortunately for the black haired detective, it seemed his approach only fueled Spencer's enthusiasm. Beaming from ear to ear, Shawn swiped a chair from the adjoiining desk (just as the owner of said chair was about to sit, but instead came to a crashing thud on the floor; of which Shawn ignored) and sat beside Lassiter.

"I brought you something." Shawn stated proudly.

"Oh, really." Carlton sounded less than enthused.

"Yeah. Really." Spencer continued to smile. Lifting up a bright pink gift bag with a ridiculously large and metallic looking bow stickered on. The top ends were connected with staples so the handles stayed together and one couldn't peek in the bag to ruin a surprise.

Lassiter turned to stare at Shawn appraisingly, completely facing him. One arm was resting on the desk beside him up to his elbow. Silence struck the two men as they stared at one another. Finally, Lassiter responded.

"Spencer, there is no way I'm taking that bag."

"Why not?" Shawn asked, looking like a rejected puppy.

"...do you even have to ask?"

"Oh, come on." Shawn sighed, lowering the bag to place it on Lassiter's desk. In response, the head detective instinctively pulled his arm away and stared suspiciously at the bag du pink. "It's a gift, Lassy. For you."

There was a pause consumed with dead silence. "...why?" Carlton finally asked.

"Because." Shawn replied.




Shawn sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Lassie. I can't do something nice for you?" Carlton remained silent, but his black eyebrows raised on his forehead. Searching for another tagline, Shawn responded. "I didn't poison them."

"Well, how can I be so sure?"

"Why would I poison you?"

"Suspects usually say the very thing they did to avoid or throw off suspicion." An air of smugness consumed Lassiter. Resting his case, he crossed both arms across his lap, his elbows resting on his armrests. Shawn thought about that.

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But I didn't poison anything. And you wanna know why?"

Against better judgement, Lassiter inquired, "Why?"

Shawn leaned forward in his stolen chair (the owner of which was beyond sending Shawn impatient and annoyed death glares; he had graduated his animosity to include Lassiter). Putting his right hand over his heart, Shawn fixed Lassie with a sincere gaze. Acting upon reflex, Carlton backed off. "I never told anyone this before," he paused a moment to glance side-to-side before leaning even closer (causing Lassiter to put more distance between them) and his hushed tone continued. "But... I love you."

Lassiter stared coldly, any reaction to his facial expression coming to a halt. "...what?"

"I love you." Shawn repeated, playing it off like he had more courage the second time around. Reclining back into his chair, he relaxed his arms against the arm rests. "I love ya, man. So much that it hurts."

Detective Carlton Lassiter didn't even pretend to hide his grimace. "You're joking." He stated in a monotone.

"Of course I'm joking." Shawn replied, allowing Lassiter to heave a sigh of relief. "I like girls in bikinis too much for that, dude. But that doesn't matter." Waving his hand in the air, he brushed the thought aside. Leaning forward once again, Spencer continued the discussion at hand. "But just because I'm not IN love with you, does that mean I can't give you a gift?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Lassiter started. Shawn beamed with the satisfaction that he'd won. That was until Carlton finished. "That's exactly what it means."

Shawn pouted and faux-glared at his would-be co-worker. "But I want you to have it."

"But I don't want it."

"Yes, you do."

"Uh... no. I don't."

"Yea, you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't be staring at it longingly with those beautiful bedroom eyes."

Carlton glared.

Shawn merely smiled and re-enacted his eyelash batting routine.

"I'm not staring at anything." Lassiter grumbled.

"Maybe not conciously," Shawn admitted. "But you forget Lassie: I'm psychic."

Carlton grunted. "Yea, right." He muttered sarcastically. Shifting his focus to the right, he shut himself off to Shawn. He hoped that his ploy would convince the psychic detective to get lost and leave him alone. Shawn frowned slight, produced a curt nod and raised from his seat (which he pushed back to the rightful owner who was looking dangerously close to pulling his weapon on Shawn).

"I can take a hint." Shawn stated (at which Lassiter rolled his eyes in response). "But trust me, Lassie," He leaned forward and placed his hand on Carlton's shoulder. The head detective recoiled from the touch. "You'll want this." Patting Lassiter's shoulder, Shawn turned on his heel and walked off. As soon he was out of sight around the corner, Carlton heard Shawn's voice yell out to Juliet. "Hey, Jules!"

The bag sat on Lassie's desk, staring at the head detective. Lassiter ignored it, not daring to touch it, and hoped he would eventually forget about its existance.

It still sat there and stared at him.

After several debating minutes, Carlton growled and snatched the bag. Ripping it open, the aroma of fresh fudge brownies rose up to lick Lassiter's senses. He found his mouth involuntarily watering. Looking around to make sure no one was there to see him accept the gift from Shawn Spencer, he reached in to grab a brownie. Something caught his eye before he retrieved his chocolatey goodness. It was a short note from Shawn. Taking it from the bag, Lassy muttered to himself as he read through the note/

"Lassie, these brownies are made special for you because you deserve them. H & K's, Shawn." Looking down the length of the note, Lassiter also found a postscript. "P.S.: I love you, Lassie. Enjoy." Carlton's brown eyes rose to once again stare straight ahead. A frown encompassed his lips, but he ended up reaching inside and consuming the brownie anyway.