Disclaimer - Not mine, they belong to USA network. Slight spoilers for "Gus Walks into a Bank" but nothing too major!


After the Bank Closes.

Carlton Lassiter approached the Psych office with a bit of hesitance in this step, he noticed the tell-tale motorcycle parked out side so he knew that Santa Barbra's resident fake psychic was still puttering around inside. He stopped short of the entrance to the psychic detective agency, debating with himself silently.

"You can come in, Lassie, unless you have forgotten how to open a door?" The joking tone in the psychic's voice could be heard through the closed door.

Sighing to himself, Lassiter turned the doorknob in front of him and entered the office. He took in his surroundings; it was actually a nice place. Lassiter always had it in his head that the state of Spencer's little business would be in some sort of chaotic mess that only the pseudo psychic would be able to decipher. As he took in the comfortable and fashionable furnishings, obviously Guster's doing, he caught sight of Shawn messing about in the building's kitchenette.

"Is there a reason for the visit, Lassie? Not that I mind being able to see your sweet Irish hairline so late at night," Shawn teased as he moved to stand in front of him.

Lassiter looked Shawn over carefully, noticing the stress and length of the day was heavy in the psychic's eyes. Too many things could have gone wrong during the hostage situation at the bank. It had surprised him at how much force he had to use to hold the younger man back from charging full force into the bank.

"Listen, Spencer, I'm not hear to joke around. The Chief wanted me to swing by and make sure Guster got these back," Lassiter snapped slightly while holding up a pair of black dress shoes to the psychic.

Shawn regarded the shoes for a moment.

"Burn them."

"Excuse me?"

"Burn them," Shawn spoke casually. "Gus already cried over the loss of them once we got back from the station. He cried himself silly on my shoulder." He patted his right shoulder for emphasis. "Actually, I just put him down for the night if you want to sneak in and kiss his forehead good night?"

Carlton rolled his eyes at the younger man.

"I'll leave the cremation to you, Spencer."

Not in the mood for Shawn's games, he placed the shoes on the desk closest to him, which looked to be Guster's do to the neatness of it and lack of pineapple and other random pieces of paraphernalia. Straightening his suit jacket, the detective made his way towards the door, ready to head home and relax after a long day of dealing with hostages, annoying negotiators, and Spencer.

"Lassie – Carlton," Shawn spoke tentatively, "wait a sec."

Stunned by the use of his first name in such an earnest tone, Lassiter dropped his hand from the doorknob and turned to face Santa Barbra's resident psychic. He waited a few minutes for Shawn to explain why he wanted the detective to stay but seeing that he wasn't going to be getting a response he shook his head and turned back towards the door.

"Good night, Spencer."

Just as he opened the door, a hand gripped his shoulder firmly, stopping Carlton from taking a step forward. Stiffening at the contact, he looked over his shoulder at Shawn, catching eyes and he saw a fleeting look of pleading flash through the younger man's eyes. Giving up on getting home, Lassiter turned to look at Shawn, regarding him with a careful gaze.

Shawn fidgeted under Lassiter's gaze but made no move to speak.

Carlton released a heavy sigh. "Look, Spencer, it's been a long day, so either spit it out or leave it."

"I just," Shawn trailed off.

"Just?"

Shawn looked anywhere but at Carlton.

"Thanks, man."

Lassiter blinked at the quiet gratitude.

"What for?"

"For helping me get Gus out of there in one piece. That prick negotiator was right. I was kind of running on false bravado there." Shawn looked at Lassiter sheepishly.

The older man was shocked at Shawn's admission. He had known that the younger man was worried over his friend being stuck in such a situation but he didn't expect that Luntz had pegged Shawn correctly.

"Not a problem, Spencer, part of the job as you know."

Lassiter ran his eyes over Shawn again. He noticed that the psychic had changed after the bank situation since he was no longer wearing the baggy plaid button up shirt and was now wearing a snug white t-shirt. It looked much better in Carlton's opinion, not that he would tell Shawn that. The shirt hugged his torso, accenting Shawn's lithe body just right.

Tearing his gaze away from torso in front of him, Lassiter locked eyes with Spencer, who quirked an eyebrow in response to the detective's open evaluation of Shawn's body.

"Like what you see, Lassie?" Amusement flickered in Shawn's eyes.

"Sure, Spencer." Lassiter's voice dripped sarcasm.

Brushing it off, Shawn placed a hand on Carlton's arm.

"I meant it, Carlton, thanks." Dropping his hand, Shawn turned towards his desk and slumped into his chair, clearly letting Lassiter know that he wasn't going to stop him this time when he went to leave.

Lassiter stood staring at Shawn for a moment, once again silently debating with himself. He knew there was something under the surface to this relationship, if you could call it that, with Shawn. He had caught Shawn's comment earlier when he told Shawn that he got shotgun in the police van.

"You are so sexy right now!"

That one sentence had been circling around in Lassiter's head since then. There was a very high chance that Shawn didn't mean what he was saying or was just not thinking at the time but Carlton had been extremely flattered by the comment. That wasn't something that one man usually said to another let alone to a man that you thought hated you, so the detective couldn't help but wonder if Shawn had meant it.

While Carlton was busy analyzing what Shawn might and might not have meant by his comment, Shawn looked up from his computer and noticed that the detective was still standing in the middle of the office.

"Carlton?"

Lassiter looked over when he heard the younger man call him once again by his first name, a question in his tone.

"Just once, can you grab life by the little Lassiters and follow your instincts?"

Deciding to do just that, Lassiter approached Shawn's desk. Reaching the pseudo psychic's chair, he rested his hands on the armrests of it and spun the chair so that Shawn was facing his direction.

Raising one hand to cup Shawn's neck, Lassiter tiled the younger man's head up and kissed him fiercely.

Gasping into the detective's mouth, Shawn brought his hands up and carded his fingers into Lassiter's soft hair, pulling the older man's mouth more firmly against his. Shawn couldn't help but smirk to himself in his head; he should have told Lassiter he was sexy earlier if his was how the detective took such compliments.

Breaking away, both men were breathless as Carlton rested his forehead against Shawn's.

"By the way, Shawn," Lassiter's husky voice brushed against Shawn's parted lips. "I don't hate you."

Shawn couldn't help but smile as he pulled Carlton in for another kiss.