By Andie O'Neill
Genre: Angst, Romance
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter (Shassie), (Past) Shawn/Abigail
Warning: Spoilers for S3
Summary: It was Abigail Lytar all over again, and although every bone in Shawn's body told him to move… all he could do was watch and let another important moment slip away.
A/N: I really felt like writing a funny little one-shot and instead I wrote angst. Funny how that happens. :shrugs: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing.
His father had always said life was filled with choices. It wasn't a very complex saying, and normally when it was said Shawn would make some wise crack that would earn him a glare from his old man and in some cases a smack over the head. He knew life was filled with choices. Everyone knew life was filled with choices. Did he want the breakfast burrito or pancakes with pineapple on top? Did he want a sports car or a motorcycle? Did he want to watch Ben Stiller meet the parents, or see Owen Wilson crash yet another wedding? Shawn was used to choices. He'd made a choice a week ago when he'd watched his life flash before his eyes during a dangerous case and realized for a brief moment that despite how much he had, that he was missing something important and his life would never be complete without it. He'd made a choice hours later when he'd found himself shoved against his apartment wall as hands caressed exposed skin and Shawn felt the pressure of an erection against his hip. Two hours after that he'd made a choice to tell Carlton Lassiter how he felt and asked for them to go on a proper date.
Every moment in life was a choice as far as Shawn was concerned. Just deciding to get up in the morning was a choice. So yeah, it was safe to say he knew life was filled with choices. He also knew a person could make the same stupid choices over and over again despite knowing exactly what was going to happen… like now for instance. It was Abigail Lytar all over again, and although every bone in Shawn's body told him to move… all he could do was watch and let another important moment slip away. Abigail had been his first real love. His high school days had been filled with little moments between them… flirting, fighting, and laughing. He must have asked Abigail on a date a million times, using a variety of methods with little success. The good ones always provided a challenge and it had only made Shawn want her more. He'd lean against his locker joking around with Gus, pretending not to notice Abigail walk by and flash him a smile before the next class. He remembered how his heart would pound whenever she was around, and suddenly the cocky, confident Spencer persona fell away and for a brief moment he was just… Shawn. The day she'd finally said yes he'd been sure his heart stopped.
What happened the night of their day was a choice… a disaster of a choice. He'd watched her pace nervously. He'd watched her shove her hands in her pockets, probably silently asking herself what the hell she was doing. He'd kept that image of her in his mind for years to come. She'd been the one that got away. The thing was it hadn't been anyone's fault but his own. That night as he'd watched her, and realized just how much she meant to him… he'd made a choice to let her slip away. He could have called her name, could have run after her, or at least given her a damn call to apologize, but he never had. He'd let her go because when it came down to it he'd been scared shitless and Shawn wasn't good at the serious stuff. He wasn't good with emotions. He wasn't good at falling in love. So he'd made a choice and regretted it for the rest of his life. He'd watched Abigail Lytar walk away, looked down at the tickets in his hand, and then stuffed them in his pocket and gone home.
Henry had another saying that Shawn found equally annoying… history repeats itself. Shawn knew history repeated itself. He'd been to Social Studies class. He remembered watching all the videos talking about wars through out history… people fighting the same wars over and over again over the same things… land, greed, and pride. He'd heard the lectures about how difficult it was for people to change. He knew if given the choice he'd choose pancakes with pineapple over the breakfast burrito no matter how many times he complained that the pancakes were to soggy and the pineapple wasn't ripe. He knew if his motorcycle (which he barely ever drove anymore) were to be totaled that even with the shiny red sports car sitting right in front of him he'd still turn his head and look at the shiny black motorcycle. He also knew that as much as he loved the works of Ben Stiller (one of the best comedians of their time) that he was gonna pop in the other DVD about wedding crashers even though he couldn't stand Owen Wilson and that weird disfigured nose of his. Of course history repeats itself. And as Shawn watched from the other side of the street as Head Detective Carlton Lassiter stood outside the fancy restaurant, hands shoved in his black trench coat, that Shawn swore made him look like a friggin' GOD, that history was about to repeat itself again… and he was about to make the second biggest mistake of his life.
Unlike Abigail, Lassiter wasn't pacing. He wasn't biting his lip nervously or checking his watch or trying to figure out what the hell he was doing there. Carlton was leaning casually against the building staring down at the sidewalk, as still as a stone. He hadn't moved, had barely breathed for almost an hour. Shawn could tell he was wearing one of his nicer suits underneath the trench coat. He wasn't wearing a tie like he usually did, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone to show off a bit of chest hair, and Shawn found himself remembering what it felt like to touch Lassie's chest… feel the hair caress his fingertips. It was erotic and manly and it had always turned Shawn on. He knew under that damn jacket that his holster would be ever present, because he wouldn't be Lassie without it. He wanted to cross the street and pull the detective in the most passionate kiss Shawn could muster. Shawn was tired of running away. He'd been doing it all his life, but things were different now. He had Psych, and although it was a lie, Shawn enjoyed what he did. He was finally using the lessons Henry had passed on to him since before Shawn could remember, and even better, he and Gus were saving lives. He'd made a life in Santa Barbara. Things were going well with Henry. He had steady work at the Police Station, and more friends than he'd ever remember having in his life. Shawn saw no Mexican boarders in his future and he liked the feeling of stability, but it was one thing to get comfortable with his life… quite another to put his heart on the sleeve and expose the parts of himself he barely let his best friend since age five see.
Only he wasn't running away from Carlton. He was standing in the rain watching his chance slip by with each passing second. Sooner or later Lassiter would give up and leave… and probably never talk to Shawn again. Sooner or later Lassiter would remember just what a waste it was that he was waiting for someone who would never show. Shawn was used to people calling him a waste. Maybe he was. He knew he could sometimes be a bit of an ass (okay… maybe more than sometimes… like maybe always.) He knew he didn't take things serious enough. He knew he needed to grow up, though he doubted he ever would. People had been telling him these things all Shawn's life. Lassiter was the very opposite of Shawn in every way. He took things far too seriously. Sometimes Shawn believed Lassie had grown up too fast. The only thing they really had in common was that they could both be asses… although Lassie had improved in that respect. Shawn was making a choice… a bad choice, mind you, but it was still a choice. Like Abigail, Shawn was finally realizing that he liked Lassiter too much… maybe was even falling in love, and Shawn simply couldn't handle that. So instead of crossing the street and perhaps filling over that hole Shawn had discovered during his life and death experience… he simply watched and waited for Lassiter to give up and leave. It took three hours and the restaurant closing before Carlton Lassiter gave one last look at the fancy place, grabbed his keys from the valet and drove off. Life was filled with choices. History repeats itself. Shawn really hated his father sometimes. The first time he'd let a good thing slip by… watched Abigail's retreating form he'd felt like he'd just been sucker punched in the gut. When Lassiter's red car disappeared in the distance Shawn expected the regret and guilt. What he hadn't expected was the realization that Carlton and Abigail were nothing alike. Shawn had eventually gotten over Abigail Lytar… but in that moment he knew without a doubt that he would never get over Carlton Lassiter. Life may have been filled with choices, but sometimes the worst choice… was to do nothing at all.
A/N: What the hell?! I can't believe I ended that story in such a depressing way! I really suck! I mean I never end stories unhappily ever after! I'm bad... I know!