A/N: So it was raining the other day, I saw a huge umbrella, and I got this idea. Don't worry, 10 Reasons is still coming along. Slowly. Hope you all enjoy this oneshot! Reviews are much appreciated, they will give me ideas.
Shawn looked up at the sky as he stepped out of the Santa Barbara Police Department, only to be greeted by wet splashes of water on his face.
Great, he thought. Just what I need to make my day even worse.
As the fake psychic shuffled his way to the bus stop through the rain, he replayed the events of the past fifteen minutes in his head.
He had run into the SBPD as per usual, checking up on Lassiter as he always did. Okay, maybe not checking up as much as pestering the living daylights out of him, but going to see his boyfriend nonetheless.
Even in retrospect, it shocked Shawn a bit to realize that he had, in fact, been going out with Lassiter for a whopping three months and they were yet to have a fight. The head detective was the one who pointed this out, stating (worriedly) that good couples had fights and were able to make up. The younger man hadn't been convinced, of course, for reasons stemming from personal history.
Which led up to the shouting match in the precinct. Everything had gone deathly quiet except for their two voices, which climbed both in intensity and in volume as they argued about whether a fight was necessary or not. And when Lassiter had pointed out that, yes, they were in fact having an argument right now, Shawn hadn't been able to take any more and had walked out. (Who said love was never irrational? Or ironic for that matter.)
It hadn't been startling to hear his own footsteps reverberate through the silent hall as he left, but as Shawn felt his toes squelch wetly in his shoes, he began to feel the tiniest bit guilty. He sat down dejectedly on the small bench in the bus stop shelter, the cold air piercing through his wet hoodie. The brown-haired man buried his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Lassie. I'm dumb, and I didn't mean to get angry at you for no good reason," he whimpered quietly.
Shawn jumped and looked up at the voice. He wasn't surprised to see Lassiter looming over him. The fake psychic sat up and put his hands on his knees.
"Oh, hey Lassieface. Feel free to ignore everything I just said."
The Irishman slumped a little in his trench coat, but stayed rooted in place under his blue umbrella.
"Well… Since I know I'm never going to work an apology out of you, I'd like to say that I'm…"
He trailed off, staring at his shoes.
The patter of the raindrops falling on the shelter provided a comfortable background noise as the cars rushed by on the street. Shawn looked expectantly at the head detective and then down at his shoes.
But something inside him forced him to his feet and into Lassiter's arms.
"I'm sorry, Lassie. I really am. I'm dumb, I'm stupid, I don't deserve you, and—"
The fake psychic was stopped by a whack to the back of his head.
He looked up confusedly at the detective.
"What? I really am sorry!"
Lassiter's icy blue eyes hardened as he stared down at Shawn.
"I know that. Just… stop lying about the other stuff. And I'm… srgghh too."
The younger man blinked.
"What was that, Lassie?"
"I said that I'm… sorry too."
It seemed that the silence following the apology lasted forever before either man reacted. Lassiter wrapped his arms around Shawn to hold him tighter, and the younger stood on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. The head detective's brow furrowed as they resurfaced for air.
"So… will you walk back to the department with me? I have to gather up some stuff before we head home."
Shawn leaned against Lassiter's collarbone.
"Sure, Carlytown. Just promise me that you'll hold my hand and keep me under your umbrella."
The older man bent down to kiss Shawn again.