All for MusicalLuna, of course. Also, this is unbetaed.

Still, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.

Carlton Lassiter wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep completely undisturbed for two full weeks. No, make that three full weeks, because this day had earned it. He had run all over Santa Barbara in search of a serial Smoothie Shack robber and oh, yes, there were people in this world with such low standards. Not that one robber was actually worse than the next, but to spend that much time planning the robbery of six Smoothie Shack establishments?


When asked why the criminal had done it, the answer had simply been, "I guess it's cause I love smoothies." For the next hour and thirteen minutes, Lassiter sat in interrogation listening to exactly why the young mister smoothie-snob loved smoothies. Even when he was being led to his cell he was still spouting recipes, and Buzz McNab had written them all down. Then shared them with his fellow officers, who took their "lunch" and ran to buy the ingrediants.

Of course, all this talk of smoothies was bound to attract a certain so-called Psychic to the station and it wasn't long before Shawn Spencer barreled through the front doors claiming his "Psychic sense of smell" had led him there. Oh, he didn't even remember how he had gotten there! Just hopped on his motorcycle and let the spirits guide him.

If Lassiter had still been on traffic duty, he would have written Spencer nine traffic violation tickets. And maybe one more for good luck.

Funny, really, how he just happened to have a blender in his backpack.

"I think we should try the tropical one first!" McNab cheerily exclaimed, plugging in the obnoxious machine right across from Lassiter's desk.

"McNab," Lassiter called in his most annoyed tone, but he was drowned out by the throng of officers rushing in and out with rustling grocery bags. Days like these, Lassiter cursed budget cuts and the fact that his "office" had no door. Or windows. Or walls, for that matter.

Paperwork was piled high on his desk, so Lassiter tried to drown out the suffocating voices that filled his ears like an expanding sponge. Two more hours and he would be home with a beer in his hand and The First 48 on his DVR.


Just ignore him, Lassiter told himself quietly. Pen in hand, he kept writing.

"Lassieface! Over here!"

Lassiter knew Spencer wouldn't stop until he acknowledged him, so putting the pen aside for the moment he looked up without answering. Spencer smiled brightly and it was all Lassiter could do not to roll his eyes.

"Come here," Spencer yelled, waving his arm forcefully. Lassiter sighed, rose from his chair and walked over.

"What, Spencer?" he asked curtly, but Spencer didn't waver.

"What kind do you want?"

Lassiter shrugged. "I don't drink smoothies," he said matter-of-factly.

A snort rumbled through Shawn's nose with a loud, "Oh come on!" that followed. "Everyone loves smoothies. I bet you're a blueberry man."

Truth was, a blueberry smoothie sounded pretty good, but Lassiter refused. "No, and I have to get back to work."

"Don't be a party-pooper, Lassie. How about banana? This guy had a great recipe for one."

Growl caught thickly in his throat, Lassiter turned to head back to his desk when his partner Juliet O'Hara came up beside him with a haggard looking man on her heels.

"Carlton," she began, "this is Mr. King, he said he needed to talk about-"

At that moment, all hell broke loose. King swung Detective O'Hara around and grabbed her firearm from her hip while pulling her against his chest. His arm held tightly around her neck and the gun pressed to her temple, he moved quickly until his back was against a wall. Lassiter and his fellow officers all reacted quickly, but King had O'Hara as a shield and none wanted to risk her life.

The blender continued to run behind them, causing Lassiter's eye to twitch.

"Someone shut that off," he called out slowly, eyes still locked with King's.

"Nobody even think about moving!" King called back, and nobody did except for Spencer. Lassiter could feel his quivering fingers lightly grazing the back of his white dress shirt.

Oy, this was going to be even more of a headache than normal. Time to get the show on the road.

"What do you want, Mr. King?" Lassiter asked loudly.

King sniffled and wiped his nose on his shoulder while still looking forward. "I want my recipes!"

It took a moment to register in Lassiter's brain what the man before him had actually said and he could feel the same going on throughout the entire SBPD. Even O'Hara's face went from fearful to thoughtful.

"Is this guy serious?" Spencer whispered beside him.

Obviously, since he was holding a detective hostage inside a packed police station. "Is that all?" Lassiter asked, a little shocked and a lot annoyed.

Mr. King's face grew more serious. "Yes! That little bastard's been trying to steal my smoothie recipes for years! He's been planning this to get revenge on me for putting his smoothie stand out of business!"

Lassiter couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Sir, put the gun down and let my detective go and you can have your recipes."

An unsure look crossed King's face. "How do I know I can trust you?" he asked.

Narrowing his eyes, Lassiter looked the man straight in his extremely tanned face. "Sir, I'd like my detective back unharmed but I'm willing to shoot you right here in the next ten seconds if you don't release her. And then I'll sell your recipes on ebay just for my own satisfaction."

King blinked. "Oh, well, I guess-"

Frustrated, Lassiter yelled over the still grinding blender, "Five seconds, Mr. King!"

That had been enough to convince the man, who released O'Hara and laid the gun down. He was thoroughly pounced upon as Lassiter pulled O'Hara out of the fray.

"Are you all right detective?"

O'Hara pushed the hair out of her eyes and let out a loud breath. "Yeah, that was just really weird."

Spencer held a cup out for her. "Strawberry. Your favorite." Lassiter rolled his eyes.


The day had yet to end as a woman clad in a flowery nightgown and giant bunny slippers came flying in through the crowd of officers.

"Joe? His name is Joe? Joe King?" Spencer whipped out his cell phone. "Where the hell is Gus when I need him?"

Again, Lassiter rolled his eyes and O'Hara smirked. "Someone get her out of here! And turn off that damned blender already!" Lassiter yelled.

"What in God's holy name is wrong with you, Joe?!" The woman's shrill voice echoed off the walls of the station and Lassiter's head pounded harder than ever.

"Leigh, I can explain!"

"Explain it to the divorce lawyer, you idiotic old man! I'm through with you and your conspiracy theories!"

"Wait, sweetie! Darling! Cherry coconut smoothie of my eye!"

Jaw slightly open, Lassiter couldn't even find the words to express how messed up this entire situation really was. Spencer, however, was getting a kick out of it.

"Leigh? Leigh King? This has to be a joke!" he said through a disbelieving laugh, fingers firing away on his green iPhone.

Lassiter took in a deep breath and let out a weary sigh. Let's make it a month of undisturbed sleep. That should do it.

"Hey Spencer," he said before the Psychic was out of earshot. "I'll take that smoothie."

Spencer's grin returned in full force. "One blueberry blast coming up!"