Rating: PG-13

Pairing: pre-slash of the Shassie type.

Warnings: Episode Tag to "Cloudy…Chance of Murder." so yeah, some mentions of that episode.

Summary: Shawn can't stand not knowing why.

A/N: Hah! I totally just stumbled across this whole thing at the end of one of my math notebooks for class last year. You know, when I would write instead of listen to my teacher drone on about stuff that has no baring on life, like imaginary numbers. So, yeah, it's really not that long or in-dept but I think I liked writing it. Maybe. I'm not sure I remember now XD.

-UNCERTAINTY-

Shawn Spencer rarely had such good days. All in the some 48-hour time span he had won his first court case( not just won but made the real killer confess in front of the entire courtroom and really, who can say they've done that?) and had his bike back by the end of the second day. In Shawn's book that made both days exceptionally good ones. Unfortunately there was one black dog gnawing at him and it was a big one. He had his bike back, sure but it was how he got it that refused to let Shawn rest.

Carlton Lassiter, the Head Detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department, had pulled whatever strings he had to return Shawn's bike to him, free of charge. The Carlton Lassiter. That's what boggled Shawn's mind and literally kept him up at night.

Shawn prided himself on knowing exactly what the people he knew thought of him and always behaved accordingly. And he knew that Lassiter hated him, that he would gladly arrest him and throw away the key first change he got, which is why Shawn always (always) had to be on guard around him, he couldn't afford to slip up. He accepted that hatred and so strove to feed it because he also knew that when people were angry they were far less likely to pay attention to what really mattered, even if it was right in front of their faces.

Shawn had it all worked out, or did until Lassiter drops this bombshell on him. Now he doesn't know what to think and if there is one thing Shawn cannot stand its being clueless. Like genuinely clueless not the pretend clueless he acts like to fool people into thinking he's dumber then he really is. The uncertainty is festering and he just can't stop thinking about it, about Lassiter's kindness.

And so, he was standing at the door of said Detective's home, swaying on his feet. Not because he was drunk or any such thing but because of the fact that he was in this situation in the first place. He can't stand not knowing but at the same time it galled him to have to go to the source to get his answers. But even more painful then the humiliation was the uncertainty. It felt almost as if this one simple act had completely wrecked his delicate little ecosystem.

Shawn's hands trembled and he curled them into fists, staring sightlessly at the plain door before him. He tried to pull together some semblance of his usual happy mask and raised a fist to knock, glaring at his hand until the shake subsided.

Silence greeted his call of attention but Shawn knew Lassiter was up, he could see a faint blue glow through the curtains at the front of the house. He waited, then knocked again but before he was even finished with his little rhythm the door opened, revealing a barefoot, t-shirt and SBPD sweats wearing Lassiter.

The older man blinked and scowled. "Spencer. What do you think you're doing? It's almost midnight."

The familiar growl actually helped to steady Shawn's nerves, not that he was nervous or anything. Shawn opened his mouth but nothing came out and he suddenly realized that for all the time he'd been standing here the one thing he'd neglected to think about was what to say.

"Wow, Lassie. I didn't realize you owned clothes other then those suit and tie combinations." Okay, that was clearly not his best but he could work with it.

Lassiter's scowl was unchanged. "It's late, Spencer. You don't honestly expect me to sleep in my suits, do you?"

Shawn hadn't really given much thought at all to what Lassiter slept in, not a lot anyway.

When it was clear Shawn didn't have any more to say, Lassiter leaned against the door frame. "Spencer, what do you want?"

Shawn twitched, catching himself so that it was barely noticeable and smoothly turned it into a casual look around. "Can I come in, Lassie?"

There was a moment when Shawn thought for sure the door was going to be closed in his face but then Lassiter rolled his eyes and stood aside, gesturing impatiently for him to get his ass inside already.

Shawn stepped into Lassiter's home for the first time with the best casual he could feign even though that annoying shake was back.

Lassiter led him silently into the living room and Shawn automatically took in the medium sized living space. It was a typical Lassiter scene: couch, TV, coffee table, no pictures or nick-nacks that would suggest any sort of character. Shawn knew the only character he'd find here would be hidden like Lassiter's guns.

"Spencer." Lassiter sounded slightly more irritated now, "What. Do. You. Want."

Shawn still didn't know what to say. He turned from the entertainment stand, which was bare of everything save a more deadly form of entertainment, and shrugged one shoulder. "Why did you do that?" He blinked, not intending to have spoken.

Lassiter's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Do what?"

"You pulled my bike out of the auction. You got me back my bike. Why?"

There, the question was out, now all he needed was an answer.

"Oh, I don't know." Lassiter looked as if he hadn't really thought about it.

Shawn moved forward a step, almost desperately. "What do you mean? How can you not know why you did something?"

The detective rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at him, "As if you've had a reason for everything you do."

"Yes!" He burst, "Of course I do. It may not make sense to anyone else but I always have a reason!"

"Oh really?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Maybe because you're always acting on a whim without putting a drop of real thought into anything."

That wasn't true, in fact that couldn't be further from the truth. Shawn had always over thought things and had to teach himself to stop thinking so much but that wasn't anything he could admit to, especially to Lassiter.

"Would you just answer the question!" He snapped.

For some reason Lassiter frowned and put on what Shawn like to call his 'Interrogator' face. "Why is this bothering you so much?" He asked slowly, gaze intent on Shawn's face and suddenly he was putting extra effort into a smile.

"It's not bothering me, I just wanted to know when we suddenly became friends."

Lassiter snorted, his eyes sliding away. "We are not friends, Spencer."

Exactly! Shawn thought in frustration. "So why did you do it?"

"I never thought she did it." Lassiter said with an uncomfortable scowl, "Despite all the evidence it just didn't sit right with me and she had such a crappy defender. It's not like I could have done anything, police have to look at the evidence, that's what we do. But I knew you could help her. Your bike was just, uh, my thanks, I guess."

Shawn had to take a moment for processing. Lassiter saved his bike as a thank you for doing his job? Not that he was being paid for it but it's not as if Shawn only did things for the money. It was all just Lassie's socially inept way of praising him.

Shawn sighed, letting out tension he hadn't realized was there. "Why didn't you just say so?" He snorted with a more genuine grin even if beneath the bravado there was a small part of him that quelled in disappointment.

"Because you're too full of yourself as it is. Now, was that all?"

"Yeah, I'll let you get back to COPS." Shawn gave a mocking little bow and headed for the door, trying not to look like he was hurrying.

"Spencer, wait."

Shawn stopped with a grimace, so close. He turned back with a curious look but Lassiter looked too intense and suddenly all that tension was back, bringing butterflies to his stomach.

"Why in the world did you have to come so late just to ask me that? Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?"

The real answer was one Shawn could never give but he couldn't find anything else that would make any sort of sense to the Detective. So, he went with the next best thing, something so insane that Lassiter would let it go under 'don't want to know'.

"Well, I was out on a celebratory ride with my bike and thought that since I was out I would drop by and ask."

"What were you doing out this late?" Lassiter looked almost scandalized.

"Believe it or not, riding at night is the best time. You should try it sometime."

"I'll never own a motorcycle."

Shawn frowned at his certainly and couldn't help but take that personally. "Awww, that's so racist, Lassie. Have you ever even driven a motorcycle?"

"I've no desire to."

Huh. Shawn huffed, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"Challenge accepted." He said casually.

Lassiter blinked, "What challenge?"

"You have challenged my bike so now I will make it my mission to change your mind."

"And how do you plan to do that?" The older man sounded bemused, his blue eyes bright on Shawn.

Shawn only smiled, relaxed now that the spotlight had been skillfully deflected from himself.

"Right. Well, are you done now?"

"You were the one with the questions, Lassie." Shawn pointed out but willingly resumed his trek to the exit.

"Oh, and Spencer."

Shawn nearly slapped himself in frustration but turned to see Lassiter leaning against the living room doorframe, looking oddly serious and earnest.

"It's a little cliched but warm milk really does do wonders for insomnia."

Shawn froze, mind blanking in shock, having no idea how Lassiter came to that conclusion since nothing he'd said had even hinted to it. Well, Shawn snorted a soft laugh, He was Head Detective for a reason.

"Thanks for that Lassie, but a ride is the only thing that helps me. I was serious, you should try it sometime."

Lassiter shook his head but Shawn caught sight of a very faint tug upwards on his mouth. "Go home and get some sleep."

Shawn's smile was slightly brighter, "Aww, is that care I hear in your voice?"

"Goodnight, Spencer."

That was a not so subtle hint and he decided to take it. "Goodnight, Lassie. Sweet dreams." He threw in, passing through the door.

Lassiter's soft laugh followed him even after the door closed.