The sex had already happened.

It was destined to happen... predetermined, if you will. Not by God per say, but by something close enough. Shawn wouldn't normally go around proclaiming that he had the precognizant abilities on par with a deity... but he did call the sex.

Well, okay, maybe there was a dare involved... some sort of proclamation that he could get in to Carlton's pants by the end of the day... whatever, once Gus told him a roll in the hay with Lassiter was the one situation he could never talk his way into, Shawn knew it was going to happen. His pride was on the line, after all.

One may question why the topic came up, or why Gus would even be thinking about Shawn and Lassiter doing the bump and grind together... That Shawn had spent the last week pondering, out loud, how long it had been since ol' Lassie got any hanky panky, along with intermittently declaring that his verbal charms could grant him access to any person's bedroom, no matter how frigid they seemed, was completely irrelevant.

The night of the dare was New Year's Eve. Shawn and Gus had actually been invited to the SBPD's party, which dampened their need to go, considering they didn't need to sneak in. However, Shawn convinced Gus that the party might be worth considering.

Shawn's memory of the night came in increments of time, but if he had to detail it as well he could, than the story would go thusly:


"All I'm saying Gus, is that he's been wearing the same suit every day."

"What does that prove?"

Shawn sighed dramatically. "He's not exactly dressing to impress, is he? There must be absolutely no prospects for Lassie... I bet the highlight of his night is picking up that one suit from the dry cleaners."

"How do you know he takes it too the dry cleaners?" Gus replied, his eyebrow quirked.

Brushing the question away with a wave of his hand, Shawn 'tsked' his friend, and shook his head. "You're missing the point, Gus. The man clearly hasn't done the mattress mambo for at least... four months."

"Shawn, how did you get four months?"

"Just a guess, just a guess!" He turned to Gus just as they pulled into the Santa Barbara Police headquarters' parking lot. "Anyway, I figured I could teach him a few moves tonight, I never got him a Christmas gift, after all."

Gus let out an emphatic 'Ha!' and shook his head. "Teach him some moves? Even if Lassiter is as socially stunted as we know he is, the gun and badge are enough to land a date, if he wanted one."

"Are you saying Lassie is intentionally single?" Shawn replied.

"I'm saying that he doesn't need your masterful skills… he would probably laugh in your face if you offered, anyway."

Shawn leaned back, as if offended. "I could get Lassie to do anything I wanted," he said, "The guy is pretty suggestible."

"Anything?" Gus replied, a mischievous grin creeping up his face. "Shawn, you know you shouldn't say things that you can't back up." He crossed his arms triumphantly, as if he had already won the argument.

Shawn sighed and nodded his head. "Test me," he said finally.

Gus's jaw dropped as he stared at Shawn with surprise, and than he narrowed his eyes. "Fine, I bet you couldn't talk yourself into bed with him." He seemed to consider this thought for a moment, and then said "By the end of the night."

"What do I get if I win?" Shawn replied.

"I will never again question your powers of persuasion."

Shawn smiled, "Deal."

They shook hands, and Gus leapt out of the car with a single bound. After he shut the door, Shawn sighed and observed the lights and sounds of the police station in the distance, the party was even audible from the car.

"That was easy," he said.

11:00 P.M

End of the day meant midnight, and Shawn always loved toeing the line.

He watched Lassiter drunkenly try to explain to some newbie what it meant to be a true cop just as Gus started complaining about his choice of New Years party locations. "I get that you find this place fascinating Shawn, but my office was planning karaoke."

"Gus," Shawn replied, holding up a hand at his friend's face, "Don't you want to watch me conquer the unconquerable?"

"Not really, no." Gus said looking over at Lassiter, "and I'm a little bothered that you would think I might."

"How am I going to prove Operation: Slay the Dragon actually happened?" Shawn asked, half-rhetorically. He didn't actually care if Gus believed him or not.

"I'll take your word for it," Gus replied. "I'm leaving."

"Flying solo…" Shawn muttered, glancing around as Gus walked away from him. That's fine; his wingman wasn't necessary for this particular mission. He did his best Elvis-combing-his-hair-with-his-fingers impersonation, and traipsed over to Carlton, who was currently wobbling slightly as he continued to lecture the newbie.

"Excessive force is really in the eye of the beholder," he was saying, slurring slightly, "But in the eye of the law… well, basically… turn a blind eye, you know?"

They both jumped when Shawn burst out in over the top laughter and slung his arm around Lassiter's shoulders. "Good ol' Lassie, right? So forthcoming with the wisdom."

The newbie took the chance to run just as Lassiter shoved Shawn's arm away with a less than graceful flop of his hand. "Spencer…" he said, trying to focus his insanely incandescent blue-gray eyes on the fake psychic, "Even now, on the cusp of a new year… when I might actually get a fresh start... you're here." He stumbled forward slightly as he brought his face closer to Shawn. "You're always here."

"Well, I do hate to miss the cusps of things," Shawn replied. "Although, speaking of fresh starts… I heard the holding cells were being redone."

"Ah," Lassiter said with an overly-exaggerated nod, "Yes, what a complete waste of government funds. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the cells we have now."

Shawn tilted his head, "Really?" he asked, "I always felt the bars were tad too far apart… giving the criminals false hope, and all that."

"That's ridiculous, Spencer." Lassiter tilted forward even more, threatening to crash directly into Shawn. The fake psychic smiled and nodded his head slowly. "Maybe you should show me, Lassie?"

"Show you what? The cells?" the older man responded, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to determine whether Shawn's request actually made sense or not. He frowned, and started to shake his head.

"Well, I guess you know you can't prove it," Shawn said.

"To hell with that!" Lassiter replied, "I will show you."

"Good," Shawn said, and took Lassiter's arm. "I'll help you there." He circled his arm around the cop's waist, and started directing Lassiter's slightly weaving steps towards the cells. The rest of the partygoers were too consumed in their own conversations to notice.


"Well, Spencer," Lassiter said, waving his arm around, "Here are the cells." He slid one of the barred doors open, and glanced up at Shawn. "Why did I bring you here again?"

Shawn shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "Maybe you wanted to get me alone," he said with a light tone. Lassiter snorted and sank down on to the cot in the cell. "That's farfetched," he said to no one in particular. Shawn slowly walked into the cell, and joined him on the cot. "It's been a busy week for you, huh Lassie?"

As he said this, he held out a fresh drink that he had brought with him. Lassiter took it without batting an eye, and took a gulp. "Is that supposed to be funny, Spencer?" he asked, "I know you try to be the class clown, but if you're referring to the Dodson case, then that isn't funny at all."

He took another swig, and then looked down at his feet, his back hunched. "Yet another case in a long string of wins for Shawn Spencer. It would never have occurred to me that Dodson had a long lost brother in Alaska."

"Well, anyone could have missed that Wasilla coffee mug…" Shawn said quietly, his eyes resting on Lassiter's bent form.

"I'm not anyone," Lassiter mumbled, "I'm a detective."

"You're also not the self-pitying type," Shawn replied, "I mean, if you're going to spiral down this far, you might as well do something really depraved." He scooted closer to Lassiter, and draped his arm over the cop's shoulders, slowly massaging his biceps. "And no one should be alone on New Years."

Lassiter was deadly quiet for a moment. With a clink of his glass, he finished the last of the drink and tried to shirk Shawn's grip off. "I'm not getting the joke," he said blandly.

Shawn leaned closer, and whispered "You didn't just threaten to kill me, so I think you know exactly what's going on and you're not opposed to it, Lassabear."

His grip on the cop was steady; he hadn't consumed a single drink that night. With a jerk, he tilted Lassiter's head towards his and mashed his lips against the cop's warm mouth, trying not smirk when Lassiter's glass hit the cement floor. When Lassiter inevitably turned his face away, Shawn made sure to keep his hand interwoven in the cop's salt and pepper hair. "You don't want to be alone on New Years," Shawn said, "It's bad luck."

"I've never heard tha-" Lassiter began to say before his lips were assaulted once again with Shawn's eagerness. This time, he didn't pull away.


It was a little crowded on the cot, not that Shawn was complaining. Not that he would ever complain. Despite his height, in comparison to Lassie, the fake psychic had made sure to position himself so that the cop's head was resting on his chest. He had his arms looped around Lassiter, and was now trying to figure out how he could ninja his cell phone out of the pocket of his pants, which were on the ground. He desperately wanted a picture of Lassie's hair, in all its disarrayed glory.

"I know I say this to the extent that it no longer carries weight, but I will kill you if this gets out," Lassiter mumbled.

"Shh, Lassie," Shawn replied, petting the cop's head. He heard a faint growl, and smiled. Clearly the cop was sobering up. They could hear cheering from the main lobby, and Shawn realized he actually won the bet.

"Well.." Shawn started to shift up, and away from Carlton. "I need to get going… early morning."

Lassiter remained motionless for a moment, and then nodded as he sat up. Without saying a word, he picked up his clothing and started dressing without looking at Shawn. The fake psychic watched all this with a small smile.

"No need to look heartbroken Lassie, there's always next time."

Carlton stopped moving just as he was about to start buttoning his shirt. Turning to look at Shawn, he actually smiled. "That's a pretty funny, Spencer. Maybe you have a knack for humor after all."

"Uh… what?" Shawn replied.

"That this would happen again… that's a good joke," Lassiter said, sitting down as he started to tie his shoelaces.

"Right… a joke."

"I mean," Lassiter continued, waving his arm around as he adopted his lecturing voice. "You may have caught me at a weak moment, but this is a new year, and I'm definitely going to solve the next case before you."

"So you really don't care that we just had sex… like literally, you, Carlton Lassiter and me, Shawn Spencer, just bumped uglies."

Carlton turned to him, "Did you expect me to be flustered?" he asked. With a flourish, he stood up, swung his jacket on, and smiled down at Shawn. "Don't forget, I will kill you." He made a slashing motion at his neck, and then walked purposefully from the room.


"Shawn! I was just about to get the intern's number."

Gus was sitting in his car with the window down, watching as Shawn Spencer stumbled towards him. The fake psychic clawed at the passenger door handle several times before succeeding at opening it.

"Are you drunk?" Gus asked as his friend lumbered into the car.

"Gus," Shawn cut in, with a retrospective voice, "Everything went according to plan, I talked him into it… in fact, it was so much easier than I expected."

Gus stared at him with wide eyes for a moment. "You actually did it?"

Shawn nodded dramatically, and started to rub his face with his hands. "And then…" he continued, his voice slightly higher-pitched, "I pulled the whole 'this was fun, but I gotta go," shtick, and he didn't even bat an eye.

A few puzzle pieces clicked into place for Gus as he watched the crumpled form of his friend. "You actually like… Lassiter."

"Please Gus," Shawn replied, trying to sound incredulous. "If I liked Lassie, I would be able to make him like me back."

Gus shook his head with a sad frown. "Shawn, you may be able to manipulate your way into his pants, but you can't make him stop hating you… especially when you make him feel inferior… all of the time."

Shawn absorbed this statement with uncharacteristic silence, and than tilted his head back against the seat. "What ever…" he mumbled. Gus shrugged and started up the car. "And don't think I'm going to let this go," Gus grumbled, "Couldn't you have called a cab, or something?"

Next Day

Carlton Lassiter was working methodically at his desk, trying to ignore the pounding headache of his hangover when he felt a puff of air against his ear. Turning his eyes slightly to the side, he frowned. "What are you doing, Spencer?"

"I know people think I'm like this case-solving genius, and I make you feel inferior," the fake psychic began. Lassiter's eyes widened angrily as he turned to glare at Shawn. "Spencer…" he growled dangerously.

"But I like a challenge," Shawn continued, ignoring the threat in Lassiter's tone. "And clearly, you're not going to make this easy for me."

"Make what easy?" Lassiter replied. Without warning, Shawn leaned forward and whispered, "This." before placing a light kiss on Lassiter's lips.

Turning away from Lassiter, Shawn bolted without waiting to see how the cop would react. He half expected bullets to start flying past his head. He would give Lassie a few days to cool off before reappearing, but reappear he would.

The sex had already happened… how hard could developing an actual relationship be?






Another half-assed attempt at fan fiction. Lol, I really should stick to my roots over at FP. Oh, and Shawn is the pursuer because THAT'S HOW IT SHOULD BE. I get that Lassiter is taller than Shawn, but WHO CARES? /end rant.