A/ N: No idea why I wrote this, I'm a happy person I swear! However my recent break up, topped off with the worst day of work ever left me feeling awfully bitter today. But since people in the world have far worse to worry about - I decided to vent out my frustrations with fan fiction. Why? Well why not? Alright then on with the fic! Reviews are encouraged greatly for this one! Please Enjoy!

Chow for Now;


Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

Warning: Profanity, Adult themes, and established GAY relationship ahead! If you're opposed, underage, and or light of heart- may I kindly suggest the back button?

Never Enough

The glass bottle crashed against the wall with a loud crack followed by a magnificent display of shattering glass falling in all different directions. The shards landed in an already growing pile, Shawn Spencer was on his 4th drink. It still wasn't enough. He reached for a fifth bottle.

The fake psychic had never been this inhibited before, not that anyone was ever going to know. He made the decision to hash it out on his own the second the case ended. As usual the chief had congratulated him and Gus on a job well done, Juliet was there to receive her own praise and to give Shawn a high five, and as usual Lassiter played his part too. Lassiter had successfully put the perp in holding and was nonchalant about making sure everyone knew it too. Always the hero.

He fucking hated that about Lassie – fucking hated it…..Okay… So maybe he didn't hate Lassie, hell Shawn wasn't scared to admit he loved the guy. Shawn loved him enough to get drunk and angry over him when Shawn never got drunk or angry over anybody – at all.

Shawn took a long swig from his drink then, and finished it. He regarded the empty bottle in his hand for a few moments before simply flinging it at the same wall the first four bottles had hit. Shawn took a long breathe, and sighed. He lied down on his couch then, and was completely out of alcohol. Unfortunately for Shawn -the amount he drank wasn't nearly enough to erase the scene that kept playing in his mind.

Shawn was getting ready to order dinner; he was getting pretty hungry and for some reason was really Chinese food. Not even half way through dialling his usual take out number was there a knock on his door.

"Golden Palace how can I help you?" The phone operator's voice sounded; tired, and a little irritable – so Shawn felt a little bad for hanging up. Hopefully they didn't have caller display.

Moving to his door, Shawn answered it and was all too please to see Lassiter.

"Lassie!" Shawn stepped aside to let him in. Lassiter at this point in their relationship was more then comfortable in Shawn's apartment, which immediately pegged the question – why the hell did Lassie knock. "Lassie?"

"I can't do this anymore Shawn."

The memory always stops there, just the words 'I can't do this' like what they had was something disgusting and unnatural. It hurt so much, Shawn couldn't take the hurt. Hadn't he done everything right? When he wasn't poking fun at Lassie he treated him like a god, hell he even agreed to keep their relationship a secret.

That should've been the first sign. Shawn cursed himself – who the hell kept something like love a secret? Cowards! That's who. Suddenly Shawn was pissed, he was up then grabbing his phone, too drunk to really pay attention, and with every number Shawn dialled he tried and failed to fight off another drunken recollection.

Before Lassie had ended it, they were pretty happy. Every Sunday afternoon, Shawn would unlock his door and wait. Lassie always showed up at exactly 2PM. The first thing they always did as soon as the detective crossed the threshold was kiss. It was a weekly routine, one that Shawn ached for all week long. One Sunday it had become too much, and after their long kisses, and after the sex, Shawn said the three words that could either damn or strengthen a relationship.

"I love you."

Lassiter broke it off the next day, Shawn didn't have to recover, didn't even have time to try. That same day the case had started and Shawn was called on. For the most part he ignored Lassiter as much as he could during the run, he put on his usual show and kept his emotions hidden pretty well until it came right to the show down.

A week later and Shawn had found the killer, and was determined to take the man down himself. Only the killer had a gun and didn't think twice about aiming right at Shawn. It was the first time Shawn let anyone see that he was anything but happy.

"You gonna shoot me Jett? Go ahead shoot me."

The killer – Jett, aimed a little higher, his hands shaking. If he shot Shawn, then Shawn would only be his third victim. Needless to say Jett was inexperienced. Shawn was positive he wouldn't shoot - but if he did? No biggy.

"Problem Jett?" Shawn pushed even further and even stretched his arms out. "Or are you just biding time?"

"Don't push me!" Jett hollered "I'll do it!"

"Then do it already!" Shawn shouted back "This isn't a cop drama, no one's coming to stop you, so quit the yabbering and get to the shooting!"

Jett moved to oblige, but sometimes Shawn's life did play out like a cop drama, and just as Jett put his finger on the trigger – another shot went off. Jett was down and Shawn was fine. Shawn put his arms down just as Lassie and Jules came rushing into the warehouse with both their guns aimed. Within minutes the scene was closed off and Jett was being taken away in an ambulance. The case was over, Shawn had time now.

Which was why he was currently at home and drunk dialling, Shawn wasn't thinking, and didn't start thinking until after Lassiter answered his work cell.

"Detective Lassiter."

Shit. Shawn froze. Now what does he do? Does he talk? Does he yell? Saying nothing really couldn't be helping. Silence stretched out between them until finally Lassiter broke it.

"Shawn I have caller I.D."

"Uh - yeah I know." Shawn got defensive pretty damn fast, he was drunk after all. "You don't need to tell me that Carlton." The last few words of his sentence were a tad slurred. Lassiter sighed but Shawn didn't notice.

"Shawn I can't do this right now. I have paper work."

Oh arguing drunk was never a good idea. "Fuck your paper work, this is important!"

"Shawn I'm hanging up now, I will call you tomorrow. Go to bed."

"No I won't go to bed; I told you I loved you Lassie! Fucking loved you! Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? ! For god's sake Lassie I don't even tell my parents I love them, I don't know how! I thought you were different, I thought you were special, but no you're just scared! Scared and stupid, because you know what? I'm better then you! That's right ten times better, better at solving cases, better at being a boyfriend, just better. You suck Lassie, you suck you suck you suck!"

It wasn't until Shawn was done rambling did he realize that Lassiter had indeed hung up. Shawn wasn't sure why, but he was pissed about that – he had something to say dammit! No matter how pathetic it sounded, he still had something to say! Another swing of his arm and Shawn's phone was being thrown across the room, who knows where it landed, and who honestly cared? Lassie didn't. With that troubling thought, Shawn finally passed out. The alcohol was just enough that he didn't see anything, as he slept he was vaguely away of a dull throbbing pain shooting through his abdomen but he ignored it. Fuck the pain really, he'd take physical pain over emotional pain any day – so just the fact he wasn't dreaming about Lassie was a good thing.

Waking up in his bed is not where he expected to wake up, Shawn might've been groggy and hung over but he remembered passing out on his couch. So who moved him? Wincing and putting a hand to his head as he stood up, he looked around his room – still alone. Weird.

A clashing sound then came from the kitchen, and Shawn was up – oh someone was here, who was here? It took Shawn a couple of minutes to get himself out of bed through his small grunts of pain, and adamant yawns but soon enough he was tip toeing towards his kitchen to take a peek at whoever tucked him in last night. Either Gus or his dad, preferably Gus, getting the drunk talk dad from dad was never fun. Sometimes it could be amusing, but all the time it was a little awkward. Shawn peered into the kitchen.

"I don't believe this…"

It was Lassie, of course it was! Shawn cursed at himself; he couldn't just drunk dial Gus now could he? Dammit all. Shawn watched as Lassie stayed hunched over his sink, the man's tie and blazer hanging neatly on the back of one of Shawn's chairs, his neat button up collar shirt was rolled up all the way to the elbows and the detective was busying himself with doing Shawn's dishes. Grunting and shaking his head at Shawn's lack of cleanliness the entire time.

"He can't clean his apartment every now and again? Geeze, he's a psychic, should be able to predict when his house smells, geeze…." Lassie's mumbles were low but Shawn could make them out, and Shawn was amused, aside from being pissed that Lassie was even there to begin with.

"Lassie!" Shawn spoke up, and that caused Lassiter to freeze a bit and turn around. He looked a tad guilty – good. Shawn crossed his arms. "You're here."

"Well dammit Spencer!" Lassie got defensive right away, and soapy hands were held up as he accentuated what he was saying. "You call me last night, drunk and angry, and blubbering – could barely understand a word you were saying. I know for a fact that you're alone. I couldn't very well finish my paper work and let you drown in your own vomit!" Lassiter left it at that, and went back to doing dishes.

"Well," Shawn was taken aback, why the hell would Lassie come all this way for Shawn if he didn't care about him? What kind of a head game was this? It wasn't fair. Shawn huffed. "I'm okay now, so you can be on your way. I'm sure you've got more important things to do then clean my apartment."

"You're not okay." Lassiter cut him off. "You haven't been okay."

"I've been peachy." Shawn countered. "Now out."

Lassiter turned on him again. "You were trying to get Jett to shoot you; you had your arms wide open! That is not okay!"

"What the hell do you care? !" Shawn hollered. He ignored his splitting head ache – for now. "You wanted things to go back to the way they were, and they did! I knew Jett wasn't going to shoot me, and we got him! You should just be happy about that, and leave me the hell alone."

"Shawn," Lassiter lowered his voice and now looked like he was picking his words carefully. "I never intended on getting involved with you – it happened, and when it did, it became addictive."

"Really not helping." Shawn snapped, and clenched his jaw – where the hell was Lassie going with this?

"Then you told me, you loved me." Lassiter said. "I was thrown, a little discouraged. How could you love me? We only saw each other the way we did once a week."

"You're saying you didn't believe me?" Shawn looked like he had been hit, but pressed on. "That's what you're saying, isn't it?"

"I didn't believe you, until after I broke it off, and we started that case. You were acting so different, and I couldn't figure out why. For god's sake Spencer, I'm really not worth it."

"Worth it enough." Shawn said. "I'm sorry if you're having some deep psychological distress over all this, but I can't help you with that. I told you I loved you, and you either love me or you don't. You broke it off, so clearly you don't. I thank you kindly for seeing to my aid last night – but we won't be making it a repeat performance. So now I kindly ask you to beat it."


"Get out of my apartment Lassie."

Silence stretched between them, until finally Lassiter obliged and grabbed his stuff and left. Shawn was upset but couldn't cry – wouldn't cry. Instead he called Gus to try and talk him into an all night Star Wars Marathon, just so he wouldn't have to be alone.

As for Lassiter he was on edge, seeing Shawn like that – was bone chilling, Shawn was hurt and Lassiter was the one who did it. Why? Why did it take him that long to realize he loved the psychic too? Lassiter cursed.

Yes, he loved Shawn Spencer but it was too late now. Shawn wasn't listening to reason, if Lassiter wanted even half a chance back at fixing what he had done, he was going to have to beg like a perfect…ah shit, like a puppy. Lassiter sighed, it was really the only way he could think of and that was saying something. Carlton Lassiter did not beg. Shawn Spencer should not have that much power of him; it was horrifying to think about. Sighing Lassiter returned to the station, and lulling everything over in his head he marched right to the chief's office.

"From now on I want Shawn Spencer assigned to every case I am."

Maybe forcing Shawn to work with him wasn't enough to fix all this, but dammit it was a start. Lassie was going to fix this.