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“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Shawn was pretty used to hearing annoyance in Lassiter’s voice but there was a twinge of actual disdain this time that, if Shawn was being honest with himself, actually stung a bit.
“Well, Lassie,” Shawn raised his hand, “I got a premonition that Jules would have an emer-” Lassiter glowered at him. Shawn bit his lip. “Right. Anyway. Are you ready for your actual Christmas present?”
Lassiter stared at him for what felt like ages. Shawn bounced nervously.
“It’s January, Spencer.”
“Well, yes. There was everything with you and Jules arresting Gus’s parents and it wouldn’t be a very good surprise if it was on Christmas so… Here we are.” That seemed believable. And it was half true. He might have noticed the change in Lassiter’s mood if it wasn’t for the disaster around Christmas time.
It wasn’t even supposed to be a big deal. Find out Lassiter hates snow globes. Get people to give Lassiter snow globes. Enjoy him being kind of freaked out. He even got Jules to invite Lassie to her family for Christmas so he wouldn’t be alone. That really should have been more than enough to make up for it. Of course there’s some difference between “hating snow globes,” and “snowglobes make me dream of being trapped in a dome with snow that melts my flesh off,” which Shawn may have not considered in his prank-happy daze.
And then between proving his best friend’s parents weren’t murderers, solving the case, and absolutely destroying his dad in their yearly present guessing game he’d put the whole thing out of his mind by the time he noticed that Lassiter was just a mess. First he was tired and extra snappy. The noticeable eye bags kind of tired, and the actually rampaging kind of snappy. That really could have been anything. When he noticed how much and how badly Lassiter was scratching and that he’d practically rubbed the back of his neck raw he was pretty sure something had to be going on.
At first he had thought Lassiter was on drugs but Jules had talked him out of that one and when against her very smart advice he tried to ask Lassiter what was going on he almost got a coffee cup to the head for the trouble. Though Jules couldn’t figure it out either, beyond Lassiter admitting he hadn’t been sleeping well, which was strange.
The answer, as it turned out, was in Christmas decorations. Or more accurately in the slowly deflating remains of someone’s yard ornaments. The giant vinyl snowglobe encasing a Santa Claus who appeared to be slowly melting trapped in…oh! Lassie was having nightmares and scratching himself raw because of them. Which meant he was doing it because of his dumb prank. Well, that felt pretty awful.
So Shawn had devised a plan. A pretty good one if he did say so himself. Which he did. A lot. To Gus and Jules, who were actually less difficult to talk into helping than he expected.
Lassiter glared at him. Ugh.
“Alright. I didn't have this in the original plan. But the spirits misled me about your feelings on snow globes so it seemed like a do-over was in order!” He turned towards the door and was stopped short, choking on his collar. Lassiter spun him back around.
“The spirits didn’t tell you shit, Spencer.” There was something almost feral in his voice. It made Shawn a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was the arm on his chest forcing him against the wall, just on the edge of taking his breath away.
Shawn threw his hands up. “Fine. You got me,” Lassiter eyebrows went up. “No, no, I’m not saying they didn’t talk to me.” Shawn bit his lip. “They did tell me about the dreams. I just thought it would be funny. Which it was! Big tough cop holding knickknacks by the tips of his fingers.”
Lassiter’s other hand definitely twitched towards his gun. It made Shawn feel a little cold, and the hall feel almost oppressively warm. “Spencer, I had a desk full of snow globes!”
“Okay, Lassie, easy easy, let me finish. I really expected at least some people would know you better.”
Lassiter glowered. The arm against Shawn’s chest loosened. He took a breath and for a brief moment Lassiter’s presence wasn’t quite as oppressive. And then Lassiter was in close again, fist raised. Well, that was better than reaching for his gun at least.
Shawn winced. “That sounded wor-gah!” He was interrupted by Lassiter smacking his open hand into the side of his head. It would have been almost funny if hadn’t made his ear start ringing. Or made him feel even dizzier. He grabbed Lassiter’s suit jacket. “What was that?”
Lassiter made a very slight effort to pull away. Not particularly effective. “Punching a colleague seemed like it might be a bad idea.” He said the word like it made him ill. “Let go of me.”
Shawn took a breath and shook it off, clicking his tongue. “First off, I'm sorry, really. If I'd known it would make you all exhausted and,” he imitated the scratching again, “I wouldn't have done it. And I should have known. So… yeah. I was a jerk.” Lassiter raised an eyebrow at him. “Thing two, just hear me out about your gift and if you still want to I'll let you actually punch me. But only once and it can't be the face. Can't mar perfection,” he rubbed his chin, “or would a black eye add some badass mystique?”
Lassiter crossed his arms. “I don’t see why you should get to decide.” Shawn could see a hint of a smirk on his face.
Shawn grinned. “That sounds like a deal. C’mon.”
***
Carlton watched Spencer head off down the hall, beckoning with a much too easy wave of his hand. He followed with a sigh. This was definitely a bad idea. But the idea of punching Spencer had its appeal. Preferably repeatedly.
“After you, Lassie,” Spencer opened the door to the firing range with an exaggerated bow.
Instead of targets the place was lined with snow globes. A lot of snow globes. Definitely more than Carlton had cleared from his desk. He fought to keep his breath even. What kind of sick…? What was that apology out there about? He may have been partly hoping to punch Spencer, consequence free but he had at least trusted that he wasn’t going to be led directly to the sight of one of his favorite places completely covered in nightmare-inducing baubles. He fought to keep his breath even and not completely panic. Or feel, oh god, he was actually feeling hurt. Spencer had actually seemed sincere in the hall. The itching returned with a vengeance. He froze and forced himself to keep his hands still, remind himself that nothing was actually wrong with his skin. Well, nothing besides the collection of scabs he’d picked and repicked over the last week and the raw patches on the back of his neck from rubbing it when he was at the station and trying even harder not to scratch, all of which he was very very aware of right now. Maybe he could shoot Spencer and claim it was an accident somehow.
Spencer appeared at his side, grinning ear to ear. “Ta dah! Merry Christmas, Lassie.”
This really had taken Shawn (and Gus and Jules) a lot of work. He’d had to track down all of the snow globes Lassiter had gotten rid of including the very nice custom job Shawn and Gus had given him. Which he was sacrificing for the project! The real question was why Lassie was just staring blankly and hadn’t started shooting already. He seemed at a loss for words. Good.
“Spencer what kind of joke-”
“Oh my god, Lassifrass, you really are exhausted if it isn’t obvious. You’ve got your own personal shooting gallery. What better way to conquer your frankly ridiculous fear than destroying it in a hail of bullets!” And there it was. A twitch at the corner of Lassiter’s mouth. Almost a smile. “I spent hours on this. Gus went to a bunch of thrift stores. And Jules is making sure no one disturbs you.”
Lassiter shrugged off his suit jacket but he still hadn’t raised his gun. Well, Shawn had planned for this. Apparently a demonstration was in order. Shawn pushed the goggles over his eyes and shoved a pair at Lassiter. He picked up the gun, the one he’d brought because he wasn’t dumb enough to try to touch one of Lassie’s, and aimed at the smallest snow globe he could find. Saving the most satisfying ones for Lassie seemed like the right thing to do. Okay, maybe he also wanted to show off a little. He didn’t particularly care to use guns day to day but the opportunity was right in front of him. He took an easy stance and fired. The globe exploded. Exactly as predicted.
He heard Lassiter’s breath hitch. “What was that, Spencer?”
“Uhhh, proving this isn’t some kind of trap, I guess. Figured if you didn’t start-,” Lassiter’s hand dropped onto his shoulder, grip intense.
“Do it again.” There was no way Spencer was good at this. Carlton had never even seen the man shoot. He didn’t even carry a gun.
Spencer sighed. “You’re kind of holding down my predominant arm there, Lassie.” He switched hands. Carlton was too focused to bother correcting the word. Glass shattered. Another snow globe down. His head was swimming. He had a vice grip on Spencer’s shoulder. “If you’re going to keep testing me, maybe we should get a real target.”
Carlton let go and shook out his arms. “The globes probably are easier to hit. Are there any targets left or is the whole place covered?”
Shawn nodded. “Last booth.” Lassiter grabbed his arm and practically yanked him towards it, making him stumble. Was Lassie mad he was a good shot? It wasn’t like Shawn was better than him. But Lassie did tend to get angry about everything when it came to him. So he probably should have expected this.
Five more shots. Five more perfect hits. He looked over at Lassiter who seemed a bit faint. And then, quick as, well, a bullet from a gun, Lassiter was on him, gripping his shirt.
“How is that possible, Spencer?” His arms were definitely shaking a bit.
“Do you want me to explain how a gun works, Lassiekins? Because I would have thought you would know.”
Lassiter’s eyes were blazing. “No! I mean, why are you good at this? How did I not know?”
Because it’s kind of a fun way to blow off steam. Because it might be good to know how to use a gun even if carrying one would feel too close to being a cop. Because it’s the kind of thing my dad would be way too happy about me enjoying. Shawn laughed. “Well, I have to stay in practice. The carnival only comes to town a few times a year.”
Lassiter was leaning over him, those bright blue eyes focused intently on his, cheeks unmistakably red, lips parted slightly. Anger was a reaction he could have expected. This…this was entirely different. Shawn knew what was going to happen before it did. Shawn always knew what was going to happen. He could stop this. But maybe he wanted to see if Lassie would actually do it. Maybe he wanted him to.
“You’re such an idiot, Spencer.” And then his back was against the wall and Lassiter’s mouth was on his, intense and hungry, as much a bite as a kiss. There was no hesitation. It was another way he had made Carlton Lassiter lose control.
Shawn let himself give in to it, blindly finding the straps of Lassiter’s holster and hanging on for dear life. This was a terrible idea. Like so many terrible ideas it was absolutely fantastic. His tongue found its way into Lassie’s mouth and he was met with a growl that made his head swim. He wrapped his leg around Lassiter's, pulling him closer. Lassie met him, grabbing his ass and pulling him hard against his thigh.
Shawn groaned into his mouth, whining despite himself when the kiss finally broke. And then there was a hand in his hair, pulling his head to the side, bearing his neck to Lassiter’s teeth.
Shawn found himself back in reality. Back in the gun range. The gun range at the police station. The police station where they were going to have to look at each other. Work together whether Lassiter wanted to or not. Definitely not ever talk about this. “If I knew this would be your reaction I would have hung some mistletoe. Could have skipped right to it.”
Lassiter pulled back, wide eyed, looking a bit panicked. Shawn put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. Let’s just call that your Christmas present to me.”
Carlton gave a curt nod. “That makes us even then. Not counting the snow globe.” He looked around. He really had gone all out. In the immediate panic he hadn’t noticed how carefully the globes were set up or the Christmas lights strung around the range or the paper snowflakes taped to the walls. God he hoped Spencer had a plan for cleaning this up. “I would apologize for not meeting the extravagance but given that this is an apology it feels acceptable.” What was he saying? He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, hear it behind the ear plugs.
Spencer laughed. Of course he did. It should have felt mocking. But this time it was clipping a wire. Defusing a bomb. Clear and bright over the heavy thud in his head. “If that’s your non-extravagant kissing…” Spencer was still so close. He grinned and tugged the goggles back over Carlton’s eyes. “C’mon. You’ve got some photons to overcome.” That one…that one had to be on purpose. Another of those ways Spencer had of getting under his skin, turned around, smoothing the tight, frightened places.
He aimed and shot. The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Shawn whooped behind him. Tomorrow this would all feel different. Another crash. The Psych logo exploded with the glass. He heard Shawn’s pained noise behind him. Tomorrow there would be a fake vision. The largest of the globes exploded splattering liquid dramatically. Shawn applauded. Tomorrow there would be some way that Spencer would get under his skin. Make his day difficult. Get in the way of his real police work.
Tonight though…
Three more down and he turned back to look at Shawn. Shawn was grinning. He could feel himself grinning too.
“Merry Christmas, Carlton.” Carlton. Another thing that would feel odd tomorrow.
“It’s January, Shawn.”
Shawn rolled his eyes. “Well, Happy New Year, then.”