Brighten the Way, Psych FanFic
Master Fic List
Title: Brighten the Way (or Five Times Shawn Comforted Carlton..and The First Time Carlton Noticed)
Rating: PG-13/T for the occasional use of the F-bomb and a sexual(ish) situation.
Characters: Mostly Shawn and Carlton; brief appearances by others
Word Count: approx. 3,100
Warnings: Kissing, removal of clothing, but sadly no dirty, filthy smut. Reference to “From Earth to Starbucks”, but no real spoilers.
Summary: “When someone’s a Gloomy McFussypants it’s my duty to cheer them up.” Shawn thrives on reaction. Carlton needs the attention.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: Does anyone actually think I own any of this?
Author’s Note: Companion to Breathing on His Own and this music/fic meme. But you really don’t need to read either of them to read this (except to understand that BoHO is a McNassiter pairing…). It’s really more of a warmup before I attempt a larger fic because Psych is the hardest of my fandoms for me to write for and I need the practice.
Unbeta-ed, so please forgive any errors (but feel free to point them out if you'd like). Title from another song by Air Traffic.
-----------------------------
Shawn hadn’t been surprised the detective hadn’t recognized him. (Shawn remembered everyone, but was never surprised that so many people forgot him.) He’d only really seen the detective a half-dozen times when the man had been a rookie. It wasn’t like the guy was supposed to remember the fuck-up son of a hardass detective.
But Shawn had remembered him; remembered the slight twinge of envy he’d had at the older man’s eagerness to do the job. Eagerness Shawn couldn’t muster, no matter how much his father had wanted it.
There’d still been a hint of that eager attitude when Head Detective Lassiter had pulled him into the interrogation room. Not quite the amount of hope there’d been there before, but still a hint of contentment.
So when Shawn walked into the station a week after exposing the detective’s little dalliance, he was surprised by the zombie-of-a-man who only half-heartedly told him the department did not require his assistance at the moment. The older man didn’t even seem depressed, merely apathetic; but the only thing Shawn hated more than depression (and maybe the icky feeling of bare skin on hot vinyl) was apathy. Even bad emotions were better than no emotions, in Shawn’s opinion.
Shawn was halfway back down the stairs, halfway ignoring the rumors of Detective Barry’s transfer, when he made up his mind to turn around.
The detective blinked up at him in surprise as Shawn’s ass landed heavily on a stack of folders on the desk.
“Mr. Spencer,” he began in a neutral tone. “I already told you: the department has nothing for you…”
“Oh come on Lassie…” Shawn gave the other man a genuine grin as he caught the spark of something in his eyes. Even if it was most likely annoyance. “There’s gotta be something you can’t solve on your own.” The spark grew and Shawn couldn’t help but feel accomplished for getting a reaction from the man.
Shawn practically skipped from the station, even with Carlton’s angry grumbling behind him.
-----------------------------
Shawn frowned as he watched Carlton slowly abuse the open bar. He supposed, though, if he were at the wedding of an ex, he’d wrack up a pricey tab himself. With a sigh, Shawn made his way over.
Carlton didn’t look at him when he spoke into his glass. “What about me said I wanted you to come anywhere near me?” he sneered.
Shawn plopped down on the stool next to his.
“Your eyes, Lassie,” he replied. “They had a ‘come hither’ look.” Carlton raised an eyebrow as he slowly turned to look at him. “Yeah! Like that!”
Carlton scowled. Shawn was just impressed someone in real life actually scowled.
“Go away, Spencer,” the detective said half-heartedly as he turned back to his drink.
“Can’t Lassie,” Shawn said. “You’re depressing me.” Carlton scoffed.
“Shouldn’t that be a reason for you to leave?”
“Nope. When someone’s a Gloomy McFussypants it’s my duty to cheer them up.”
“Well, consider yourself released from duty,” Carlton said, tossing back the last of his drink. Shawn frowned.
“I’m sorry, you know,” he said quietly. Carlton looked at him quickly in surprise. Shawn figured it was the serious tone of his voice. People tended to think it sounded weird.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “About Buzz.” Carlton’s expression darkened and he called to the bartender for another scotch. Shawn couldn’t help but notice the way the older man’s eyes flickered to the table of the bride and groom.
“No clue what you’re talking about Spencer,” he mumbled, accepting the fresh glass from the bartender.
“Yeah. Right.” Shawn sighed and stared across the bar.
“Do you think he’s happy?” Carlton whispered after a long moment of silence. Shawn glanced at him in surprise. Carlton quickly finished his scotch and stood, mumbling, “Never mind; forget it.”
Shawn caught him by the elbow as he turned away and Carlton looked down at the hand on his arm in surprise before meeting Shawn’s eyes.
“Yeah Lassie,” Shawn said softly. “I do.” Carlton watched his face a moment before nodding and turning away. Shawn watched him walk for the exit and wondered what the relieved look on the detective’s face had meant.
-----------------------------
It was surprisingly easy to coax the drunken detective out of the bar and to his car. Shawn had thought for sure he would’ve gotten a punch in the face for the arm he slipped around Carlton’s waist. Instead, the detective had leaned into him with something that’d sounded suspiciously like a contented sigh.
Shawn found himself propping the unsteady man against his vehicle while he dug through the pockets of his suit jacket, trying to find keys.
“You’re going to have to go lower,” the older man said in a husky voice. Shawn’s eyes went wide as he looked up at the man as the older man giggled.
Carlton tilted his left hip toward Shawn and dug in the front pocket before he pulled out his keys. He gave a lower, more manly, chuckle as he held them out for Shawn. “Made you blush.” Shawn fought the thoughts the older man’s body pressed against his was making him think.
“Not a blush, Lassie,” he quickly covered. “I have a rare complexion that allows me to get a moonburn.”
By the time they made it to Carlton’s house, Shawn was helping him stumble into the bathroom. With a sigh, Shawn grabbed a washcloth and ran it under some warm water as Carlton’s stomach tried to expel some of the alcohol from his body. Shawn knelt next to the older man as he struggled to stop heaving.
“Don’t fight it Lassie,” Shawn murmured, setting the washcloth on the back of Carlton’s neck. The detective shivered slightly and rested his forehead on the arm he draped across the toilet seat.
“I’m sick of this,” Shawn heard him mutter.
“The puking? Dude, I don’t blame you. The worst is when you hurl so hard it comes out your nose!” A puff of breath came from the older man and Shawn wasn’t quite sure if it was meant to be a laugh or not.
“I’m sick of trying to forget,” Carlton whispered. Shawn frowned.
“Well then remember, Lassie,” he suggested. Carlton turned his head to look blearily at Shawn. After a moment he gave him a sad smile and closed his eyes.
“I’d rather puke.” Shawn hesitated a moment before resting his hand lightly between Carlton’s shoulder blades.
“You don’t have to remember alone, Carlton,” he said softly. Carlton’s eyes flickered open and Shawn thought he looked suspiciously sober. Until he turned his head and started to vomit again.
Later, when he knew Carlton was more asleep than unconscious, Shawn slipped out of the house. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, what it would’ve meant if he’d stayed.
-----------------------------
“Detective, you cannot drive with a concussion,” Karen said sternly. Carlton paused in re-buttoning his shirt to blink at her.
“But…” he began to protest. Shawn could see the woman begin to puff so he stepped in quickly.
“I can give him a ride home Chief,” he said with a bright grin. The Chief looked Shawn up and down in consideration as Carlton frowned at him.
“You were cleared?” she asked the younger man. Shawn held up his bandaged arm.
“Just a scratch. No head trauma.” Carlton gave a snort from the exam table.
“That’s debatable,” he muttered, sliding to his feet. His knees didn’t quite feel like being supportive so soon and gave out immediately. Shawn moved faster than anyone expected and caught the detective gently around the waist, holding the surprised man up. Karen raised an eyebrow as Shawn steadied Carlton.
“Carlton, give Mr. Spencer your keys. If you won’t stay in the hospital, you’re going home and I don’t want to see you at the station until Wednesday, are we clear?”
“Chief…” Karen’s eyes narrowed as she heard the brewing challenge.
“Are we clear, Detective?” Carlton sighed as he finally managed to straighten from Shawn.
“Yes Chief.”
Ten minutes later, Shawn was steering the woozy detective through the hospital parking lot. “Where’d O’Hara go?” Carlton asked as Shawn opened the passenger door for him. Shawn frowned slightly: they’d spoken to the woman on their way out of the building.
“She’s staying to question Martin when he wakes up, remember?” Carlton frowned in thought and Shawn wanted to make a comment about how it looked like it hurt, but the bandage on the detective’s head reminded him it probably really did. So he kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t want to go home,” Carlton whispered as Shawn turned the detective’s car out of the parking lot. He glanced at the older man.
“You gotta rest, Lassieface. Gotta keep that glorious head of yours in shape.” Carlton was frowning painfully again and Shawn was learning just how carefully the man thought his words out.
“It’s too quiet there,” the man said softly.
“You like quiet,” Shawn pointed out. “And it’s good for the marching band that’s going to be starting in your brain soon.”
“Vicki used to play music.” Shawn looked at the detective in surprise. It was rare for Carlton to talk about his ex-wife; even rarer for him to use her name.
“Used to crank up the stereo whenever we were home.” Shawn had to look back at the road when he saw the small smile build. “Made me dance with her in the hallway when we were getting ready for work.”
Shawn had never kept a relationship long enough to really understand what losing one might feel like. But there were still the memories of his childhood, of his parents happy together. He knew what it was like to try and reconcile those good memories with the bad ones.
Shawn glanced over at the detective again and caught the man staring at his hands, lost in thought. He took a deep breath and looked back to the road.
“Well you should probably stay at my place anyway,” Shawn threw into the open. He could feel Carlton’s eyes on him. “I’ve had a concussion or two. You’re supposed to have someone watch you; make sure you don’t fall into a coma or something…”
There was silence in the car for a long moment, but Shawn had already taken the turn that led to his apartment. Carlton’s chuckle several seconds later nearly made him jump. He glanced at the older man with a raised eyebrow.
“Knew there was head trauma,” Carlton muttered with a sly smile. Shawn couldn’t resist returning it.
Carlton was silent as Shawn took him to his bedroom and tucked him into bed. His eyes were closed before the younger man even reached the door. In the morning, he’d assure Carlton it’d been part of the Chief’s orders. Maybe that’d keep it all from being too awkward.
Shawn left the bedroom door open a crack in case the detective needed anything. Moving into the front room, he debated turning on the TV to keep himself entertained. Instead, Shawn settled for the stereo: something soft and light; just enough to interrupt the quiet.
-----------------------------
Shawn hadn’t been on the case. He hadn’t even known about it until it was already solved. The man who’d beat his wife into a coma had confessed almost immediately, believing he was vindicated because his dinner was an hour late.
The atmosphere of the station when Shawn stepped in the next day was rather subdued. It’d been one of those gruesome crime scenes everyone just wanted to forget about. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find Carlton buried in paperwork after finding out he’d been the lead on the case. He’d reached the scene even before the ambulance.
“Spencer,” he greeted absently when Shawn stopped at his desk. Shawn frowned. He’d spent the past few months working on getting reactions out of the man. Even if he was angry, at least he wasn’t closed off. This version of the detective was right back to shutting down.
“What’s shakin’ Lassytor?” The detective didn’t so much as glance up.
“Paperwork. Go annoy O’Hara.”
“She’s busy flirting,” Shawn whined. Carlton glanced up and over and Shawn thought he saw a small frown on his face as he noticed his partner near the coffee pot, chatting with the latest transfer. Carlton looked down at his papers again.
“Then I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Mr. Spencer.”
Shawn frowned, looking around as he plotted what to do unfunkify the detective who seemed most definitely funked.
“I think I’m having Chinese for lunch. Do you want Chinese for lunch?” Carlton turned a page, but didn’t look up.
“It’s three p.m., Spencer, I’ve had lunch,” he responded flatly. Shawn frowned.
“What about ice cream?” There! He thought he saw a twitch at the corner of Carlton’s mouth.
“I don’t want ice cream. I’m rather busy right now…”
“Ooh! I know! Latkas!” Carlton finally looked up at that, mouth slightly open in what Shawn thought was probably disbelief. Shawn contained his smirk. “How about it Lassie? Let’s blow this pop stand for some nice, mouth-watering latkas.”
Carlton’s mouth closed as his eyes narrowed. Bingo: annoyance achieved. “I am going to put this simply so your brain can handle it,” Carlton began in a clipped tone. “Me busy. You go away.” Shawn grinned and, at least for a second, thought he might have seen the hint of a smile in the detective’s expression.
“Fine, Lassie. But don’t say I never offered you a falafel.”
“Latka,” Carlton corrected in a mumble as Shawn turned away. The younger man couldn’t help but smirk.
“Knew you were listening,” he said, mostly to himself, as he left the detective in peace.
-----------------------------
Shawn stood on the sidewalk for several long minutes, watching the house. It looked dark, at first glance, but Shawn had noticed the blue light of a TV peeking out from behind the curtains of the front window.
Taking a deep breath, Shawn moved to the door and knocked. He waited half a minute before knocking again. Just when he was about to knock a third time, the door clicked open.
Shawn sucked in a breath. The man in front of him looked like hell. The entire right side of his face was bruised, making the day’s worth of stubble look almost sinister. His hair was tousled, matching the crumpled state of the t-shirt he wore. Even his always-pressed slacks were looking worse for wear. None of it was helped by the thick bandage on his left arm, either.
Carlton blinked at Shawn. “Can I help you Spencer?” Same old apathy, Shawn thought. Aided by alcohol, if Carlton’s breath was any indication.
Shawn gave up on the act he’d had prepared.
“I’m here to help you, you fucking idiot,” Shawn said in a semi-growl of frustration. He lurched forward, grabbing Carlton by the unbruised side of his face to pull him into a crushing kiss. He could taste the scotch as he waited for the other man to respond in some way; any way.
Finally, after several long seconds, Shawn felt Carlton shudder. He was about to pull back when the other man latched onto him, looping an arm through Shawn’s to wrap up the younger man’s back and grab onto his shoulder. Shawn found himself pressed against Carlton from head to toe. Carlton’s tongue felt desperate in Shawn’s mouth as Shawn slipped his other arm around his waist.
They stood like that for a couple of minutes, lost in that first embrace, before Carlton pulled back. Shawn worried he was going to pull away completely and was therefore surprised when the older man wrapped both arms around him, burying his face in Shawn’s neck. Carlton trembled and Shawn felt the wet heat of tears press into his skin.
Feeling his own eyes burn, Shawn pulled Carlton even closer and turned his face into the other man’s hair. It still smelled of ash and Shawn wondered if he’d always smell a little like it from now on.
“I fucked up,” Carlton whispered brokenly after a moment. His breath on Shawn’s neck made the younger man shiver.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Shawn assured softly.
“I could’ve saved her.” Shawn smiled sadly and lifted Carlton’s head to look him in the eye.
“No. You couldn’t have.” He brushed at the tears on the unbruised cheek. “She died instantly. Forensics’ initial report.” Carlton closed his eyes and buried his face deeper into Shawn’s neck. Shawn rubbed his back gently, knowing there was bruising there as well.
After another minute, Carlton lifted his head and kissed Shawn softly. Shawn let him lead, following the detective as they finally moved into the house to shut the door behind them.
Carlton shoved Shawn’s jacket from his shoulders before tugging at the hem of the younger man’s polo. Shawn obliged, breaking the kiss enough to pull the shirt over his head. Shawn reached for the other man’s shirt and it came off just as quickly.
Shawn stood still as he looked at the bruising across Carlton’s torso. What would have been a lovely view marred by darkening patches of skin. The right side was worse and Shawn recalled the sight of Carlton unmoving on the ground. He traced a finger lightly over the older man’s side, causing Carlton to shiver, whether from pain or pleasure Shawn had no idea.
The taller man leaned forward, resting his forehead against Shawn’s as he closed his eyes.
“Will you stay?” he whispered. Shawn was surprised by the need and doubt infused in the question. He laughed softly as he rested his hands on Carlton’s hips.
“What? You think I’d get you all riled up, then leave?” Carlton’s eyes opened in surprise and he stared at Shawn dumbly. It made Shawn frown to himself, wondering just how many people had screwed Carlton over. He tilted his head up and kissed the detective softly.
“Let’s go to bed, Lassie,” he whispered.
-
His whole body hurt. Not quite the sharp pains of the day before, but still a constant ache. As his brain caught up with him, Carlton slowly became aware of a soft thump beneath his ear. Despite the throb of his body, he felt comfortable; safe. It’d been so long since he’d felt that way, so he opened his eyes, immediately suspicious.
His first view was a stubbled chin. It took him a few seconds to remember the night before and he began to look around without moving. He was curled against Shawn, his head on the younger man’s bare chest. One of Shawn’s arms was looped across his back, the other hand rested lightly on top of the arm Carlton had flung across his waist. The position somehow managed to keep most of the pressure off of Carlton’s bruises.
They were tangled head-to-toe under the comforter and Carlton found his eyelids felt heavy again.
Shawn shifted and Carlton finally let his eyes fall shut as he felt the other man’s lips press lightly against his forehead. The younger man would undoubtedly annoy him somehow when they woke again, but for the moment, Carlton was content to soak up the comfort Shawn was offering.
/end
A/N: This was harder to write than “Breathing on His Own”. Shawn in general is a harder character for me to write. Hopefully I didn’t screw him up too badly (and hopefully Lassiter didn’t suffer either).
Title: Brighten the Way (or Five Times Shawn Comforted Carlton..and The First Time Carlton Noticed)
Rating: PG-13/T for the occasional use of the F-bomb and a sexual(ish) situation.
Characters: Mostly Shawn and Carlton; brief appearances by others
Word Count: approx. 3,100
Warnings: Kissing, removal of clothing, but sadly no dirty, filthy smut. Reference to “From Earth to Starbucks”, but no real spoilers.
Summary: “When someone’s a Gloomy McFussypants it’s my duty to cheer them up.” Shawn thrives on reaction. Carlton needs the attention.
AO3 Link
Disclaimer: Does anyone actually think I own any of this?
Author’s Note: Companion to Breathing on His Own and this music/fic meme. But you really don’t need to read either of them to read this (except to understand that BoHO is a McNassiter pairing…). It’s really more of a warmup before I attempt a larger fic because Psych is the hardest of my fandoms for me to write for and I need the practice.
Unbeta-ed, so please forgive any errors (but feel free to point them out if you'd like). Title from another song by Air Traffic.
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Shawn hadn’t been surprised the detective hadn’t recognized him. (Shawn remembered everyone, but was never surprised that so many people forgot him.) He’d only really seen the detective a half-dozen times when the man had been a rookie. It wasn’t like the guy was supposed to remember the fuck-up son of a hardass detective.
But Shawn had remembered him; remembered the slight twinge of envy he’d had at the older man’s eagerness to do the job. Eagerness Shawn couldn’t muster, no matter how much his father had wanted it.
There’d still been a hint of that eager attitude when Head Detective Lassiter had pulled him into the interrogation room. Not quite the amount of hope there’d been there before, but still a hint of contentment.
So when Shawn walked into the station a week after exposing the detective’s little dalliance, he was surprised by the zombie-of-a-man who only half-heartedly told him the department did not require his assistance at the moment. The older man didn’t even seem depressed, merely apathetic; but the only thing Shawn hated more than depression (and maybe the icky feeling of bare skin on hot vinyl) was apathy. Even bad emotions were better than no emotions, in Shawn’s opinion.
Shawn was halfway back down the stairs, halfway ignoring the rumors of Detective Barry’s transfer, when he made up his mind to turn around.
The detective blinked up at him in surprise as Shawn’s ass landed heavily on a stack of folders on the desk.
“Mr. Spencer,” he began in a neutral tone. “I already told you: the department has nothing for you…”
“Oh come on Lassie…” Shawn gave the other man a genuine grin as he caught the spark of something in his eyes. Even if it was most likely annoyance. “There’s gotta be something you can’t solve on your own.” The spark grew and Shawn couldn’t help but feel accomplished for getting a reaction from the man.
Shawn practically skipped from the station, even with Carlton’s angry grumbling behind him.
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Shawn frowned as he watched Carlton slowly abuse the open bar. He supposed, though, if he were at the wedding of an ex, he’d wrack up a pricey tab himself. With a sigh, Shawn made his way over.
Carlton didn’t look at him when he spoke into his glass. “What about me said I wanted you to come anywhere near me?” he sneered.
Shawn plopped down on the stool next to his.
“Your eyes, Lassie,” he replied. “They had a ‘come hither’ look.” Carlton raised an eyebrow as he slowly turned to look at him. “Yeah! Like that!”
Carlton scowled. Shawn was just impressed someone in real life actually scowled.
“Go away, Spencer,” the detective said half-heartedly as he turned back to his drink.
“Can’t Lassie,” Shawn said. “You’re depressing me.” Carlton scoffed.
“Shouldn’t that be a reason for you to leave?”
“Nope. When someone’s a Gloomy McFussypants it’s my duty to cheer them up.”
“Well, consider yourself released from duty,” Carlton said, tossing back the last of his drink. Shawn frowned.
“I’m sorry, you know,” he said quietly. Carlton looked at him quickly in surprise. Shawn figured it was the serious tone of his voice. People tended to think it sounded weird.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “About Buzz.” Carlton’s expression darkened and he called to the bartender for another scotch. Shawn couldn’t help but notice the way the older man’s eyes flickered to the table of the bride and groom.
“No clue what you’re talking about Spencer,” he mumbled, accepting the fresh glass from the bartender.
“Yeah. Right.” Shawn sighed and stared across the bar.
“Do you think he’s happy?” Carlton whispered after a long moment of silence. Shawn glanced at him in surprise. Carlton quickly finished his scotch and stood, mumbling, “Never mind; forget it.”
Shawn caught him by the elbow as he turned away and Carlton looked down at the hand on his arm in surprise before meeting Shawn’s eyes.
“Yeah Lassie,” Shawn said softly. “I do.” Carlton watched his face a moment before nodding and turning away. Shawn watched him walk for the exit and wondered what the relieved look on the detective’s face had meant.
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It was surprisingly easy to coax the drunken detective out of the bar and to his car. Shawn had thought for sure he would’ve gotten a punch in the face for the arm he slipped around Carlton’s waist. Instead, the detective had leaned into him with something that’d sounded suspiciously like a contented sigh.
Shawn found himself propping the unsteady man against his vehicle while he dug through the pockets of his suit jacket, trying to find keys.
“You’re going to have to go lower,” the older man said in a husky voice. Shawn’s eyes went wide as he looked up at the man as the older man giggled.
Carlton tilted his left hip toward Shawn and dug in the front pocket before he pulled out his keys. He gave a lower, more manly, chuckle as he held them out for Shawn. “Made you blush.” Shawn fought the thoughts the older man’s body pressed against his was making him think.
“Not a blush, Lassie,” he quickly covered. “I have a rare complexion that allows me to get a moonburn.”
By the time they made it to Carlton’s house, Shawn was helping him stumble into the bathroom. With a sigh, Shawn grabbed a washcloth and ran it under some warm water as Carlton’s stomach tried to expel some of the alcohol from his body. Shawn knelt next to the older man as he struggled to stop heaving.
“Don’t fight it Lassie,” Shawn murmured, setting the washcloth on the back of Carlton’s neck. The detective shivered slightly and rested his forehead on the arm he draped across the toilet seat.
“I’m sick of this,” Shawn heard him mutter.
“The puking? Dude, I don’t blame you. The worst is when you hurl so hard it comes out your nose!” A puff of breath came from the older man and Shawn wasn’t quite sure if it was meant to be a laugh or not.
“I’m sick of trying to forget,” Carlton whispered. Shawn frowned.
“Well then remember, Lassie,” he suggested. Carlton turned his head to look blearily at Shawn. After a moment he gave him a sad smile and closed his eyes.
“I’d rather puke.” Shawn hesitated a moment before resting his hand lightly between Carlton’s shoulder blades.
“You don’t have to remember alone, Carlton,” he said softly. Carlton’s eyes flickered open and Shawn thought he looked suspiciously sober. Until he turned his head and started to vomit again.
Later, when he knew Carlton was more asleep than unconscious, Shawn slipped out of the house. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, what it would’ve meant if he’d stayed.
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“Detective, you cannot drive with a concussion,” Karen said sternly. Carlton paused in re-buttoning his shirt to blink at her.
“But…” he began to protest. Shawn could see the woman begin to puff so he stepped in quickly.
“I can give him a ride home Chief,” he said with a bright grin. The Chief looked Shawn up and down in consideration as Carlton frowned at him.
“You were cleared?” she asked the younger man. Shawn held up his bandaged arm.
“Just a scratch. No head trauma.” Carlton gave a snort from the exam table.
“That’s debatable,” he muttered, sliding to his feet. His knees didn’t quite feel like being supportive so soon and gave out immediately. Shawn moved faster than anyone expected and caught the detective gently around the waist, holding the surprised man up. Karen raised an eyebrow as Shawn steadied Carlton.
“Carlton, give Mr. Spencer your keys. If you won’t stay in the hospital, you’re going home and I don’t want to see you at the station until Wednesday, are we clear?”
“Chief…” Karen’s eyes narrowed as she heard the brewing challenge.
“Are we clear, Detective?” Carlton sighed as he finally managed to straighten from Shawn.
“Yes Chief.”
Ten minutes later, Shawn was steering the woozy detective through the hospital parking lot. “Where’d O’Hara go?” Carlton asked as Shawn opened the passenger door for him. Shawn frowned slightly: they’d spoken to the woman on their way out of the building.
“She’s staying to question Martin when he wakes up, remember?” Carlton frowned in thought and Shawn wanted to make a comment about how it looked like it hurt, but the bandage on the detective’s head reminded him it probably really did. So he kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t want to go home,” Carlton whispered as Shawn turned the detective’s car out of the parking lot. He glanced at the older man.
“You gotta rest, Lassieface. Gotta keep that glorious head of yours in shape.” Carlton was frowning painfully again and Shawn was learning just how carefully the man thought his words out.
“It’s too quiet there,” the man said softly.
“You like quiet,” Shawn pointed out. “And it’s good for the marching band that’s going to be starting in your brain soon.”
“Vicki used to play music.” Shawn looked at the detective in surprise. It was rare for Carlton to talk about his ex-wife; even rarer for him to use her name.
“Used to crank up the stereo whenever we were home.” Shawn had to look back at the road when he saw the small smile build. “Made me dance with her in the hallway when we were getting ready for work.”
Shawn had never kept a relationship long enough to really understand what losing one might feel like. But there were still the memories of his childhood, of his parents happy together. He knew what it was like to try and reconcile those good memories with the bad ones.
Shawn glanced over at the detective again and caught the man staring at his hands, lost in thought. He took a deep breath and looked back to the road.
“Well you should probably stay at my place anyway,” Shawn threw into the open. He could feel Carlton’s eyes on him. “I’ve had a concussion or two. You’re supposed to have someone watch you; make sure you don’t fall into a coma or something…”
There was silence in the car for a long moment, but Shawn had already taken the turn that led to his apartment. Carlton’s chuckle several seconds later nearly made him jump. He glanced at the older man with a raised eyebrow.
“Knew there was head trauma,” Carlton muttered with a sly smile. Shawn couldn’t resist returning it.
Carlton was silent as Shawn took him to his bedroom and tucked him into bed. His eyes were closed before the younger man even reached the door. In the morning, he’d assure Carlton it’d been part of the Chief’s orders. Maybe that’d keep it all from being too awkward.
Shawn left the bedroom door open a crack in case the detective needed anything. Moving into the front room, he debated turning on the TV to keep himself entertained. Instead, Shawn settled for the stereo: something soft and light; just enough to interrupt the quiet.
-----------------------------
Shawn hadn’t been on the case. He hadn’t even known about it until it was already solved. The man who’d beat his wife into a coma had confessed almost immediately, believing he was vindicated because his dinner was an hour late.
The atmosphere of the station when Shawn stepped in the next day was rather subdued. It’d been one of those gruesome crime scenes everyone just wanted to forget about. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find Carlton buried in paperwork after finding out he’d been the lead on the case. He’d reached the scene even before the ambulance.
“Spencer,” he greeted absently when Shawn stopped at his desk. Shawn frowned. He’d spent the past few months working on getting reactions out of the man. Even if he was angry, at least he wasn’t closed off. This version of the detective was right back to shutting down.
“What’s shakin’ Lassytor?” The detective didn’t so much as glance up.
“Paperwork. Go annoy O’Hara.”
“She’s busy flirting,” Shawn whined. Carlton glanced up and over and Shawn thought he saw a small frown on his face as he noticed his partner near the coffee pot, chatting with the latest transfer. Carlton looked down at his papers again.
“Then I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Mr. Spencer.”
Shawn frowned, looking around as he plotted what to do unfunkify the detective who seemed most definitely funked.
“I think I’m having Chinese for lunch. Do you want Chinese for lunch?” Carlton turned a page, but didn’t look up.
“It’s three p.m., Spencer, I’ve had lunch,” he responded flatly. Shawn frowned.
“What about ice cream?” There! He thought he saw a twitch at the corner of Carlton’s mouth.
“I don’t want ice cream. I’m rather busy right now…”
“Ooh! I know! Latkas!” Carlton finally looked up at that, mouth slightly open in what Shawn thought was probably disbelief. Shawn contained his smirk. “How about it Lassie? Let’s blow this pop stand for some nice, mouth-watering latkas.”
Carlton’s mouth closed as his eyes narrowed. Bingo: annoyance achieved. “I am going to put this simply so your brain can handle it,” Carlton began in a clipped tone. “Me busy. You go away.” Shawn grinned and, at least for a second, thought he might have seen the hint of a smile in the detective’s expression.
“Fine, Lassie. But don’t say I never offered you a falafel.”
“Latka,” Carlton corrected in a mumble as Shawn turned away. The younger man couldn’t help but smirk.
“Knew you were listening,” he said, mostly to himself, as he left the detective in peace.
-----------------------------
Shawn stood on the sidewalk for several long minutes, watching the house. It looked dark, at first glance, but Shawn had noticed the blue light of a TV peeking out from behind the curtains of the front window.
Taking a deep breath, Shawn moved to the door and knocked. He waited half a minute before knocking again. Just when he was about to knock a third time, the door clicked open.
Shawn sucked in a breath. The man in front of him looked like hell. The entire right side of his face was bruised, making the day’s worth of stubble look almost sinister. His hair was tousled, matching the crumpled state of the t-shirt he wore. Even his always-pressed slacks were looking worse for wear. None of it was helped by the thick bandage on his left arm, either.
Carlton blinked at Shawn. “Can I help you Spencer?” Same old apathy, Shawn thought. Aided by alcohol, if Carlton’s breath was any indication.
Shawn gave up on the act he’d had prepared.
“I’m here to help you, you fucking idiot,” Shawn said in a semi-growl of frustration. He lurched forward, grabbing Carlton by the unbruised side of his face to pull him into a crushing kiss. He could taste the scotch as he waited for the other man to respond in some way; any way.
Finally, after several long seconds, Shawn felt Carlton shudder. He was about to pull back when the other man latched onto him, looping an arm through Shawn’s to wrap up the younger man’s back and grab onto his shoulder. Shawn found himself pressed against Carlton from head to toe. Carlton’s tongue felt desperate in Shawn’s mouth as Shawn slipped his other arm around his waist.
They stood like that for a couple of minutes, lost in that first embrace, before Carlton pulled back. Shawn worried he was going to pull away completely and was therefore surprised when the older man wrapped both arms around him, burying his face in Shawn’s neck. Carlton trembled and Shawn felt the wet heat of tears press into his skin.
Feeling his own eyes burn, Shawn pulled Carlton even closer and turned his face into the other man’s hair. It still smelled of ash and Shawn wondered if he’d always smell a little like it from now on.
“I fucked up,” Carlton whispered brokenly after a moment. His breath on Shawn’s neck made the younger man shiver.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Shawn assured softly.
“I could’ve saved her.” Shawn smiled sadly and lifted Carlton’s head to look him in the eye.
“No. You couldn’t have.” He brushed at the tears on the unbruised cheek. “She died instantly. Forensics’ initial report.” Carlton closed his eyes and buried his face deeper into Shawn’s neck. Shawn rubbed his back gently, knowing there was bruising there as well.
After another minute, Carlton lifted his head and kissed Shawn softly. Shawn let him lead, following the detective as they finally moved into the house to shut the door behind them.
Carlton shoved Shawn’s jacket from his shoulders before tugging at the hem of the younger man’s polo. Shawn obliged, breaking the kiss enough to pull the shirt over his head. Shawn reached for the other man’s shirt and it came off just as quickly.
Shawn stood still as he looked at the bruising across Carlton’s torso. What would have been a lovely view marred by darkening patches of skin. The right side was worse and Shawn recalled the sight of Carlton unmoving on the ground. He traced a finger lightly over the older man’s side, causing Carlton to shiver, whether from pain or pleasure Shawn had no idea.
The taller man leaned forward, resting his forehead against Shawn’s as he closed his eyes.
“Will you stay?” he whispered. Shawn was surprised by the need and doubt infused in the question. He laughed softly as he rested his hands on Carlton’s hips.
“What? You think I’d get you all riled up, then leave?” Carlton’s eyes opened in surprise and he stared at Shawn dumbly. It made Shawn frown to himself, wondering just how many people had screwed Carlton over. He tilted his head up and kissed the detective softly.
“Let’s go to bed, Lassie,” he whispered.
-
His whole body hurt. Not quite the sharp pains of the day before, but still a constant ache. As his brain caught up with him, Carlton slowly became aware of a soft thump beneath his ear. Despite the throb of his body, he felt comfortable; safe. It’d been so long since he’d felt that way, so he opened his eyes, immediately suspicious.
His first view was a stubbled chin. It took him a few seconds to remember the night before and he began to look around without moving. He was curled against Shawn, his head on the younger man’s bare chest. One of Shawn’s arms was looped across his back, the other hand rested lightly on top of the arm Carlton had flung across his waist. The position somehow managed to keep most of the pressure off of Carlton’s bruises.
They were tangled head-to-toe under the comforter and Carlton found his eyelids felt heavy again.
Shawn shifted and Carlton finally let his eyes fall shut as he felt the other man’s lips press lightly against his forehead. The younger man would undoubtedly annoy him somehow when they woke again, but for the moment, Carlton was content to soak up the comfort Shawn was offering.
/end
A/N: This was harder to write than “Breathing on His Own”. Shawn in general is a harder character for me to write. Hopefully I didn’t screw him up too badly (and hopefully Lassiter didn’t suffer either).