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Shawn was just returning with Gus quickly following after him, arguing over something about the blue car that Gus drove, saying that Shawn ate in the car without cleaning up. Shawn Spencer was the Psychic Detective that worked for the Santa Barbara Police Department, and he was heading to the Chief's office to claim they finished the newest case, closing the case. However, one of the detectives stood in his way -- Carlton Lassiter.
"Spencer, you know damn well that I figured it out first! I should get the credit for this case, and you know damn well that I'm right!" Detective Lassiter stated angrily to Shawn.
Shawn rolled his eyes, the smiling twinkle glistening in his eye. "Oh, Lassie . . . we both know that I was the one who figured out it wasn't little Timmy stuck in the well. And we also both know that i was the one who spoke first -- right Gus?" he asked, turning to his smooth, pharmaceutical friend.
But before Gus could speak up, Lassiter started to go off on Shawn before Detective O'Hara stepped in. "All right boys. The both of you are going to get credit. Remember, we work together on every case. Got it? The two of you need to stop acting like little boys on the playground! Geez . . ." she growled slightly, pushing past the two of them. This was pretty much what occurred every single day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary between all of the people . . . Shawn even took a glance around, observing everyone, though he seemed to not really be paying too close attention to the clues that something would happen later . . .
A few hours later, Shawn was alone in the PSYCH office agency building, taking a small nap while another Alfred Hitchcock movie marathon played quietly on the rather large television. A loud, sudden knock on the door, though, awoke Shawn up quickly. He yawned, getting up as he heard a few more hard knocks sounding on the front door. "Yeah, yeah . . . I'm coming . . ." he grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He undid the few locks on the door, and slowly opened up the door. In burst Lassiter, who quickly shut and locked the door. He grabbed Shawn and pulled him into the other room, drawing all the shades quickly, turning off the television.
"Spencer, did you notice any one at the precinct today, someone unusual? I need to know now!" Lassiter said, sounding extremely distressed. Shawn looked at Lassiter, looking at where Lassiter's hand was -- it was pressed to his lower chest, to the side. There were red splotches of damp blood on his hand and clothes.
"What the -- Lassie! Why did you . . . why are you bleeding?!" he exclaimed, completely confused. Shawn usually kept his cool, but seeing the tough detective looking weak and scared made him uneasy. "Um . . . unusual . . . I . . . I saw someone eying you, but I just thought he was . . . pissed at you for putting him away?" Shawn said, cursing internally because he was drawing a blank for once.
Lassie was breathing a bit raspy, wincing. He gave a curt nod, before closing his eyes. "Here's what you're going to do, Spencer -- you're going to get a towel and a bowl of water, and also find something I can use as a bandage. Go, now . . ."
Shawn nodded, quickly gathering everything that Lassiter told him to get for him. "Shouldn't you go to the hospital, Lassie?" he asked, not flinching as he watched Lassiter take his shirt off and clean the terrible looking wound. But, instead of waiting for a rude response for an answer, he knelt down, helping to dress the wound.
Lassiter blinked, astonished with Shawn dressing his wound. He winced slightly, but remained quiet. After Shawn finished dressing his wound, he felt Shawn's hands leaving his body. He looked at Shawn, and quickly he reached out with his bloodied hand, taking Shawn's hand firmly in his grasp. "Spencer . . . I guess I should thank you for this, shouldn't I?" he asked, arching a brow up slightly.
Shawn looked at the wounded detective, and he shook his head slightly. "Nah -- that . . . wouldn't be like you, Lassie . . ." he said, smiling weakly. Lassiter smirked, which made Shawn furrow his brows together, since it was unusual to see the detective smile like that. Shawn suddenly felt Lassiter pull him toward him, and Shawn now felt Lassiter's other hand suddenly grab onto his waist.
"Spencer . . . just stay quiet for once, and let me do something I've always wanted to do . . ." he said softly, suddenly crushing their lips together. Detective Lassiter's hand was now going to Shawn's backside, his hand going into his pants. Shawn tried to move away from the obviously deranged officer, but even though he was wounded, Lassiter was strong as an ox . . .
~~ to be continued
 master-of-snow · Tue Oct 05, 2010 @ 09:16pm · 0 Comments |
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