Work Text:
Santa Barbara – 1992
Shawn sat at the dinner table, idly playing with his food and glancing up at his father every few minutes, though he said nothing. Henry shoveled a forkful of broccoli into his mouth, pretending not to see his son casting odd looks his way. Shawn had been acting strangely since they'd sat down to eat dinner, a question hanging over his head like a pink elephant, but far be it for Henry to start the conversation for him. Shawn had to learn to bite the bullet and be a man when he wanted something.
Picking up on the fact that his dad was waiting for him to speak, Shawn put down his fork and looked at him properly. "Dad..." A beet red flush colored his cheeks. "Would... Can I bring someone over for dinner on Friday?"
Henry raised a brow, taking stock of his son as he pondered the question. "Well, that depends. If it's another one of those airheads from the cheerleading squad, you can just forget it. I can't go through one more evening listening to how rad the football team is this year."
Shawn slammed a hand down on the table, causing the silverware and glasses to shake. "Come on! If I blow this girl off, I'll spend the rest of high school branded a loser!"
Henry crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "I don't care, Shawn. And frankly, it's the best thing that could happen to you. Maybe this will encourage you to bring someone worth having over for dinner. You're too smart to be wasting your time on some ditz, and no son of mine is dating some moron and having a bunch of moron kids with them, just because you wanted to be popular for four years out of your entire life."
He pointed a finger at Shawn. "You should want to be with someone with all the lights on upstairs, someone that can hold an intelligent conversation without saying 'like' every other word. A nice girl who likes you for you and vice versa. Someone you can see yourself growing old with. And I refuse to let you bring those airheads over, not again. Now, if you want to bring home one of those nice girls from the debate team, I would be more than happy to oblige. But until then, my answer is no."
Shawn grumbled and slouched in his chair. Henry knew that he was being overly harsh, but his son was maturing into a good-looking young man, and unfortunately, that meant he was attracting the wrong kind of element. Namely, pretty, yet dim, girls who were distracting Shawn from his schoolwork and training. If playing hard-ass meant Shawn would be more selective in who he dated and hung out with, then so be it. He knew he was going to have to keep a sharper focus on Shawn until he graduated, to make sure he didn't fool around with another one of those dimwitted cheerleaders.
"C’mon now, sit up and finish your broccoli before it gets cold."
Santa Barbara – Present
"I swear to all that is holy, if your butt doesn't vacate that bed in ten seconds, I will dump this coffee on your head." Carlton swiftly ducked the pillow that whizzed past him, only to hit the wall a good foot and a half from his head.
"I'm up!" Shawn called out in a gruff, sleep-addled voice. Carlton leaned against the door jamb, sipping at his coffee nonchalantly as Shawn oozed out of bed to shuffle his feet toward the adjoining bathroom. Shawn lightly kissed his cheek in passing, the tender moment followed up by him slamming the bathroom door in Carlton’s face.
He smirked to himself as he headed back into the kitchen. For all of Shawn's rampant energy, he simply was not a morning person. It usually took three cups of joe to get him turned up to eleven. After that, the detective simply had no idea what Shawn ran on to keep him as active as he was, but the transformation into an agent of chaos was truly something to behold.
Refreshing his cup from the pot, Carlton sat down at the kitchen table to flip through the morning paper, reading the headlines while he ate breakfast and drank his coffee. The whole time, he kept on ear on Shawn as he went through the process of starting his day, the frustrated, specific-to-a-certain-task groans marking his progress. Carlton was more than familiar with each one and figured Shawn was about halfway done with his ablutions.
Some time later, Shawn exited the bedroom to make a beeline straight for the coffee pot, hair coiffed and painstakingly styled like he had just rolled out of bed, which was exactly what happened, but it was important to keep up with fashion trends. Carlton said nothing to him, dutifully waiting until Shawn was caffeinated.
Since he’d been staying over more frequently, Carlton made sure he always filled the brewer up to full with water, instead of just enough to make two cups. He quickly learned from his mistake after his old coffee maker had met a quick end at the hands of the angry psychic when it had refused to fill his cup all the way. The only upside to that tragic incident had been Shawn replacing it with a newer, better model to make it up to him.
Shawn joined him at the table, green mug branded with the Psych logo in hand, and yawned loudly. Once his cup was almost fully drained, Carlton figured it was safe to engage him in conversation and set the paper down to peer across the table at him. "Did you remember to make the reservation?"
Scratching at his stomach, Shawn nodded slowly. "Antonio's, eight PM sharp Saturday, table for four. It's all set." Shawn downed the last sip of his coffee, glancing over the rim of his cup to see Carlton staring at him in confusion. "What?” He asked. “Do I still have sleep in my eyes?"
Shaking his head, Lassiter furrowed his brow. "You made the reservation for four? It was supposed to be just us, who else is coming along?"
Shawn tore his gaze away guiltily. "Gus."
"Gus." Carlton repeated flatly. "You're bringing your best friend to our anniversary dinner? I know you two are co-dependent but that's really taking the cake. That food truck driver you like so much? Are we double-dating now?"
Shawn drew his lips back in a forced smile. "My dad."
Lassiter’s heart to flip-flop in his chest, eyes widening. "You told your dad? I said I wanted to be there when you told him about us."
Shawn snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "No, I haven't told him anything yet. I'm still waiting for the approval on my life insurance policy before walking into that lion's den."
"Good call." Carlton deadpanned. "But... does that mean you’re planning to tell him before Saturday?"
Getting up for more coffee, Shawn pulled the pot off the burner plate, and turned to Lassie, leaning a hip against the countertop as he poured the steaming black gold into his mug. "Yeah. In fact, I was thinking that we could do it today. Give him time to deal before Saturday, so he won't be such a wet rag. And Gus is invited to dinner to be our... social lubricant. When things get super awkward, which they definitely will, he'll have someone to forcibly steer the conversation with."
"Huh. That's not a bad idea, actually." Carlton hesitated as he mulled it over. "Should I wear a bulletproof vest to your dad's house?"
Shawn put the pot and his mug on the counter. He closed the distance between them, cupping Carlton’s cheeks in his hands as he bent down to reassure him with a kiss. "Oh, Lassie," he chided lovingly, "don't worry. My dad would never shoot you in the chest... he'd make sure he got you with a headshot.”
Straightening, a chipper grin spread across Shawn’s face, in contrast to Carlton’s highly unamused expression. “But I'd wear some comfortable shoes. Y'know, just in case you gotta make a run for it."
Henry sat on his porch drinking a glass of lemonade he'd managed to not ruin for once, sipping casually in-between untangling some fishing line his tackle box. He had almost finished unraveling the mess when he heard a car pulling into his driveway. He recognized the sound of Lassiter's car from the few times they had gone fishing together, but Henry wasn’t sure what the detective was doing at his house in the middle of the day.
Lifting a free hand to offer a wave when he saw Lassiter walk around the corner of the house, someone in tow behind him. Sighing when his son's head popped out from over the taller man's shoulder, Henry set the fishing line aside and stood up, wiping his sweaty hands on his shorts. Whatever had happened, he had the sneaking suspicion it would not bode well for him. Whenever Shawn needed help on one of his cases, he somehow always found himself sucked into his son's shenanigans.
Shawn leapt up onto the porch, coming up to walk in step next to Lassiter, who looked like he'd rather be getting a tooth pulled by a dentist in a third-world country than paying a visit to the elder Spencer's house.
"Father!" Shawn exclaimed. "How pleasant to see that you still draw breath on this most auspicious day."
Henry smirked at the flowery grammar. "I may be old, boy, but I'm not that old. And if anything's going to stop me from breathing, it'll be you." He planted a stern finger on Shawn's chest, who glanced down at it for a moment before laughing over-dramatically. He then stepped around his father, plopping down on one of the deck chairs, sprawling himself out comfortably.
"You can take a seat, Lassiter." Henry said as he sat back down at the table, taking a swig of his lemonade before resuming his task.
Shawn smiled lewdly at the detective and suggestively patted the seat of the chair next to him. "Yeah, Lassie. Sit down. Stay awhile." Carlton glared at him before sitting in the empty chair with more grace than Shawn had. Shawn beamed at him like a kid on a sugar high. After a second, he turned his attentions to his father.
"So, daddy dearest, how goes retired life?" Shawn glanced down at the deep indentations on his dad's fingertips and the streaked sweat marks on his shorts. "Having some trouble with your fishing line?"
Pursing his lips, Henry watched as his son reached over Lassiter into the tackle box to pull out the spool that had become tangled up. Something was up with his son, something he was avoiding, despite the unexpected visit to address it, and the act was starting to piss Henry off. He was referring to him in overly condescending, yet polite terms, and had apparently come over without needing his help on a case.
He glanced over at Lassiter for a hint as to what was going on, but the detective was doing his best impression of a human statue, the only movement was that of his fingers as he idly toyed with the end of his tie. Henry narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking between him and Shawn. Lassiter was nervous about something, a trait he never would have previously attributed to the man, but he was waiting for Shawn to take the lead. That piqued his interests.
He turned his gaze back in time to see Shawn take a pair of fingernail clippers from his pocket and use it snip the line above the tangle. "Dammit, Shawn!" Henry reached over to snatch the spool from his hand. "If it was supposed to be that easy, I would have done it already!"
Shawn threw his hands up in defeat and leaned back in his chair, slipping the clippers back into his pocket. Lassiter cleared his throat and tossed a loaded glance at Shawn, who made a little face of acknowledgment and sucked in a deep breath, girding himself.
Henry caught their little interaction as he closed up his tackle box and set it down by his feet, out of Shawn's reach. Shawn and Lassiter were giving off obvious signs of nervousness. Shifting, shared looks, clearing their throats. Henry was suddenly transported back to his days on the force, when he would watch suspects go through the exact same guilty motions in the interrogation room.
Whatever silent communication was going on between them, it was the reason they had come over, but far be it for him to jumpstart whatever bad news they had for him. He had become so used to the weird, horrible things that came out of his son's mouth that when he saw the signs, he just battened down the hatches and waited for the storm to come in. Outwardly, he drummed his fingers on the table, acting as though he had no clue shit was about to hit the fan.
"Dad, uhm... we kinda have something to tell you." Shawn waffled for a moment and for a brief second, Henry began to panic at what Shawn could have possibly done that involved the usually stoic, law-abiding detective.
'The detective and I murdered Chief Vick and replaced her with a robot, so now we need help burying her body.'
‘We trained all the drug-sniffing dogs to fight and we need a place to have the regional championships.'
'We are starting up an underground movement to help unwanted pineapples find loving homes.'
"Carlton and I... have been seeing each for about six months. Six months exactly Saturday, and we hoped that you would join us for our anniversary dinner. On Saturday." He rushed so quickly through the last part that Henry had to slow it down to replay it in his head. Several times. Of all the things he expected to hear, that was at the very bottom of his mental list. He tried to process it all, to find an outcome that didn't involve him having a heart attack.
When he finally came upon an answer he liked, he chuckled, shaking his head wryly. "Yeah, okay, pull the other one." And as the words left his mouth, Henry happened to glance down, gaze landing on their hands. At some point between Shawn speaking and Henry replying, their hands had become entwined. He stared at them for a drawn out moment before his brain finally kicked back into gear.
"Holy crap... you're not kidding." Henry scrubbed his face, trying to clear up the litany of confusing thoughts and questions. He then stood up sharply, silently walking over to the edge of the porch.
As Henry stared out at the rolling waves of the ocean, Carlton looked to Shawn, seeing the fear under the mask that Shawn had erected the second his father had started to laugh disbelievingly at them.
"No, pops, we're not kidding."
Henry did an about-face, raising his hand as if he were going to say something, before he thought better of it and stopped himself.
Feeling Shawn grip his hand tighter, Carlton immediately squeezed back in reassurance. They had expected something along this line, but expecting it and experiencing it were two entirely different things.
Henry rubbed at the nape of his neck, searching for something to say that wasn’t purely reactionary. He spent years teaching Shawn to remain calm under pressure, and here he was, not heeding his own advice. "Has it really been six months?"
Shawn nodded his head slowly, not quite sure where his dad was going with this.
Henry stalked over to the table and slammed both his hands to the surface, causing the other two men to jump. "And I'm just finding out about it now?! Now is when you decided to let dear old dad in on the secret? Six months after the fact?" He certainly couldn’t blame himself for not spotting the clues sooner, Shawn rarely visited, not unless he wanted something, and he certainly never brought along his boyfriend.
"We... were afraid of how you'd react. Kinda like how you’re reacting now.”
"Really? Versus what? Because right now, I’m more pissed off that you lied to me all this time than at the fact that you're dating a man you once claimed was worse than Chad Michael Murray. I mean, what have I always told you?"
"If this is about the whole bringing over dimwitted girls thing, I think we're well beyond that." Shawn answered in a biting voice.
Henry recognized it as one of Shawn's tells. He always had a witty reply for everything, no matter the situation, but when his tone changed like that, it was because he was well and truly angry. Henry needed do some backpedaling and he needed to do it quick.
"I said don't lie to me, because eventually one lie turns into another and then you're caught up in it. And last week when I asked you if you had anyone new in your life, you told me no. Which was a lie."
Shawn cocked his head to the side and wagged a finger at his dad. "No, actually, I didn't lie. You said someone new. And seeing as how we've been together for six months, it technically isn't new."
Sitting back down, Henry tried to keep the veins in his head from exploding all at once. "Whatever, Shawn. The point is you were hiding this from me and I don't like being lied to. And in case you forgot, the whole reason I asked was because Mrs. Hanks’ granddaughter came around asking about you. You said I could give her your number."
When Carlton slid his gaze over to Shawn, brow furrowed in consternation, Shawn simply laughed it off. “I didn’t answer, jeez. Have more faith in me. Besides, dad, I told you to stop trying to set me up with people. Especially after last time...”
Henry had tried very hard to repress the memories of last time. But Grace was a good girl, and it would have given her grandmother something else to talk about besides her sore bunions when they bumped into one another. He leaned back in his chair and finished off what was left of his now watered down lemonade. Setting the empty glass down on the table, he looked between Shawn and Lassiter. "So, anything else you want to tell me while we're airing out dirty laundry?"
Carlton and Shawn glanced at each other. And for the first time, Lassiter spoke up. "Besides Gus, you're the only other person we've told. No one at work knows, so it's not like you're the last person to find out."
Henry sighed. "I don't know if not telling the chief is the smartest or the dumbest thing you could have done. You don't tell anyone and you're living a lie, and also digging your own grave, since there are rules about disclosing relationships with colleagues. Or you tell everyone and risk spending the rest of your career behind a desk."
Narrowing his eyes at Henry, Lassiter motioned to himself with a hand. "He's a civilian, it-"
Silencing him with a shake of his head, Henry tapped the table with his finger. "It doesn't matter, as it'll come back on you. You could have a spotless record, a one hundred percent arrest and conviction rate but once you tell them you're gay, all the goodwill goes out the window. Trust me, I've seen better cops than you throw away their careers because they were tired of lying and ended up dealing with bigoted, bureaucratic bullshit. And it’s not because there’s anything wrong with them, it’s because the force is overflowing with narrow-minded people, even in this day and age."
Carlton appeared taken aback by this. He was aware that there could potentially be some cold shoulders from his fellow officers and detectives, but nothing to the extent of what the elder Spencer had experienced in his day. But this was getting them way off track and he could worry about what he was going to do professionally later.
"The point is, we came over today to clear the air and invite you to join us for dinner to celebrate."
Henry tapped his nails against the table in a staccato rhythm, staring at his son and his boyfriend. That was going to take some getting used to, referring to anyone as Shawn’s boyfriend. He glanced down at their joined hands, which were still firmly clasped together. His gaze skated upward, to look Shawn square in the eyes.
Through all the hardships they had been through, when he was kid and now, coming home after being gone for so long, one thing Henry learned as a father was that he could always find what he was looking for, even the things his son was trying to hide from him, by simply looking into Shawn’s eyes.
He took stock of what he saw, defiance, mixed in with a glimmering need for approval. Underneath that, Henry saw the strength Shawn needed to carry him through, should that approval not be forthcoming, alongside a deep caring for the man at his side, who served as a focal point for that internal wellspring of strength.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d go so far as to categorize that caring as love, something Henry had never seen in Shawn’s previous relationships. At least, the ones that he knew about. Finding what he was looking for, Henry nodded his head once.
"I'll think about it."
Saturday came in like a hurricane, and the importance of it, even after all their planning, had taken them completely by surprise.
Lassiter had requested the day off, and managed to get it approved without giving anyone a valid reason, beyond a generic I have plans. Chief Vick had eyed him suspiciously when reviewing his request, but didn't ask too many questions. O’Hara, on the other hand, had tried relentlessly to figure out what Lassiter was doing that necessitated taking an entire day off work, to no avail.
They spent most of the day indoors, barely making it out bed long enough to feed and water themselves. When they finally managed to get dressed, they decided to go out and do couple-y thing. Their first stop was the beach, the two of them ambling lazily up and down the sandy shores. Shawn molded himself to Lassie’s side, their hands firmly entwined as they watched tourists sunbathe and kids build sandcastles.
Wrapping an arm around Shawn’s shoulder, Carlton pulled him in for a passionate kiss, not caring who they scandalized with their public display of affection.
"Love you." He whispered into Shawn's lips with a smile.
They left the beach some time later, heading back to the house to start getting ready for dinner. On the drive back, Shawn’s phone began ringing loudly in his pocket and he fished it out of his pocket, turning his head toward the window to answer the call.
"Hello?"
"Shawn! Listen, about tonight..."
Shawn inwardly sighed. Here came the excuses about how his dad couldn't make it and he began to mentally sift through the excuses he’d used before to blow him off, trying to guess which one his dad would use this time.
Carlton glanced away from the road to chance a look at Shawn, taking note of the sudden change in demeanor. He figured it wasn’t good news and only one person could have that sort of effect on him. Carlton sagged his shoulders in defeat.
Even before they had started dating, one of the first things he learned about Shawn was that everything he did was in some way tied to proving to his father that he was not a failure. Even agreeing to tell Henry -though it was at Carlton's urging- about their relationship, it was because he wanted to show his dad that he was working regularly, was settling down, and in a relationship that had lasted longer than two hours. But even with all the effort into changing into the man his father always thought he could be, it had apparently all been for naught.
"Yeah, what about it?"
Henry quickly picked up on his despondent response. “I wanted to know if I had to bring some sort of gift." When Shawn didn’t answer his question, he asked one of his own. "Did you really think I was calling to say I wasn't coming?"
Shawn made a small, non-committal noise, fingers plucking at a stray thread on his jeans. "It tends to be your go-to move, so yeah, it had briefly crossed my mind."
His father laughed sharply, shaking his head at the audacity. "You must have a really low opinion of me, kid. I'll see you at eight." Without another word, he hung up.
Dropping his hand, Shawn stared down at the phone for several minutes before turning to look at Carlton. A pleased smile slowly spread across his face.
"He's coming."
Nervous about this particular dinner, Henry was the first to arrive at the restaurant. He didn't know which name Shawn had given when he made the reservation, so he sat quietly in the little waiting area, anxiously watching the door every time it opened. Fifteen minutes later, Gus walked in, and Henry had never been so glad to see the man. The sight of him was a relief, knowing someone else would be joining them, in case things got weird or uncomfortable.
It wasn't too long after Gus showed up that Shawn and Carlton waltzed through the door, Shawn dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a garishly orange shirt with a black jacket over it. Carlton was thankfully a little dressier, in a new black and white pinstripe suit, a silver shirt and tie underneath. They exchanged pleasantries in polite yet stilted voices as they got in line to be seated.
After speaking with the hostess, she led them to their table. A waiter appeared shortly after the hostess disappeared, and Gus and Henry quickly ordered up some drinks, obviously on the same wavelength about needing booze to settle their nerves. Shawn pretended not to notice this, deciding to simply be happy with the fact that he was surrounded by the people he loved.
Menus were distributed, food and more drinks were ordered, and they settled in for the wait. There was a moment of awkward silence, no one knowing exactly how to kick start the conversation, so Henry pulled a poorly wrapped box out of his pocket and set it on the table. He slid the box to Shawn, then busied himself by taking a long gulp of his beer.
Shawn arched an eyebrow at the unexpected gift and quickly glanced at Carlton before ripping the wrapping off. Nestled inside some chintzy tissue paper was a small key ring with a pewter locket dangling from it. He flipped the latch to find a small picture of himself on one side, one that he had sent home from his many travels. He was grinning in the picture, happy and carefree, sending it to his dad to show that he was having the time of his life without him.
As he stared down at the photo, Shawn felt a small twinge of guilt. The whole of the picture had been of him hanging out with some guys he'd met in a small Georgia town while working as a hand on a horse farm. Every single one of them had been piss drunk, laughing from the sheer joy of believing they'd be young and invincible forever, and he’d heartlessly used the photo to guilt trip his father.
Inside the other tiny frame was a cutout of Carlton, taken on one of the fishing trips he’d gone on with Henry. Lassiter was squinting in the bright sunlight, wearing a floppy hat and grinning ear to ear as he celebrated the day's catch.
Shawn swallowed thickly, the message loud and clear. His past happiness, however facile it may have been, together with his future happiness. That no matter how much contempt he felt for the contentious nature of their past failings, all of it, the good and the bad, had led him to this exact moment. His dad always did like everything to have some sort of lesson in it. It was an annoyingly endearing trait.
Henry cleared his throat. "The locket belonged to your mother. I fiddled around with it, to fit it to the keychain."
Another message, one that said he was trying to repair things between them. Shawn offered his dad a genuine smile as he handed the locket to Carlton. Looking at the photos, he felt a peculiar sensation wash over him, the sensation of being accepted. Carlton snapped the locket closed and returned it to Shawn.
Henry reached over to clap Carlton on the back with a firm, reassuring hand. Between the detective and former cop, the small display spoke volumes.
Before anything could be said to break the tender moment, their appetizers arrived. They heartily dug in, the tension shattered to smithereens, and they spent the rest of the meal laughing riotously.
Shawn teased Gus by sneaking food off his plate when he was distracted trying to relay some funny story from his real job. When more than half his food vanished, Gus retaliated by regaling Lassiter with tales from when they were young, in embarrassingly excruciating detail. They argued playfully a few times, Shawn questioning the particulars of a few stories, namely how more than most had their roles reversed, so that Gus came out on top in the end, instead of the other way around.
While they haggled over the details, Lassiter and Henry entertained themselves with shop talk, discussing who was retiring, who was letting themselves go, who was having an affair, and all the other gossip one obtained from around the water cooler. Despite how much it made him miss the job, Henry was glad for his retirement, as it saved him from dealing with the drama in person. He was more than content to live vicariously through the rumor mill. Mid-conversation, he side-eyed Shawn and Gus, who were bantering back and forth with such alacrity, their words didn’t even sound like they were being spoken in English, more obscure eighties references than actual talk.
Well, not the same kind of drama, at any rate, he thought wryly.
By the end of the night, they were full of delicious food and plenty of drinks. Shawn offered Gus a fist to bump and Carlton shook his hand, thanking him for joining them on their special night. Henry managed to catch Shawn in an awkward one-armed hug, which he returned after a moment’s hesitation.
Carlton stood by his side, silently watching the scene play out. Shawn was finally getting a taste of the one thing he always wanted, so he let the two Spencer men have their moment. When they parted ways, Henry took Carlton’s hand in his own, giving it a firm shake. He then left them alone in the parking lot, meandering over to his truck and climbing into the cab.
Watching the truck pull out onto the street, Shawn found Carlton’s hand and laced their fingers together. In the other hand, he toyed with the keychain his father had gifted to him. He couldn’t exactly put a name to the weird feeling in his chest, but it was real and it was there, and for the first time in a long time, he was glad for it. Clasping his hand around the locket, Shawn peered up at Carlton.
"That went surprisingly well." Shawn's gaze turned upward to the sky.
Blinking in confusion, Carlton looked up, not sure what was going on. "What, what are you looking at?"
"Nothing," Shawn said, "I'm just waiting for the world to end or something. Seems almost too good to be true, y'know, for things to go right for once. Gotta be a sign that the sky is gonna start falling."
Carlton couldn't help but laugh, full-throated and loudly. With a tug on their joined hands, he pulled Shawn's attentions away from the heavens. “Happy anniversary, Shawn.”
“Happy anniversary, Lassie.”