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Chapter Text

Shawn nervously tugged on his sleeve, making sure it was pulled down all the way to his wrist. He usually preferred to wear t-shirts, but today he didn't have a choice. Hopefully Gus wouldn't comment on it. He checked one more time his arm was completely covered, took a deep breath to calm himself, and walked into the office.

Gus looked up at him and frowned. “Long sleeves?”

He swore Gus had a sixth sense to immediately pick up on anything he didn't want his friend to notice. “It's a bit chilly today, Gus,” he said defensively.

Gus looked outside at the scantily clad beach goers walking past on the boardwalk. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine. I just wanted to wear something different today,” Shawn said belligerently. “Why, is wearing long sleeves suddenly illegal or something?”

Gus looked taken aback by his response. “No, I just thought it was a strange thing to wear when it's ninety degrees outside,” he said irritably.

“I don't think it's strange,” Shawn said, tugging again on the end of his sleeve. “Are you done attacking me now over my wardrobe choices?”

Gus threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Wear what you want. Just don't come crying to me when you're suffering from heat stroke.”

“Don't worry, I won't,” Shawn snapped back.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

They both glared at each other. Gus turned away with a huff, going back to whatever he had been doing on his computer before Shawn walked in.

Shawn went and sat at his desk. He carefully laid his arm down, palm up, checking the sleeve again to make sure everything was covered. He glanced at Gus, but his friend was ignoring him. He hated when they fought, but at least it had kept his friend from asking any more questions. Relaxing slightly, he opened his own laptop and got to work.

---

 

Two hours of YouTube videos later, Shawn's stomach started to rumble. He got up and went to the fridge to see if Gus had bought more snacks for the office. “Oooo, pudding packs!” He eagerly reached in and snapped one off.

“Toss me one?” Gus asked.

Shawn snapped off another and kicked the fridge closed. He awkwardly tossed it left-handed to Gus. His friend had to quickly slide his chair back, fumbling a bit as he grabbed it. “Dude!” Gus exclaimed, managing to keep his grip on the cup and glaring at him.

“Sorry, man.” He had always been bad at throwing with his left hand. He gripped his own cup tightly with his right hand but it made his arm ache. He switched to his left and used his teeth to pull off the lid. Only half came off, the rest firmly glued to the edges of the container. He shrugged and grabbed a spoon before walking back to his desk. He sat down and was about to dig in when he became aware of Gus watching him. “What?”

“Did you do something to your arm?” Gus asked.

“Course not,” Shawn scoffed. He scooped up some pudding, managing to get it into his mouth in what he hoped was his usual smooth manner.

“I'm not an idiot Shawn.” Gus pointed at his right arm. “I can see the way you're holding your arm away from your body.”

“Nuh, uh.” He scooped up another spoonful, deliberately letting his arm brush against his side. He hid his wince in a happy hum as he ate his pudding.

Gus sighed. “Just tell me what you did.”

“I didn't do anything,” Shawn insisted. “Don't be one of those plastic straws on a juice box that bends instead of going in. I'm fine.” He finished the pudding and let his arm fall against the desk. He yelped, jerking it back and cuddling the injured limb against his body.

“Like hell you are.” Gus got up and came over to his desk. “Alright, let's see it.”

“No.” Shawn curled protectively around his arm, turning his back on Gus.

“Shawn, if you hurt yourself, you need to get it checked out.” Gus went around the desk, trying to get to him from the other side.

“I'm fine,” he said, spinning away again.

Gus grabbed the back of his chair and dragged it away from the desk. “That's cheating!” Shawn yelled, digging his heels in. He grabbed the edge of his desk as he passed and hung on tightly.

They struggled briefly over the chair, then Gus suddenly let go. Shawn wasn't expecting it and he flew forward, smacking his legs on the side of the desk. The chair twisted and started to lean. He tried to keep himself upright but all he managed to do was turn himself so he landed right on his arm when he hit the floor. He cried out, clenching his eyes shut against the pain and curling into a ball on his side.

“Shawn?” Gus asked hesitantly.

Shawn cracked open his eyes and glared at his friend. “Happy now?” he asked sarcastically, blinking away tears.

“This wouldn't have happened if you just told me what you did,” Gus said, though he sounded guilty. He reached down and helped pull Shawn to his feet.

“It also wouldn't have happened if you had just left me alone,” Shawn snapped. His arm was throbbing now, from his fingers all the way up to his shoulder. He dug around in his desk for some aspirin and struggled to get the bottle open one handed.

“Here.” Gus grabbed the bottle and opened it for him. He also went to the sink and got him a glass of water.

Shawn nodded his thanks, popping a couple of pills and drinking the entire glass of water. He placed the glass on the desk and looked nervously at Gus. “Now what?”

Gus crossed his arms. “Now you tell me what you did to your arm.”

Shawn sighed in defeat. “It will be easier to show you.” He carefully rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out towards Gus.

Gus's eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God, Shawn! Is that real?”

“I sure hope so,” Shawn said dryly. “Otherwise, that was a really expensive press on.”

“Didn't it hurt?” Gus asked.

“I don't really remember. I was kind of drunk,” Shawn admitted.

“But, really, Shawn? A tattoo?” Gus asked disapprovingly.

“All the cool kids have them,” Shawn said defensively. He didn't see what the big deal was. It was just a tattoo.

Just a picture drawn on his skin that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. . . OK, maybe he did see what the big deal was, but Gus didn't have to freak out so much about it.

Gus tilted his head, frowning. “Is it supposed to look all blotchy like that?”

“It's still healing,” Shawn said defensively. Though he had to admit his arm wasn't great to look at right at this moment.

“Your arm looks swollen,” Gus said worriedly.

“Yup. You should touch it. It's kind of like poking a balloon that's about to pop.” He poked the side of his arm a couple of times in show.

“I'll pass.” Gus looked up from his arm and gave him a look. “You should have called me.”

“Why? So you could pass out from all the blood?” Shawn waved at his arm. “It was a whole lot bloodier than I thought it would be. Though I guess it makes sense; I was getting my arm cut up by a bunch of tiny needles.”

Gus looked a little green but he still gave Shawn an impressive glare. “No. So I could try to convince you not to do it.”

“Which is why I didn't call you,” Shawn said reasonably. “I was drunk, not stupid.”

“I'd say getting a tattoo counts as pretty stupid to me,” Gus argued. “What the hell were you thinking?

Shawn sighed. “We were drinking, and Emily was all like, 'Guys with tattoos are hot.'” He used a variation on his 'Jules voice' for Emily, high-pitched and nasally. “And I was all like, 'Really? 'Cause I've always wanted to get one.' Then suddenly we were at a tattoo parlor and this guy was asking me which arm I wanted it on and it was too late to back out. It would have ruined my tough guy reputation.”

Gus crossed his arms. “So what happened with Emily?”

“Well, she sort of left after an hour. I don't think the crying really impressed her,” Shawn admitted reluctantly.

Gus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn't remember if it hurt.”

“I don't remember the pain, exactly. I just remember thinking that it hurt at the time.” He looked down at his arm. “I really hope it looks better when it heals. You can barely make out the shapes of the spots.”

“Spots are spots,” Gus said with a shrug. “If they're a little fuzzy on the edges no one would notice.”

“I would,” Shawn argued. “I was very specific on how some of them were supposed to look.”

“Why?” Gus asked suspiciously.

“No reason,” Shawn said quickly. “I just like the broken circle shapes more than the half-moon ones.”

Gus didn't look like he bought it. He grabbed Shawn's arm by the wrist, ignoring his hiss to be careful. He looked at the spots carefully, then pointed to two of them. “Are those letters?”

Shawn cringed. “No?”

Gus sighed in disgust. “You put some random girl's initials on your arm, didn't you?”

“I did not,” Shawn said truthfully. They weren't some random girl's initials. Hell, they weren't even a girl's initials, though he wasn't sure Gus would want to hear that.

Gus studied the letters again. “G. R. ?” He looked at Shawn in horror. “Please tell me you did not get Gina Repach's initials permanently tattooed on your arm.”

Shawn snorted. “Be reasonable, Gus. Of course they're not Gina's initials.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of that pretty, yet undoubtedly crazy girl. “ Besides, those aren't the right letters.”

“Then what are they?” Gus asked.

Shawn shook his head. “You're just going to have to wait until it heals.” He pulled his sleeve back down, hiding his tattoo from view. “ Now, if you don't mind, I believe someone owes m e lunch for viciously mauling my arm.”

“I didn't maul you. The chair fell over.” Despite his argument, Gus went to his desk and grabbed the keys to the Blueberry.

“Because you pushed it,” Shawn argued.

“I didn't push it, I let go. You pulled it into the desk,” Gus said.

“It's still your fault.” Shawn stopped Gus before he could walk out the door. “In all seriousness, dude, could you promise not to tell anyone about this? Especially my dad.” He shuddered. “I'd rather get my dick tattooed than endure the shouting match this will bring up.”

Gus punched him hard in the shoulder. “I didn't need that image in my head, Shawn,” he snapped irritably.

Shawn rubbed his injured shoulder, wondering how many bruises he was going to end up with today. “Gus, please?” He gave his friend his best sad puppy dog look.

Gus sighed. “Fine. But you know he'll find out eventually.”

“And hopefully I can make eventually on his death bed as he takes his last breath.” He considered that for a moment. “Or after he takes his last breath, so he doesn't have any air left to lecture me.”

“Good luck with that,” Gus said, shaking his head. “So, jerk chicken?”

“You know that's right,” Shawn said. He followed his friend out the door, checking his sleeve again. Looks like he better start buying more long sleeve shirts.

Chapter Text

It was another two days before Shawn had to really worry about anyone else finding out about his tattoo. During that time he stuck mainly to the Psych office or his apartment and made sure to wear long sleeves everywhere. He'd also avoided all phone calls from his father; he was pretty sure Henry didn't know about the tattoo yet and he planned to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, he couldn't hide forever. The Chief had called them in for a case, so now he had to brave a building full of sharp-eyed officers trained to ferret out deception. Of course, he had been fooling those same officers for several years with his psychic act, which helped lessen his nervousness.

Although, he would likely be working with Lassiter, who had never believed him from the beginning, and Juliet, who Shawn suspected was starting to catch on. Which put him right back where he started nerve wise.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gus hissed as they walked into the station.

“I'm not fidgeting,” Shawn hissed back. He stopped tugging on his sleeve and turned to Gus. “You better not give anything away,” he warned. “I know plenty of embarrassing things about you I can share. Like what really happened to the class hamster in fifth grade.”

Gus glared at him. “You were just as responsible for that as I was.”

“Not the way I plan on telling it,” Shawn said with an evil grin. “You were the one holding it.” He pulled on his sleeve, trying to sooth his itching arm without it being obvious what he was doing.

“Quit scratching.” Gus smacked his arm. “You keep doing that and someone's going to notice.”

Shawn stifled a yelp, clutching his arm to his chest. “But it's itchy,” he whined.

“ Deal with it. Unless you want everyone to know you got a – ”

Shawn clamped a hand over Gus's mouth. “All right, dude. I get it. No more scratching. Just don't say it.” He glanced around but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to their conversation.

Gus wrenched his hand off his face. “Good. Now can we go find out about this case the Chief wants us on?”

“Certainly.” They headed towards the Chief's office. Shawn saw the door was closed and, after the last time, he wasn't too keen on just barging in. He detoured to Juliet's desk instead.

“Hey Jules,” he said, plopping down in the chair next to her desk. “I heard there's a case that requires our special talents.” His arm was still itchy. He carefully rubbed it against the side of the desk where Juliet couldn't see.

Juliet made a face. “Yeah. The bodies of two college students were found in the park this morning. The press already got wind of the story and the mayor is pressuring Vick to solve it as soon as possible.”

“Which is why she called us,” Shawn concluded. He reached out and patted her hand. “Don't worry Jules. We'll get the killer in no time.”

Juliet smiled at him. “I'm sure you will.”

His sleeve had ridden up when he moved his arm, exposing the edge of his tattoo. He casually adjusted it, making sure everything was covered. “So how about giving us a look at the case file?”

Juliet glanced towards Vick's office. “Vick wanted to brief you guys on this herself.”

Shawn gave her a winning smile. “Come on, Jules. We're going to see it eventually.”

“Well, okay.” She passed the file over to him. He opened it up as Gus came over to glance over his shoulder.

“Yuck,” he said as Gus started gagging. No wonder the mayor and Vick wanted this solved so quickly. Those bodies were pretty gruesome. He flipped through the file, trying to come up with something to present to the Chief in a 'vision.' “Where's Lassie?”

“Interviewing the people who found the body in Interrogation. I offered to help, but he said he could handle it on his own.” She sounded annoyed by her partner's apparent dismissal of her.

“ We both know he's a control freak, Jules. Don't take it too personally.” The itching in his arm was getting hard to ignore. He dug the edge of the folder against his arm slowly. “Makes you kind of wonder what his sex life is like,” he mused thoughtfully.

“Shawn!” Juliet exclaimed, face turning red.

Gus smacked him hard on the back of the head. “Knock it off, Shawn.” His eyes darted to Shawn's right arm and he raised an eyebrow.

Shawn tugged on his sleeve, annoyed by the double rebuke. Ignoring his friend, he grinned at the blushing detective. “Why Jules, that is a lovely shade of red your turning,” he said slyly.

“Shut up, Shawn,” she snapped, grabbing the case file from his hands.

“Hey wait! I wasn't done yet!” He lunged after the file, trying to grab it from her hand.

“You'll get it back when you behave,” she scolded, holding the file out of reach. When he kept trying to grab it, she smacked him on his right arm.

“Owww!” He immediately retreated, cradling his arm to his chest. While his arm wasn't nearly as painful as it was a few days ago, getting hit, even lightly, still hurt like hell.

“I didn't hit you that hard.” She frowned and placed the file on her desk.” Did you do something to your arm?”

“It's just a little sore from all the weight-lifting I did yesterday,” Shawn said quickly. He flexed his arm carefully, making sure the inside of it was facing him in chase the sleeve slipped down again.

Juliet didn't look impressed. “What happened, Gus?” she asked, turning to his weak-willed best friend.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened to Shawn's arm over the weekend,” Gus said nervously.

Juliet raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Shawn. “This weekend? Do tell,” she coaxed.

“Don't you dare, Gus,” Shawn warned. “Remember Mr. Fluffernutter.”

Gus looked back and forth between them, starting to sweat. He may have blackmail material but Juliet had this look that made even hardened criminals spill the ir darkest secrets. Gus wasn't a hardened anything and Shawn wasn't sure if the threat of Mr. Fluffernutter's demise getting out would keep his friend quiet. The two of them stared Gus down, waiting for him to respond.

“Shawn got a tattoo,” Gus blurted out.

“Gus dropped our class hamster out the window,” Shawn immediately retaliated.

Juliet would not be distracted. “You got a tattoo? Where? Why? What is it? Can I see?” She looked at him eagerly, vibrating in a way that told Shawn she had a dozen more questions she was dying to ask.

Shawn glared at Gus. “Now see what you did?” He scratched his arm through his sleeve, not seeing any point in hiding it anymore.

“It's your own fault for getting it in the first place,” Gus said. “And stop scratching!” He smacked Shawn's left arm, earning himself another irritated glare.

“I see the circus has arrived.” Lassiter came over to the group, giving both Shawn and Gus disapproving looks. “As you are not officially on the case yet, why don't you wait over there and let O'Hara and I get some real work done before you two mess everything up.”

“Lassie! Cheerful as ever I see,” Shawn said with a grin. Damn. Well, the detective was bound to find out sooner or later.

“Shawn got a tattoo,” Juliet eagerly informed her partner.

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “Really? Didn't think you'd be able to handle the pain. Let me guess, it's a pineapple.”

Shawn shook his head. “Nope. Don't need a tattoo to remember my favorite fruit.” His arm felt like thousands of ants were crawling all over it. He knew Gus would smack him but he could not resist scratching it again.

Surprisingly, this time it was Lassiter smacking his arm. “Stop scratching, Spencer.”

“But it's so damn itchy,” Shawn whined loudly.

Gus sighed, giving Juliet a despairing look. “And I thought he whined a lot when it hurt. He's been driving me completely crazy, rubbing his arm against everything.”

Lassiter grabbed his hand as it inched back towards his right arm. “It's itchy because it's healing. You keep scratching it, you're going to draw out some of the ink and make it look patchy.” He shook his head in disgust. “Didn't they tell you any of this when you got the tattoo done?”

“Maybe. I was pretty drunk.” Shawn looked up at the detective, tilting his head curiously. “How do you know all that, Lassie?”

The detective went stiff and glared at Shawn. “It's none of your damn business.”

Shawn popped up out of the chair and poked Lassiter in the chest. “You have a tattoo, don't you?”

Lassiter crossed his arms and continued to glare. “I'm not saying anything.”

“That's not a 'no',” Shawn said in a sing-song voice. “I can't believe you of all people have some ink.”

“ Really, Carlton? Is that true?” Juliet asked, looking very interested.

Lassiter glanced at her, than back at Shawn. “Why don't you ask O'Hara about her tattoo?”

“Carlton!” Juliet shrieked, turning bright red. “I told you not to tell anyone.”

“We're partners. If I'm going down, you're going down with me,” Lassiter said gruffly.

Shawn turned to the once again blushing detective. “ I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” he leered, giving her a wink.

Her blush deepened. “Um, I can't exactly show you with everyone around.”

Shawn's grin widened. This was just getting better and better. “No problem. Since Lassie is here, I take it the interrogation rooms are empty?” He grabbed Juliet's arm and started dragging her towards the stairs.

“Have fun,” Lassiter called after them, looking satisfied he had diverted Shawn's attention.

That is until Shawn came back and grabbed his arm too. “Oh no. I'm not letting you get out of this either, Lassie.” Ignoring the protests from both detectives, he dragged them towards the stairs. “Come on, Gus. You're going to miss all the fun,” he called back over his shoulder.

Somehow he managed to get both detectives downstairs and inside one of the rooms without getting shot. Gus followed them in and clos ed the door.

Shawn rubbed his hands together eagerly. “All right, who wants to go first?”

Juliet and Lassiter exchanged a look. “You started this,” Lassiter said.

“How did I start it?” Juliet asked incredulously.

“I know for a fact that as soon as you found out Spencer had a tattoo you started asking a million questions,” Lassiter said. “If you had just left it alone, we wouldn't be in this mess.”

Juliet sighed. “Fine. I'll go first.” She grabbed the edge of her shirt, looking at them nervously. Slowly she lifted it up, exposing a long stem rose tattooed along her right side.

Shawn stepped closer, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. He wasn't eager to get a black eye from Lassiter. “Nice. Very cool Jules.”

Gus nodded in agreement. Shawn smirked as he noticed his friend's eyes wandering a bit from the actual tattoo but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want his friend getting punched either. He'd just tease him about it later.

Juliet pulled her shirt back down. “Your turn, Carlton.” All three of them turned and looked expectantly at the older detective.

Lassiter sighed heavily. “Fine,” he growled. He pulled off his suit jacket and threw it over a chair. Next, his holster came off and was placed carefully on the table. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped that off as well, leaving him in a white wife-beater.

“That's it Lassie, take it off,” Shawn teased. “Put a little more sway into those hips, give us a real show.”

Lassiter glared at him. “My gun is sitting right there.”

“I bet it is,” Shawn couldn't help saying.

Lassiter growled, hands clenching into fists. “Watch it, Spencer.”

Oh, I'm watching all right. “Whatever you want, Lassiekins,” he said with a grin.

“Quit teasing him Shawn,” Juliet said. “Carlton, you know he won't stop until you show us.”

Lassiter threw his shirt on the table and turned his back to them. Shawn could see the edges of the tattoo on his left shoulder peeking out around the edges of the tank top . Lassiter reached back and pulled it aside. Shawn got a glimpse of a lone coyote howling against a desert backdrop before the shirt was pulled back into place. “Satisfied?” Lassiter snapped.

“For now,” Shawn said, watching Lassiter adjust his undershirt. Lassiter grabbed his overshirt and slipp ed it back on, the fabric pulling taunt for a moment over those firm shoulders. Lassiter turned and Shawn watched those long fingers quickly button up the front . The detective looked up suddenly and frowned when he noticed Shawn watching him.

Shawn quickly looked away, turning to Gus and Juliet. “Guess it's my turn now.” He rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm.

Juliet immediately pounced on it. “Oooo, a kitty!” she exclaimed.

Shawn rolled his eyes. “It's not a kitty, it's a leopard.” Which was much more manly than a cute little ball of fur. He twitched as Juliet lightly touched his skin. “Careful. It's still itchy.”

“I think we know that by now,” Lassiter said dryly. He had finished dressing while Juliet examined his arm and was currently trying to get a glimpse himself without looking obvious.

“Maybe Juliet can figure out what those letters are,” Gus said, grinning slyly at him.

“What letters?” Juliet asked, looking up with interest.

“No letters,” Shawn said hurriedly, trying to tug his arm away. The last thing he needed was for Juliet to figure out those initials. However, Juliet had a tight grip on his arm and wouldn't let go.

“Shawn got someone's initials hidden in the spots, but he won't tell me who,” Gus explained. “They were pretty blotchy before but maybe we can figure it out now.” He pointed out where they were and Juliet bent eagerly down to examine them.

Shawn looked helplessly over at Lassiter. The detective was watching them with his arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Nervous, Spencer?”

Shawn shook his head, plastering on a grin. “Nope. I have nothing to hide.”

“Hmmm.” Lassiter watched him another moment before his gaze thankfully went to his partner. “You got it yet, O'Hara?”

“I'm not sure, it's still kind of scabby,” she said uncertainly. “ I think it's A. L.” She thought hard for a moment. “Wasn't there a girl at your reunion named Abigail?”

Shawn relaxed, thankful the initials had once again been read incorrectly. “Sorry Jules. Abigail is sweet, but it's not her.” Though the real person had been there that night.

“Did I at least get the right letters?” she asked, pouting.

Shawn grinned. “You'll have to wait and see when it's done healing.”

“Let me see,” Lassiter said, pushing forward. “I bet I could figure it out.”

Shawn danced backwards quickly, stalling. “Uh ah, detective, what's the magic word?” He had to jump away again as the door opened suddenly behind him.

“ What is going on in here?” Vick asked. Her eyes landed on Shawn's exposed arm. “Mr. Spencer, is that a tattoo?”

“Yes, Chief, it is,” he said, quickly slipping his sleeve back down to cover it up. “But don't worry. It won't have any effect on my abilities. In fact, it may actually help me commune with the spirits better, particularly those of the feline persuasion.”

“I'll keep that in mind if we have any cat murders to solve,” she said dryly. “Now if everyone is done with show and tell, I have an actual case to brief you on.” She walked out the door, the two detectives quickly following after her.

Gus and Shawn followed more slowly behind them. “You know your dad is going to find out now,” Gus said.

Shawn sighed. He doubted Lassiter and Juliet would keep news of his tattoo quiet for long. His father had spies all over the station. It was only a matter of time. “ We could go to Mexico. Hide out until he forgets about it.”

Gus gave him a look. “You know how well that turned out last time.”

Shawn winced. “And I said I was sorry about the donkey thing. I bought you new pants.”

“We're not talking about it,” Gus said, glaring at him.

“Okay, okay,” Shawn said, holding up his hands placatingly. “How about we talk about the fact you were ogling Jules while she showed us her tattoo?”

“I was not,” Gus said quickly.

Shawn snorted. “Dude, I saw your eyes wandering.”

Vick stepped out of her office. “Today, gentlemen.”

“We'll discuss this later,” he said, patting his friend on the back. He could feel Gus's glare on the back of his head as he followed the Chief back into her office. “So, what have you got for us this time?”

Chapter Text

Shawn stared up at the ceiling in the Psych office, slowly spinning his chair back and forth. It had been a busy couple of weeks; three cases from the police department, the last of which hadn't wrapped up until late last night. Gus was using the day to catch up on his route. He was planning on a Knight Rider marathon, just as soon as he had the energy to move over to the couch.

His father had finally tracked him down halfway through the first case. He had stormed into the station and demanded a private conversation with him. Shawn tried to get out of it; he knew there were enough officers with tattoos on the force who would have backed him up if Henry started something in front of anyone. Problem was his dad knew that too and eventually won in getting Shawn alone.

However, the confrontation he was expecting never happened. Henry had studied the tattoo for a couple minutes, then looked up at him. “I hope you can live with it, kid,” he said in disappointment.

“I'll manage,” Shawn had said.

His father had simply sighed and left without saying another word.

Later he heard someone had asked his father if he wanted in on the pool of whose initials were on his arm. His dad had replied it wouldn't be fair since he already knew who it was.

Shawn wasn't sure if his father really knew the truth or not, but he had refrained from going to him for advice just in case. He wasn't sure either of them would be ready for that conversation any time soon.

He had made sure to wear long sleeves throughout every case, making sure nobody else got more than a glimpse of his tattoo and the damn initials everyone was so curious about. So far he had succeeded, but he knew it was only a matter of time until someone figured it out.

He scratched idly at his arm through the sleeve. The tattoo had mostly healed, but it was still itchy.

“What did I tell you about scratching, Spencer?”

Shawn lifted his head and turned towards the door. Lassiter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching him. “Lassie! I thought you would be buried under a mountain of paperwork by now.”

“The Chief gave us the day off. Said the paperwork would keep until tomorrow.” Lassiter grimaced, clearly not relishing the thought.

Shawn grinned. “Which is one reason why I never became a cop. No paperwork for me.” His grinned widened when Lassiter scowled at him. “So what brings you to my humble office on your day of freedom?” he asked curiously.

“We have some unfinished business.” Lassiter straightened up from the wall and walked over to him.

Shawn stood slowly. For the last two weeks, Lassiter had been giving him odd looks whenever the detective thought he wasn't looking. The looks weren't angry or annoyed or happy. More, considering. Thoughtful.

It was unnerving and since he didn't know what was going through Lassiter's head right now, he wanted to be on his feet in case he had to run. “Remember, Lassie, we're in a public place. One scream and people will come running.” He started backing up slowly, mentally planning his route to the back door.

Lassiter sighed, stopping next to his desk. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said in exasperation.

Shawn stopped moving, though he kept the length of the desk between them. “Then what do you want?”

“I never got a good look at your tattoo.” Lassiter held out his hand. “May I?”

Nervously, Shawn walked over to Lassiter and rolled up his sleeve. He jumped when the detective gently took his wrist, his skin sparking with the contact. Lassiter glanced at him then turned his attention to the tattoo.

Shawn tried to keep still as Lassiter studied it, turning his arm careful to see it from different angles. The detective's gaze traveled from the head near his elbow down the lithe body to where the tail curled near his wrist. He was acutely aware of every time Lassiter's grip shifted, his skin feeling hot beneath those long fingers. He wondered how Lassiter didn't notice it.

Lassiter looked up at him. “This is very well done. Too good for one of the places that caters to drunk tourists.”

“I got lucky?” Shawn suggested.

Lassiter shook his head. “I don't think so. Except the shops that do work of this quality don't take drunk walk-ins.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not unless they've met with the person before.”

Crap. “Well, I may have talked to someone once or twice about getting something like this done,” Shawn said cautiously.

“Just talk? This looks like a custom job,” Lassiter said.

Shawn sighed in defeat. “Okay, I may have brought the guy some pictures a couple months ago and met with him a few times. I still never would have actually gotten it if I wasn't drunk.”

Lassiter grinned in satisfaction. “I thought as much.” He nodded towards Shawn's arm. “I'm assuming you hid the initials in the spots?”

“ Um, yeah.” Shawn bit his lip nervously as Lassiter bent his head to examine the tattoo again. He had the sudden urge to rip his arm out of the detective's hand, but that would give him away just as much as those letters would. He did his best to suppress his shudder when Lassiter traced the letters but the detective had to have noticed this time.

Lassiter slowly straightened and looked at him. “'C. L.' ?”

“You're the first person to guess the letters right,” Shawn said. Besides possibly my dad but I don't even want to think about that.

“Those are my initials,” Lassiter said quietly.

“Complete coincidence,” Shawn said quickly. “They stand for Carmen. . .” he glanced quickly around the office, “. . . Lampa.” Great, that sounds fake even to me. “She was a girl I met in Montana. She died in a horrible. . . mountain biking. . . accident. . .” His voice trailed off as Lassiter's head dipped towards his arm. “What are you – ” He froze as Lassiter's lips touched his arm, gently caressing the skin directly over the initials. He bit back a moan as sparks of electricity flowed up his arm and short circuited his brain.

Lassiter glanced up at him. “What were you saying about Carmen?” His breath ghosted across Shawn's skin and he shuddered hard.

“Carmen who?” he asked in a daze.

Lassiter straightened up, moving forward until he was standing directly in front of Shawn. “The person whose initials are on your arm?” he prompted.

“I only know one person with those initials,” Shawn admitted.

Lassiter smiled. “That's what I thought.” He leaned down and kissed him.

This time Shawn didn't try to hide his moan as he pressed up eagerly against Lassiter's lips. The detective's arms wrapped around him, pulling him flush against that long, lean body. Lassiter forced his tongue into Shawn's mouth, thoroughly examining it, one hand at the back of his head adjusting the angle to give the detective better access. Lassiter's other hand was on Shawn's lower back, holding them close together as he pressed Shawn back against the desk. He was glad of the extra support; he was melting under the detective's assault as Lassiter's hand slipped under his shirt and stroked bare skin. He held on tightly, powerless to do anything more than enjoy the ride.

Slowly, Lassiter pulled away. Shawn just stared at him as he tried to restart his brain. Damn, Lassie was a great kisser.

Lassiter smiled. “Speechless, Spencer?” he teased.

Shawn blinked a couple of times and shook his head. “How the hell have you been single for so long?”

“I was waiting for the right person,” Lassiter said quietly.

Shawn felt warmth flood him at the detective's words. “Then you need to start calling me Shawn,” he said huskily, pulling Lassiter into another kiss. This time he was prepared and was able to hold his own, though the kiss was no less mind blowing. He pressed forward against Lassiter, his hands slowly sliding up the detective's firm chest to settle around his neck. Lassiter's arms wrapped around his waist, pushing up his shirt slightly so his hands resting against skin as he held him close. Their tongues danced together, exploring and tasting, familiarizing themselves with new territory.

Lassiter purred happily, the vibration passing directly into Shawn and causing him to shiver.

Eventually, they had to come up for air. Their lips parted so they could take deep breaths but the rest of their bodies stayed firmly pressed against each other.

“So, Shawn,” Lassiter said, smiling at him as he used his first name, “what should we do with the rest of my day off?”

“We could grab some food and head back to my place.” Shawn gently rubbed Lassiter's shoulder where the detective's tattoo was currently hidden. “Then maybe I can get a better look at your tattoo.”

“You sure you're not just looking for an excuse to get my shirt off?” Lassiter accused playfully.

Shawn grinned. “It would only be fair since you seem so eager to get mine out of the way.” His fingers kept rubbing the detective's shoulder, tracing the tattoo from memory. “You will have to tell me why you got it. I sense an interesting story there.”

Lassiter reached up and gently touched Shawn's tattoo. “As long as you tell me about yours.”

“There's not much to tell. You're handsome and deadly and have this really sexy growl you do when you're angry.” Shawn shrugged. “I just picked the closest animal to match.”

Lassiter pulled back slightly, eyes darkening as he stared at him. “You really think my growl is sexy, Shawn?”

Shawn shivered at the little growl Lassiter put into his name. “Big time. Why do you think I try to piss you off all the time?”

“You don't need to make me angry for me to do that,” Lassiter said, voice low and suggestive.

Shawn licked his lips. “Noted.” He grinned at Lassiter, shaking his head. “Boy, did I luck out getting you.”

“You're not the only one,” Lassiter said with a smile. “I managed to catch the funniest, most charming guy at the station.”

“Really? Who? Is it Jeff from evidence?” He grinned as Lassiter gave a mock scowl, smacking him on the arm.

“No, idiot. You.” Lassiter looked into his eyes, smiling warmly. “You don't know how long I've wanted you,” he said softly.

“Probably just as long as me,” Shawn admitted, just as softly.

“If only we had just admitted our feelings from the start,” Lassiter mused. “This could have happened a lot sooner.”

“Yeah.” Shawn imagined all the fun he and Lassiter could have been having. Some of it even with clothes on. “We've got things figured out now,” he reminded him.

“Thanks to your tattoo,” Lassiter said, fingers gently rubbing along it. “That was one drunken mistake that paid off in the end.”

Shawn wholeheartedly agreed. He gazed up at Lassiter lovingly, then realized just how sickly sweet this conversation had gotten. He snorted. “If we keep up all this mushy crap, we might as well buy bras and try to braid each others hair.”

“Well, we do already have the boy talk down,” Lassiter said slyly.

Shawn stared at him for a second in surprise before he started to laugh. He took a step back, doubling over as his laughter completely overwhelmed him. Lassiter held out a couple seconds longer until he to was joining in. The sound of the detective's deep, happy laugh made Shawn feel all warm inside and he found himself staring at him all mushily again. “I like to hear you laugh. You don't do it often enough.”

“I'm sure you'll fix that,” Lassiter said, sounding like he was looking forward to it.

“So how about the most handsome and deadly guy at the station and the most charming and witty guy at the station get out of here?” Shawn suggested.

“Lead the way,” Lassiter said. Shawn grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As he passed Lassiter, the detective wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. He grinned up at the detective, so happy he had finally got his man he thought he would burst.

Together, they made their way out the door.