Work Text:
Carlton sighed as he looked out at the beach front, children running amuck and litter on the floor. He didn't actually see anyone drop the trash, which was disappointing because then he couldn't give them a ticket. His eyes narrowed at the people walking by the garbage, almost accomplices in that they didn't throw it away either.
Then Carlton sighed again. He was only this irritated with the beach-goers because he had a day off (and, really, how much time would it take to pick up garbage and toss it with your own?).
The Chief had forced him to take today off, a few days after the Drimmer case, right when he thought he'd managed to avoid being sent home. She'd realized that "time off" meant "lurk around the police station and work on cases still in an official capacity anyway" and sent him home.
He'd quickly decided not to go home, where the emptiness of the rooms reminded him of the work he wasn't getting done.
He shifted on the bench he was sitting on. O'Hara wouldn't even let him look at a few cases, just reviewing them, because of "the Chief's orders". Carlton scoffed.
He was Head Detective. He could at least offer some insight. Technically, offering advice on a case didn't qualify as working if he was giving advice as a recreational hobby of some sort, right?
As it was, the Chief wasn't going to allow him to come within ten feet of the station, lest he purchase binoculars and peer at cases from the window.
He was in the middle of wondering whether that would actually work when someone cleared their throat.
Turning around, eyes stung by the blinding sun, Carlton blinked and saw the unwelcome outline of Shawn Spencer.
"Hi, Lassie," Shawn greeted somewhat awkwardly when Carlton refused to say anything at his appearance. Carlton had been hoping that if he ignored him, Shawn would prove to be a hallucination, a side affect from not being allowed to work.
Sweet Lady Justice must have sent the chaotic justice that is Spencer to punish him for not solving crime, despite his best efforts.
"Spencer." Carlton's face went tight.
Guster was nowhere to be seen, and the bench he was sitting on could seat another. Carlton contemplated stretching out to leave no space for Shawn to seat himself, uninvited, and irritate his day off away, but Shawn had already seen him.
Plus, Shawn was already sitting down anyway, so Carlton had to toss that idea aside before he could put it into action.
"Would you like a sip?" Shawn offered his fountain drink, taking a long suck before he held it out. When Carlton did nothing more than stare, Shawn also offered corn nuts. After more silence, Shawn held out M & M's, and Carlton finally snapped.
"What is it, exactly, you're doing here, Spencer?" Carlton asked gruffly. He shifted slightly away from Shawn as Shawn munched loudly on a handful of M & M's.
Shawn took another pull of his drink, then paused. "I'm eating lunch, Lassie-kins." Shawn chomped on some corn nuts, then poured more directly into his mouth from the bag. Carlton carefully did not watch Shawn swallow. "Even your detective skills can see that."
Carlton scowled. Everything was a joke to Spencer, every comment an insult. "Why are you eating it here?"
Shawn paused again, mid-chew. "Well, Lassie," Shawn said finally, after a painful swallow, "I don't see you name on this bench." Shawn slurped more of his drink, and Carlton winced as the straw attempted to suck up liquid that was mostly depleted.
Carlton shook his head and made to stand up. He liked this bench, and it offered a nice, mostly quiet view of the beach, yes, but if Shawn was going to ruin it for him, he was sure he could find another.
As Carlton stood, Shawn grabbed Carlton by the arm, but quickly released it as Carlton glared at him. Swallowing, Shawn blurted, "I have a Sharpie in my pocket."
Carlton was intrigued enough to listen to his nonsense. "What?"
Shawn, seeing Carlton wasn't leaving, relaxed. "I have a Sharpie I'm my pocket," Shawn repeated. "We can write your name on it. Well, yours and mine. We can write our names on it."
Carlton paused this time. Shawn was proposing a truce. A silly way to offer a truce, but a truce nonetheless-and he seemed.. genuine. Carlton was still unsure about meeting him halfway, however. "That's illegal, Spencer."
Shawn smiled. "I won't tell if you won't." Shawn pulled out the Sharpie and uncapped it, holding it out to Carlton.
Carlton wouldn't graffiti public property, but he supposed he could have lunch with Spencer today. Refusing the Sharpie, Carlton sat back down and said warningly, "As an officer of the law, I'd be required to report it."
Shawn tsked. "Well, we can't have that." Shawn glanced at him. "Would you be opposed to sharing this bench... for lunch? ... for a day off? I mean, as any officer of the law would agree to, of course, to prevent a heinous crime from occurring."
Carlton narrowed his eyes at Shawn and reached for a handful of M & M's. Shawn paused before he poured some in Carlton's hand, and Carlton confirmed, "I don't negotiate with terrorists, Spencer..." Shawn raised his eyebrows, and Carlton continued, "... but I suppose I could, just this once."
Shawn smiled and poured a couple of M & M's into Carlton's hand.