Chapter Text
Lassiter didn’t usually stop for coffee at fancy coffee shops, but today wasn’t a normal day.
There had been a small coffee shop that he had been passing by on his way to work for years now: it opened early, it looked fairly clean, and better yet; there never looked like there were too many teens or stay-at-home mom’s hanging around.
He was in a little bit of a funk with his current case and what he had decided that he needed for himself was a bit of a shakeup to his normal routine. The coffee shop that he always drove past on the way to work was as good as any place to sit down and stare at a case file for a few minutes. With the offending case file in hand, because a cop was never off duty, he took a seat in the back of the little coffee shop he often passed on his commute and skimmed over the horribly kitschy, picture-clad menu. Americanos, Cappuccinos, Cafe macchiatos- everything sounded disgustingly extravagant but completely irresistible.
Just this once he would get something over the top. Just this once- and no one would ever have to know.
. . .
Shawn Spencer had been working at The Blueberry Beanery coffee shop for almost a whole year now, well 9 months anyway- actually more like 7 3/5ths months because of that one thing that happened, but that was unimportant now. Anyway, he hadn’t stayed at a job that long in quite some time, but this one was actually kind of fun and was flexible in its hours. His childhood best friend Gus owned the place and since he had returned home to Santa Barbara after years of roaming the USA, he had been offered a position as a barista. It was good work as far as he was concerned and he got to work with his best buddy.
The customers were fun and he loved chatting to them and making funny little observations on certain aspects of their lives. His hidden talent was the keen power of observation, his father had trained him to be a cop from a young age, but that career went down the drain after he got into some trouble with the law, well, his actual dad to be exact; his own father arrested him, erasing all his prospects and years of training in a heartbeat. Not that he wanted to be a cop, anyway.
The skill of observation that he had was fun to use as a Barista and even got him some dates every now and again. He could usually tell if he and a person had a lot in common and sometimes even if they didn’t have things in common, he’d act like he did anyway to score some perfect hotties.
With great power, came great responsibility; lately he liked to make an observation about a customer and pretended to be psychic about it. It was hilarious.
A man entered the shop who he had never seen before. He looked like the perfect target: a non believer who he could hopefully convince to believe.
. . .
“Welcome to the Blueberry Beanery, where we grow our beans right out back with the power of real magic,” the barista said.
Lassiter looked up with a snarky retort on his tongue because really, who on Earth would say such an idiotic thing? It died right there, though, because, wow.
He hadn’t felt that kind of attraction to another man since… well, it’d been a while. Walking into the shop, the barista had immediately caught his eye. It was a weird and rare instant attraction, like love at first sight but with lust. He was gorgeous and there was just something about him that he was just drawn to from looks only. How could he not fall victim with those handsome hazel eyes staring back at him, looking oddly inquisitive, like he could see right through him?
“Stunned into silence? Can’t say that isn’t an effect I have on people,” the barista laughed. “Shawn Spencer, by the way. Blueberry Barista Extraordinaire, Purveyor of all things coffee.” He pointed to the nametag on the left of his chest that was accented with a few stickers. Shawn’s eyes roamed up and down him- he couldn’t possibly be checking him out, could he? “And a few things that aren’t.”
This was why he didn’t go out places. This was exactly the reason why- not only two minutes in front of an attractive stranger and he was already reduced to this. He was head detective of the Santa Barbara Police department, for crying out loud! He wasn’t the type of man that got tongue tied by a pretty boy barista who was obviously just jonesing for tips.
“Carlton Lassiter. Americana, black,” he said, completely wussing out last second. As much as he wanted that drink… the thought of that frivilious of an order coming out of his mouth made his skin crawl.
“Well, that’s no fun, Carlt- no. Can I call you Carl, oh, no. Hm. Carly? Can I call you Carly?”
“No. You may not.” Lassiter glared at him. “My name is Lassiter.”
“Lassiter?” Shawn was still standing there behind the counter and he had yet to start making the order, Lassiter noticed, and he wished he would just get his coffee already, but then he continued on, “How about Lass? Lassie? Lassifrass? Lassierino?”
Another glare, but strangely ineffective. “Lassiter.”
Shawn grinned, goofy and seemingly immune to his grumbly cop attitude. He usually had people shaking with fear by now. What was up with this guy? Instead he just spun on his heel with a wink and shouted back, “You got it, Lassie!”
Lassiter half wanted to walk out then and there. That man Shawn Spencer was being quite annoying but he really did go in there for a reason, and that reason was coffee: so he continued to sit there and wait. The barista Shawn was making eyes at him the whole time he was making the drink which included a few more steps and machines than Lassiter was used to. Then again, he usually didn’t go to coffee places like this and didn’t know much about how things like this worked.
“Lassieeeee!” Shawn called out at the top of his lungs when the order was ready. Lassiter really, really didn't feel like getting up in front of the two entire other people who were in the shop who looked up when Shawn yelled. “Lassie,” could only be one person, and everyone in the shop knew it.
Begrudgingly, he got up and grabbed his drink from the counter earning a nice smile from Shawn that he wished didn’t hit him as hard as it did. He sat down and opened up the case file, pouring over it once before trying a sip. The case he brought with him was a double homicide; they didn’t get many of those in Santa Barbara. It was a particularly nasty case and solving it would mean great things for his career. As the semi-recently promoted Head Detective, he had to constantly prove his worth and show that he was the best man for the job.
In the beginning of his second readover, he finally absentmindedly took a sip of his “black” coffee, which to his surprise had turned into some weird sort of sugary drink... it... wasn't half bad but it wasn’t what he ordered. Shawn... He really wasn’t in the mood to argue right now but he also wasn’t going to let that stupid barista ‘win’.
He slammed the cup down on the front counter, spilling a bit, which he didn’t exactly mean to do, but it did highlight his resentment nicely, and barked, “What is this?” at Shawn’s back, as he was pouring another drink in from one of the machines.
Shawn slowly turned around with a grin on his face and Lassiter scowled at how someone could be so completely unaffected by his anger.
“Well that’s not how you say ‘thank you’, Lassie,” he said.
“I didn’t order this.” He set a frown on his face. No way he was going to let this way-too-peppy barista talk his way out of this one. What kind of business were they running?
“No, but you like it.” Shawn set the cup on the counter and poured a dollop of cream in the middle, then swirled in a few more creating a little flower. “Robinson!” he called.
“I do not like it.” Lassiter pushed it towards him. “Get me my order.”
“That’s funny, because my senses are telling me that you think it’s delicious. You think it’s mouth-watering good. You want to drink more of it, but you’re too prideful to give into little old me. Sound about right?”
Lassiter furrowed his eyebrows, looking Shawn up and down, not for the first time, but all he saw was a boyishly charming man in an apron, not some James Bond. So why, then, did he feel like he could see right through him?
“I’ll tell you why, dear Lassie,” Shawn said, but Lassiter didn’t ask a thing. He put a finger up to his temple and winked. Lassiter definitely did not feel butterflies. “Psychic.”
“Complete bullshit.” While he usually didn’t curse at minimum wage workers like that, this language was 100% warranted in this case the way this guy was running his mouth off.
“It’s the truth,” Shawn replied.
“Alright, Mr. Smarty pants. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Hold my hands and let me read you.”
“If you even dare try to touch me I’ll-”
“You’ll shoot me, yeah, yah Mr. Detective. See, I know what you were going to say.”
Lassiter was taken aback. “How did you-”
“Psychic.” Shawn put his hand to his temple.
“Lucky guess.”
“Hold out your hands and maybe I can help solve that pesky case of yours.”
Lassiter let out an ugly laugh. “Solve that ‘pesky case’ and I’ll come in here every week for the rest of the year and buy your stupid coffee you claim that I like.”
“Deal!” Shawn reached out and shook Lassiter’s hand with a huge grin. Not two seconds later Shawn’s body seized and convulsed causing Lassiter to shake him off in disgust. His seizing didn’t look that convincing.
“I see…. I see…” Shawn started, peeking an eye over at Lassiter to make sure he was paying attention. “I see a man. A man who...” Shawn shook again as if he had been shocked by my electricity. His voice then went up an octave. “It was John. It was John who killed me and my husband. He had a long standing grudge with the family. Look. Look at the bank statements. The name Jack. It doesn't add up, it doesn't—”
Shawn snapped out of whatever “trance” he was in and clapped his hands together. “It was a man named John Shepherd who did it.”
Lassiter stood there completely dumbfounded. “How did you-” He shook his head in disbelief. “You- how do you know that name? What are you playing at? Did you look through my file…?”
Shawn shrugged his shoulders. “How many times do I have to tell you? I thought the tall, handsome detectives were supposed to be smart? I’m Psychic.”
“Psychics aren’t real,” he said, struggling to ignore the way that Shawn called him- no. “Now tell me how you know that. There’s no way you, you- ‘psychically’ gleaned that. That information isn’t available to the public. Tell me or I’ll arrest you.”
“Wow, already bringing out the handcuffs, Lassie? I usually wait until date number three for those,” Shawn said.
“Goddamnit,” Lassiter huffed. “Don’t make a joke out of—”
“You’re being awfully hostile for someone who just had their big case solved for them.”
“It’s not,” Lassiter began, but thought back to his notes and stopped. Shepard could have had motive seeing as his brother was receiving monthly payouts from the insurance while he wasn’t getting a dime, no matter that he was involved in the business as well. That would have bred resentment, and given him the perfect reason to take revenge. “It’s—”
Shawn just stood there grinning. “It’s solved is what it is. You’re welcome.” He pushed Lassiter’s cup back across the counter. “And while we’re busy admitting things, go ahead and tell me I was right about this too.”
Lassiter grabbed the coffee in a huff without saying anything and went back to his seat to pour over his notes again. The coffee was good, and he did pay for it after all and if that hot fool wasn’t going to give him what he ordered, he might as well drink it. And besides, he didn’t feel like going up to talk about that man again.
After pouring over the case notes with the idea that it could in fact be John Shepherd who was the culprit, a lot of things began to make sense and the case clicked for him. But how did... It must have been a lucky guess. Maybe there was a file with that name sticking out when he had seen it when he went up to order and the barista saw this name and just took a wild shot with it. There were just a few things he had to double check that were at the office only but, he was pretty sure that he was right.
Finishing the sugary drink in a few quick sips, Lassiter got up to leave.
“Remember,” Shawn said as he was walking out. “If I’m right, you gotta come back and order that drink for a year!”
Lassiter rolled his eyes, not giving him anymore thought. His mind was churning with possibilities and laser focused on the case now. All he had to do was check a few bank and phone records well as possible bank security footage to confirm a few things. If they all checked out, he had this case in the bag.