Chapter Text
Shawn wasn’t one to believe in things like fate or destiny. Which was surprising, really, since he made his fortune (what little of it there was) in pretending to speak for the dead, but he didn’t actually believe in any of that stuff himself.
But looking back, he did have to concede that perhaps the stars had aligned that fateful Sunday night, and that the universe had conspired to put him in the exact right spot at the exact right time.
The exact spot was at his desk in the Psych office; the time was 9:02 pm. Normally Shawn would be at home playing video games, or over at Gus’s watching a movie. But Gus had a date, on a Sunday night of all nights, and Shawn didn’t particularly feel like playing games at the moment. So he stayed back late at the office, scrolling through the back pages of the news sites, trying to find a case. It had been four days since their last one, and he was getting antsy.
What he found was much more interesting than a case. It was a photo from a crime scene about a week back. The paper had printed it (was it printing if it was online? Note to self: ask Gus) alongside an article about the now-solved murder.
Shawn stopped scrolling when he got the picture. He was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to breathe. It was a typical crime scene photo. The body bag was in the foreground with the detective behind it. It was the detective in question that took Shawn’s breath away.
Carlton Lassiter. Lassie-face to those in the know.
He’d just finished yelling at the techs and was about to start yelling at the press. His jaw was tightened, his eyes narrowed. His left hand was on his hip while his right hand was on his tie- loosening or tightening it, Shawn wasn’t sure.
The result of this once in a lifetime confluence of events was that Lassiter looked like a damn model. He looked tall and glamourous, like movie star from the 50s. Even though he was in the background, the camera managed to catch the blue of his shirt which only helped to emphasize the blue of his eyes.
Shawn as weak in the knees. If he wasn’t already sitting, he’d have fallen over. He knew Lassiter was good looking- hell, he’d had a crush on the guy the moment they met. But this picture was doing all sorts of things to Shawn’s brains, as well as his… other parts.
He didn’t know how long he stared at the picture. Minutes, surely. Eventually, he had an idea.
He scrolled quickly down to the bottom of the page and opened up the comments section. There he logged in as his online persona for this website- R. Vernon- and he typed his message. He hit ‘comment’ and quickly scrolled back up to the picture.
Yes, he thought. This was meant to be.
;;;
Carlton was having a shit of a morning. Rather than waking up to the melodic tones of AM radio, he’d been woken up at 5 am by a call from the prosecutor, letting him know that thanks to a filing error the McFadden case wouldn’t be held until the 18th. That bastard would be out on bail for three more weeks!
He tried to reign in his anger as he stormed through the doors to the precinct, but it was only aggravated when he noticed the uniformed officers staring at him. He thought it was just the desk sergeant, but O’Leary and Scots were doing it too.
The straw that finally broke the camels back appeared in the form of one Officer Buzz McNabb. A genuine nincompoop, the young man sauntered over to Carlton’s desk with one of his trademark smiles.
“Hey there, Detective.” He said, teeth shining in the light. “Looking good today.”
Carlton growled at him until he quickly backed away.
“What is with everyone today?” he asked.
“Well, I might be because of this.” O’Hara said.
She gestured for him to come over to her desk, which was full of tchotchkes and photos of home, and he sighed. If it solved the problem….
He leaned over her shoulder and squinted down at her screen.
“What is this?”
“Remember the Richards case a week or so back?” she asked.
“Yes.” He snapped.
“Well, the press was there.”
“Those bastards.”
O’Hara nodded. “Uh huh. Yes, well, they took this photo.”
She moved her mouse and the image appeared. Carlton frowned. It was just him, standing behind a body bag.
“Is that all?” he asked. There was nothing special about the image, as far as he could see.
O’Hara shook her head. “Not quite.”
She moved her page down to the comments section. He leaned in closer. In amongst a sea of people telling the police force what they could do with their nightsticks, a lone longer comment appeared:
This detective Lassiter is truly a sight to behold.
With his strong jawline and imposing stare, it’s a wonder more criminals don’t confess their crimes, if only for a chance to be in this presence.
If Carlton Lassiter were the face of the SBPD, the department would no longer have an image problem.
Carlton blinked. Then he reread the comment. He felt a smile tug at his lips.
A sight to behold? Me?
“Who… who said this?” he cleared his throat and stood up.
“The name is ‘R Vernon’, but it could be a fake. You can say you’re anyone on the internet.”
“Ah, well…”
He didn’t know what to say. In truth, this was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him- and he’d been married! He felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he read the message once more.
“Carlton… do you know what this means?” O’Hara asked.
“No? Should I?”
“It means you have a secret admirer.” She squealed out the last two words like some sort of school child.
Carlton rolled his eyes, but inside his chest his heart fluttered. Could it be? Someone actually admired him? Him?
“Oh my god, this is so romantic.” O’Hara continued.
“Okay now, let’s just reign in it.” he said.
He stood back up and smoothed down his jacket- not for the enjoyment of anyone else, but because it was ruffled.
“It’s just one comment, after all.”
O’Hara rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Spoilsport.”
He tried to glare at her as he walked back to his desk, but her smile was damn infectious, and it came off as more of a scowl.
“Woah, woah, woah, hold up!” a loud voice carried down the hallway and around the corner.
Now it was must easier to glare.
Shawn Spencer burst around the corner with his arms outstretched in front of him.
“I am sensing a buttload of good vibes coming from this direction!” he proclaimed.
Of course, “vibes”. Carlton scoffed. What kind of grown man runs around playing make believe and yattering on about “good vibes”? Shawn Spencer, that’s who. The good-looking goofball who lived to make Carlton’s life hell.
“Spencer, cut the crap and get out of here.” Carlton barked.
Shawn didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he flailed his arms towards O’Hara.
“Beep beep beep!” he shouted. “Huh… no, not from here.”
O’Hara giggled.
Shawn directed his gaze, and arms, in Carlton’s direction. He lumbered along like a zombie.
“Oh yes! Gus! This is where the vibes are!”
“From Lassiter? Really?” Guster asked.
Carlton hadn’t even noticed the other man before now, but it was no surprise he was following Shawn like a shadow.
“Ohh yes really.” Shawn dropped his arms dramatically. “Lassie-Fras, did you happen to get some good news today?”
“He’s got a secret admirer.” O’Hara shouted from her desk.
Tattle-tail Carlton thought… unless….
“Really Lassie?” Shawn asked.
“Yes, really. Someone left a nice comment on a picture of mine that was published online. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“What makes you think I have anything to do with that?” Shawn answered sweetly.
Carlton opened his mouth to respond when chief Vick poked her head out of her office.
“Oh good Spencer, you’re here.” She said.
“First time anyone’s ever said that.” Carlton said not exactly under his voice.
“Yes, I sensed you were in need of my services.” Shawn wiggled his fingers on either side of his temples.
“A body’s been found over on Jefferson. Lassiter and O’Hara, take the boys with you.”
“Chief—"
“Now.” Vick said with glare.
He growled under his breath but relented. No use pissing her off today.
Carlton ruminated on the comment while he drove to the crime scene. ‘Truly a sight to behold’ they said. No one had ever said something so… complementary about him before. He’d never say that he hated his body, but there were times when he didn’t like it. He was the tallest in every class, leading to him being the butt of many jokes, and his ears had a habit of pointing away from his face.
Then there was his abundance of chest chair. Victoria said she ‘didn’t mind it’, but not minding something and actually like it were worlds apart.
With R Vernon’s words ringing in his ears, he stepped out of the car with his head held high.
People seemed to part in front of him. Techs approached him with caution, giving him only the information he needed and none of the other crap they generally spewed. Even Shawn’s antics seemed toned down.
Not that he was paying particular attention to the fake psychic, but in the odd moments where Carlton did look his way, Shawn was either flailing his arms or speaking with Gus. He didn’t even look over at Carlton once, which was completely fine. He didn’t want Shawn to look at him anyway. No siree.
“This is Jeremy Bentham.” Juliet said as they approached a young man. “He found the body.”
Carlton glared at the man from behind his sunglasses. The man gulped and twitched nervously.
‘It’s a wonder more criminals don’t confess their crimes, if but for a chance to be in this presence.’
Carlton ripped off his glasses. “Alright Jeremy. Let’s cut to the chase.”
Within minutes the man was squealing. Not literally, but he did admit that he couldn’t have committed this murder because he was robbing a 7/11 across town.
Juliet’s jaw dropped as they led Mr. Bentham away.
“Carlton, oh my gosh.” She beamed. “You’ve just solved one crime while investigating another.”
He shrugged in a way that he hoped appeared nonchalant.
“All in a day’s work O’Hara.”
“Looks like R Vernon was onto something.”