Chapter Text
Carlton Lassiter sat at his desk, scribbling away at his paperwork. There were no cases that needed solving, but Shawn Spencer had come ambling through no less than six times before ten o'clock that morning. By the time he went to lunch, Carlton had seen him wandering around a grand total of twelve times. Not a single one of those times had they made eye contact, and not a single one of those times had Carlton not turned on his heel and made a swift getaway. When he had returned from lunch, Shawn had disappeared, nowhere to be seen. At least that meant Carlton didn't have to avoid him anymore.
He was at his desk, and had only turned his attention away from his surroundings for a millisecond, when Shawn came sauntering in and planted himself nonchalantly at the bulletin board nearest Juliet's place. Carlton gave him a passing glance, which of course he took as an invitation to blunder over like an excitable puppy and occupy the space in front of the detective's desk.
"G'moring Lassie-face!" he beamed, and Carlton sighed at him.
"It's two in the afternoon, you dunce," he retorted.
"It's morning someplace or other," Shawn whined.
Carlton put down his pen and folded his hands under his chin, smiling sardonically. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Why, yes, yes there is," Shawn declared with a pause.
The pause turned into a full-stop, and finally Carlton spoke up. "What do you want, Spencer," he growled.
"Well..." Shawn began, "Maybe...Go for a drink tonight. With you. Eight sound good?"
"Shawn," Carlton sighed, "I would honestly rather make out with an otter."
Shawn hesitated for five entire seconds, and stooped in low and close to the other. "Okay," he breathed, and pressed his lips to Carlton's.
Just as Shawn had expected and planned, the detective's eyes went wide as saucers and his mouth fell open. The psychic seized the opportunity and pressed on, slipping his tongue softly between the other's lips, touching his fingertips to the side of the detective's neck. he moved gingerly and slowly, exploring the other with his tongue. At last, he broke away. He locked eyes with the detective and licked his lips.
"I'll pick you up at 7:45 this evening. 'Kay?" Shawn inquired. Carlton was speechless, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. He simply stared at the psychic. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" And with that, he padded out the door, leaving Carlton sitting at his desk, just as dumbfounded as the onlookers.