Chapter Text
It was a dark and stormy night— well, not really. It was clear, and the light pollution from the street lamps illuminated the scene.
But there were powerful forces lurking in the shadows, on the outskirts of the light, keeping watch menacingly over an inconspicuous cottage.
Well, if you count a head detective and fake psychic sitting in a red car as “powerful forces,” and the location of a potential murder as an “inconspicuous cottage.”
Currently, the powerful forces in question were on a stakeout. A stakeout of the highest degree. Only the most vigilant of minds could be entrusted with a task so challenging, so draining, so spiritbreakingly—
“Dude, this is boring. When’s something interesting gonna happen?”
And with that, Head Detective Lassiter’s internal monologue was broken.
He rolled his eyes. “This is what a stakeout entails, Spencer . You’re the one who insisted you tag along. So you’d better keep focus or you’ll miss something, like a little fairy in the window!” He added a sarcastic flare to the end of his tone.
Spencer grumbled and leaned his seat back. “Wake me up when something interesting happens.”
Lassiter glared. “No can-do, sleeping beauty. You begged to be here so you gotta participate. Fully.”
After a few moments of no response, Lassiter perked up. “Did you see that?”
Spencer shot up. “What! Where?”
Lassiter gave him a look. “Exactly.”
Spencer sighed, returning his seat to an upright position. “Yeah, ok, I got it.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Man, can’t we do something? How about a snacky-snack?”
Lassiter actually perked up at this. “Oh, not a bad idea actually.” He reached into the glove box and pulled out a zip lock bag containing a homemade sandwich. “You see, if you thought ahead, you would’ve actually been prepared for this,” he said smugly. “I’m surprised you weren’t, given who your father is.”
Spencer grinned at him. “Oh Lassy, you underestimate me!” From beneath his seat, he pulled out a lunchbox, reaching in to retrieve a large burrito cut into halves.
Lassiter frowned. “Where did that come from?”
It was Spencer’s turn to be smug. “Taco Bell,” he said with a chuckle, and he unwrapped the foil and took a bite.
The steam and mouthwatering scent drifted over to the detective.
“Hold on, how is that still hot? We’ve been here for three hours already!”
Spencer put his fingers to his temple. “Oh Lassy, the psychic powers never lie. They told me to bring this particular insulated lunchbox, with separate pockets for separate temperatures, keeps temp for up to: 16 hours!” He did a little fist pump at the end. “Be jealous,” he added for good measure, taking a large, satisfied bite out of the hot burrito.
Lassiter scoffed, turned to his sandwich, took a bite. He frowned.
He didn’t want to show it, but he was jealous. How come Spencer got a hot burrito and he didn’t? He should confiscate it for official police business.
Spencer unzipped another compartment and pulled out a tub of something else. He popped open the lid and ate the chunks of it with his bare hands.
Lassiter did a double take. “Is that pineapple?”
Shawn shrugged. “It’s in season! And my god, it goes amazing with a burrito.”
He continued to chow down, and Lassiter gave up trying to wrap his mind around it. He turned back to his sandwich.
He looked at it. It looked back at him. The cold, sad, sandwich he made with the leftovers from his fridge. He glanced back at Spencer’s burrito, its scent calling to him.
Spencer took notice. “Well well well, you really are jealous, aren’t you?”
“No I’m not,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
“Dude, you’re totally jealous! Man, I woulda brought you one if I knew you wanted it!”
Lassiter gave a skeptical look at this. “Really?”
Spencer shrugged. “Probably.”
They sat in silence, watching the house.
Lassiter gave a long inhale, held for a moment, then blurted, “Can we trade halves?”
Spencer laughed. “Oh my god. This is hilarious! What’s your sandwich even made of?”
Lassiter mumbled the answer.
“Huh?”
“I said , turkey, Swiss, and mayo.”
Spencer laughed, the tone saying No way in hell am I accepting that trade offer. “I’m good dude. I’m not gonna give up this burrito. Not for that.” He took another bite.
Carlton looked longingly at it, then looked away. Spencer lifted his eyebrows. “You’re welcome to the pineapple, though.”
Lassiter sighed and popped some of the cubes into his mouth. At least it was something fresh.
They watched the house in silence for a few minutes.
Spencer tilted his head suddenly, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Tell you what, Lassy,” he said, and Lassiter couldn’t help but be nervous for whatever he was about to say. “I’ll trade halves with you now, if you promise to get me some takeout sometime when we’re off the clock.”
Carlton’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. That’s not what he was expecting. “Off the clock?”
Spencer shrugged. “Yeah, you know. Hang out, grab lunch together. We never do that.”
Carlton was getting really suspicious now, eyeing Spencer. “Why would we? It’s not like we’re friends…”
Spencer seemed to pause. He lowered his burrito and looked at Lassiter with slight confusion. “Of course we’re friends.” But it sounded like a question.
They locked eyes for a few uncomfortable moments, then looked away for more uncomfortable moments. Shawn seemed to shrink into his space slightly.
Well, now Carlton was feeling guilty. They were friends? Is that what Shawn was like when he was being friendly?
He turned to make a snide joke, but Spencer was looking sullenly out the window.
Wow, this must have really gotten to him.
“I… guess we are?” Lassiter said hesitantly. Spencer turned towards him hopefully. “Uhh…”
He really wanted that burrito.
And also he felt guilty for making Shawn feel bad.
But mostly he wanted the burrito (or so he told himself).
“Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll take the offer. Trade halves, and we go out to lunch sometime… off the clock.”
Spencer grinned. “Deal.”
They traded sandwiches, clinked them together as a toast, and sank their teeth in. Lassiter savored the steaming beef and the meaty cheese and the crunchy peppers. So worth it.
Spencer seemed to momentarily regret his decision, but he shrugged and finished the sandwich. Perhaps he was thinking ahead to his future meal.
Lassiter hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.