Chapter Text
Lassiter’s phone rang. He ignored it. It was nighttime. He was off duty.
It rang again. Then again. He finally sat up, swiped it off the bedside table, snapped it open, “what?!”
“Lassie, I think Shawn needs help,” said Guster, quickly, before Lassiter could yell any more.
“Why?”
“He hasn’t been doing so hot. He texted me saying he was feeling crappy enough he was worried, but late in the evening. I had already gone to bed. I just saw it when I got up for a midnight snack. I couldn’t get Juliet to pick up, and Henry isn’t good at this. I’m worried.”
Lassiter gritted his teeth, “struggling how?”
There was a brief silence, then Guster asked, “he hasn’t told you?”
“I haven’t seen him in over a month.”
Guster groaned, “look, can you just check on him?”
Lassiter stared at his alarm clock, informing him that it was in fact almost one in the morning, “he’s probably asleep.”
“Shawn wouldn’t say he needed help unless he was really struggling. Or had a stubbed toe, but this isn’t that.”
Lassiter hated that Gus had a point. And if it had been hours, things could also have gotten worse, “fine.”
Twenty minutes later, Lassiter let himself into Shawn’s ‘apartment’ aka the upstairs of a deli Shawn had helped with something last year.
There was no light, he didn’t initially see a switch, so he pulled a flashlight out of his bag and shone it around. It was a little spooky. Then the light found Shawn.
Shawn was curled up on the floor with his back to the outside of the bathroom door. He was breathing unsteadily and he had both hands tight to the right side of his neck.
“Spencer?”
“...Lassie?”
“Yeah. What's wrong with you?”
“Gus told you to come here,” stated Shawn, not needing to ask.
“Yes, and I listened. That's what's wrong with me, now what's wrong with you?” asked Lassiter, finally finding a light switch and turning it on so he could see.
“Sore.”
“You hurt your neck?”
“No.”
“You're usually a better liar.”
“It's not hurt. It just does hurt.”
“Then what's wrong with it?”
“Defective.”
“Spencer…”
“Just tight,” said Shawn with sweat-soaked hair, panting in pain.
“Right,” said Lassiter, “Guster said you were worried it was getting bad.”
Shawn flashed a big smile at Lassiter, “oh, that. No, I was just being dramatic. Can't let him forget me while he's out of town.”
“I’m not leaving, you may as well be straight with me.”
“Can I be bi with you?”
“If it'll get you to answer the question.”
Shawn laughed, but immediately after his knees curled further up towards his chest.
Lassiter's phone rang, it was Gus.
“Yeah, Guster. I'm here, he's alive.”
Gus started asking worried questions so Lassiter just put him on speaker.
“Shawn, are you okay? Did you manage to eat something?”
Shawn chuckled lightly, “nothing felt like it was going to sit too well. But I'm okay, Gus. Had one of those smoothies.”
“You're supposed to be having two of those every day. Plus actual food, Shawn.”
“They taste like someone milked a blackboard eraser.”
“I greased their rep here, I got you test flavors. So drink those ones and you can try these when I get back.”
Shawn sighed dramatically in assent, but in doing so caused himself a burst of pain that made him duck his head and reach up, holding onto the bathroom door handle with a white knuckled hand.
“Shawn?” asked Gus urgently.
“‘m okay,” gasped Shawn, tilting his head back instead to press it hard against the door.
“He's definitely not okay,” interrupted Lassiter.
“Tattle–” Shawn tried to start whining but pain was building in his body and he lost breath for his complaint.
“He's…” Lassiter didn't like any of the available options for describing Shawn's state–in agony?–and finally settled on, “fucked up.”
“Shawn, did you take meds?”
“They're in…bedroom,” grunted Shawn.
“Where are you, then?” asked Gus.
“He's on the floor outside the bathroom.”
“Shawn, how long have you been there?” Asked Gus, “how long has it been since meds? Why didn't you call me instead of text–I shouldn't have gone to this. I'll just head back a day early.”
“Gus, no!” protested Shawn, even though being that loud made him go pale and a little woozy. Lassiter knelt next to him, put a hand on the shoulder Shawn wasn't holding just to steady him and not because tears were starting in his eyes as he fought to talk calmly to Gus, “you’re bored and you're miserable. Stay.”
Shawn had to close his eyes, and take a few shaky breaths to stave off passing out.
“I'll stay with him,” said Lassiter without having thought this through at all, just wanting Shawn to stop pushing.
“See?” murmured Shawn, “all good.”
“Lassie, are you sure? I really can leave–”
“It's fine,” said Lassiter, and closed his phone with a snap.
Shawn looked some mix of grateful and queasy.
“If I pick you up are you gonna scream or something?”
“Can you...meds first?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Lassiter got up and dug in Shawn's room, getting pill bottles and a cup of water, coming back to sit on the floor next to Shawn.
It took Shawn a while to manage to take them. It took much longer for them to kick in. Shawn gazed at Lassiter in distant curiosity while he rode out spasms so strong he had to keep his fist between his jaw and his clavicle to keep his ear from being crunched into the top of his shoulder.
“You’re being nice.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“Sorry,” said Shawn, and seemed to actually mean it.
“Yeah, well…try and stop it, then.”
Shawn gave him a wobbly grin.
Lassiter sighed. He moved to stand against the wall beside the door, then slid down to sit beside Shawn.
“Thanks for staying,” said Shawn, words sounding a little funny with his jaw clenched the way it was.
“Is that going to stop?”
Shawn made an ‘I don’t know’ sound.
Lassiter huffed an annoyed sigh. He sat forward and stretched, then leaned back to settle in. He let his arm fall around Shawn's shoulders. Shawn pressed up against him needily. Lassiter didn't pull away.
Maybe half an hour later, Shawn signaled to Lassiter it was okay to move. Lassiter dragged him up. Shawn couldn’t stay on his feet, so Lassiter just hauled Shawn over his shoulder and carried him to the bed. He was as gentle as he could be without that much control of Shawn’s descent onto the mattress.
Shawn grunted as he thumped into the mattress, but he didn’t get all twisted up in pain again. He just dragged a pillow under his head and closed his eyes.
“Thanks, Lassie,” he said softly.
“What about that drink Guster was talking about?
“I’m okay.”
“Spencer, if you want not to be on the floor, you probably do have to put something in your body.”
Shawn sighed, but he was too sleepy now he was in bed to argue, “fine.”
Lassiter went and looked around, finding a box made of thick cardboard with a few coated paper cartons missing. He pulled another one out and went back to the bedroom.
Shawn was drifting, dozing. Lassiter sat down on the bed next to him and shoved the carton at Shawn’s chest.
Shawn opened his eyes, grumbled, but took the carton. He tried to open it, the relatively small cap seeming difficult to grip for him. He got it, but he had to shake out his hand and open and close his fingers a few times afterwards. Lassiter scowled, guessing that this was also part of why Shawn hadn’t drunk more of these.
“Should I open some of those and put them in the fridge?”
Shawn gave Lassiter a groggy, glowing grin, “yeah, thanks.” Lassiter glared at Shawn and went to the kitchen to do as he had offered. And to cool off a little bit while Shawn struggled with drinking eight ounces of a smoothie thing.
He texted Gus, “what the hell is wrong with him? He couldn’t even stand.”
Gus did not respond. Lassiter glared at the phone, even as he knew Gus was just asleep and unaware of the message.
Lassiter paced in anger and worry and finally stalked back into the bedroom to demand Shawn explain.
Shawn was fast asleep. He had a heating pad over his neck, there were piles of medication bottles beside his bed. He looked haggard and dehydrated. His pillow was wet near his face like he had cried while Lassiter was out of the room.
Lassiter stared at the younger man, stewing as Shawn’s breath came shallowly and stressed even in sleep.
Fuck.