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“Here,” Lassiter shoved the smoothie cup into Shawn's hands as he entered the crime scene, barking at the closest officer for a recap of what they knew so far about the case.
After purposefully avoiding Spencer for a full ten minutes, the PI slunk up behind him, watching as Lassiter examined the killer's point of entry, which was quite literally a broken doorway.
"Lassie~” Shawn drew out the last syllable in a way that would have annoyed Lassiter more, had he been in a bad mood. “Did you get this for me?" Shawn inquired curiously from behind him, shaking the cup in the detective's peripheral vision since Lassiter seemed determined to avoid looking in his direction.
"Don't get a big head, Spencer," Lassiter groused, studying the crack in the door hinge that extended along the threshold. "They gave me the wrong one, and O'Hara didn't want a smoothie."
"Ri~ght, Lassie-kins. Just happened to be my favorite kind, then?" Shawn grinned as he sipped his drink, and eyed the deep red flush that the detective could feel crawling up the back his neck.
Lassiter hunched his shoulders a bit in an attempt to cover it with his collar, earning himself a chuckle from the PI.
"Well, thanks for the drink, Carly," Shawn drawled and bent down to plant a quick peck on the detective's cheek before fleeing. He immediately started to ramble on about a vision he was getting over a stack of mail that was left on the counter.
Lassiter struggled to reign in the traitorous heat creeping through his body, jaw clenched so hard his teeth were practically creaking in protest. He cursed inwardly at his Irish heritage, Shawn’s flippant flirting, pineapple smoothies... Anything that he could blame for the deep pink color subsuming the normal pale white of his face. He peeked over his shoulder at the "psychic"-who was mid-rant about some kind of corn dog and how it related to AC/DC's 1988 world tour, when the man caught sight of Lassiter looking and, the nerve of him, actually winked .
Scowling, the detective rolled his eyes and returned to examine the rest of the door frame, in denial that the creeping blush of color wasn’t currently doing its best to turn his ears a bright, angry red.
After a minute of the continuous burn, he swore under his breath, but couldn't resist the infectious tug of amusement at the corners of his mouth.
Another peek, another wink.
The twinkle in Shawn's eyes when he’d shot him that wink told Lassiter that he was probably never going to live this whole smoothie fiasco down.
As the detective considered the rest of the broken door frame, he couldn’t decide whether he actually believed that was a bad thing.