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elles_lettersRating: PG-13
Summary: When a former partner of Henry's comes under investigation, Shawn will do anything to get assigned to the case. Turns out, he's not interested in helping an old family friend; he's out to protect himself.
Warning: Bit of graphic violence in this chapter. Mentions of child abuse and use of coarse language. And because it should be mentioned, this story obviously takes place before Season 5's Shules relationship.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | [bonus] | chapter nine | chapter ten
Chapter Five
"Come again?"
"I want you two to work for me at my cupcakery." Psych's newest potential client looked at Gus eagerly and handed him a cream-colored business card with the words Cups of Cake scribbled across the top.
"We're not bakers," Gus replied, giving the card a quick glance. "We're not even decent microwavers."
"No, but you're detectives," the short man exclaimed. He pulled a clipping of a local grocery ad out from his pants pocket and gave it to Gus. "That's my award winning red-velvet cupcake they're selling. Somehow they got my recipe and I want to know how. I've asked around. People say you'll take cases the police won't."
"I don't think so," Shawn said from his desk where he was flipping through a yellow legal pad of notes.
"I know it sounds crazy, but my recipe is unique." The baker opened a pale green pastry box he'd brought with him and pulled out two large cupcakes. "Here. I've baked you one of my cakes and bought one from Garbo's grocery. Taste for yourself."
He cut the desserts in half and placed a sample of each on a paper doily. Gus eagerly accepted the treats and took a large bite of the baker's cupcake.
"Mmmm…" he said with relish. "This is good stuff right here. Come try some, Shawn."
Shawn passed with a wave of his hand. "I'm sorry," he said, never looking up from his work, "but we're currently working on a case that requires all of our attention."
"What?" Gus mumbled, mouth full of cake.
"And as delicious as your offer sounds, we're going to have to pass."
"But...but you didn't even try the cake," the baker stammered.
"I'm sorry," Shawn repeated, turning on his laptop.
"Excuse me for a minute, sir." Gus turned and hurried to where Shawn was sitting. "Dude, what are you doing? You're turning down the opportunity to work at a cupcakery. You do realize that cupcakes are the current 'in' dessert, don't you?"
"We're still busy with the Stiles case. It would be irresponsible of us to take two cases at the same time."
"What!? We take multiple cases all the time."
"Yeah, but never on anything this big."
"Shawn, technically the only thing we're supposed to be doing with that case is keeping your dad from it. That's not a full-time job."
"And what better way to keep my father away from this case then by solving it." Shawn snatched the remaining bite of Gus' cupcake and popped it in his mouth. "That is good," he commented before turning back to his computer.
Gus snuck a look at the anxious baker and turned back to Shawn. "It's been a week, Shawn," he whispered lowly. "The police are handling everything and you've successfully been avoiding your father. We can take this. I need to take this."
"You need a loan, dude? I can spot you some money."
Gus scoffed. "No, I don't, Shawn, and no, you can't. But, since I started working with you I've seen more dead bodies than I've ever cared to, been shot at and held hostage in a bank. I've seen a lot of bad stuff, Shawn. This—child pornography and all related crimes—is something I'd rather leave to the professionals."
Shawn gave his friend a sympathetic smile before turning to their visitor. "Your kitchen manager," he said simply.
"Excuse me?"
"You've never given anyone the recipe, correct?"
"Correct," the baker said emphatically. "That recipe is a family secret. I'm the only one in the shop who even bakes it."
"Your kitchen manager orders all your ingredients and records how many of each type of cupcake you bake. It wouldn't be that difficult for him to watch you, keep an eye on how fast the ingredients were being used and figure out how much of what to mix with what. Keep an eye on him; he's your leak."
"You're sure?"
"As sure as I can be without viewing any evidence, visiting your shop or speaking to any of your employees."
The baker stood up and moved quickly to shake Shawn's hand. "Thank you, Mr. Spencer! Thank you." He grabbed his cake box and hurried toward the door. "I'll make you both a batch of cupcakes once I get to the bottom of this." He waved again before he rushed out of the office.
"I can't believe you just did that," Gus said soon after the baker bustled out the door.
"Did what?" Shawn asked, his attention focused back on his computer screen.
"Turned down a job. Worse, turned down a job that involved getting paid to hang out at a bakery and eat free food all day. What's going on, Shawn?"
"Dude, I told you, I'm just busy with the Stiles case."
"You're never busy with a case, Shawn." Gus moved to stand behind Shawn and looked over his work on the computer screen. "Why are you back at the sex offender registry?"
"There's hundreds of registered sex offenders in city and who knows how many who just haven't been caught yet. Those photos could be anywhere."
"Why do we care?"
"We're gonna have to go back and get some names from our dear friend Lenny."
"He's not our friend, Shawn," Gus said sternly. "He's not our friend and this is not our case."
"I wonder if I could get Lassie to bring him in," Shawn wondered aloud to himself.
"Probably not."
Shawn ignored him and continued scrolling through the database
"Why is this so important to you, Shawn?" Gus asked a moment later.
"It just is. I told you that."
"No, you never told me anything. Is it because he was your father's partner? Is this something you're trying to use to piss him off?"
"No."
"It can't be because you believe the guy's innocent."
"I don't—"
"Then what, Shawn? Why are we chatting up flashers, getting kicked or having perverts think we're perverts when the police can be doing all that?"
"I just need to figure out what he's doing with the photos. I—we have to be the ones to solve this. Understand?"
"No," Gus answered. "And I usually get all your weird obsessions. Is there something I'm missing here."
Shawn sighed, stood up from his desk and ripped some scribbled notes off his notepad. "I gotta go to the police station. Dude, you go hang out with Cake Boss and we'll meet up for jerk chicken later tonight."
"Shawn," Gus began.
"Bring me back a strawberry shortcake cupcake," Shawn shouted out before breezing out the door.
"Shawn—" Gus was cut off by the slam of the Psych office door.
"Go. Away. Spencer." Carlton gave the younger man a stern glare before turning back to his computer screen.
"Dude, you don't even know why I'm here."
"No, but I do see you're here alone, which means one of two things. Either A, you and Guster had a fight; or B, you're bored and are here to hit on O'Hara." Carlton stood up and grabbed Shawn by the shoulders. He turned him away from his desk and began leading him out the bullpen. "Now, I'm a very busy man, Spencer. So make up with Guster and stay out of my way."
"Gus and I didn't have a fight," Shawn said lightly before slipping out of Carlton's grasp. "We've just decided that we could increase our productivity 200 percent by splitting up our work load."
"Well, your help isn't needed here."
"But the spirits have given me a hunch."
"I thought I told you to stay out of this, Spencer."
"You told me, not the spirits."
"Do the 'spirits' know anything about the supposed break in at Stiles home last week?"
Shawn stiffened. "Break-in?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes," Carlton said eyeing Shawn. "Apparently, someone—or someones—broke into Det. Stiles house while he was out of town. Didn't take anything, but they apparently dug through all his belongings and ate some of his food. Stupidly opened a new jar of Miracle Whip as if no one would notice that. You and the 'spirits' wouldn't know anything about that would you?"
"Was there any evidence?"
"No," Carlton said after a beat.
Shawn closed his eyes and raised his hands to his temple. "Then, nope," he answered quickly, dropping his hand to his side. "But they do have a witness."
That piqued Carlton's interest. "Witness? A witness to what?"
"To Stiles' being a creepy creeper who gives even perverts the creeps."
"In other words, nothing." Carlton turned away from Shawn and sat back down at his desk.
"This isn't just a normal character witness," Shawn argued. "He knows what Stiles' has been up to since moving back to Santa Barbara."
"I know what Stiles has been up to since he moved back to Santa Barbara, Spencer. I've been tailing him since he moved back to town."
"So did you see him questioning perverts over off Highway 101 last week?"
Carlton leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I saw him speaking with people over there, yes. How do you know about that?"
Shawn just waved his hand near his temple. "You have to go interview those guys. They know the truth about Stiles. They have the evidence."
"Already did, Spencer. None of them talked. Besides, even if they did, convicted sex offenders aren't exactly the most credible witnesses."
"I can lead you one who'll talk. He's not even that big of a pervert if you keep him away from alcohol. He just needs some roughening up. Go show him your adorable growly face, flash your gun and talk like Clint Eastwood." Shawn reached out to pinch Carlton's cheeks, but was swatted away.
"Spencer..." Carlton began, his voice tired.
"And your shins. Make sure you guard your shins."
"Spencer," the detective began again slowly, "I've been trying to be more patient with you about this case considering your father was Stiles' partner and since you've been slightly less of a pain in my ass lately."
"That's ... unexpected."
"But you are two smart-ass comments away from getting locked up for interfering with a police investigation."
"Flirting with you is interfering with a police investigation?" Shawn asked seriously.
Carlton's face flushed bright red. "One smart-ass comment." He stood and began ushering Shawn away from his desk. "Now, for the last time, stay away from Stiles. This guy is bad news. Leave him alone." He gave Shawn a gentle shove before sitting back down at his desk.
Shawn snorted at Carlton's comment. "About 15 years too late for that, Lassie," he mumbled darkly.
"What was that?"
Shawn shook his head. "Nothing." He shuffled nervously, hesitant to leave. "Lassiter, one last question."
"Hmmm?"
"If you catch Stiles and find all the evidence of his ... work, what will happen to it?"
"To what? The photos and videos?"
Shawn just nodded.
"It will all be confiscated. Some of it may be presented at his trial and after that, all of it will be destroyed. You should know that."
"Of course I do," Shawn replied in what he hoped was his casual voice. "I guess I just want to know how long it'll be at the station before the trial."
The detective gave Shawn a curious look before answering. "That's not up to us. It's up to the D.A."
"Of course," Shawn answered.
"Spencer," Carlton waved Shawn closer and lowered his voice as the other man approached him. "If you know something about Stiles, if you have any sort information that can help us nab this guy, telling me would be the best thing you could do. You can remain completely anonymous, you know that, right?"
Shawn nodded. "How many of these types of cases have you worked?" he asked, switching the subject.
Carlton frowned. "Enough to know they rarely end well. We can catch the guys who do this and put them in jail, but we can't do much for the actual victims. Family members of murder victims can at least get closure that their loved ones aren't suffering anymore. The kids these guys target don't get that same guarantee."
"I've never heard you give much thought about the victims before, Lassie."
Carlton shrugged. "We've never had a serious conversation before."
Shawn gave that some thought. "Well, then, we should do it more often." Shawn gave a quick nod. "Later, Lassie," he said. He walked out of the bullpen before Carlton could respond.
Shawn needed to get Gus back quick. Perv Parkway was too hard to get to by public transportation.
It'd been a week since he and Gus had last spoke with him and Leonard Jones was still Shawn's best (and so far only) lead. If he couldn't get Carlton to come talk to him, Shawn would have to bring Leonard to Carlton. And he didn't care how much bribe money, shots of booze or threats of incarceration it would take, Shawn would get him to talk.
Shawn knocked on the door of the cranky ex-flasher, and as his fist hit the door, it opened slightly.
"That's weird," Shawn said aloud. Leonard had appeared to be way to antisocial to leave his front door unlocked, much less open.
He pushed the door open to look into the front foyer. "Mr. Jones!"' he shouted. The call echoed throughout the quiet house.
A voice in the back of Shawn's head told him something about the situation was off and it'd be a good idea to call the police or, at the very least, Gus. And as Shawn tended to do when that voice spoke up, he ignored it.
"Mr. Jones," he called out again, "It's the guy you kicked last week. Just in case you kick a lot of people, I was the good-looking one."
No answer.
Shawn crept into the empty living room and looked around for signs that the man was home. A set of car keys sat in a clean ashtray on the coffee table and a jacket was thrown across the arm of the couch. Somebody was home.
"Mr. Jones?" Shawn walked down the house's narrow hallway and stopped suddenly in front of the bathroom.
Sprawled across the green-tiled floor was the body of Leonard Jones.
And about 10 inches from that were his brains.
A/N: I apologize for taking so long to post this. I finished writing it a while back and was procrastinating in editing it. New semester, job, blah, blah, tired excuses. I made this chapter longer in repentance. Please don't give up on me! (Good news: Chapter 6 is mostly written, too. It needs a few more scenes and some editing. FEEL FREE TO GUILT ME INTO POSTING IT THIS WEEK!)
We're halfway through and things are moving along now. We've even finally! hit some Shassie. =D What's more, murder means Shassie has to come out to Perv Parkway. Shawn, Lassie and a dead body. Best date ever.
Please forgive any typos you see the first 24 hours. I wanted to get the chapter up, and I'm trying to seriously edit, but it's late, I'm sleepy and I'm trying to seriously edit. Not a good combo. And, cupcakes. I really want a cupcake. Carrot, please. I hate red-velvet.
Summary: When a former partner of Henry's comes under investigation, Shawn will do anything to get assigned to the case. Turns out, he's not interested in helping an old family friend; he's out to protect himself.
Warning: Bit of graphic violence in this chapter. Mentions of child abuse and use of coarse language. And because it should be mentioned, this story obviously takes place before Season 5's Shules relationship.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | [bonus] | chapter nine | chapter ten
Chapter Five
"Come again?"
"I want you two to work for me at my cupcakery." Psych's newest potential client looked at Gus eagerly and handed him a cream-colored business card with the words Cups of Cake scribbled across the top.
"We're not bakers," Gus replied, giving the card a quick glance. "We're not even decent microwavers."
"No, but you're detectives," the short man exclaimed. He pulled a clipping of a local grocery ad out from his pants pocket and gave it to Gus. "That's my award winning red-velvet cupcake they're selling. Somehow they got my recipe and I want to know how. I've asked around. People say you'll take cases the police won't."
"I don't think so," Shawn said from his desk where he was flipping through a yellow legal pad of notes.
"I know it sounds crazy, but my recipe is unique." The baker opened a pale green pastry box he'd brought with him and pulled out two large cupcakes. "Here. I've baked you one of my cakes and bought one from Garbo's grocery. Taste for yourself."
He cut the desserts in half and placed a sample of each on a paper doily. Gus eagerly accepted the treats and took a large bite of the baker's cupcake.
"Mmmm…" he said with relish. "This is good stuff right here. Come try some, Shawn."
Shawn passed with a wave of his hand. "I'm sorry," he said, never looking up from his work, "but we're currently working on a case that requires all of our attention."
"What?" Gus mumbled, mouth full of cake.
"And as delicious as your offer sounds, we're going to have to pass."
"But...but you didn't even try the cake," the baker stammered.
"I'm sorry," Shawn repeated, turning on his laptop.
"Excuse me for a minute, sir." Gus turned and hurried to where Shawn was sitting. "Dude, what are you doing? You're turning down the opportunity to work at a cupcakery. You do realize that cupcakes are the current 'in' dessert, don't you?"
"We're still busy with the Stiles case. It would be irresponsible of us to take two cases at the same time."
"What!? We take multiple cases all the time."
"Yeah, but never on anything this big."
"Shawn, technically the only thing we're supposed to be doing with that case is keeping your dad from it. That's not a full-time job."
"And what better way to keep my father away from this case then by solving it." Shawn snatched the remaining bite of Gus' cupcake and popped it in his mouth. "That is good," he commented before turning back to his computer.
Gus snuck a look at the anxious baker and turned back to Shawn. "It's been a week, Shawn," he whispered lowly. "The police are handling everything and you've successfully been avoiding your father. We can take this. I need to take this."
"You need a loan, dude? I can spot you some money."
Gus scoffed. "No, I don't, Shawn, and no, you can't. But, since I started working with you I've seen more dead bodies than I've ever cared to, been shot at and held hostage in a bank. I've seen a lot of bad stuff, Shawn. This—child pornography and all related crimes—is something I'd rather leave to the professionals."
Shawn gave his friend a sympathetic smile before turning to their visitor. "Your kitchen manager," he said simply.
"Excuse me?"
"You've never given anyone the recipe, correct?"
"Correct," the baker said emphatically. "That recipe is a family secret. I'm the only one in the shop who even bakes it."
"Your kitchen manager orders all your ingredients and records how many of each type of cupcake you bake. It wouldn't be that difficult for him to watch you, keep an eye on how fast the ingredients were being used and figure out how much of what to mix with what. Keep an eye on him; he's your leak."
"You're sure?"
"As sure as I can be without viewing any evidence, visiting your shop or speaking to any of your employees."
The baker stood up and moved quickly to shake Shawn's hand. "Thank you, Mr. Spencer! Thank you." He grabbed his cake box and hurried toward the door. "I'll make you both a batch of cupcakes once I get to the bottom of this." He waved again before he rushed out of the office.
"I can't believe you just did that," Gus said soon after the baker bustled out the door.
"Did what?" Shawn asked, his attention focused back on his computer screen.
"Turned down a job. Worse, turned down a job that involved getting paid to hang out at a bakery and eat free food all day. What's going on, Shawn?"
"Dude, I told you, I'm just busy with the Stiles case."
"You're never busy with a case, Shawn." Gus moved to stand behind Shawn and looked over his work on the computer screen. "Why are you back at the sex offender registry?"
"There's hundreds of registered sex offenders in city and who knows how many who just haven't been caught yet. Those photos could be anywhere."
"Why do we care?"
"We're gonna have to go back and get some names from our dear friend Lenny."
"He's not our friend, Shawn," Gus said sternly. "He's not our friend and this is not our case."
"I wonder if I could get Lassie to bring him in," Shawn wondered aloud to himself.
"Probably not."
Shawn ignored him and continued scrolling through the database
"Why is this so important to you, Shawn?" Gus asked a moment later.
"It just is. I told you that."
"No, you never told me anything. Is it because he was your father's partner? Is this something you're trying to use to piss him off?"
"No."
"It can't be because you believe the guy's innocent."
"I don't—"
"Then what, Shawn? Why are we chatting up flashers, getting kicked or having perverts think we're perverts when the police can be doing all that?"
"I just need to figure out what he's doing with the photos. I—we have to be the ones to solve this. Understand?"
"No," Gus answered. "And I usually get all your weird obsessions. Is there something I'm missing here."
Shawn sighed, stood up from his desk and ripped some scribbled notes off his notepad. "I gotta go to the police station. Dude, you go hang out with Cake Boss and we'll meet up for jerk chicken later tonight."
"Shawn," Gus began.
"Bring me back a strawberry shortcake cupcake," Shawn shouted out before breezing out the door.
"Shawn—" Gus was cut off by the slam of the Psych office door.
"Go. Away. Spencer." Carlton gave the younger man a stern glare before turning back to his computer screen.
"Dude, you don't even know why I'm here."
"No, but I do see you're here alone, which means one of two things. Either A, you and Guster had a fight; or B, you're bored and are here to hit on O'Hara." Carlton stood up and grabbed Shawn by the shoulders. He turned him away from his desk and began leading him out the bullpen. "Now, I'm a very busy man, Spencer. So make up with Guster and stay out of my way."
"Gus and I didn't have a fight," Shawn said lightly before slipping out of Carlton's grasp. "We've just decided that we could increase our productivity 200 percent by splitting up our work load."
"Well, your help isn't needed here."
"But the spirits have given me a hunch."
"I thought I told you to stay out of this, Spencer."
"You told me, not the spirits."
"Do the 'spirits' know anything about the supposed break in at Stiles home last week?"
Shawn stiffened. "Break-in?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes," Carlton said eyeing Shawn. "Apparently, someone—or someones—broke into Det. Stiles house while he was out of town. Didn't take anything, but they apparently dug through all his belongings and ate some of his food. Stupidly opened a new jar of Miracle Whip as if no one would notice that. You and the 'spirits' wouldn't know anything about that would you?"
"Was there any evidence?"
"No," Carlton said after a beat.
Shawn closed his eyes and raised his hands to his temple. "Then, nope," he answered quickly, dropping his hand to his side. "But they do have a witness."
That piqued Carlton's interest. "Witness? A witness to what?"
"To Stiles' being a creepy creeper who gives even perverts the creeps."
"In other words, nothing." Carlton turned away from Shawn and sat back down at his desk.
"This isn't just a normal character witness," Shawn argued. "He knows what Stiles' has been up to since moving back to Santa Barbara."
"I know what Stiles has been up to since he moved back to Santa Barbara, Spencer. I've been tailing him since he moved back to town."
"So did you see him questioning perverts over off Highway 101 last week?"
Carlton leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I saw him speaking with people over there, yes. How do you know about that?"
Shawn just waved his hand near his temple. "You have to go interview those guys. They know the truth about Stiles. They have the evidence."
"Already did, Spencer. None of them talked. Besides, even if they did, convicted sex offenders aren't exactly the most credible witnesses."
"I can lead you one who'll talk. He's not even that big of a pervert if you keep him away from alcohol. He just needs some roughening up. Go show him your adorable growly face, flash your gun and talk like Clint Eastwood." Shawn reached out to pinch Carlton's cheeks, but was swatted away.
"Spencer..." Carlton began, his voice tired.
"And your shins. Make sure you guard your shins."
"Spencer," the detective began again slowly, "I've been trying to be more patient with you about this case considering your father was Stiles' partner and since you've been slightly less of a pain in my ass lately."
"That's ... unexpected."
"But you are two smart-ass comments away from getting locked up for interfering with a police investigation."
"Flirting with you is interfering with a police investigation?" Shawn asked seriously.
Carlton's face flushed bright red. "One smart-ass comment." He stood and began ushering Shawn away from his desk. "Now, for the last time, stay away from Stiles. This guy is bad news. Leave him alone." He gave Shawn a gentle shove before sitting back down at his desk.
Shawn snorted at Carlton's comment. "About 15 years too late for that, Lassie," he mumbled darkly.
"What was that?"
Shawn shook his head. "Nothing." He shuffled nervously, hesitant to leave. "Lassiter, one last question."
"Hmmm?"
"If you catch Stiles and find all the evidence of his ... work, what will happen to it?"
"To what? The photos and videos?"
Shawn just nodded.
"It will all be confiscated. Some of it may be presented at his trial and after that, all of it will be destroyed. You should know that."
"Of course I do," Shawn replied in what he hoped was his casual voice. "I guess I just want to know how long it'll be at the station before the trial."
The detective gave Shawn a curious look before answering. "That's not up to us. It's up to the D.A."
"Of course," Shawn answered.
"Spencer," Carlton waved Shawn closer and lowered his voice as the other man approached him. "If you know something about Stiles, if you have any sort information that can help us nab this guy, telling me would be the best thing you could do. You can remain completely anonymous, you know that, right?"
Shawn nodded. "How many of these types of cases have you worked?" he asked, switching the subject.
Carlton frowned. "Enough to know they rarely end well. We can catch the guys who do this and put them in jail, but we can't do much for the actual victims. Family members of murder victims can at least get closure that their loved ones aren't suffering anymore. The kids these guys target don't get that same guarantee."
"I've never heard you give much thought about the victims before, Lassie."
Carlton shrugged. "We've never had a serious conversation before."
Shawn gave that some thought. "Well, then, we should do it more often." Shawn gave a quick nod. "Later, Lassie," he said. He walked out of the bullpen before Carlton could respond.
Shawn needed to get Gus back quick. Perv Parkway was too hard to get to by public transportation.
It'd been a week since he and Gus had last spoke with him and Leonard Jones was still Shawn's best (and so far only) lead. If he couldn't get Carlton to come talk to him, Shawn would have to bring Leonard to Carlton. And he didn't care how much bribe money, shots of booze or threats of incarceration it would take, Shawn would get him to talk.
Shawn knocked on the door of the cranky ex-flasher, and as his fist hit the door, it opened slightly.
"That's weird," Shawn said aloud. Leonard had appeared to be way to antisocial to leave his front door unlocked, much less open.
He pushed the door open to look into the front foyer. "Mr. Jones!"' he shouted. The call echoed throughout the quiet house.
A voice in the back of Shawn's head told him something about the situation was off and it'd be a good idea to call the police or, at the very least, Gus. And as Shawn tended to do when that voice spoke up, he ignored it.
"Mr. Jones," he called out again, "It's the guy you kicked last week. Just in case you kick a lot of people, I was the good-looking one."
No answer.
Shawn crept into the empty living room and looked around for signs that the man was home. A set of car keys sat in a clean ashtray on the coffee table and a jacket was thrown across the arm of the couch. Somebody was home.
"Mr. Jones?" Shawn walked down the house's narrow hallway and stopped suddenly in front of the bathroom.
Sprawled across the green-tiled floor was the body of Leonard Jones.
And about 10 inches from that were his brains.
A/N: I apologize for taking so long to post this. I finished writing it a while back and was procrastinating in editing it. New semester, job, blah, blah, tired excuses. I made this chapter longer in repentance. Please don't give up on me! (Good news: Chapter 6 is mostly written, too. It needs a few more scenes and some editing. FEEL FREE TO GUILT ME INTO POSTING IT THIS WEEK!)
We're halfway through and things are moving along now. We've even finally! hit some Shassie. =D What's more, murder means Shassie has to come out to Perv Parkway. Shawn, Lassie and a dead body. Best date ever.
Please forgive any typos you see the first 24 hours. I wanted to get the chapter up, and I'm trying to seriously edit, but it's late, I'm sleepy and I'm trying to seriously edit. Not a good combo. And, cupcakes. I really want a cupcake. Carrot, please. I hate red-velvet.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 06:27 am (UTC)How do I go about guilting you into Chapter 6 this week, without seeming entitled? Would it go something like, "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease write more because this is awesome! PLEASE!" or did you envision something more passive-aggressive and/or handwring-y?
no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 03:35 am (UTC)So you'll have to settle for "Please." PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE! And a Spock icon.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 03:49 pm (UTC)Also, I'll match your Spock icon with a Spock icon. (That sweater was darling. I don't know if even Leonard Nimoy could have pulled it off that well.)
no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 03:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 03:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 03:53 pm (UTC)I see no Spock. Just people hugging. Which is... Yes. This is an acceptable substitute.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 04:21 pm (UTC)(I've found that boys hugging are always acceptable substitutes. Even when you don't mean for them to be.)
no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 07:55 pm (UTC)Pretty much, yes!
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Date: 2012-02-07 09:50 pm (UTC)Also, I hope you don't mind, but I'm adding you as a friend ^___^
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Date: 2012-02-08 03:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 01:14 am (UTC)And now Shawn's lead is dead, which is bad in that he can't tell them anything else, but good inasmuchas Lassie will now likely attend the scene and maybe he and Shawn will figure a few more things out and get closer to pinning it all on Stiles. Not to mention that them being in the same room makes the Shassie that bit easier ;).
Laura.
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Date: 2012-02-08 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 12:52 am (UTC)Also, I want to see where the Shawn/Carlton goes in this, because you've built up a beautiful story with Shassie sprinkles.
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Date: 2012-02-09 02:48 am (UTC)I'm sorry about the graphic bit. I guess I'm just a bit desensitized to violence at this point. I'm thinking I'll go back and add a warning.
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Date: 2012-02-11 06:01 pm (UTC)Can't wait for more :)
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Date: 2012-03-05 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-08 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-14 01:22 am (UTC)