elles_letters | Fic: "What Shawn Knows," Psych (Reply)

Title: What Shawn Knows
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Shawn knows he likes Carlton. But like, he doesn't know why he likes him, ya know?
Warning: Because my attempt at crack! (a.k.a. "Finders Keepers") creeped out so many, I want to apologize with shameless fluff. Please love me again? Un-betaed, but I'm an editor so it's not too full of grammar fail.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.

Shawn isn't exactly sure what it is about Carlton Lassiter that makes him so appealing.

He knows he loves the look of frustration the man gets whenever he starts getting a "vision." The detective's forehead wrinkles, his lips pull into a thin line and his eyes express an emotion that can only be described as a cross between speechless embarrassment and blinding homicidal rage. Shawn knows the other man is dangerous; he's a cop, trained in the art of multiple weaponry and hand-to-hand combat tactics. And while Shawn should be terrified of this, instead he finds himself doing anything he can—dancing, touching, whispering, groping—to fluster the detective.

He knows he loves the smug look of satisfaction the man gets whenever he's proven right about, well, anything. The detective's blue eyes dazzle with a light that seems to come from no where and his mouth, usually turned down in a grumpy scowl, twists into a cocky smile that Shawn finds quite pleasant to look at. Shawn knows that, more often than not, the detective's self-righteousness is aimed at his direction. That it's usually Shawn's mistakes that give the detective the greatest amount of glee. But instead of being insulted by this, Shawn finds himself letting little things slip—an overlooked clue, a forgotten witness—just to see the look of happiness cross the detective's face.

He knows he loves the look of vulnerability that flashes through the man's eyes whenever someone (usually the Chief) says something particularly biting about the detective's overall awkwardness. His body stiffens and his face tightens in what Shawn can only imagine is a valiant effort to fight off a wounded frown. Shawn knows that the words effect the man a lot more than his stoic body language will let on. His enjoyment isn't malicious. It's not the look of hurt, but rather the opportunity to comfort—cheeky remarks, Chinese food, inappropriate compliments—that keeps drawing Shawn in.

He knows he loves the look of concentration the man wears whenever he's taking down a suspect. His aura practically throbs with confidence and his eyes become dark and piercing. One might even say predatory. Shawn knows that the hot, heavy feeling that grips his chest and radiates throughout his entire body whenever he sees those eyes means that he is undeniably and irrevocably gay. However, the realization doesn't upset Shawn. Rather, he finds that the perks of being gay for Carlton Lassiter—a new love of tight, button down shirts, daydreams of rough interrogation sex, a sudden appreciation for gun-related porn—far outweigh the drawbacks.

"Why?" the detective whispers when Shawn finally lets him up for air after cornering him in an empty interrogation room and pressing their lips together. Instead of answering right away, Shawn continues to press small kisses along his lips, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

Carlton, oblivious to Shawn's subtle hints to just shut the fuck up and kiss him!, continues to babble, his voice husky. "I thought...I thought you liked O'Hara. She's pretty and gorgeous and—" he shudders as Shawn switches from kissing his neck to sucking on it. "She's...more your type. Why me? Why me? Why me?" The "why me's" become more desperate sounding as Shawn works his way further down the other man's chest.

"Shawn," the detective practically whimpers as he pulls the other man's face up to his, "why? Why me?"

Shawn looks at the man he's spent the last four years working beside, standing behind and studying from afar. His face is cautious and practically screaming don't hurt me! The look is pathetic and heart-breaking and endearing all at the same time, and Shawn feels his heart clench. Shawn knows all the things he loves about the other man—his strengths, his weakness, his hurts, his comforts. He knows he loves all these things, even if there are a thousand reasons for why he shouldn't. He knows he wants more, even if he can't begin to place why.

So, when the detective looks at him, his eyes vulnerable and unsure, and wants to know why, all Shawn can do is mumble "shut up," before pressing against the other man and claiming his lips.

A/N: Because we all need some Shassie fluff and I love LoveShy!Carlton. I have a well-deserved week of vacation starting today, which means I get to finally catch up on my fic writing. It'll be just like in school when I crammed all my exam studying and paper writing in during Thanksgiving break. Only instead of the foreign policy of Mexico, it's slash fanfic. =D

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