Fic: "Soothe," Psych
Dec. 27th, 2010 02:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elles_lettersRating: PG-13
Summary: Shawn's used to being an embarrassment. He's not used to being ashamed. Sequel to "Discomfort," but can stand on its own.
Warning: Language. Unbetaed, but carefully edited.
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 Spencer wasn't surprised that three days before the celebration of his sixth month anniversary with Carlton Lassiter, the detective had convinced him of how much more intimate (read: less public) it would be to celebrate with dinner at home.
"Just you and me," Carlton's voiced hummed in his ear. "Doesn't that sound more fun than sitting in some stuffy restaurant with a bunch of strangers?"
Shawn had agreed that it did sound more fun, but only because he tended to be much more agreeable when Carlton had his hands in his pants.
Now, sitting in the harsh light of the police station's fluorescents, pants completely devoid of anyone's hands, Shawn was regretting the sway lust held over his decision making abilities.
Dinner at home meant dinner alone. No nosy waiter. No staring restaurant patrons. No judgments. No embarrassment. It was that last item that hurt the worst.
Shawn had always wondered just how upset he was allowed to be about Carlton's inhibitions. The thing was, Shawn knew the other man was repressed from the very beginning of this whole mess. Hell, that had been what drew him in. It had been a game, of sorts. One of the most challenging relationships he'd ever entered.
It had been fun to see just how close Carlton would let him stand next to him before he began fidgeting like child with poor bladder control. It was even more fun to see how red the other man got whenever Shawn said the words "suck," "tight" or "deep." Shawn could even admit that it had been fun to see how fast the man could slap his hands away when they starting drifting too low. And he could tolerate the gruff reproaches, the physical distance whenever Carlton recovered from his embarrassment, and the annoying excuses Carlton gave anyone whenever they were asked how they knew each other and why they were dining together—just the two of them—on a Saturday night. (Shawn was usually demoted to an old friend who'd come in from out of town. An old friend too cheap to spring for a hotel and whom Carlton was more than willing to show around town and offer a place to sleep.)
But somewhere along the line, things began to get complicated. Things like the way Carlton murmured his name right before he fell asleep. Things like the smile he wore whenever Shawn called him some ridiculous name like "Lassie-kins" or "Lass-afras" or "Lasper the Lanky Ghost." Things like the new habit Carlton had picked up of always touching Shawn—his hair, his face, his hands—whenever they were alone.
He started noticing things about himself, too. Like how well his head fit in the crook of Carlton's shoulder as they slept. And how warm Carlton's skin felt right out of the shower. And the way his own pulse sped up whenever he so much as thought of the other man.
And the way it hurt when Carlton pushed him away.
"Fuck," Shawn swore to himself. Those things were not part of the challenge. And now, here Shawn was. Not quite in love, but not quite able to push away a man who treated him like some sort of shameful secret.
Shawn was used to embarrassing people; however, most of the time it was done for his own enjoyment. Crashing Gus' dates by pretending to be his Sexaholics Anonymous sponsor. Whispering to his father's poker buddies that Henry's foul mood was brought on by a painful anal abscess. Being an embarrassment was nothing new to Shawn; he'd just never thought he'd be considered embarrassing simply for loving someone.
"Dude, I think I'm gonna have to break up with Lassie." Shawn sat at his desk, chair leaned back, with his eyes focused on the ceiling.
"That's great. Are we out of baked Cheetos?" Gus darted around the cluttered office, digging through drawers and shuffling items on shelves.
Shawn frowned and brought his gaze down to stare at his best friend. "Thanks for the support."
Gus ceased his puttering to turn and look at Shawn. "What?" he asked, confused. "You're a grown man, Shawn. You don't need to run your relationship decisions by me. Trust me; I don't want to know."
Shawn scoffed because most of the time that was exactly what Gus wanted, but Shawn supposed that must only be the case when he was in relationships with women. He sighed.
"I don't want your blessing," he said. "I want you to talk me into it."
Gus dug an open bag of his long searched for cheesy baked snack out from a file cabinet and returned to his desk chair. "He's cheap. He's too tall. He sleeps with a gun. He showers with a gun. What other reasons do you need?"
Shawn smirked and leaned back to resume staring at the ceiling. "Those aren't reasons to end a relationship."
"You once ended things with a girl because you said she smelled like Elmer's glue."
"That was different." Shawn snapped his head toward Gus. "God only knows what she was doing with that glue."
"She was an elementary school art teacher, Shawn."
"Then should have smelled like Mr. Sketch markers or children or something," Shawn finished lamely. Gus just glared at him. "It was gross. It wouldn't have worked out."
"Hmph," Gus mumbled, mouth full of Cheetos. "So, what's wrong with Lassie?" Gus quickly raised a hand as he hurried to swallow. "That I want to hear," he clarified once his mouth was empty.
"Nothing's wrong. In fact, things are great. Between the two of us."
"Then what's the problem?"
Shawn remained quiet.
"Shawn?"
"Just between the two of us," Shawn mumbled disgustedly to himself. Shawn lifted his face back up to the ceiling. "Dude, have you ever been ashamed by me?"
"Ashamed?"
"Have I ever caused you shame?" Shawn asked again. "I mean, I know I've embarrassed you plenty of times. I do quite enjoy it, actually; one of my life's joys outside of the free food you provide."
Gus rolled his eyes.
"But, have you ever...been ashamed of me. By me. Not because I told your senior prom date you needed to wear adult diapers because your unnaturally short intestines prevented proper absorption of fluids."
"You do realize that's one of the many reasons I no longer introduce you to anybody I'm interested in," Gus replied curtly.
"Just answer the question," Shawn said.
Gus studied Shawn's profile, taking in his clenched hands and absolute refusal to make eye contact. One of the reasons Gus was Shawn's best friend was because the man knew him well enough to see through his flakey exterior and read his true intentions. It'd taken almost 18 years to fully gain that knowledge, but it was key in maintaining any sort of friendship with the man.
"You're a decent guy, Shawn," Gus said after a few moments of silence. "If Lassiter is ashamed of that, than he's the one with the problem. Not you."
"Sometimes…it's hard to tell the difference."
Gus sighed at Shawn's melodramatics and bounced a Cheeto off his head. "You have a lot of problems, Shawn. But loving Lassiter isn't one of them. Not unless he makes it."
Shawn grinned sadly at the ceiling.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the sound of Gus chewing marking the passing seconds. "For what it's worth," Gus began, "Lassiter looks a lot less constipated when you're around. That has to mean something."
"Thanks, buddy."
Carlton, it turned out, knew how to throw a pretty decent anniversary dinner. Shawn hadn't been expecting to be greeted by a three-piece suit wearing detective and a four-course meal. The apartment was dark, the only light coming from six candles placed on the elegantly decorated table. Shawn inhaled, the tantalizing smell of lamb and seasoned potatoes luring him into the apartment. He gave a small tug at Carlton's suit sleeve.
"I thought we'd decided to ditch dressing up," Shawn asked him. He'd come over in only dark denim jeans and a button-down shirt.
Carlton smiled self-consciously and closed the front door. He leaned in and gave Shawn a chaste kiss. "I was going for a certain mood."
Shawn gave a small laugh. "Suits and kisses...nothing the patrons at La Lune couldn't have handled."
Carlton's smiled wavered, but didn't fall. "Nothing wrong with wanting you all to myself," he said softly before pulling Shawn to the dining room table. "I hope you're hungry. Lamb and potatoes for the main course and a German chocolate cake for dessert."
"You cooked?" Shawn asked with some surprise.
"I called out," Carlton replied sheepishly. "I didn't really know what to make for you so, … I just figured…," he sighed. "I'm not so good at these things, remember."
Shawn listened as the detective rambled nervously, feeling his own already agitated nerves rankle in response.
"Lassie, I can't really—"
Carlton cut him off before he could finish. "Come. Sit. There's wine." Carlton guided Shawn to the seat. The table was beautifully set with gold-gilded china that Shawn had never seen before and was certain had been bought that day. In front of him, placed on top of his dinner plate, were two cream-colored boxes tied with a chocolate-colored ribbon. The smaller of the boxes, about the size of his palm, sat on top of a larger box, which was roughly the size of the dinner plate.
"Gifts?" Shawn asked surprised. He couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face. "You bought me stuff?"
"Yours is in the larger box; the small box is for Guster."
Shawn looked up, confused. "You bought my friend a gift for our anniversary?"
"You did mention matching Psych cuff links. I figured better safe than sorry."
Shawn gave a snort of amusement. "Good move. I'm sure Gus'll love 'em." He placed the small box aside and looked down at the box on his dinner plate. He felt a twinge of guilt as the expensive-looking box sat in front of him.
"I didn't get you anything," he said slowly.
Carlton shrugged. "I don't mind. That wasn't part of the deal, if I recall."
Shawn shook his head at the box and began to rise from his chair. "Look, Carlton. I can't stay for too long. I just—"
"Open it," Carlton urged quietly, pushing him back into the chair. "Before you say anything. Please."
Shawn sighed and lifted the lid off the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, was a silver picture frame. The frame was simple: brushed metal with a beveled edge. Inside the frame was a picture of Shawn.
"A picture. A picture of myself. Why, Lassie I don't know what to say," Shawn said with irritation in his voice.
"The picture isn't for you."
"Even better," Shawn answered dryly.
"It's for me."
Shawn snorted, studying the frame. "You're horrible at this, you know."
Carlton fidgeted uncomfortably. "The frame and the photo of you is for me to put on my desk."
Shawn looked up. "What?"
"My gift to you. I want a picture of you on my desk. My desk at work."
Shawn stiffened, the weight of the silver frame weighing heavily in his hands. The frame was for Carlton's desk. His work desk. His public work desk that, unlike many other desks at the station, was devoid of many personal knick-knacks. No favorite coffee-stained mug. No news clippings from one of his many high-profile busts. No photographs. Many of the other officers had photographs on their desk. Pictures of smiling wives and bald-headed babies. Pictures of loved ones.
Shawn took a deep breath in. "Carlton, that's...that's a lot. Especially from you."
"No, it's not," Carlton knelt next to Shawn's chair. He snaked an arm around Shawn's waist, pulling the younger man closer toward him.
"You're a very confident man, Shawn. You don't care what other people think of you. I want to be more like that, but..." Carlton gave a shrug and looked down at the picture frame. "It's not the best anniversary gift, I know."
Shawn studied the photo. It was very innocent: a photo of Shawn looking at the camera with the beach behind him and a smug grin playing across his lips. Nothing even remotely sexy. He couldn't even remember when it had been taken. The frame was pretty innocent, too. Not one of those sentimental things that most couples owned. No romantic nothings engraved on the bottom of the frame. Not even a heart. A simple, masculine photograph for a simple man.
"I think," Shawn began, "it's perfect." Shawn turned to look the other man in the eye. "It's very you." His last phrase was said with no malice or mocking.
Carlton gave him a sheepish grin. "It's a start."
Shawn gave a small smile back before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Carlton's lips. Carlton pulled Shawn closer, clutching his arms in relief and gratitude.
When they parted, Shawn sighed. "So… not to ruin the moment, but what motivated you to do this?"
"I've been dating you for six months, Shawn. I've known you for almost six years. I can tell when something's bothering you. After last week's … incident … it wasn't hard to figure out."
Shawn nodded, then turned to look at the spread Carlton had laid out.
"I'm ready to eat now. Food looks good, but we can't eat all of it. I promised Gus I'd bring him a plate."
Carlton cocked his eyebrow. "You're bringing him a plate of our anniversary dinner?"
"Part of the deal."
Carlton rolled his eyes before kissing Shawn again. "Of course." He rose to his feet, straightening his suit jacket. "Thank you, Shawn," he said quietly, squeezing the other man's shoulder.
Shawn looked up at him in confusion. "For?"
"For giving me another chance."
Shawn looked away, a flush of embarrassment spreading across his face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Lassie."
Carlton smiled. "If you say so, Shawn."
A/N: I SWEAR IF LIVEJOURNAL DELETES THIS ONE MORE TIME!!!!11!!!ELEVEN!!!
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Okay, deep breath. I was so gonna make this end all angsty and with the boys broken up. I feel like I've been doing a lot of the fluffy/happy/sappy stuff and need break out of that mold. But then this song came on my iTunes. Followed by this one. I swear, Musiq Soulchild must ship Shassie. How could I not put them together after listening to those songs?
Allow me to apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took to update the anniversary story. I had most of it written, I just had to force myself to sit down and finish it. I hope it's not too subtle. Shawn was gonna break up with Lassie; I just didn't want to hit you all over the head with that. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and I hope it was worth the wait! =D
Summary: Shawn's used to being an embarrassment. He's not used to being ashamed. Sequel to "Discomfort," but can stand on its own.
Warning: Language. Unbetaed, but carefully edited.
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 Spencer wasn't surprised that three days before the celebration of his sixth month anniversary with Carlton Lassiter, the detective had convinced him of how much more intimate (read: less public) it would be to celebrate with dinner at home.
"Just you and me," Carlton's voiced hummed in his ear. "Doesn't that sound more fun than sitting in some stuffy restaurant with a bunch of strangers?"
Shawn had agreed that it did sound more fun, but only because he tended to be much more agreeable when Carlton had his hands in his pants.
Now, sitting in the harsh light of the police station's fluorescents, pants completely devoid of anyone's hands, Shawn was regretting the sway lust held over his decision making abilities.
Dinner at home meant dinner alone. No nosy waiter. No staring restaurant patrons. No judgments. No embarrassment. It was that last item that hurt the worst.
Shawn had always wondered just how upset he was allowed to be about Carlton's inhibitions. The thing was, Shawn knew the other man was repressed from the very beginning of this whole mess. Hell, that had been what drew him in. It had been a game, of sorts. One of the most challenging relationships he'd ever entered.
It had been fun to see just how close Carlton would let him stand next to him before he began fidgeting like child with poor bladder control. It was even more fun to see how red the other man got whenever Shawn said the words "suck," "tight" or "deep." Shawn could even admit that it had been fun to see how fast the man could slap his hands away when they starting drifting too low. And he could tolerate the gruff reproaches, the physical distance whenever Carlton recovered from his embarrassment, and the annoying excuses Carlton gave anyone whenever they were asked how they knew each other and why they were dining together—just the two of them—on a Saturday night. (Shawn was usually demoted to an old friend who'd come in from out of town. An old friend too cheap to spring for a hotel and whom Carlton was more than willing to show around town and offer a place to sleep.)
But somewhere along the line, things began to get complicated. Things like the way Carlton murmured his name right before he fell asleep. Things like the smile he wore whenever Shawn called him some ridiculous name like "Lassie-kins" or "Lass-afras" or "Lasper the Lanky Ghost." Things like the new habit Carlton had picked up of always touching Shawn—his hair, his face, his hands—whenever they were alone.
He started noticing things about himself, too. Like how well his head fit in the crook of Carlton's shoulder as they slept. And how warm Carlton's skin felt right out of the shower. And the way his own pulse sped up whenever he so much as thought of the other man.
And the way it hurt when Carlton pushed him away.
"Fuck," Shawn swore to himself. Those things were not part of the challenge. And now, here Shawn was. Not quite in love, but not quite able to push away a man who treated him like some sort of shameful secret.
Shawn was used to embarrassing people; however, most of the time it was done for his own enjoyment. Crashing Gus' dates by pretending to be his Sexaholics Anonymous sponsor. Whispering to his father's poker buddies that Henry's foul mood was brought on by a painful anal abscess. Being an embarrassment was nothing new to Shawn; he'd just never thought he'd be considered embarrassing simply for loving someone.
"Dude, I think I'm gonna have to break up with Lassie." Shawn sat at his desk, chair leaned back, with his eyes focused on the ceiling.
"That's great. Are we out of baked Cheetos?" Gus darted around the cluttered office, digging through drawers and shuffling items on shelves.
Shawn frowned and brought his gaze down to stare at his best friend. "Thanks for the support."
Gus ceased his puttering to turn and look at Shawn. "What?" he asked, confused. "You're a grown man, Shawn. You don't need to run your relationship decisions by me. Trust me; I don't want to know."
Shawn scoffed because most of the time that was exactly what Gus wanted, but Shawn supposed that must only be the case when he was in relationships with women. He sighed.
"I don't want your blessing," he said. "I want you to talk me into it."
Gus dug an open bag of his long searched for cheesy baked snack out from a file cabinet and returned to his desk chair. "He's cheap. He's too tall. He sleeps with a gun. He showers with a gun. What other reasons do you need?"
Shawn smirked and leaned back to resume staring at the ceiling. "Those aren't reasons to end a relationship."
"You once ended things with a girl because you said she smelled like Elmer's glue."
"That was different." Shawn snapped his head toward Gus. "God only knows what she was doing with that glue."
"She was an elementary school art teacher, Shawn."
"Then should have smelled like Mr. Sketch markers or children or something," Shawn finished lamely. Gus just glared at him. "It was gross. It wouldn't have worked out."
"Hmph," Gus mumbled, mouth full of Cheetos. "So, what's wrong with Lassie?" Gus quickly raised a hand as he hurried to swallow. "That I want to hear," he clarified once his mouth was empty.
"Nothing's wrong. In fact, things are great. Between the two of us."
"Then what's the problem?"
Shawn remained quiet.
"Shawn?"
"Just between the two of us," Shawn mumbled disgustedly to himself. Shawn lifted his face back up to the ceiling. "Dude, have you ever been ashamed by me?"
"Ashamed?"
"Have I ever caused you shame?" Shawn asked again. "I mean, I know I've embarrassed you plenty of times. I do quite enjoy it, actually; one of my life's joys outside of the free food you provide."
Gus rolled his eyes.
"But, have you ever...been ashamed of me. By me. Not because I told your senior prom date you needed to wear adult diapers because your unnaturally short intestines prevented proper absorption of fluids."
"You do realize that's one of the many reasons I no longer introduce you to anybody I'm interested in," Gus replied curtly.
"Just answer the question," Shawn said.
Gus studied Shawn's profile, taking in his clenched hands and absolute refusal to make eye contact. One of the reasons Gus was Shawn's best friend was because the man knew him well enough to see through his flakey exterior and read his true intentions. It'd taken almost 18 years to fully gain that knowledge, but it was key in maintaining any sort of friendship with the man.
"You're a decent guy, Shawn," Gus said after a few moments of silence. "If Lassiter is ashamed of that, than he's the one with the problem. Not you."
"Sometimes…it's hard to tell the difference."
Gus sighed at Shawn's melodramatics and bounced a Cheeto off his head. "You have a lot of problems, Shawn. But loving Lassiter isn't one of them. Not unless he makes it."
Shawn grinned sadly at the ceiling.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the sound of Gus chewing marking the passing seconds. "For what it's worth," Gus began, "Lassiter looks a lot less constipated when you're around. That has to mean something."
"Thanks, buddy."
Carlton, it turned out, knew how to throw a pretty decent anniversary dinner. Shawn hadn't been expecting to be greeted by a three-piece suit wearing detective and a four-course meal. The apartment was dark, the only light coming from six candles placed on the elegantly decorated table. Shawn inhaled, the tantalizing smell of lamb and seasoned potatoes luring him into the apartment. He gave a small tug at Carlton's suit sleeve.
"I thought we'd decided to ditch dressing up," Shawn asked him. He'd come over in only dark denim jeans and a button-down shirt.
Carlton smiled self-consciously and closed the front door. He leaned in and gave Shawn a chaste kiss. "I was going for a certain mood."
Shawn gave a small laugh. "Suits and kisses...nothing the patrons at La Lune couldn't have handled."
Carlton's smiled wavered, but didn't fall. "Nothing wrong with wanting you all to myself," he said softly before pulling Shawn to the dining room table. "I hope you're hungry. Lamb and potatoes for the main course and a German chocolate cake for dessert."
"You cooked?" Shawn asked with some surprise.
"I called out," Carlton replied sheepishly. "I didn't really know what to make for you so, … I just figured…," he sighed. "I'm not so good at these things, remember."
Shawn listened as the detective rambled nervously, feeling his own already agitated nerves rankle in response.
"Lassie, I can't really—"
Carlton cut him off before he could finish. "Come. Sit. There's wine." Carlton guided Shawn to the seat. The table was beautifully set with gold-gilded china that Shawn had never seen before and was certain had been bought that day. In front of him, placed on top of his dinner plate, were two cream-colored boxes tied with a chocolate-colored ribbon. The smaller of the boxes, about the size of his palm, sat on top of a larger box, which was roughly the size of the dinner plate.
"Gifts?" Shawn asked surprised. He couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face. "You bought me stuff?"
"Yours is in the larger box; the small box is for Guster."
Shawn looked up, confused. "You bought my friend a gift for our anniversary?"
"You did mention matching Psych cuff links. I figured better safe than sorry."
Shawn gave a snort of amusement. "Good move. I'm sure Gus'll love 'em." He placed the small box aside and looked down at the box on his dinner plate. He felt a twinge of guilt as the expensive-looking box sat in front of him.
"I didn't get you anything," he said slowly.
Carlton shrugged. "I don't mind. That wasn't part of the deal, if I recall."
Shawn shook his head at the box and began to rise from his chair. "Look, Carlton. I can't stay for too long. I just—"
"Open it," Carlton urged quietly, pushing him back into the chair. "Before you say anything. Please."
Shawn sighed and lifted the lid off the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, was a silver picture frame. The frame was simple: brushed metal with a beveled edge. Inside the frame was a picture of Shawn.
"A picture. A picture of myself. Why, Lassie I don't know what to say," Shawn said with irritation in his voice.
"The picture isn't for you."
"Even better," Shawn answered dryly.
"It's for me."
Shawn snorted, studying the frame. "You're horrible at this, you know."
Carlton fidgeted uncomfortably. "The frame and the photo of you is for me to put on my desk."
Shawn looked up. "What?"
"My gift to you. I want a picture of you on my desk. My desk at work."
Shawn stiffened, the weight of the silver frame weighing heavily in his hands. The frame was for Carlton's desk. His work desk. His public work desk that, unlike many other desks at the station, was devoid of many personal knick-knacks. No favorite coffee-stained mug. No news clippings from one of his many high-profile busts. No photographs. Many of the other officers had photographs on their desk. Pictures of smiling wives and bald-headed babies. Pictures of loved ones.
Shawn took a deep breath in. "Carlton, that's...that's a lot. Especially from you."
"No, it's not," Carlton knelt next to Shawn's chair. He snaked an arm around Shawn's waist, pulling the younger man closer toward him.
"You're a very confident man, Shawn. You don't care what other people think of you. I want to be more like that, but..." Carlton gave a shrug and looked down at the picture frame. "It's not the best anniversary gift, I know."
Shawn studied the photo. It was very innocent: a photo of Shawn looking at the camera with the beach behind him and a smug grin playing across his lips. Nothing even remotely sexy. He couldn't even remember when it had been taken. The frame was pretty innocent, too. Not one of those sentimental things that most couples owned. No romantic nothings engraved on the bottom of the frame. Not even a heart. A simple, masculine photograph for a simple man.
"I think," Shawn began, "it's perfect." Shawn turned to look the other man in the eye. "It's very you." His last phrase was said with no malice or mocking.
Carlton gave him a sheepish grin. "It's a start."
Shawn gave a small smile back before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Carlton's lips. Carlton pulled Shawn closer, clutching his arms in relief and gratitude.
When they parted, Shawn sighed. "So… not to ruin the moment, but what motivated you to do this?"
"I've been dating you for six months, Shawn. I've known you for almost six years. I can tell when something's bothering you. After last week's … incident … it wasn't hard to figure out."
Shawn nodded, then turned to look at the spread Carlton had laid out.
"I'm ready to eat now. Food looks good, but we can't eat all of it. I promised Gus I'd bring him a plate."
Carlton cocked his eyebrow. "You're bringing him a plate of our anniversary dinner?"
"Part of the deal."
Carlton rolled his eyes before kissing Shawn again. "Of course." He rose to his feet, straightening his suit jacket. "Thank you, Shawn," he said quietly, squeezing the other man's shoulder.
Shawn looked up at him in confusion. "For?"
"For giving me another chance."
Shawn looked away, a flush of embarrassment spreading across his face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Lassie."
Carlton smiled. "If you say so, Shawn."
A/N: I SWEAR IF LIVEJOURNAL DELETES THIS ONE MORE TIME!!!!11!!!ELEVEN!!!
...
...
...
Okay, deep breath. I was so gonna make this end all angsty and with the boys broken up. I feel like I've been doing a lot of the fluffy/happy/sappy stuff and need break out of that mold. But then this song came on my iTunes. Followed by this one. I swear, Musiq Soulchild must ship Shassie. How could I not put them together after listening to those songs?
Allow me to apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took to update the anniversary story. I had most of it written, I just had to force myself to sit down and finish it. I hope it's not too subtle. Shawn was gonna break up with Lassie; I just didn't want to hit you all over the head with that. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and I hope it was worth the wait! =D
