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Shawn was always good at taking insults, snide comments, and put downs like they were shots of liquor. Sure they may burn on the way down, but he had a damn good poker face, and he could hide with the best of them. Shawn just smiled and laughed and either agreed or made the next action ten times more outlandish. After all, if you can’t beat them, prove them so correct their heads spin trying to figure out your projected routes from one thing to another. Or so the saying goes…In Shawn’s head anyway.
Henry Spencer was a good man, but wasn’t always the nicest of fathers. He was too stern and never quite said enough praise to haphazardly cover up the constant degradation. He was trying, though. Trying to make his son better than him, to raise his kid right and get his talents honed and ready. Henry just went about it all wrong.
Which is why Shawn had gotten long since become used to the fighting ring in the Spencer household. An upper cut about Shawn’s day job, a stomach jab about his lack of work ethic, a few roundhouse kicks about his ability to be responsible. All returned with the same fury about Henry’s parenting, his presence, and his shriveled up little used balloon of a heart. It had been there normal for decades.
It hasn’t been in ages. Not quite the same way, now, at 35 that it had been at 15, at least. Now Henry slathered on “I’m proud of you” or “you did good, kid” when Shawn solved a case or asked for advice to be better. Shawn’s jokes were in jest now, the heat of meaning pressed just under the words, making sure his dad knew they weren’t standing on a cliff side fencing anymore.
Which is probably why he’d grown lackadaisical about it all. It’s probably why Shawn forgot that a few fond death threats or a couple nasty remarks about his boisterous personality could actually hurt a lot more than a bullet wound to his shoulder.
“Spencer, please for the love of Smith and Wesson, shut up! No one wants to hear another word out of the mouth of the man who screwed this case up so badly even Jesus himself couldn’t resurrect it!” Lassiter growled out, hands slamming down on his desk, leaving his hair ruffled and sticking up in places like an electrified chicken.
“Now, Lassie—“ Shawn started, putting on his pouty voice, even with the stinging in his throat at the words. He knew he’d screwed up, bad. Did they not know how well he knew that?
“No, Spencer! I am done with this,” Lassie argued, standing, eyes furious to the point Shawn had to glance down to make sure they weren’t leaving singes on his nice new sweater. “I have never understood why the chief bothers to hire you. You solve cases, but only after getting it wrong the first five times! You are constantly throwing yourself and Guster into danger like it’s a game. Do you realize what you have done?”
“Yes, Lassie—“ Shawn tried again, but then the detective was in front of him, maybe a body width apart, finger stabbing into Shawn’s chest as he tried to char him with his words.
“No. You don’t. If you had half of a brain you’d be able to understand a fraction of the damage you caused today! I’m not sure how Guster has stuck around you this long. All you ever do is use his money and throw him into the line of fire. Your father has told me himself, and trust me I’ve seen it in your years working here, you’ve always been selfish and blame others, but I never expected it to this far. My partner nearly took a bullet that was meant for you! I cannot fathom how you aren’t dead yet! What with your insistent need to open your dumb mouth and say all the worst possible things!”
Lassiter inhaled before continuing, letting all his rage pour out like Nickelodeon Slime onto Shawn. It was not green or fun, but it was most certainly cloying, acidic.
“You have never been, and never will be, a cop. You are just a child masquerading as an adult, running around and causing trouble that we have to clean up! You’re a phony and a dimwit that’s living on borrowed time solely because you’re soaked in snake oil and you’re a perfect weapon of torture! Seriously, Spencer. You mucked this up, big time, and there is no coming back from this one. If I could arrest you for endangerment and idiocy, I would. But unfortunately, O’Hara and Guster have been sucked in by your scam and wouldn’t press charges on your mooching ass. Too sad to lock you in jail and throw away the key when you’re a child playing pretend with actual people’s lives!”
The entire bullpen was silent. The eyes that were on them unsure, hesitant to step in or step back. Lassiter hadn’t always been the nicest, but this was far, even for him. Especially when they’d all seen him grow begrudgingly fond of the psychic.
Juliet had only just walked in, finally freed from the clutches of the hospital, Gus returning her to the office as he went to get Shawn. Both were too stunned to speak.
Shawn wasn’t. Old fires building up, fed by pain that twisted his gut in agony. He knocked the detective’s hand away, but didn’t back up.
“You think I don’t know what I did, Carlton? You think I won’t spend the rest of my life replaying today in my head and wondering which one of my choices caused this much harm?” Shawn laughed, bitter and cold, sucking the air from the static-filled, tense room.
“I know exactly what I did. But here’s where you’re wrong, Lassiter. I’m not too dimwitted to understand. I know exactly what I did.” And Shawn detailed it, step by step, in quick succession from start to end, in details that were startlingly clear.
“I walked into the victim’s home, aware that the killer would be there, mad at another foiled plan. I knew by the dirt on the mat that they’d only been there recently, not tracking in the mud from the rain outside just yet. I knew that Mandyke would be in the living room, trying to plot his next move, because there’s a well worn path on the floor from his pacing. I knew you two would come in behind me, like always, just a few minutes too late.
And I knew that I’d rile Mandyke up by telling him that you were coming. But we didn’t have the evidence we needed to put him away. He’d walk. So, I had Gus create a diversion. Then I tried to swipe the gun. You should never press a gun directly against someone’s back, Lass, too easy to grab it. But, no, I wasn’t aware he’d pull the trigger as you walked in. I should’ve been. I should’ve turned his body so the probability he’d hit anyone other than me would be less. I shouldn’ve kicked him when I turned. I should’ve done a million other things. But I didn’t.”
Shawn stepped back, voice cold, a contrast to the heat still blazing across his synapses from what Lassiter had said to him. “And you know what? He should’ve shot me. It would’ve made your life a hell of a lot easier, I’m sure. Because despite the amount of cases I solve for this department, despite how hard I try to help you when you need it or fix the things I break, it will never be enough. Too annoying, too loud, too childish. But if that bullet, or Longmore’s, or any other perp that’s ever hit me over the head had just worked out, your life would be a hell of a lot easier and happier. I know.”
Shawn turned on his heel and walked out, past Gus and Juliet, directly to the parking lot. The bullpen stood in deafening silence for three seconds before Gus mumbled a curse and took off after his friend.
Juliet, now in a sling, stormed over to her partner like an incoming hurricane, “Carlton, what the hell???”
His mouth open, gaping like a fish, he finally peeled his eyes from the door to hers, “I… I…” Nothing more came out, unsure what to say.
“Shawn has done so much for you, Carlton… He has stuck his neck out for you. I know you two have this whole “will they won’t they” murder situation going on, but this? This was too far. Shawn’s a seriously good detective, whether or not you want to believe he is one. He’s kind and helpful and funny. And you and I both know he didn’t do anything wrong to get me shot. That was all Mandyke’s fault!”
Lassiter nodded, a small bob of his head. She was right and he knew that. He’d just blown up and it got out of hand.
“Fix this,” Juliet commanded and stomped off.
———————————-
Gus had only just left the office, having no choice as he had to pick Joy and his parents up from the airport. He’d tried inviting Shawn, but Shawn was all but shut down. He’d cracked a handful of half baked jokes, but they were dull and said in such a monotone voice Gus couldn’t even fake a laugh and call it deadpan. He’d left a few messages for Henry, but he was off night fishing with some buddies and clearly had no reception. Which left Shawn alone at Psych, blissfully for him, throwing a ball at the wall and catching it repeatedly as he tried to stop the simmering in his bones.
The door opened with a creak, he really needed to oil those hinges, and Shawn considered ducking behind the couch to hide, but there was no use. His visitor would know.
Instead, he spoke, eyes locked on the red ball returning to him, “Lassie, what a pleasure. Here to remind me I’m chubby and scream like a girl? Or is this a more niche pull, like how I broke my toe fighting a fish and clearly am weak boned?”
Lassiter paused at that, head cocking to the side like an inquisitive dog, “A fish? Really?” Shaking his head, and, clearing the image of Shawn flopping around with a fish in a terrible dance, he tried again, “No. I’m not here to insult you anymore.”
“Okay, well, if you’re here to shoot me I hope you’ve brought tarps. Gus really dislikes blood and I think he really wants our security deposit back if he’s going to close the doors,” Shawn replied, eyes still on the ball, rubber squeaking briefly as it hit the baseboard, but it returned to his grip.
“No, Spencer,” Lassiter groaned, standing awkwardly in the office doorway still, shoulders hunched. “I’m…. Here to.. apologize.”
Shawn hummed, but made no other noises to approve or disapprove the conversation moving forward.
Lassiter sighed. “Look, what I said? It was wildly out of line. You couldn’t have known O’Hara would get hurt. And you… do a good job. On some cases. I just got…angry and took it out on you.”
Shawn made no sound of reply, but if Lassiter was right, the ball took a brief pause before it returned to its loop of wall, hand, wall, hand.
“Spencer…. Shawn,” Lassiter tried, stepping in the way, grabbing the ball on its rotation and stopping the game.
Shawn groaned, sounding again like a kid, “What? I don’t want another lecture. You’re here because Vick or Jules or maybe Gus asked you to be here. You don’t feel bad, Lassie. You meant every word you said.”
Lassiter’s forehead furrowed, creating new tunnels, deep enough for rabbits to burrow in if they so tried. “Do you seriously think I believe those things about you?”
Shawn sighed, exasperated, eyes rolling up before he dropped his arms by his sides and sunk further into the chair he was sitting in, “You’ve been repeating them since the day I met you. Pretty sure I’ve got your feelings down pat. Sure, some of it’s not quite as visceral. I don’t think you actually want me dead. Maybe just a good knock to my head, put me down for a while so you can get a break.”
Lassiter shook his head, coming to sit in the chair beside Shawn, ignoring the scent of lavender and cocoa butter wafting up when he settled, “I didn’t think you believed me.”
Shawn sighed again, finally looking at Lassiter, face colder than he’d ever seen it, “You say it enough it’s got to be true.”
“I’ve said all of that to you the same way every time. And we both know I stopped manhandling you years ago. When you shot out that radiator, back when you got shot, I told you you’d done a good job and called you detective. I know you heard that, Shawn. You are smart enough to know I don’t mean the threats I say to you. You have never been scared of me.”
“Never said I was scared,” Shawn corrected with a quick glare. Lassiter sighed.
“No, but you seem to believe I mean all the things I said. So you must believe my threats then.”
“Collation and coral reefs,” Shawn muttered.
“Causation and correlation,” Lassie corrected, “And no. I’m just pointing out, if you believe that I actually think you’re a bumbling idiot, you should be ducking behind your chair so I can’t put a bullet between your eyes.”
Shawn sighed again, heavy and heaving, “Then why did you have to yell at me in front of the entire precinct that all I do is fumble around and cause people to get hurt because I’m stupid and arrogant?”
“Because, you are reckless and have a loudmouth and sometimes I use you as an emotional punching bag because… Well, because you stand there and take it and I take advantage of that,” A moment, “And that’s not okay and I’m sorry.”
The pair sat in silence for nearly a full two minutes before Shawn spoke, soft, “I’m not stupid.”
“You’re not,” Lassiter agreed, stapling on, “You had some good points about that crime scene earlier, Spencer. I wouldn’t have noticed the dirt proving that Mandyke was there.”
Shawn shrugged, but his lips twitched a tad.
“You’re very smart, Shawn. And while you often are a bumbling fool… You’re good at your job. And you keep people safe.”
Shawn let a small smile break free, “You really think so?”
Lassiter nodded, a little stiffer, but still genuine, “Yeah. I won’t say you’re my favorite person to work with… but you close cases, even ones I can’t figure out. You never meant for anyone to get hurt. You’re just… impulsive and not bound by protocol and so you go and do your own thing without always thinking it through. But yes. You’re smart and good at this job.”
Shawn smiled more genuinely, “Thanks, Lassie. I accept your apology.”
Deflating with relief, Lassiter allowed himself a small smile, “Thank god. I don’t think O’Hara would let me back in the precinct if you didn’t forgive me.”
Shawn laughed, still a little subdued, but it was lighter now, “Oh definitely not. You still owe me, for sure. Like a muffin basket or a pineapple upside down cake or like a sculpture of my head.”
Lassiter shook his head, standing, moment broken in a way that felt warm and familiar, “Absolutely not. This is the best you’re getting.”
“Lassie!” Shawn whined, grabbing the ball when Lassiter finally chucked it at him as he turned towards the door, “My heart’s still broken into a million pieces! We need to glue it back together. It can only be done with sugary bribes!”
“Goodbye, Spencer. Be thankful I don’t arrest you for blackmail.”
“Oh, right back to the handcuffs. I see how it is, Lassie, playing hard to get! Come on, man. You owe me!” Shawn called out, the door slamming on his words as Lassiter smiled and headed towards his car, dialing his partner to let her know he’d corrected the issue.