Title: Day 4
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Psych
Rating: PG
Pairing: Shawn/Lassie
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my 'verse. I don't get paid a cent to play. Please don't sue and make things worse.
Summary: Shawn's coming down with a cold. Lassie's already got one. Together, they fight crime. Sort of.
Note: Part of the 12 Ficlets in 12 Days project 2011-2012. Requested by smokeycat_430

Day 4

The pounding in his head was getting worse. And now, to add to it, there was a ringing.

“Shawn?”

Shawn rubbed his hand up and down the bridge of his nose and against his forehead. What he wanted to do was go home, drink an entire bottle of Nyquil, and sleep for five days until this cold went away.

“Shawn!”

His head turned and eyes focused on Gus, who was standing in front of him, on the phone. Well, that explained the ringing at least. “Yeah?”

“Didn’t you hear a word I said? That was Juliet. There’s a case. They need us down by the pier.”

He thought about refusing, thought about telling Gus he wasn’t feeling so good and the SBPD could deal with this without them. But after all the times they’d fought to get jobs, it seemed like a bad idea to refuse one that was being given to them. Not to mention that he didn’t want to give Lassiter the satisfaction of having Shawn miss a case so nearby.

So Shawn nodded and automatically reached for the car keys. Gus’ reflexes were like a cat’s today, though, and he got to them first. “I don’t know where your head is today, but I’m not letting it be responsible for getting me anywhere. I’m driving.”

They probably could have walked there, but Shawn was grateful to be able to sink into the seat and close his eyes for a few minutes—just long enough for the pounding to be reduced to a dull throbbing.  

SBPD was already on the scene. The area between pier and street was surrounded by yellow and black police tape. There was a pair of legs sticking out of the dolphin fountain. And there was a suspect being handcuffed by Lassiter. It didn’t look like they needed Shawn’s help at all.

“I told Juliet she didn’t have to call you. We’ve got this one all wrapped up on our own,” Lassiter said. “Santa Barbara Police Department for the win, as they say.”

“Who’s they?” Gus asked.

Juliet, collecting something at the base of a statue in an evidence bag, looked up. “I called because we were just down the street, I figured I might as well call in case Shawn could get a reading and some extra insight.”

Shawn’s gaze was trained on Lassiter. His well-trained eyes saw the red flush in the man’s nose, the bit of puffiness beneath his eyes, the beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Shawn? What do you think?”

He thought that Carlton Lassiter was sick, that’s what he thought.

“The murder?”

Right. The murder. He looked around. He saw the tread of the sneakers. The scratches on the lip of the fountain. The belt buckle of a man standing not far away. Shawn’s head pounded terribly. He clapped a palm to his forehead and suppressed a groan of pain. “I think your win is a little premature. You’ve got the wrong guy.” He pointed casually to the main with the belt. “That’s the murderer.”

As soon as he was fingered, the man took off down the pier. He pushed past crowds of spectators and tourists, running fast on the wooden planks. Seagulls searching for a few crumbs dove out of his way. He ran past the sweet shop and the gift shops. He looked like he would have run right past the aquarium, too, if Juliet hadn’t tackled him. Shawn smiled, rubbing his hand over his forehead, but dizziness took hold of him and the world went black.

*

When he woke, he noticed the sound and gentle vibration of a car. He also felt the car’s heater on, even though it was summer in California and that should be illegal or something. It felt wonderful being bathed by heat, though. Shawn might have allowed himself to fall back to sleep, but he was too curious.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see Gus in the driver’s seat. Instead, it was Lassiter. He thought about asking what had happened, but he could figure it out on his own. He’d passed out. Lassiter had gotten him to the car and was now driving him… somewhere. Shawn’s keen eyes focused on the nearest street sign at an intersection. Looked like they were heading in the direction of Lassiter’s house. “Twice in one week. Careful. People might think we’re in a relationship or something.”

 Lassiter glanced over and, for one brief second, Shawn saw a look of relief on his face. Then the detective reached out and slapped his hand over Shawn’s forehead. He kept it there for a little while as he evaluated. “So you’ve got a fever too.”

Shawn didn’t feel like he had a fever, but he wasn’t in a position to argue.

“How long have you felt sick?” He pulled his hand back and placed it on the steering wheel; ten and two, perfect form.

“Since this morning.”

Lassiter swore. “Look, Shawn. If I’d known I was getting sick, I wouldn’t have had you over on Tuesday.” That was just about as close to an apology as he was likely to get from Lassiter.  Not that this was his fault.

There was silence in the car for a while, apart from a few soft sniffs from Lassiter. “So what exactly happened back there?”

A slight grin. “Apart from you fainting?”

Shawn allowed him a little amusement. “I mean about the case. Not that I mind, but why are you—and not Gus—driving me? I thought you’d want to stick around and wrap up, head back to the precinct and book the suspect.”

Lassiter didn’t answer at first. It wasn’t because he was uncertain, though. He took one hand off the steering wheel and pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger. It didn’t help. “heh-CHOO!” The sneeze was quick enough and his course on the street stayed steady. He groaned a little. “I shouldn’t have even gone to work this morning. Hah… hah… Hah-SHOO!”

Slowly, very slowly, Shawn smiled. Lassie hadn’t rescued him so that he could take care of Shawn; Lassie had rescued him so Shawn could look after Lassie. “Bless you.” He watched Lassiter loosen his tie just a little, cough into a fist, and sniffle a little. They couldn’t get back to Lassiter’s place fast enough.

*

Carlton made it as far as his couch. Shawn would have preferred the bed, so they’d both be able to fit, but the area was already set up to accommodate someone with a cold. The couch was covered in a nest of blankets and pillows. There were tissue boxes and bottles of medicine. Lassiter crawled into it, coughing, and groaned as he pulled the blankets tight around himself.

Shawn stood in the living room, feeling useless. He helped himself to a couple Advil and a glass of water. He figured he’d already caught Lassiter’s cold; sharing a glass at this point seemed more efficient than getting a new one. He surveyed Lassiter for a moment and zeroed in on the way the man’s lower lip twitched, the way the man’s nostrils flared. Shawn recognized it at once and grabbed a tissue from a box. He handed it over just in time.

“heh-Shooo! HehSHOO!” Lassiter blew his nose copiously and tossed the tissue on the floor. Apparently his neat freak instinct was suppressed when he was sick. “Thanks for the tissue. How’d you know I was going to sneeze, Spencer? ”

“I’m psychic, remember? I saw that sneeze coming a mile away. And now you’re going to move over and let me under there.”

It was a long couch, but not a particularly wide one. Shawn had to lie right up against Lassiter in order to keep from tumbling out. But the blankets wrapped around them both helped a bit, as did Lassiter’s arm wrapping protectively around him. Lassiter’s cheek was hot against Shawn’s forehead and Shawn was in a position to hear the thick, congested breathing. He wondered what Lassiter had been taking for the cold. Whatever it was, it wasn’t working so well.

“hehhshoo!” When he sneezed, it shook his body and Shawn’s as well. That made pain shoot through Shawn’s head.

“Gesundheit,” he said, wincing.

*

Shawn didn’t want to leave the shower. Over the past few hours, he’d developed the same symptoms Lassiter had been suffering from during the last two days. But in the shower, with the hot water washing over him and the thick steam filling the room, Shawn could actually breathe all right. He’d tried to get Lassiter to join him in the shower. And while Lassiter normally didn’t need that much coaxing, this time the man wouldn’t budge from the warmth and comfort of his couch.

By the time he finally convinced himself to turn off the water and emerge from behind the shower curtain, the pads of his fingers were wrinkled and his face was flushed red from the heat. He changed into Lassiter’s sweats, which were comfortable but a bit large for him, and he headed back downstairs.

Carlton was sitting up on the couch with that look on his face that meant he was going to sneeze again at any moment. He looked up at Shawn, mouth hanging open. “Romeo and Juliet.”

Shawn scrubbed the back of his hand at his nose, which hadn’t stopped running since he left the bathroom and the comparatively cool air started tickling away at it. “Lassie, I told you it was over between me and Juliet…”

Narrowing his eyes, Lassiter pointed to the television where the old Zeffirelli version of Romeo and Juliet was playing. If he’d actually been psychic, Shawn would have seen that coming. And if it made Lassie suspicious, so be it. But he could hardly care. He felt far too sniffly and miserable. He noticed Lassiter’s nostrils flair, so Shawn swooped over and handed him a tissue. Then he took one for himself; away from the steam, his nose was feeling tickly again already. He plopped down on the couch just as Lassiter snapped forward. “HAH-Shoo! HahShooo! Ahh… ahh-Shoo!”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d joke and say he was having sympathy sneezes, because he made quick use of the tissue. “ehfshuhh! Ehshuhh!” He felt another sneeze just hanging there… waiting… building… but it wouldn’t come out.

“Beat ya. Three to two.”

Shawn stuck his tongue out. “You’ve had more time to practice. I just got this cold. Give me a break.”

“No breaks. I’m just betteh…” He got the tissue to his face again. “hehh-Shoo! H’SHOO!”

“If you consider better to be more pathetic, yeah you are.”

Lassiter shot him a look. “If you’re just going to make fun, you can go back to your place—”

Shawn pushed off from the cushions and launched himself across the couch to where Lassiter was. Lassiter still wore his tie, jacket, and trousers—all of which were badly wrinkled now. But even though he was wearing formal wear and Shawn was in sweats, they were equally snuggly together under the blankets. Shawn nestled close. Lassiter smelled of menthol cough drops and Dayquil syrup, but in Shawn’s state, that was sort of arousing.

Suddenly, the tickle in Shawn’s nose intensified. His eyes closed and breath caught. He couldn’t get to the tissues, so he grabbed the first thing he could. “ehhShhhh! Ehh-Kschhhh! ehhhErshehhh!” Shawn rubbed his nose with Lassie’s tie. “There,” he said, when he’d sniffled his way to a state where he could speak again. “Three sneh… sneezes. Oh no… eh… eh-IHHSchhhh! Eptshuhh!” Shawn rubbed his nose dry with the tie. “I win?”

Lassiter pressed his lips to Shawn’s warm forehead. “Yes, you do.”