Chapter Text
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gus, you got any thread? I think I have some, but the floor is apparently comfy.”
Lassiter groaned, “This isn’t Guster, you idiot. This is Lassiter.”
Shawn laughed on the other end of the phone, “Okay. Hey, Lassie, you got any thread? I think I h—”
“I heard you the first time!” Lassiter snapped. “What the hell do you even need thread for, it’s four in the morning.”
“’Cause I gotta close the cut, duh.” Shawn said, as if that was common knowledge.
Lassiter took pause at that. After a moment of hesitation and mentally preparing himself to deal with Spencer, he spoke, “Should you go to a hospital?”
“No.” Shawn answered, albeit a little too quickly. Lassiter was instantly suspicious.
“Well, why do you have a cut you need to sew shut?” He pried, and he could hear a deep breath from Shawn.
“Uh…” there was a pause, “No reason. I’m gonna go. Love ya, Lassie-face.”
Lassiter instantly knew something was deeply wrong. He may not like Shawn Spencer, but he was a detective. And as a detective, he knew one thing for sure; Spencer wouldn’t have intentionally stopped bothering him unless something was wrong.
“No, you are not hanging up, damnit!” Lassiter snapped, “Where the hell are you right now?”
Shawn sighed, “Psych.” He quickly followed that, “But don’t bother coming over here. I’m just gonna get some gauze. Drop it, Lassiter.”
Lassiter’s suspicions were furthered by the use of his actual name. “Okay. Bye, Spencer.”
He hung up, but he already had his keys in hand, walking out the door.
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Opening the door to Psych, Lassiter didn’t bother wondering why the door wasn’t locked at this hour. He made sure his steps were light enough to not alert the ‘psychic’ to his arrival. Rounding the corner into the office area of the building, he was met with Shawn Spencer. And without even seeing all of the man’s injuries, he knew it was bad.
Spencer didn’t even look up from where he was sitting at his computer, “Hiya, Lassie. You aren’t supposed to be here. You sure do love me, huh?”
Lassiter sighed, walking over to Shawn to assess the damage a little better. His left eye was purple, and swollen shut. There was significant bruising below his right eye. Most concerning, was the gauze taped to the left side of his nose. Even with it there, blood could still be seen.
“What the hell happened?” He asked, “Do you need stitches?”
Shawn tensed, finally looking up at Lassiter. “No. I don’t. Please just drop it. It’s not important.”
Lassiter hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “How did this happen? Did someone… did someone hurt you?”
Shawn glared, though there wasn’t much behind it. “No, Lassie. It’s my fault, alright? Just drop it.”
“At least call Guster.” Lassiter reasoned, “Since I assume you don’t want to tell me whatever happened.”
“Don’t tell Gus.” Shawn said simply, “He worries too much.”
There was a long silence, with Lassiter watching Shawn, trying to gauge what to do. Eventually, he spoke back up. “If you don’t either tell me what happened, or go to a hospital, I’ll call your father.”
Shawn locked eyes with Lassiter, narrowing his eyes in frustration and anger, “You wouldn’t.”
Lassiter quirked an eyebrow and pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open. He had just begun to dial, when Shawn blurted out.
“My girlfriend threw a book at me!” He looked slightly panicked, “Please don’t call my dad, I don’t want to deal with that.”
Lassiter, obliged, canceling the dial and putting his phone back in his bag. Suddenly, it hit him what Shawn had said. He paused, “Wait… she threw a book at you, hard enough that you need to sew it closed?” he looked more concerned than before, “Are you okay, Spencer?”
Shawn gestured vaguely, “It’s not that big of a deal. I probably deserved it, really.” He said, voice fading slightly as he went on. He seemed to decide he didn’t want to continue the conversation, as he walked away and into the kitchen, and began fitzing with the coffee pot. Lassiter just simply followed him, arms crossed.
“Abigail, right?” he pried. Shawn nodded.
“Yeah. From highschool. You were at the reunion, you knew that.” He seemed slightly off beat, not as snarky as normal. Lassiter sighed, not wanting Shawn to shut down.
“Does she hit you a lot…?”
Shawn tensed, hands slowing to a stop, holding a coffee filter. He turned slowly to look at Lassiter.
“I know you’re trying to help, Lassie, but you’re in detective mode.” He said, face unreadable, “Just go home. Please. I’m sorry I called you.”
Lassiter tried to distance himself from the ‘detective’ part of himself. He knew he needed to be careful, or he would lose any footing he had in the ways of helping the clearly battered man.
“Spencer… Shawn,” he began, tone softer than normal, “if you don’t want to report it, I won’t. But report or not, you can talk to me.”
Shawn looked at him for a long while. Seemingly looking for any sign of deceit. After a while, he seemed to not see any, and he sighed, tension leaving his shoulders. “Alright, man. It’s really not that big of a deal. I had to cancel our dinner plans again. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, she threw the book at me. She just kinda stopped after that. I left, and came here.”
Lassiter took a moment to absorb the information, noting to himself that Shawn had moved in with Abigail to stop living in the Psych office. Deciding not to press that part further for now, he changed direction.
“Can I see the damage?” he asked, rather clinically, looking at the gauze taped to Shawn’s face, which he had noticed was gaining a pink tint as time passed.
Shawn hesitated, seemingly pondering it over for a while, but he sighed and brought a hand up to peel off the tape, and pull the gauze away.
Lassiter tried not to outwardly react. There was a large and deep gash on the side of Shawn’s nose, the pattern almost looking like a crack in his skin. It was bad. Lassiter estimated he would need close to six or so stitches.
“Spencer, you really should go to the hospital.” He tried, carefully, “You need stitches.”
Shawn just shrugged, putting the gauze back in place before any blood dripped. “Nah. Besides, I don’t have health insurance. I’m already damn near broke.”
Lassiter cringed, “Sorry.”
Shawn quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing about it, just giving a noncommittal shrug in response. “I mean, you don’t want me on cases. That’s kind of how I make money.” He chuckled dryly, “Something doesn’t add up if you think I’m not broke.”
Lassiter just sighed, “I didn’t realize how much you relied on this.”
Shawn just quirked an eyebrow. “You didn’t realize? You know this is my only job. Did you just assume Gus takes care of my expenses? You must really think I’m selfish.”
He had indeed though that, and Lassiter felt the guilt of those subconscious deductions suddenly weigh heavily on him. “If you’re not going to go to the hospital, what are you going to do?” he asked, “You can’t leave that.”
Shawn just shrugged again, seeming to like the noncommittal gesture, “It’ll clot eventually, then ill be just peachy.” He looked at Lassiter, slightly more serious, “I promise I won’t die or something.”
“No kidding, you haven’t submitted the proper paperwork to the chief to do something like that.” Lassiter said, and Shawn snorted.
“Fair enough.” He sighed, walking over to the sofa and flipping on the TV to some random show. “You want to watch something? You’re already here.”
Lassiter pondered it for a moment, but nodded, sitting next to Shawn. They half paid attention to the show, both nodding off. The next morning, Lassiter would wake up with Shawn’s head in his lap, sound asleep. He wouldn’t move him for over an hour.