The Complications of Dating Your Superior's Son

by The_Heart_of_Leo

Summary:

Carlton Lassiter never expected to meet one of his potential mates - they're rare for a reason - but he definitely didn't expect Henry Spencer's omega son to be one of them!

Now he has to prove himself worthy to the older alpha if he expects to be with his mate.

Shawn, as always, makes it harder for everyone involved.

Notes:

Just so everyone is aware: All Omegas and females have a vagina, all Alphas and males have cocks (though only alphas have a knot.) Betas only have the one set of reproductive organs. Mix and match as you see fit!

Chapter 1: October 15, 1995

Notes:

This first chapter is semi-graphic with talk of sex, with short scenes of masturbation.

The Santa Barbara police precinct smelled amazing.

For as long as Carlton’s been there, it always had the lingering scent he couldn’t quite describe beyond ‘sweet but musky’, almost citrusy. Victoria’s was floral in tone, just as nice though not as captivating as this.

It had to be someone’s residual scent. They either worked completely different shifts from him or the scent was brought in from someone’s home.

Either way, it was lovely.

Carlton blinked down at the paperwork he was filling out at the front desk. Grunt work really, make sure all the Ts were crossed and the Is dotted.

It was so boring.

It was approaching midnight. He was usually home by now, either in bed, cuddling with his beta fiancée, or studying for the detective exam once again. But Jones had called in sick and taking his shift seemed like a good way to show initiative.

He didn’t expect being awake for over 18 hours to kick his ass as much as it was.

He heard the hiss of the front doors and the clap of shoes entering the hall, heading his way. Someone being brought in for processing.

“Thank God,” he muttered, straightening up from his slouch. He slapped his cheeks and shook his head, getting rid of the bored exhaustion for the time being.

The scent, blown in from the gust of air outside, slammed into him.

Sweet, citrus — pineapple! That was it! — and masculine in a way he was not normally attracted to.

So he was right! The owner worked the night shift and they were either bringing someone in or starting their shift…

Henry Spencer’s voice drifted up the hall, almost killing Carlton’s excitement at finding the scent’s owner. Spencer didn’t like slacking off in any form, even if it was mostly imagined when it came to him. He suspected the older alpha just didn’t like him.

A second voice joined Spencer’s: Younger, male, and…

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask for that ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ mug back,” the voice snarked.

“You just keep talking, Shawn.”

“You keep talking.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Carlton could practically hear Spencer seethe as they walked behind him. “I will. When I read you your rights.”

“Oh, I have rights!” The voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’ll be new and fun.”

The scent swelled into his head, sucker-punching every thought out. He sucked in a shocked breath, taking in even more of the scent. It was so close! It was all-consuming.

He looked up, scanning the room around him, searching for…

A younger man with familiar features to the older man leading him into the department — shaggy hair that looked like it might have been frosted at one point, earrings in his ears, a sharp profile, and…

Oh, dear God.

The world narrowed and focused, centered on the young man in handcuffs, squaring up with his superior.

He’d always been told it takes seeing that person for the first time to know. Seeing a picture? Smelling their scent? Not even hearing their voice. No, it had to be real, person to person.

He noticed when the kid noticed.

Whatever retort he was making died the second he turned and glanced his way.

Warm hazel eyes met his.

He felt heat rush through him, starting from his heart, rushing to his head then away down to his groin. Possessive alpha need, desire, animal instinct…

Spencer — the elder Spencer — clocked in on what was happening immediately.

He shoved his omega son behind him, a loud growl alerting every other officer within earshot. Shawn — His name is Shawn… Shawn — stared at him over his father’s shoulder, eyes blown out black, the scent suddenly more potent, the smell of his body kicking into a heat.

Meeting a mate for the first time was intense and there were protocols for this sort of thing, even if it was uncommon in general, much less in the middle of the police station. The ensuing heat/rut that comes from such meetings needed to be assessed, and suppressants administered if needed.

And Carlton should not be here now.

He gripped the desk in front of him, watching as Spencer ushered his son away, down toward the emergency heat room toward the back. He watched Shawn reaching for him, the needful whine echoing down the hall to Carlton, almost making him let go and run after the omega that was being taken away from him…

He felt hands grabbing his arms, pulling him in the opposite direction.

Separate them.

They needed to be separated.

The strong smell of eucalyptus assaulted his senses, wiping away the scent of omega.

He jerked his head back in surprise, not fighting as his fellow blues pulled him away, one keeping the open tub of Vapor Rub near his nose.

Carlton turned and ran, heading to the small kitchenette, away from the Spencers. The other officers followed him, keeping a few bodies between him and the direction of the omega.

He got to the small refrigerator and opened the freezer, grabbing an ice pack.

He gave himself one deep breath before pressing the ice to his crotch. His fellow alphas winced in sympathy as he held back a curse. The ice, even over his clothes, practically burned but his erection, hard and ready to go, shrank in response.

His brain — mostly — cleared.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned, pressing his head against the fridge, willing his heart to slow down.

This… this was not good.

His superior’s son — a superior who wasn’t the biggest fan of his to begin with — was one of his mates.

He was already engaged.

Fuck.

Most people never meet their mates, though it is common enough to be romanticized. A few lucky, or unlucky depending on how one looked at it, even met a few mates.

Carlton had always expected to be one of those who picked out their lover based on their, hopefully, shared interests and mutual attraction — nature could keep its meddling nose out of it.

Of course, this didn’t have to mean anything. Mates were a purely physical thing — your perfect breeding partner and it didn’t need to be anything more. It didn’t mean love, it didn’t even mean safety given how many domestic abuse cases he’s seen that involved a mated pair.

He didn’t have to go have sex with Henry Spencer’s son…

Oh, god. How old was the omega anyway? He barely looked over 16.

And… and he was in heat right now. Because of him.

He banged his head on the fridge for a moment, working himself up to remove the ice pack from his crotch. He set it aside — the blood rushing away from the cold started rushing back, his rut determined to run its course — and began removing all the non-fabric attachments to his uniform shirt.

His entourage, for lack of a better term, quickly caught on, helping set the items aside.

He shoved the shirt into a waiting beta’s hands who dashed out the door to deliver the scent-soaked garment.

He wasn’t sure how much of a help the gesture would be but the kid was already going through it. Hopefully, the scent will help it go faster.

Images of the omega ran through his head; seeing him curled up and breathing in his scent, moaning with need…

Carlton snatched the icepack up again and, with a grimace, put it in his pants, letting only his underwear shield his knot from the cold. He just needed to keep it in check until one of them gets out of the building…

After a moment, he felt a hand clap him on the back. The officers around him, the urgency of the situation now passed, were giving him a grin.

“Congratulations, kid,” Detective Gamble laughed. “Henry’s gonna tear you a new one.”

“Worst luck in the department,” someone else laughed as the congratulations continued.

Fuuuuck.

 

The universe was out to get him. That was the only explanation.

Jessica Collins was the baddest alpha in his class. She shoplifted, was failing at least half of her classes, and she got caught making out with a beta boy and an omega girl behind the bleachers! At the same time!

And she finally noticed Shawn’s good looks, charisma, and desperation to finally leave Club Virgin in the dust.

So yeah, maybe stealing the neighbor's car was a bit much but she was so into it!

Until they got busted.

All that effort down the drain and now there’s no way she’s going to try and fuck his brains out now.

He watched as Jessica was led away in front of him, his dad keeping a tight grip on his arm. Like he was going to be able to run.

Anger rolled off the man beside him, turning his scent so sour it almost burned his nose.

“Oh, I have rights,” Shawn couldn’t help but poke. He wanted him to be angry. He was angry. Mom had gotten her last box of belongings that morning, his chances of getting laid were nil now. Why should Henry get away unscathed? “That’ll be new and fun…”

He almost missed it — no, he had missed it! The scent of angry papa alpha filled up all the space, blocking out the scent of cedar and something acidic, almost like the smell of the Fourth of July, of fireworks.

Jessica smelt nice and all but this was… it sent want straight down to the naughty bits.

He tore his gaze away from his father — just a slight turn of his head really — and then all he could see was blue.

Blue eyes locking onto his, framed by thick dark lashes, a pale face, a really unfortunate mustache, and oh…

He could hear his father talking but it was like he was the teacher from Charlie Brown, all sad trombone noises that made no sense.

A heat he’d only felt a few times now started to spread through him, hitting his stomach and further down, making him start to cramp as his ovaries kicked into gear.

And the scent of angry father kicked up to overdrive.

The sight of those blue eyes disappeared, replaced by the back of his father’s head as he moved between him and the officer in blue. The growl from the man sent alarms in Shawn’s brain — the part that listened to his alpha father anyway — and then he was being pulled away.

“No, wait,” he protested, his voice faint even in his own ears. He strained to look back, peering over his father’s shoulders as the alpha — it was his mate, wasn’t it? That was his mate! A mate? His mate! — was pulled away from him. He tried to reach back toward him, as though if he just tried, he could touch the older man, to hell with the handcuffs and the growing distance.

“Shawn,” his father hissed angrily, the growl a constant vibration in his voice. “Fuck…”

He was being led downstairs, toward the cells.

Was he really going to get locked up?! After all this?!

He could feel slick starting to build up — Jessica had already worked him up quite a bit — and it was starting to soak through his briefs.

“Daaad,” Shawn whined, unable to stop how needy he sounded. He had sworn never to call Henry that again but… it was starting to hurt.

“Not now, Shawn,” Henry said, leading him past the cells, to his relief, but toward the special cell toward the back. The one with the locks on the inside, a cot that was slightly better than the bench in holding, and a chair outside for a guard to sit.

The heat cell.

Shawn moaned again, unable to hide the growing distress.

His mate was here — was here — but he couldn’t see him, couldn’t even smell him anymore — and he didn’t want to be locked up. He’d only had three heats since he presented and all had been in the comfort of home — where the scent of safety permeated everything, the knowledge that his family was there to protect him.

“Dad, no!” Shawn dug his feet into the floor, desperate to stop the trip to the cell. “No, no, no, no…”

To his surprise, Henry did stop.

He turned and faced Shawn, taking his face in his hands so that all Shawn could see was him.

“I’m not leaving you here but the suppressants are by the cell,” he spoke slowly, calmly. “We just need to stall this until I can get you home. Do you understand?”

Not going into the heat cell. He was going to go home.

What about the other man? His alpha.

He needed to come too.

Shawn whined, deep in his chest, and looked back the way they had come.

“Shit,” Henry muttered, pulling them along.

They stopped by the cell but there was no move made to open it. Henry grabbed a set of keys from his pocket and opened the nearby cabinet. He grabbed a blister pack and popped a pill out.

“Open your mouth, Shawn,” he ordered gently. Shawn stared for a moment, the words having a hard time sinking in. He opened his mouth and the pill was dropped on his tongue. It started to dissolve, the taste bitterly medicinal.

Henry took his face again, looking at him. “Shawn, can you talk?”

It took a few tries. “Y-yeah.”

Henry nodded, satisfied. He reached down and uncuffed his hands. “We’re going to go home now, okay? I want you to — ”

A beta came rushing into the hall, a blue uniform shirt in his hands.

Shawn zeroed in on it within seconds. He darted past his father and grabbed it out of the beta’s hands, pressing it against his nose.

The cedar, firework scent flooded his brain. He felt slick start to drip down his thighs.

He heard his father growl again but, thankfully, he didn’t try to take the shirt away from him. Shawn was pretty sure he’d fight him over it.

“Come on, Shawn,” he heard, his father wrapping an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close as he led him back up into the station then toward the door.

He didn’t see the alpha anywhere.

The ride home was a blur. Curled up in the backseat of his father’s crown vic, holding onto the shirt as though it was the only thing keeping him alive.

He was all but carried up to his room and helped to undress — made all the more difficult by Shawn’s hold on the shirt.

The next few days were going to be hell and the days after would probably also be hell but for very different reasons. If Henry was angry with him for his actions with Jessica, he was going to be fucking furious when Shawn found out who that alpha was.

Because there was no way he was going to let that opportunity slip away.

He heard his father say something else though the words were nonsense again — but the gentle tone of protective father made it through — then he was left alone.

What little restraint Shawn had possessed disappeared with the closing of the door.

He imagined vibrant blue eyes, black hair, and how that long body would feel against him. He hugged the scent-soaked shirt and breathed in the scent of his mate. With a soft whine, he slipped a hand into his soaked underpants, pressing his fingers in, desperate for some kind of relief.

He had a mate now, possibly waiting for him.

Where was he now? Locked up in a room, possibly his bedroom, desperately jerking off, thinking of him?

Fuck, that was hot.

His next heat… next time his mate, his alpha, was going to be here with him.

He was going to make sure of it.

To hell with anyone who might try and stop them.

Notes:

Find me over at https://the-heart-of-leo.tumblr.com/

Chapter 2: October 18, 1995

Summary:

Three days have passed.

Carlton tries to regain control of his life by going back to work. Henry doesn't plan on making that easy for him.

Notes:

This was fun to write. For so many reasons.

The mound of blankets and clothes on the bed wasn’t much of a nest. To be fair, nest building was still a skill Shawn was learning.

Pile up fabric and pillows into a comfortable little fortress for one?

Yeah, he can do that.

Making it to survive the writhing, squirming mess of a heat?

Not quite.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how to make one for two people to literally fuck around in!

But, for what it was worth, the blanket burrito he’d fashioned for himself once the worst of the heat was over was damn comfortable.

Or he was just very tired.

Probably both.

But the burrito was warm and smelled like him with a hint of his mate’s uniform shirt and he was cozy and dozing and…

He groaned and burrowed down into the blankets as the smell of fresh air rushed into the room. He listened as Henry moved through the space, opening the window to remove the scent of past heat and stale teenage boy.

Then he felt the bed beside him dip as his father sat down.

“Shawn,” the man shook his shoulder. “I need you to wake up and drink this.”

He heard the clink of ice in a glass.

“‘M not in heat n’mor,” Shawn grumbled, peeking out of the burrito to look at the tall glass of ice water his father was holding out for him. Damn it, it looked good. He accepted the glass. “I’m drinking this because I want to,” he said after taking a long gulp of the water. “Not because you say so.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

The last few times Shawn had a heat, it’d been Mom there to see him through it. She might have been a beta but she seemed to know what to do: blankets, make sure he drank enough water, light food that won’t upset his stomach…

The last few days were a blur of horny frustration but he wasn’t dead or sick so… Henry must have done alright. At least he made sure to keep him supplied with ice water.

“Okay, kiddo,” his father took the empty glass back. “Get some sleep. You’re not expected in school for the rest of the week.”

“Yay,” Shawn muttered, pulling the main blanket back over his head. That just meant he had to make up schoolwork over the weekend. Delayed punishment or some crap.

“Get some more sleep,” Henry instructed, patting the lump that was Shawn. “You should be in the clear and I got to get back to work.”

Shawn scoffed. And now Henry was taking off for work, probably happy not to have to deal with the omega hormones filling the house.

He must have been mortified over the last few days. Shawn knew his room was a pigsty, all the clothes dumped out of the drawers and closet, most having fallen off the bed/nest. All of it would have to be washed, considering how ripe he must smell.

He heard his dad mutter something as he headed toward the door.

“Hey, Hen— Dad?” Shawn pulled the blanket down to peer over the top. “Does… does Mom know?”

Henry took a slow deep breath and shook his head. He didn’t look too happy about it… but he didn’t look angry either. “She hasn’t called to give me her new number yet.”

Shawn, in response, ducked back down into the blankets, wrapping himself back into the most comfortable of positions: burrito.

“I’ll see you after work, Shawn,” he heard Henry say before the door clicked shut.

 

Coming into the station always gave Carlton a sense of worth and duty. He was there to serve and protect to the best of his ability for the great city of Santa Barbara.

Some days it was harder to find that sense of worth, of purpose.

Today was definitely one of those days.

Sunday night he’d been driven home, his rut in full effect despite the frequent application of ice packs and the emergency suppressant he’d taken.

Victoria was taken by surprise, of course. His next rut wasn’t for a few more months so, unless there was a freak accident in a pheromone lab that he had no business being at, there was only one real explanation for his condition.

They had needed to talk and they couldn’t, not with Carlton unable to even think straight and there was no way Victoria could offer her assistance without making things somehow worse.

They always knew the possibility of meeting one of their mates wasn’t impossible but it had seemed so unlikely.

Carlton packed a quick bag — he wasn’t going to force Victoria to deal with him or leave her without her home through no fault of her own — and got a ride to the nearest motel that advertised rut/heat-safe rooms.

The rut lasted through the night and deep into the next day before his lust finally subsided.

His dick felt like he’d rubbed blisters into the sensitive skin but the soreness was gone by the next morning.

Victoria left him that night.

It was a mutual breakup — how often did one meet a mate?! It was an opportunity she couldn’t let Carlton pass up.

And if it didn’t work out, if he could pull himself away from that kind of bond, and she was still free… they could try again.

It was just a nicety.

Carlton knew Victoria was worth more than being someone’s second option.

She kept the apartment.

Carlton paid for the motel room for two weeks until he could find a better place.

He had hoped walking back into the station would bring with it a sense of normalcy, that his life wasn’t currently falling apart around him.

Instead, he got leers, a few wolf whistles, and a lot of congratulations.

He also got the stare-down from Spencer.

The man’s eyes had found him instantly and had yet to let up. It felt as though someone wasn’t just walking on his grave but tap dancing on it.

“Lassiter,” the familiar voice boomed through the bullpen. Fenich stood in the doorway to his office, hands on hips and exuding authority. “Spencer. Office. Now.”

Fuck.

He’d known John Fenich for ages. The man was a friend of his father’s and, though he wasn’t there for him the way Hank was, he was the reason he followed his dreams of becoming an officer.

He was a good man, a good cop…

That didn’t make the idea of facing him in concerns to his newly discovered mate any less daunting.

Spencer beat him to the office by a few moments, helping himself to a seat in front of the chief’s desk. He could feel the dislike radiating off the man all the way from the door.

“Sit down, Carlton,” Fenich instructed, taking his seat. “I think we all need to have a talk about this… situation.”

“Of course, sir,” Carlton nodded, hurriedly taking his seat, careful not to look at the alpha beside him. “I assure you, sir, that I have no ill intentions towards Spencer’s child,” that sounded worse than it was! “— son, toward his son — and if it is my integrity in question, I am willing to be transferred or otherwise placed a safe distance away until he is of age or — ”

“Shut up, kid,” Spencer growled, his arms crossed over his chest. “Shawn’s 18.”

Oh, thank God.

“Oh,” Carlton couldn’t help the sigh of relief at that news.

“I still don’t want you near him,” Spencer added, scowling. “Legal age be damned.”

“Henry,” Fenich scolded softly. “That’s part of what we’re here to discuss. It’s not against the law for mates to meet as long as they’re of legal age. And I know you’re as overprotective as they come. Neither you nor I can stop Shawn from doing whatever he wants to do now. Frankly, I don’t think anything less than an act of God can stop that boy from doing whatever he wants to do.

“Which is why you two,” he pointed at each of them in turn, “are going to work this out in advance. The last thing this precinct needs is a soap opera starring their head detective and a rookie officer over a barely legal omega. Whether you like it or not, Henry, this is happening. Find a way to deal with it. Dismissed.”

Henry stood up with enough force that the chair skidded back. He gave Carlton a look of disdain before leaving the office, the door slamming behind him.

Carlton started to stand.

“Not you, Carlton,” Fenich stopped him, shaking his head at the door. “You I want to talk to a bit more.”

Carlton swallowed hard and sat back down.

“I… I really didn’t mean for this to happen, John…”

Fenich waved a hand, shooing the sentiment away.

“Not your fault,” he assured him, smiling slightly. “Just wanted to give you a bit of a heads-up. See, Henry’s been here as long as I have, and Shawn… Shawn’s been around this station since he was born. Everyone who has been here over 5 years can attest to that.”

Carlton felt his cheeks heat up, remembering the numerous amused smiles and congratulations he’d been getting from the whole department. How many of those people have actually seen this Shawn grow up in their midst? Would his mate get the same treatment? Are there other officers waiting to give him the shovel talk after Henry?

“Shawn’s a good kid, Carlton,” Fenich brought his attention back. “Sharp as a tack and a smartass, but a good kid all the same.”

“He was arrested for stealing a car,” Carlton reminded him, feeling a bit numb.

Fenich huffed out a laugh. “If you want to be a good cop, you need to remember those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“But what if…” Carlton paused for a moment. Everyone seemed so sure that he was going to pursue the younger omega, as if it was a given… “What if I don’t… want a relationship? With him?”

Fenich mulled that over for a moment before shrugging.

“I don’t think it’s possible not to,” he admitted after a moment. “Now, whether or not that relationship is platonic or something else, that’s going to be something for you two to figure out.”

That didn’t assuage any of his fears.

Could he just end up being friends with the younger man?

Yeah, maybe.

Lovers?

That looming possibility seems inevitable.

Soulmates?

That was fucking terrifying. To give so much of yourself to another person and trust them not to break you apart. And when it feels like you barely had a choice on who that person was?

It was a thought Carlton could barely stand.

“Go on,” Fenich said, nodding toward the door. “I think Henry wants a turn at you.”

He glanced behind him to see Spencer leaning against the pillar a few feet from the door, a folder clutched in his hand.

“We both agree he’s of sound mind, right?” Carlton asked, slowly standing. “So he can’t use the insanity defense if he kills me?”

Fenich laughed. “Good luck, Carlton.”

He felt like he was going to need it.

Victoria’s father might have been a pain in the ass but he had a feeling he was nothing compared to Henry Spencer.

Spencer didn’t speak to him when he left Fenich’s office. Instead, he jerked his head to the side, toward the interrogation rooms, and started heading that way.

Carlton followed.

They entered interrogation room two, Spencer closing the door behind them.

“Take a seat,” he instructed, making no attempt to seem cordial or play the good cop.

“I’d rather stand,” Carlton stated. He suspected the detective wanted him to sit in the criminal’s seat, to put him back on his heels. Assert dominance. “If you don’t mind.”

“I do mind,” Spencer continued, not missing a beat. He sat down in the interrogator’s seat, unconcerned about putting himself in a disadvantageous position to the younger alpha. He slapped the file he was carrying on the table then leaned back to watch Carlton. “Take a seat.”

The ball was firmly in Spencer’s court — sitting down first, putting himself in the superior position with the seat, leaving Carlton with few choices, none of which gave him any control in this situation.

But Carlton wasn’t anything if not stubborn.

He approached the table but made no move to sit. He looked down at the file with his name on it.

“You have my record?” he asked, incredulous.

While it was true he was still a rookie and his file was on the smaller side, it still felt somehow violating. It might not be very big but he considered it impressive all the same.

Spencer opened the file and, without looking at it, spun it around to face Carlton as though to let him read it.

“Carlton Jebediah Lassiter,” Spencer announced, not bothering to even glance at the paper. “Born April 11, 1968 to Joel and Mona Lassiter who later got remated to —”

“I know all this,” Carlton interrupted. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his family. “I was there. I also know there is nothing incriminating in my personal life or professional.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Henry demurred, leaning back in the chair a bit. “Spend a lot of time at the shooting range. A disturbing amount of time, really.”

Carlton narrowed his eyes. “I have a goal to be the best shooter I can be whether it be with handguns or as a sharpshooter. That’s no crime.”

“It’s not,” Spencer agreed. “And usually it’s a very admirable goal for a cop. But a bit concerning when it comes to the well-being of my son.”

“You think I’d shoot my mate?!”

“He’s my son and I sometimes want to shoot him,” Henry shrugged as though it were a joke. “But I know I have the restraint and don’t take out my frustration with deadly weapons.”

“H-How dare—” Carlton stuttered. The absolute gall of the man!

Spencer slapped a hand over the file and brought it back to his side of the table, flipping it closed before he stood up. He set his hands on the table and leaned over to look at Lassiter.

“I might not legally be able to keep you away from Shawn,” he started, staring hard into Lassiter’s eyes. “But I’ve been a cop for a long time and if anything happens to him and I find you at fault… I will bring hell down on you.”

Nope. Victoria’s father had nothing on Spencer.

“I have no intentions of hurting your son,” Carlton said slowly, solemn in his words. “And at the moment, I’m not sure I want anything from him. Just from seeing him, I’ve lost my fiancée, my apartment, and I’m almost a decade older than him.

“With all due respect, sir, I want to wait on meeting him. If at all possible.”

Spencer glared at him, those sharp eyes practically seeing straight into him. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it.

He nodded and stood up, grabbing the folder off the table.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he promised before leaving the room.

Carlton finally pulled back the chair and all but fell into it.

“Jesus fucking fuck,” he muttered, dropping his head down on the metal table with a bang.

From behind the two-way mirror, he heard muffled laughter.

No one was going to let him live this down, were they? Not for a long time.

At this rate, the Spencers were going to be the end of him.

 

Shawn woke up wet.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t due to a very nice wet dream or anything of the sort but because his best friend, in his infinite wisdom and distaste for over-ripe best friend smell, had dumped a bucket of soapy water on his friend’s sleeping form.

“EEEEAAAAAKKKK,” Shawn screeched, jackknifing up out of the bed with a flail.

Gus was already halfway out the door. “Get clothes on, Shawn!” he called back over his shoulder. “You smell like desperation and sweat and my delicate nose ain’t tolerating that!”

“GuuUUuuSSS,” Shawn whined, staring at the door his best friend had left through. His friend did not reappear, not to apologize or even make sure Shawn was okay and hadn’t drowned from that sudden bucketful of water.

He sulked and looked down at his ruined ‘nest’. At this point, it was just the one blanket, the rest of the clothes and sheets had been bunched up and knocked off the bed. Not even the fitted sheet was left.

“Crap!” Shawn dived back onto the bed and began digging, pushing the discarded fabric out of his way until he found, half bunched up under his pillow, his man’s uniform shirt.

Thankfully dry, if wrinkled all to hell.

Shawn hugged it close with a sigh. The scent was pretty faded by that point, replaced with his own, but it was the thought that counted.

He climbed off the bed and assessed the damage.

Most of his clothes were on the floor and would need washing. His bedding definitely needed washing. Maybe even the mattress…

How do you wash a mattress?

He scrounged around for a pair of underwear and a t-shirt, pulled on his bathrobe, and headed toward the bathroom to scrub the stink of three days of heat off his body.

It was thirty minutes before Shawn ventured downstairs, wrapped in his robe, his hair damp and falling in his eyes to give him a ‘stray puppy in the rain’ look. It rarely ever worked on Gus but it was worth a shot.

Someone needed to do Shawn’s school work and it certainly wasn’t going to be Shawn!

As he expected, he came down to the kitchen to find two sets of books on the table and a pile of papers waiting for him. Gus was by the sink, taking a big bite of a truly impressive sandwich.

“Guuus,” Shawn whined, pouting at the display of food thievery. “You didn’t even make me one?”

“No,” Gus said, as succinctly as he could with a mouthful of sandwich. He swallowed and gave him a cold once over. “Why don’t you ask your mate to make you one?”

Shawn blinked, all thoughts of trying to make Gus pity him vanishing. “Wait, how do you…?”

“Jessica. Collins.” Gus said her name like it was a ‘gotcha’. “She came back to school today talking about the wild night she had Sunday.” He popped the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed it accusingly. “She said she took you out and you stole her neighbor's car.”

“To impress her!” Shawn protested, as though that should excuse any lawbreaking. He paused. “Did it?”

“I don’t know!” Gus tched. “But what I’m interested in is what happened after you two got arrested for being idiots.” He crossed his arms. “She said when you were brought in, the whole department lost their dang minds! Apparently, you went into heat and one of the officers had to be dragged away.”

Shawn flashed back to that night, seeing those wide, blue, blue eyes, that tall, lean body. He probably works out, especially if he’s a beat cop. He’d have to convince him to shave that mustache though… Oh, he’d probably look amazing with the full beard and mustache thing…

“Shawn!” Gus snapped, bringing him back to reality.

“Okay, yes, that did happen,” Shawn grinned. While it sucked he couldn’t spring this on Gus when the right time came — preferably while he was drinking something — this just meant he could go straight to gushing about having found his mate. “It happened! I gotta mate, Gus! A mate!”

Gus stared in shock.

“What, really?!” he asked, pushing off from the sink he’d been leaning on. “That wasn’t some weird fluke or Collins gossiping or…”

“Nope,” Shawn grinned, bouncing a bit on his feet. “We locked eyes across the room and angels started singing, fireworks exploded in our hearts, and now we’re going to get married and have 3.5 kids. I’m not sure how the .5 thing will work, we’ll probably have to round up because fractions are a pain in the ass.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Gus held up his hands to stop him. “You’re mated? Like, actually?”

“Well, not exactly,” Shawn admitted.

He moved around Gus to grab a glass before turning to the fridge. On the door was a post-it note: I didn’t forget about the car. You’re grounded until Christmas.

Shawn scoffed and opened the fridge. He grabbed the milk but paused as he found another post-it note, stuck to the container of freshly chopped pineapple, read: I mean it, Shawn

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’,” Gus persisted as Shawn poured himself some milk. “It’s not a ‘not exactly’ kind of situation, Shawn!”

“I mean ‘not yet’,” Shawn clarified after taking a drink. He turned and started heading to the living room. He was still tired. “We were in the middle of the police station. My d—Henry was standing right beside me and I was handcuffed. I saw him for, like, ten seconds before everyone started freaking out.”

“So you haven’t even met him yet.” Gus shook his head, sitting down on the couch beside Shawn.

“We met!” Shawn protested. “Well, we know of each other's existence! Which is just as good!”

“Shawn…”

“Just wait, Gus,” Shawn assured him. “As soon as he’s free… or I’m free, really… we’ll meet up and there’s no way our chemistry doesn’t explode all over the place.”

“I don’t want your chemistry all over my place,” Gus groused.

“You love my chemistry,” Shawn scoffed before his eyes went wide. “Wait, you said Jessica was talking about it?”

Gus nodded, smirking a bit.

“Yep. The whole school knows you went into heat at the police station.”

“Woah… I must be so popular right now.”

“Eh,” Gus screwed up his nose. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“Gus, when has someone’s sexual reputation ever not given them popularity?”

They stared at each other for a moment, letting the comment sink in.

“Oh…”

The rumble of Henry’s car pulling into the driveway caught their attention. Shawn glanced at the clock: he was an hour early. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

They listened to the jingle of keys at the door, the soft cursing when the elder Spencer realized the door was open, and then the sweet, sweet smell of pizza drifted into the house.

“Daaaaad,” Shawn put on his most annoying brat voice. “Gus called me the school slut!”

Gus punched him in the arm, hard. “Ow!”

“I did not!” he looked up toward the kitchen. “I did not say that!”

“He also poured water on my bed! And on me!”

Henry set the pizzas — two boxes! — on the table, gently pushing the schoolwork aside. “There’s a wet vac in the garage. You can clean it up after you eat.”

“But Gus did it…what’s that?” Henry had set his briefcase down and had pulled out a file.

“Since I know damn well you’re not going to leave well enough alone…” he held the file up for Shawn to see. “This is the basics. Name, age, basic bio stuff, and his record to date.”

Shawn licked his lips, staring at that file.

He wanted that file.

“Eat,” Henry said, pointing at the pizzas. “The top is Hawaiian and I want half of it gone. Then wash your bedsheets and clothes, dry off your damn bed, and get caught up on all this,” he gestured to the schoolwork. “Then I’ll let you give it a read.”

Shawn went over the list of demands and eyed the file.

In all honesty, that was pretty light considering the reward.

“Deal.”

Notes:

Depending on what coast you're on, this chapter isn't late.

Not that I have a set posting schedule, just insomnia...

Chapter 3: October 31, 1995

Summary:

It’s Halloween Night and Shawn is tired of waiting.

Notes:

This one got away from me and since I'm already late and I hate writing extra long chapters, I'm splitting this up.

It’s been over two weeks since Shawn first saw his mate: two weeks of waiting for him to burst into his home and sweep him off his feet. Or to burst into his classroom and sweep him off his feet. Or burst into his factory job while wearing his uniform to sweep him off his feet.

The point was his feet are steadily on the ground and there has been no sweeping of any kind!

And that was just unacceptable.

Henry certainly hasn’t been much help with that. The only time he doesn’t have eyes — his own or one of his pawns — on him is when he’s in the bathroom and even Shawn has his suspicions about that!

His father stays in the house until Winnie, Gus’s mom, picks him up for school because he somehow managed to rope Gus’s sweet, lovely mother into the role of security guard, and then Henry’s usually waiting for him when he gets home! And if he can’t get off work to keep an eye on Shawn, he sends one of the other detectives to do it!

It was suffocating!

And totally not fair!

And probably the reason his alpha hasn’t come anywhere near him.

“I’m telling you,” Shawn insisted, hiding the black trash bag on top of the real trash. “Henry’s got the whole department in on it! Probably convinced the chief to put him on overtime or transferred him to Korea or something.”

“I don’t think they can force him to go to Korea, Shawn,” Gus tutted, wrinkling his nose as he watched Shawn prep.

“Well, it’s got to be something!” Shawn insisted, picking up another bag, this one a clear shopping bag full of ‘creepy’ knick-knacks.

He was on spiderweb duty. And pumpkin duty. And candy duty.

Anything Halloween-related duty.

That was the compromise.

Not only did Henry hold his mate hostage, but one of America’s greatest holidays and Shawn’s right to celebrate it. Shawn got to have Halloween night — just the night! — as long as he stayed in the house. Gus was there to sweeten the pot.

He was still going to sneak out.

And he knew Henry knew he was going to sneak out.

Gus thought they were going to watch scary movies once the trick-or-treaters were gone.

Sweet, reliable, naive Gus.

“Maybe he’s been busy,” Gus suggested, grabbing the rolled-up spiderweb to help Shawn tack it in place. “Isn’t Halloween a busy time for beat cops? Delinquents throwing toilet paper and eggs at people’s houses and all that?”

“I only did that to you once, Gus,” Shawn protested, planting tiny plastic spiders in the cotton web. “And it’s your own fault for not noticing it was your house.”

“It was dark, Shawn!” Gus said back. “It wasn’t even Halloween!”

“Exactly! So that’s a very poor defense.”

“Tch.”

Shawn started setting out small pumpkins along the path through the backyard toward the beach. He wanted to get the awesome light-up ones that make noise when someone walks past but Henry had only given him a twenty for decorations.

And only a ten for candy.

The monster.

“Anyway, tonight is the night, my sweet chocolate bumblebee,” Shawn announced, wadding up the now empty shopping bag. “Henry can’t watch me forever.”

“You have met your father, right?” Gus scoffed, unimpressed as Shawn met him on the porch. “He can and will watch you forever. He probably has surveillance instructions in his will.”

It was Shawn’s turn to scoff as he opened the sliding glass door.

“You just wait, Gus…” Shawn trailed off.

The black backpack he had planted behind the garage was on the table, its contents: toilet paper, eggs purposefully left unrefrigerated for potential rotting, shaving cream, balloons, and a generically creepy clown mask, were spread out like evidence in a court case.

Henry stood over it, his arms crossed.

“You can’t prove that’s mine,” Shawn said immediately, mimicking his father’s stance.

“It’s your old backpack, Shawn,” Henry pointed out. “Hidden behind our garage.”

“Could have been there from last year.”

“I clean the yard every month.”

“You need to do a better job.”

“This,” Henry gestured toward the table, “is strike one.” He pointed to the side of the house where the trashcans waited. “That bag you just tried to hide is strike two.”

“What, no!” Shawn protested. “That should totally only count as one! You can’t double-whammy the strikes! For all you know, they were the same plan.”

“Go get that bag, Shawn,” Henry ordered, clearly not open to negotiations. “One more strike and Gus goes home and you go to your room for the rest of the night.

“Ugh, this is so unfair!” Shawn stomped a foot, turning to Gus for backup. The beta was busy looking at the evidence on the table.

“Is that the carton of eggs that disappeared out of our fridge last week?”

“All eggs are organic, Gus,” Shawn protested before looking back to his dad. “I’m 18 years old! I’m not some kid anymore!”

“You sure do act like it!” Henry huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “And considering you’re still grounded for stealing a car, I think I’ve been extremely generous about tonight. I didn’t have to let Gus come over for your stupid scary movie marathon.”

“Oh, yeah, so generous,” Shawn mocked. “Do I get time off for good behavior?”

“What good behavior?” Henry mocked back. He nodded toward the door. “That bag. Now. Or Gus can go spend Halloween on his own?”

Gus and Shawn glanced at each other, gaging the other’s expression:

Do I gotta?

I don’t want to watch scary movies alone.

You don’t have to watch scary movies.

It’s Halloween! I’m not not watching scary movies!

Yeah, you’re right…

“Fine,” Shawn whined turning to retrieve his backup plan from his backup hiding spot. “We’re still wearing costumes though!”

“God forbid you didn’t,” Henry muttered, rolling his eyes. “And clean up this mess when you’re done. And those eggs better go in the trash! Unbroken.”

 

The costume was as simple as it came: gray coveralls and a Michael Myers mask made from defiling a Captain Kirk mask with spray paint. Which, on second thought, wasn’t the best of ideas if the brief bouts of dizziness were anything to go by.

Gus’s costume was just as simple: black dress pants, a white shirt, and a fur-lined maroon duster. The plastic pirate hook didn’t quite match but it gave the right impression. Although…

“Dude, where’s your bees?!” Shawn griped after looking Gus’s costume over. “You’re Candyman! You have bees coming out of every opening a bee could reasonably crawl out of!”

“You know how I feel about bees, Shawn!” Gus held up the plastic hook to make his point. “They stay away from me and I stay away from them.”

“Then why even be Candyman?”

“Because he is a suave, attractive black man with a unique approach to supernatural-based murder,” Gus defended, clearly picturing himself in the role. Then he scrunched up his nose. “Is that spray paint?” He looked at Shawn’s mask. “Shawn, that’s not even dry!”

“I was in a hurry!”

“They have premade Michael Myers masks. You didn’t need to make one!”

“I’m being true to the original movie!”

“You’re going to get high off that thing, Shawn!”

“I’m not going to be wearing it,” he rolled his eyes. “And you have a few hours to let it dry. Should we start with The Shining or Psycho? Both are classics.”

“I’m not wearing that mask, Shawn.”

“Shush!” Shawn peered over the couch to wear his father had given in and was now on Trick-or-Treat duty. Somehow, the idea that his father could check the candy for needles and razors had gotten around the neighborhood. Also the idea that the odds of finding needles and razors in Halloween candy was a real thing and not totally an exaggerated urban myth. “Movie now, irresponsibility later!”

“…Psycho,” the beta said after a moment.

In a show of patience Shawn didn’t think him capable of, Henry put up with the horde of children and their overly concerned parents all through Psycho and up to the ‘all work and no play’ scene in The Shining.

“No! I’m not checking anyone else’s candy!” Henry shouted out the door, pulling the sliding door closed and locking it. “Christ, it’s after ten. Don’t these people have homes to go to!”

He stopped at the entryway to the den. “You spending the night, Gus?”

“I’m going after the movie,” Gus promised. He didn’t even need to get a ride from Henry or call his parents for a pick up because he ‘passed his driving test’ and ‘bought his own car with money he saved up’ which was just unfair.

“Gus! Just two movies?!” Shawn protested. “In what world does two movies count as a marathon!”

“The world where it’s a school night,” Gus shot back, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Ugh, you’re so lame!”

“No, I’m reliable and ambitious.” He took a big bite of the popcorn.

“Goodnight, Gus.” He pointed at Shawn. “In bed as soon as that crap is over.”

Shawn rolled his eyes so hard his head fell back against the couch cushion.

He listened to his father’s steps as they went up the stairs. He heard a door open then close.

“Finally!” Shawn hissed, turning to Gus. “Take your clothes off!”

“What?!”

“SHH!” They both looked to the doorway. No sign of Henry.

“What?”

“Switch costumes with me,” Shawn instructed, already unbuttoning the coveralls. “I’ll pretend to be you and sneak out! And you get to sleep in my bed and play my Gameboy until I get back!”

“I don’t want to sleep in your bed,” Gus hissed back, not moving. “And that’s my Gameboy.”

“And you can play it in my bed,” Shawn explained, standing up to step out of the coveralls.

“Why are you in your boxers?” Gus asked, frowning. “I thought you just had normal clothes under there.”

“Because my real costume would be too uncomfortable,” Shawn said like it was obvious. He grabbed at Gus’s duster, giving it a yank. “Now give.”

“Tch!” Gus shook him off. “You’re not driving my car.”

“I never said anything about the car!”

“Your dad will notice the car is still here, Shawn. You’re not driving my car.”

“I’m not going to be gone all night,” he reasoned though he really hoped that was a lie.

“And why am I not sneaking out with you?”

“Tch,” Shawn scoffed. “You know why.”

“I haven’t met your mate either,” Gus pointed out, reluctantly shedding his fur-lined coat. “When do I get to meet him?”

“I get first meeting dibs.” He knelt down and grabbed Gus’s leg, tugging at the leather shoes he wore causing Gus to fall back on the couch.

“You don’t need my shoes, Shawn!” Gus hissed. “These are my Sunday Shoes.”

“Why are you wearing your Sunday Shoes?!”

“They’re stylish!”

They stopped at the creak of a door upstairs opening. “Do I want to know?” They heard Henry call down.

“Gus doesn’t believe I’d make a hotter Candyman than him!”

“Shut your delusional mouth!”

They heard the door close again.

“Gimme your shoes,” Shawn hissed, diving back down.

After a few moments of, attempted quiet, wrestling, costumes were more or less swapped.

“Okay,” Shawn said, reaching over into the coveralls Gus was wearing and pulling out a piece of paper from one of the pockets. “These are instructions on what to do in about,” he glanced at the clock. “Five minutes. Now go pretend to be me.”

With another quick glance up the stairs, Shawn reached the sliding glass door and slipped out into the night.

He kept to the side of the house, then the fence, staying low to make himself harder to see. He jumped the small gate rather than open it, not trusting his father to not somehow hear the noise.

He made it around the fence to the driveway off to the side. He considered Gus’s car for a moment but that was pushing too much luck, even for him. He creaked open the gate to where his mountain bike waited and…

Flashlight to the face!

“Really, Shawn?” His father called down at him, shining the spotlight from his window. “Get your ass in here. Now.”

Gus stood waiting in the den, arms crossed, shaking his head. The Michael Myers mask was still in his hands, the paint leaving white smudges on his hands.

“Gus, go home,” Henry said, plodding down the stairs. “You. Upstairs. Now.”

“Told you it wouldn’t work,” Gus said his line, moving around Shawn. “And I want my clothes back tomorrow.”

“I don’t know, these shoes are kinda comfy.”

“Give me back my shoes, Shawn.”

“You’ll get your shoes back, Gus,” Henry sighed, ushering the beta out of the house. “Go home.”

Gus huffed, started to put the Michael Myers mask on before changing his mind, and left.

Henry turned to his son.

“Shawn, what the hell?” he asked, making no attempt to hide his exhaustion. “I don’t know if it’s Halloween or what but this is just unacceptable behavior. What did you think was going to happen? You show up out of nowhere and you’ll run off and get eloped?”

Not exactly Shawn thought. At least not the elope thing…

“I’m trying to be reasonable about this,” Henry continued. “But you still need to be punished for that car and you both need time to adjust to the idea of having a known mate.”

“I’m adjusted to it,” Shawn scoffed. “You’re the one that’s all…”

“Lassiter said he doesn’t want to meet you,” Henry interrupted, stopping Shawn cold. “Yet. He doesn’t want to meet you yet,” he clarified. “Just seeing you caused a lot of damage, Shawn. Give him space.”

“Give you space,” Shawn muttered, looking anywhere but at his father. “If it was up to you, I’d never see him again.”

“Shawn,” Henry sighed, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I know you find it hard to believe, but I do want you to be happy and safe. I also don’t believe you two getting involved right now will lead to either.”

Shawn scoffed, shaking his head. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He started heading up the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Any alarms I should be worried about? Going to tie a bell on me?”

“Go to bed, Shawn.” Came the tired reply.

Shawn went up to his room and locked the door, though it would do little good as his father never had a problem picking the lock. He laid down on his bed and waited.

He listened to his father move around the house, locking up. He heard him climb the stairs, and stop at his door for a moment before retreating back to his own room. He listened until he heard the first soft snore then waited fifteen minutes more.

He carefully stood up and opened his bedroom window that he had carefully greased a few days before. It opened with barely a whisper.

He slipped out onto the roof and peered over the side.

Gus stood there, arms crossed in annoyance.

“What took you so long?” he whisper yelled up at Shawn.

“I had to make sure he’s asleep!” Shawn whispered back. He held out a hand to help Gus up. It took the beta a moment to get up on the porch railing and then to reach Shawn’s hand. Thankfully, they didn’t make too much noise or destroy any property.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Shawn said, helping Gus slip into his room. “Just keep your head covered and pretend to be me.”

“How do you know he’s not going to check on me… you? Us.”

“Because I’ve already been caught three times!” Shawn stated as though it were obvious. “The three times rule!”

“This isn’t a video game, Shawn.”

“Not with that attitude!”

“Are you sure this is worth it?” Gus asked, not convinced as he kicked off his shoes and crawled into Shawn’s bed. “Maybe he doesn’t like surprises.”

“Everyone loves surprises,” Shawn disagreed. “Wish me luck.”

He climbed down off the roof with a more practiced ease than Gus’s climb. He made his way out the gate and to their neighbor’s yard. The bag he left was still there.

With a grin, he pulled off Gus’s costume and put on his real Halloween costume.

Carlton Lassiter was going to fucking love this!

Notes:

Halloween shenanigans are such fun to write!

Carlton's up next chapter!

Chapter 4: November 1, 1995

Summary:

Shawn has a surprise for Carlton. They have a much needed talk.

Carlton Lassiter did not like Halloween.

As soon as he deemed himself too mature for trick-or-treating — at the ripe old age of 9 — he found the whole holiday to be an excuse to eat too much candy and bend the rules to allow ‘mischief’ aka rule-breaking to happen.

The usual juvenile ‘pranks’ of rotten eggs, toilet paper streamers, and the disrespect to the badge shown by the variety of ‘cop’ costumes ranging from barely being better than children’s toys to adults using it almost as a form of foreplay.

His only concession to the holiday had been when Lauren was old enough to be taken out in her fairy princess costumes to get her own candy.

That was years ago though.

Now, he was one of the few officers to volunteer to work Halloween. He had no children to watch after and he felt that, if he weren’t keeping an eye on things, a lot more punks would get away with their crap.

His self-righteous need to uphold the law didn’t make it any less annoying.

Over the course of the night, he’d managed to bring in a dozen rapscallions armed to the teeth with shaving cream and water balloons. Thankfully, the miscreants were bad at resource management or he’d be smelling like rotten eggs by now.

It was midnight and his shift was, technically, over but he knew the minds of these youthful criminals in the making were still awake and planning. He would rather be watching over his streets than at his new apartment, unpacking the few remaining boxes and watching bad movies until sleep took him.

He wasn’t used to living alone anymore…

“I’m going to do one more patrol,” he informed Sergeant Cartwright.

“The last three were your ‘one more patrols’, Lassiter,” the older man reminded him, shaking his head. “I like the enthusiasm but if I give you any more overtime, the chief is going to chew my ass out.”

Carlton scowled at the reminder.

“Going home is a waste of time.”

“Then go to a party,” Cartwright scoffed. “Or a bar. Go get drunk, Lord knows you’ve earned it. Just be anywhere that’s not here.”

Were those really his only options? Get drunk in a bar or get drunk at home?

“Sir…”

“Lassie!”

It took Carlton a moment to register the nickname, then the fact that it was probably meant for him, then, finally, who said it and where they were.

At the front of the bullpen, in all his glory, was one Shawn Spencer.

Over the last two weeks, he’d reluctantly learned more about the younger man, getting minuscule tidbits from Henry who just seemed to want to know how Carlton would act with the new information. But one of those scraps of information came with a picture that he had unwillingly memorized.

Their meeting that day had barely been a glance, just enough to know his mate was male, younger, and had longer hair and hazel eyes.

The picture had revealed so much more: the sparkle in those eyes and how they’d look green in certain light, the spattering of freckles along his sharp nose, the teasing grin he always seemed to wear.

Seeing him in person again, that photo didn’t do him justice.

The picture couldn’t show that he was a few inches shorter than him and it had only hinted at his stockier build. But his longer hair was down and there was the beginning of stubble along his cheeks and chin. Those hazel-green eyes locked onto him immediately.

The photo definitely hadn’t even hinted at the strong muscles in the younger man’s arms… and thighs… and chest where a thin patch of hair peeked out through the garishly bright costume.

And the costume was hideous and mortifying — especially considering his age — and spiked his interest in a way that was shameful.

The one-piece consisted of short sleeves, very short shorts, and a V-neck that went all the way down to the belt, all made out of glaringly bright orange fabric.

On one of his wrists was a pair of fluffy handcuffs, the other cuff dangling free.

Carlton only had a few moments to register just what he was seeing and just what was happening.

Then he had an armful of eager omega, his arms and legs wrapping around him as his glossy lips pressed hungrily into his own.

That sweet, musky scent from weeks ago filled his head, bringing with it the memory of lust and unfulfilled rut. Of spending a day and a night in a cheap hotel room, thrusting desperately into his own hand, against the bed, anything that would give him relief as he tried not to imagine this exact body pressed against his.

And in the back of his mind, where coherent thoughts still existed, he noticed the taste of pineapple lip gloss.

He broke the kiss with a gasp.

The omega’s legs were still wrapped around his waist, one arm around his shoulder, and the other holding onto the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Shawn,” he gasped the name out. “Wait…” It took him a moment to realize he was holding onto the younger man’s thighs, keeping him in place. He pulled his hands away so he wasn’t supporting his hold anymore. The omega’s legs slipped off him and to the ground.

He really was a few inches shorter than him…

“Carlton,” the omega grinned up at him. There was a sweet, adorable flush of pink across his cheeks and nose. “Found you.”

“For the love of…”

Carlton blinked at the gruff voice behind him and turned to look at his sergeant. The man was rubbing his forehead, shaking his head.

“Don’t call my dad!” Shawn immediately said, spying who was there with them.

There were a few more officers dotted around the precinct, though most only glanced their way. The Lassiter/Spencer mate gossip had faded a bit with no news to fuel it but he suspected that reprieve was over now.

“He doesn’t know you’re out?” Carlton turned his attention to the omega, gently extracting himself from his hold. “Why are you out? And… why are you dressed like a hooker going to prison?”

“You don’t like it?” Shawn asked, spreading his arms and doing a spin as though to let Carlton enjoy Shawn’s life choices. “I was thinking of you when I picked it out.”

“No,” Carlton lied, forcing the animal instincts roaring in his groin to shut up. “Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to meet you,” Shawn said, practically bouncing on his toes. “And I got tired of Henry getting in the way. Don’t call my dad!” he shouted, looking over to Cartwright, who had picked up a phone. “You really want an angry alpha dad coming up all in here?”

“I think an angry alpha dad is inevitable!” Carlton pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing his brain to come off the pheromones and do its job.

His mate was in the station again. His mate had just fucking kissed him, which, he supposed, could be considered sexual assault but there was no way he was going to press charges for it. It’s the most action he’s gotten in weeks.

But now this left a whole new mess of problems.

It was easier to ignore the fact his mate wasn’t in his life when his mate was, literally, not in his life. He could wait until the time was right and pretend there was no waiting going on to begin with.

God, he was only 18!

“I’ll take him home,” Carlton said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Aw, Lassie, no,” Shawn protested, reaching up to grab onto Carlton’s wrists, forcing his hands away from his face so he could look him in the eye. “I just got here! At least go on a date with me!”

“It’s midnight,” Carlton informed him, trying not to focus too much on how green his eyes looked at the moment. “You’re dressed like a… like someone of ill repute and your father already hates me.”

“Nothing you said sounds like a negative to me.”

“They are,” Carlton insisted. He gently extracted his hands from Shawn’s before shrugging off his uniform coat. It was chilly out and how the younger man wasn’t freezing was a mystery to him. It’d also give him something to cover up with. He disliked the idea of the omega showing so much skin…oh, god, he was screwed.

Shawn accepted the jacket with a bright smile, bringing the collar up to give it a smell.

“Hmm,” he frowned. “Less fireworky than I remember. Bit more woodsy though.”

Carlton felt his face heat up. “I, uh, haven’t been to the firing range in a while.”

“Oh, gunpowder!” Shawn grinned. “I heard you were into guns… I like it.”

Carlton swallowed hard before looking back to Cartwright. “Taking him home.”

“Ugh!”

“I’ll… I’ll get you a milkshake or something,” Carlton compromised, turning the younger man back toward the door. Over his shoulder, he mouthed ‘Call Henry’ before they went around the corner.

For all his protesting, he was surprised when Shawn didn’t put up too much of a fight. He wrapped himself up in Carlton’s coat and got into the car when asked. He put his seatbelt on and all but curled up in the seat, turning to face Carlton as he got in.

“Pineapple smoothie,” he instructed, nestling down in the seat. “With extra whipped cream.”

“You really like pineapple, huh?” Carlton stated, starting the car.

“I’m a fan of deliciousness.”

Carlton snorted, smiling slightly. “You smell like pineapple…”

He got a bright grin in return. “I’m pretty sure I’m delicious too.”

He rolled his eyes.

There weren’t many shops open this late but he found a smoothie place eventually. He bought Shawn’s bribe and settled back in the car.

The younger man held the drink close, taking a sip and moaning with exaggerated pleasure.

Carlton tried to ignore it. He really wanted to be angry. Anger was easy to handle and he had a lot to be angry about — the world, the situation, even Shawn a little bit — but he just couldn’t be. He was too tired.

“So why did you sneak out?” he asked instead, pulling out of the parking lot. “Bit extreme, isn’t it?”

“He wouldn’t let me meet you,” Shawn answered with a shrug. “Which is bullshit because why wouldn’t you want to meet me?”

He felt a tug of guilt at the younger man’s confidence.

“I mean, he even said you asked not to meet me,” Shawn continued though now there was a lightness to his tone that rang false. It was a test… no, a question. Tests seemed to be the elder Spencer’s thing.

“I did,” Carlton confirmed after a moment of weighing his options. Shawn already knew and he didn’t want to set a precedence for lying to his mate. “To wait, I mean. I…” he glanced over to his passenger. “It’s been a lot, Shawn. And it’s not your fault, so don’t go thinking I’m blaming you or anything but… I lost my fiancée, who I love — loved — very much. I lost my apartment, what money I had saved up… now I got your father breathing down my neck and I still need to study for the detective exam and…” he shook his head. “It’s just not a good time right now.”

The seat beside him was very quiet for the moment and Carlton hoped it was just the younger man taking it all in and processing it in a very adult, reasonable manner.

“…So I’m a home wrecker?” Shawn asked after a moment. The car jerked as Carlton quickly looked over to the teenager, apologies and guilt on his tongue, and saw the smirk on the man’s lips.

He was joking.

He hoped he was joking.

Carlton huffed in annoyance, forcing himself to be calm. He didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings but that didn’t mean he would let his own be hurt instead.

“Not quite,” he said, focusing on the road. “It was a mutual agreement.”

“A ‘if I meet a mate, I’m leaving you’ kinda deal?”

“…Basically,” he nodded though he wished Shawn didn’t sound so flippant about it. “We didn’t want the other to feel like we were just settling for each other. So even if I don’t want a relationship with you, she doesn’t have to be insecure about it.”

The sweet pineapple took a sour note.

Shit.

He glanced over to see Shawn frowning down at his smoothie.

“You really don’t want m— to be with me?” the young man asked after a moment.

Shit, fuck, shit…

“I… not right now,” Carlton said, hoping to soften the blow. “Again, it’s not you. I have things I need to get settled and… and I’d rather you were older before we… before we even try anything.”

“I’m 18,” Shawn scoffed, pulling his knees up to his chest so his feet were in the seat. Carlton chose not to complain about that.

“And I’m 27,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It’s only 9 years,” Shawn scoffed, picking at the laces on his boots. “I mean, it’s not like Eric Norton who was, like, 17 when he met his mate who was, like, a 30-year-old receptionist. Like, that’s creepy.”

“That’s just a few more years on us,” Carlton reminded him.

“Yeah, but she was all creepy about it,” Shawn dismissed. “Like, convinced his parents to let her pull him out of school and crap.”

“…Aren’t you worried that I’d…”

“Henry would murder you and no one would find the body,” Shawn laughed that fear away. The hurt sour twinge to his scent was gone, at least. “So, you’re sure you don’t want a relationship right now?”

The answer to that was easy: No. But he had a feeling there was more to it. Like ‘what about later’? Or ‘Did he want a relationship at all?’

Carlton swallowed hard.

“Not… not right now,” he answered, pulling onto Shawn’s street before slowing to a stop before they got close to the Spencer house. He turned in his seat. Those green-hazel eyes were almost black in the dark of the car but they watched him with unwavering attention.

He didn’t know if he wanted this man in his life, even if his body did. And he needed to understand.

“Look, I… my parents weren’t mates. I know a lot of parents aren’t but… I remember their relationship being so… great. They both worked hard and loved each other a lot,” he explained, cringing inside as he spilled this bit of information. The only people who knew it were Victoria and Lauren who was too young to remember. “When my dad died, it was awful. My mother went from reserved to closed off and me and my sister were sent away every weekend because she couldn’t handle it.”

Shawn frowned but nodded for him to continue.

“Then… then my mother met a mate of hers. And I felt so… so betrayed. Like my father suddenly didn’t mean anything anymore. And yeah, I know it’s irrational and stupid but… I’ve hated the idea of finding my mate ever since.”

Silence stretched between them as they waited, the nearby lapping of ocean waves filling the night around them.

“My mom and Henry weren’t mates either,” Shawn said after a moment. “I don’t know why they bothered to try to stay together,” he shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “I think it was the bullshit ‘stay together for the kid’ but… they didn’t say it, but I think Mom just couldn’t handle him anymore. I’m sure you’re aware but Henry’s a bit… critical. And intense.”

He’d forgotten about the Spencer divorce. Wasn’t that one of the jabs Shawn sent his father’s way, about not having his mother’s new phone number?

“So, yeah, I want a relationship with a mate,” Shawn continued when Carlton nodded his understanding. “Because… like, even if it’s bad, that person still has to be there, ya’know? And yeah, I know some mated pairs are just… absolutely toxic but… you seem nice enough. I know I’m amazing so there’s no worries about that… so… yeah, I want to give it a try.”

‘Give it a try’ like a mated relationship was akin to trying a new foreign food or meditating.

But the kid, from what he’s been told and what he’s seen, seems nice enough, if a bit over-confident.

“I… at least let me get to know you,” Carlton said after a moment. “Before we even talk about anything serious. I want to know if I at least like you.”

The sweet citrus sparked ever sharper at that. “Of course you like me! I’m incredibly likable!”

Carlton couldn’t help but smile at the assertion but shook his head. “And none of that,” he warned. “I don’t want you to be anything other than yourself. No pretending to like the things I like, no acting the way you think I want you to act. If this has any chance, we have to be honest with each other.”

Shawn nodded eagerly. The sweet smell of happiness quickly filled the car.

A soft humming started, so quiet Carlton almost didn’t hear it over the waves.

Purring. A very subtle, almost stifled, purring.

Carlton stared and he could almost swear Shawn’s cheeks flushed. Omegas didn’t start purring until they presented but Shawn should have presented a year or so ago. His was the soft, insecure purr of fresh omega, the muscles not quite strong enough to make a full, rich purr older omegas can achieve.

A part of Carlton was worried and saddened by that — Shawn not having many reasons to display that trait — but then a pleased warmth spread throughout his chest, a spike of happiness right to his brain.

The omega was happy — no, comfortable with him. Enough to purr around him.

The animal in Carlton preened at the thought — that his omega trusted him already.

“So that’s a yes, then?” Shawn asked, interrupting his thoughts as he hugged Carlton’s coat close.

“Of sorts,” Carlton confirmed, unable to stop the small smile. “Friends first and we’ll… we’ll figure it out from there.” He started the car and began down the last stretch of road to the Spencer house.

As he expected, Henry was waiting on the porch with a black teenage boy, who was playing a handheld game, beside him.

“Aw, they called him,” he heard Shawn whine beside him, the purring and the smell of happiness gone.

Carlton, not feeling an ounce of guilt, opened his door, nodded toward Henry who was already stalking down the walkway, and went around to open Shawn’s door for him.

“Shawn, what the—” Henry trailed off as he saw the sexy prisoner costume his son had snuck out in. The alpha’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his face turning ever redder with anger. His brain seemed to settle on what to focus on. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Shawn grinned up at his father, shrugging off Carlton’s coat that had been hiding the worst of it.

Carlton took his coat without a word, shaking his head.

Henry stalked forward and looked Shawn over, making it clear he was checking for any scents or marks that should not be anywhere on his son.

“Dad, my virtue is still, disappointingly, intact,” Shawn groused, letting his father turn him this way and that as he was checked.

“He came to the station,” Carlton filled in, glancing over at the other teenager as he began making his way down the path, barely looking up from the game. “I brought him straight back.”

“Liar,” Shawn announced, holding up his mostly drained smoothie cup. “You got me a smoothie first so I’d stop complaining.”

“Yes,” Carlton nodded with a roll of his eyes. “It barely worked.”

The teenager was now at Carlton’s side. He finally looked up at Carlton and gave him a look over. He smelled like a beta and also a lot like Shawn. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought Shawn might have already lied to him, that this young man was his boyfriend. But no, there wasn’t anything lustful in the scent but familial. They didn’t look related but this man was definitely part of Shawn’s family if their scents were so mixed.

The teenager looked over at Shawn. “That mustache is atrocious.”

“Hey!” Carlton protested, reaching up to touch the hair over his lip.

“It’d be better if he grew a beard too,” Shawn said, nodding his head like he had just gifted the world with a wisdom that would persist through the ages.

“Gus,” Henry interrupted the two teenagers. “Go. Home. And I don’t want to see you for a week.”

“What, no!” Shawn protested, reality starting to sink in.

“Quiet Shawn,” Henry growled before pointing to the house. “Inside. Now. I’ll decide what to do with you later.”

“Ugh,” Shawn scoffed and, with a parting smile to Carlton, began walking up the pathway, making sure to kick as many rocks and drag his feet as much as possible.

Henry turned to Carlton.

Carlton straightened up and turned to fully face the older alpha.

“Sir,” he started before Henry could yell at him too. “I… I would like to request the opportunity to get to spend time with your son.”

Henry stopped for just a moment, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t mean dates,” Carlton quickly assured him. “Or even courting. Just a chance to spend time with him in a social setting… or even supervised. I just… I want to get to know him.”

He watched as Henry’s face remained red. He breathed deeply in and out as he tried to control his anger. He could only imagine what the other alpha was thinking: his omega son sneaking out to see an older alpha. That same alpha claiming he wanted to ‘spend time’ with him and he was supposed to believe that time didn’t include mating.

He held still as Henry stalked forward, making a show of scenting him as well. He had no doubt that he barely had any of Shawn on him.

It seemed to assuage the anger. A teeny tiny bit.

“I’m not rewarding Shawn for sneaking out,” he announced, crossing his arms. “Why this sudden change of heart? Thought you weren’t ready.”

Carlton couldn’t deny that.

“I… I don’t think Shawn will leave it alone,” he admitted after a moment. “And I wish I could have more time but I made it clear to him tonight that… that I don’t want an empty mating. That I’d prefer to get to know him before… before anything happens. I want this to be a choice as much as it can be.”

Henry stared him down.

“And… I want him to realize this is a choice too, not just our bodies playing tricks on us.”

After a moment, Henry nodded. “You want a soulmate. Not just a bondmate.”

That was a good way to put it. Someone who wanted to be with him, someone he could earn and he could be earned in return.

He needed to know if Shawn was capable of that.

If he was capable of that.

“Yes,” Carlton nodded. “I want that.”

Henry looked him over before glancing first toward the beta teenager who was almost to the end of the street now, then back toward the house where his omega son stood waiting by the open sliding glass door. He could tell they were both being closely watched.

“Red Chief Firing Range,” Henry finally said, looking back to Carlton. “You know it?”

He blinked in confusion.

“Um, yeah. I’ve not had the chance to go…”

“The 11th. Meet us there at noon,” Henry instructed, looking back at his son, contemplating. “But if Shawn hasn’t finished the Mt. Everest-sized list of chores I plan to have him do, that’s going to get pushed back until it’s done.” The smirk he gave was almost maniacal. “I think the house needs a few new coats of paint. And the squad cars at the department need a good scrubbing…”

Notes:

Shawn's costume...

 

Having to upload via phone and I'm not used it. Sorry to those on discord who don't get this heads up. My phone doesn't seem to like discord and won't let me in...

Chapter 5: November 11, 1995

Summary:

A supervised, definitely not a date, trip to the shoot range.

The Red Chief Firing Range was about an hour out of Santa Barbara, out in the sticks where the sound of gunfire was unlikely to alarm anyone. The station had their own firing range down in the basement but there was something special about being out in an open-air range.

It was a bright, clear day with a nice cool breeze, spreading the sharp smell of gunpowder through the area.

Shawn thinks I smell like gunpowder, Carlton remembered. Either faintly or he usually has the residue clinging to him. Either way, the knowledge made him feel good, especially since the younger man seemed to like it.

It was a long week and a half since Henry agreed to let him and Shawn spend — very much supervised — time together, and Carlton’s brain had spent that time going over all the things that could happen today.

His gun could misfire. He could miss every single target he aimed at. It could be a ploy from Henry so he could ‘accidentally’ shoot him. A zombie apocalypse could start and he’d have to show his skill and worth in protecting not only his potential mate but also every citizen of every sex and gender and dynamic in the area.

That last one was very unlikely to happen but it was a common daydream he had when the paperwork became just a bit too much. Though Shawn being there was new and too scary to think about so he didn’t.

His daydreams and worries had made the wait unbearable but today was the day and it was an important day. Important enough that he’d brought his favorite pistol and rifle.

He spotted the Spencers out back talking to Jerry Carp, the recently retired detective who owned the range. Henry and Carp were laughing about something while Shawn stood off to the side, looking exactly like a bored teenager forced to be around his father’s friends.

He also looked… very tired.

There were bits of white paint stuck in the ends of his long hair, his shirt was wrinkled and dirt clung to the knees of his jeans. There were some impressive bags under the omega’s heavy-lidded eyes. He almost felt sorry for him if he didn’t know all the crap Shawn had pulled over the last month.

As Carlton grew closer, Shawn’s eyes flitted over to him. To say his face lit up was an understatement. He grinned brightly, his eyes sparkling despite the bags, and he started to bounce his way over to Carlton but winced and took up a slower, less work-sore jog.

“Lassie!” he greeted, throwing his arms around him before Carlton could object.

“Shawn,” he nodded toward Henry who just looked exasperated at Shawn’s antics. He started walking over, his friend following behind. Shawn continued to hug him tightly, refusing to let go.

“Glad you got all your chores done,” Carlton said, awkwardly patting his back. “I’ve really been wanting to come here. You can let go now.”

“I know,” Shawn said, not letting go.

Carlton sighed and waited.

Henry stopped a few feet away and pointedly coughed.

Shawn groaned. He broke the hug, taking a step back, but his hand stayed, slipping seamlessly into Carlton’s.

Carlton couldn’t help but glance down at their clasped hands, feeling a twinge of pleasure at the gesture.

“Carlton Lassiter, Jerry Carp,” Henry introduced him, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “An old partner of mine.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he nodded to the older man. “I’ve heard a lot about your work.”

“Oh, stop sucking up,” Carp laughed, waving him off. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You know why you’re here, right?”

Carlton frowned. He had requested to spend time with Shawn. He actually hadn’t considered why Henry Spencer chose a firing range — well, beyond planning his accidental murder. Though surely being cops, they’d know better than to hint at his upcoming demise.

“I… I enjoy firearms,” he offered, trying not to sound as unsure as he suddenly felt. “I’m a bit of a crack shot if I say so myself. Not bad with a sniper either. And the in-department range only allows handguns to be fired there.”

All reasons why Carlton would enjoy coming to a firing range… but what about Shawn?

The younger man had backed off when the two older alphas approached and had the bored teenager look on his face again. This probably wasn’t something Shawn enjoyed.

So why would Henry Spencer choose a place his son wouldn’t like?

This was a test. It had to be.

Now it was a question of what that test might be.

He glanced back at Shawn who was looking out over the field, pointedly ignoring the gun talk but keeping his hand firmly in his.

Jerry Carp laughed at his answer, Henry smiling along with him.

“Let’s get started then.”

 

He was right to suspect the firing range wasn’t for Shawn’s benefit.

At first, the younger man had tried to stay by Carlton’s side, his hand firmly in his, but that became a problem when it came time to shoot. He had reluctantly released him and backpedaled a few feet away to watch.

He had to hand it to Henry: a firing range was not the place for conversation. Every other word was lost behind the bang of a shot and safety regulations concerning personal space kept Shawn a few feet away.

He gave Shawn what he wanted in only the most basic of ways. Not in a way that mattered.

And Shawn seemed to know it.

Carlton was glad he wasn’t the only one to figure out Henry’s ploy… but he hoped it wouldn’t ruin the day too much.

He emptied the clip into the farthest target, careful to keep the spread in a close pattern toward the very center of the paper chest. The shots all hit within the circle over the paper target’s heart.

He smiled in satisfaction. He’d not missed a single shot at all that day.

He heard Shawn clap behind him, enthusiastic in a way that was almost embarrassing. The other two men were harder to read: Henry was carefully neutral while Carp just seemed politely impressed.

“Not bad,” Henry nodded, looking over at Carlton’s target.

“‘Not bad’?” Shawn repeated, trotting back up to stand at Carlton’s side. “That was great! That’d stop most evil-doers in their tracks! Okay, maybe not a zombie but definitely a werewolf if those bullets were silver.”

“Probably not a werewolf either,” Carlton said, distracted as he studied his work. “Silver makes horrible bullets. It’d have to be a shotgun shell filled with silver pellets to do any real damage.”

The two Spencers stared at him, one incredulously and the other like he’d just stepped out of an action hero movie.

“What? I like to be prepared…” he shifted uncomfortably at the unexpected attention. “Like you’ve never thought about it before…”

“No,” Henry stated firmly. “I very much have not.”

“I have,” Shawn grinned, grabbing up Carlton’s hand once again, this time with both hands. “Though I underestimated how reliable werewolf movies are.”

“Come on, Rookie,” Henry shook his head. He waved for another target to be put up. “You’re an alright shot but I’m feeling lucky.” He pointed to the clean target. “I bet you can’t shoot a perfect circle in that target. Clean enough that the middle falls off.”

Carlton squinted over to the target: positioned at the farthest distance for his pistol’s ideal range.

He felt Shawn’s hands squeeze his. The younger man was giving his father a glare which the other man just returned with a smug smile. Henry quirked an eyebrow at them, clearly waiting.

Carlton felt his ears start to burn and a cold twang enter his chest.

He suspected Spencer had something up his sleeve but this was… this was just insulting.

“I didn’t know we were at a carnival,” he said, turning to face Henry. He dimly noticed he had put himself between father and son but that was a minor detail. “If we’re going to be playing games, how about something that’s not physically impossible?”

Henry raised his eyebrows, surprised.

Carlton tried to speak to his superiors with the utmost respect, even out of uniform, and he’d put up with a lot from Henry. But his marksmanship was something he took very seriously. The fact that Henry tried to not only trick him but to use that rigged game to humiliate him…

The sweet burst of scent behind him almost distracted him.

Henry crossed his arms and gave Carlton another look over. Then he smiled, wide but not quite friendly.

“Good,” he nodded. “I wasn’t sure if that would work. How about this? A straight shoot-off? Three rounds each, most points win.”

That, at least, was actually fair. Given what he’s seen, it’d be a close call as well.

“And what are we winning?”

Henry made a show of considering it. “If I win… Shawn doesn’t see you for the rest of the month.”

“What, that’s not fair!” Shawn protested, moving around Carlton to confront his father. “You’ve already high-jacked the hell out of this date! And now you want to push back the chance for another one even further?!”

“I gave you what you wanted, kid,” Henry shrugged. “You didn’t object to coming here.”

“T-That’s…!” The younger Spencer, in what Carlton was sure was a rarity, couldn’t seem to find the words.

“And if I win?” Carlton asked, pulling the other alpha’s attention back to him. “I get to set our next date? Meeting. Our next meeting.”

Henry wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I’d be willing to negotiate it.”

Shawn was right: that was a completely unfair wager. And it was probably the best he was going to get.

“Fine.”

“No,” Shawn interrupted, stepping between the two. “Not fine. As sexy as this would be in an 80s flick, I’m not just going to stand over here while you two are having a pissing match.”

He glared first at Henry, and even leveled a glare at Carlton, before marching over to the table where the range’s guns waited. He picked up a pistol, posed with it Charlie’s Angels style, before moving over to the designated firing spot.

“You’ll blow a blood vessel or something if it was a real date,” he said, not looking over to Henry though that was clear who he was talking to. “So me and Lassie get the next hour to ourselves on this range. No knot measuring contests, just me and my mate having a romantic walk while strangers practice killing things.”

“Shawn…” Henry started to protest.

“Oh, let him have it, Henry,” Carp laughed, leaning back to watch Shawn aim.

Carlton frowned at the two older men then over at Shawn. His pose was perfect, his breathing collected and steady. The other two alphas didn’t seem at all surprised though Henry was clearly agitated.

He watched as Shawn emptied the clip in quick succession.

Carlton frowned, staring at the target. He could only see one hole.

Shawn turned back to his father, removing the ear protection before taking the glasses off.

“You… only hit it once?” Carlton started to say, watching as the sheet was brought up. It was a center shot but only the one…

The hole wasn’t a perfect circle but jagged from multiple shots hitting so close together that the paper ripped.

All shots, perfectly center.

He looked at Shawn in awe as a feeling of desire he hadn’t felt in over a month shot through him.

“That’s… incredible.”

Shawn beamed at him. He slipped his arm through Carlton’s and began pulling him away toward the back of the range’s lodge, out of the way of any stray bullets.

“Better luck next time, Henry,” he heard Carp laugh behind him. “You know better than to hustle with Shawnie around.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Carlton had a feeling that Carp’s advice concerning Shawn were words to live by.

 

Shawn should have known it was a trap.

Henry never did anything nice for him without an alternative motive — his mistake was thinking all those chores were the motive.

Clean out the garage. Repaint the house. Wash every cop car at the precinct. Clean his room. Vacuum, mop, and scrub the grout with a toothbrush.

And this morning, he had sprung weeding and planting flowers in the garden.

The only time Shawn’s muscles had been sorer was after his first heat.

And then Henry tried to pull another fast one on them both. Did he actually think Shawn was just going to standby for that bit?

Unbelievable.

“I could have won,” Carlton said beside him, sounding a bit hurt.

Shawn realized he’d been complaining out loud.

“Maybe,” he admitted, hugging his prize, aka Carlton’s arm, closer. “But Henry doesn’t like to make bets he doesn’t think he can win.”

Carlton nodded, a furrow between his brows. “So he was holding back?”

“Maybe,” Shawn shrugged. “He was the one to teach me to shoot…”

Shawn felt the alpha falter for a second, taking his words in. It was obvious who must have taught Shawn how to fire. Shawn bit the inside of his cheek for a second. Was this a bad thing? Alphas were so weird about omegas being better than them at things.

And Carlton really seemed to be proud of his shooting abilities.

That was probably another of Henry’s subtle asshole moves.

“Does it bother you?” he asked, trying to sound casual about it.

“What? You nailing the target rapid fire?” Carlton asked. There was a slight weight to his tone, deeper… huskier.

Interesting…

Shawn glanced up at him. Eyebrows up, eyes wide, pupils dilated… and the slightest hint of arousal in his scent.

His smile brightened, no longer fake.

“I’m an omega of many talents,” Shawn demurred, leaning over to rest his chin on Carlton’s arm as he looked up at him. “Impressed?”

“Very,” Carlton confirmed with no hesitation.

Shawn felt a rumble in his chest at the praise. He had always hated how rare he ended up purring since presenting — come on, a natural comforting motor in your chest? It’s great! — but now he can’t seem to stop. Ever since Halloween, if he closed his eyes and thought about his mate, how he reassured him, spoke softly to him, how he smelled… the purring would start.

He loved it.

“I got to admit, this didn’t go to plan,” Shawn said, walking them over to a picnic table set just outside the view of the range, for people waiting for an opening or those who just want to have something to eat. He sat down on the table, letting his legs hang down. “I didn’t even think to bring anything for lunch.”

“Neither did I,” Carlton admitted, sitting down on the bench beside Shawn, causing him to smile. Still such a good boy… “I was actually hoping, if things went well, we’d be getting something to eat afterward.” He paused to consider his words. “Well, all three of us.”

Shawn scowled at the thought of Henry joining them.

“Think we can get away with getting a separate table?”

“Probably not,” Carlton shook his head, glancing back toward the range, as if checking to see if Henry was stalking them. Nothing so far.

“So, since I won that whole kerfuffle over there,” Shawn moved so his feet rested on the seat beside Carlton, the side of his leg touching the other man. “I feel I should have some sort of say over our next date.”

“Meeting,” Carlton corrected, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Just… meetings, for now.”

Shawn gave him an indulgent smile. “Okay. Socially Acceptable Not Courting Meetings. S.A.N.C.M. No, that’s a horrible name. Tack Officially on. S.A.N.C.M.O. is slightly better.”

“It really isn’t,” Carlton shook his head. “Maybe come up with the anagram first before picking out the words for it.”

Shawn nodded thoughtfully. “Something to fit S.N.O.O.K.U.M.S. That’s a fun word.”

“Definitely not,” Carlton shot the suggestion down. “We’re not having S.N.O.O.K.U.M.S.”

“How about Thanksgiving?”

“I think that’s already taken.”

Shawn grinned, happy that the older man had played along. “I wanted to go to my Mom’s for it. Actually see her new place and all but she’s over in Portland — the one over in Stephen King country, not Nirvana Country — and…” Shawn shrugged. “Plane tickets are expensive…”

And Shawn had plans for what savings he had, Mom just moved, and Henry was Henry. And no one wanted to let Shawn borrow a car to drive across the country.

He realized his purring had stopped. That sucked.

“Sorry to hear that,” Carlton said before, awkwardly, patting Shawn’s knee. “You must miss her.”

He did. A lot.

Enough that he shut that empty feeling he was starting to associate with her absence behind every mental wall he could put up at the moment.

“I can usually weasel my way into having holiday dinners with Gus,” he said instead. “I think Winnie was talking about inviting Henry though so maybe not.”

First Thanksgiving without Maddie…

Suddenly, he didn’t want to go have Thanksgiving with Gus.

“What about you?” he asked instead, latching on to the start of a new plan. “You mentioned you’re not close with your family.”

Carlton shook his head. “I wasn’t really planning on celebrating it this year.”

“Like you apparently don’t celebrate Halloween?” Shawn asked.

Carlton shrugged. “Halloween is a children’s holiday.” Shawn gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. Carlton ignored him. “Thanksgiving is for family… I’d celebrated with Victoria before. That’s not happening now.”

Shawn refused to feel bad about that.

“Then you can celebrate it with me!” Shawn grinned, nudging Carlton with his knee. “I’ll sn-come over and we’ll eat.”

Carlton quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think letting Henry near me and knives is a good idea.”

“Noooo,” Shawn rolled the ‘o’ out. “Just me. I can tell him I’m at Gus’s or something.”

“Shawn,” Carlton sighed. “You should be with your family or at least with your friends. I’m fine by myself.”

“I’m not fine with you by yourself,” Shawn sniffed. “You want to be my friend, right? Hopefully family someday. So you totally count!”

“Shawn…” Carlton shook his head. “I think… it’s still a bit soon.” He said the words gently, as though he were trying to lighten a blow. “And I already agreed to work that day.”

Shawn crossed his arms and pouted at Carlton. “Okay. You want to play it that way. Then dibs on Christmas. I know you haven’t claimed to work on Christmas yet.”

Carlton winced. “Yes but… that is one of the days I do try and visit family. Mostly because Lauren will hate me if I don’t visit her.”

“Lauren?”

“My little sister.”

Shawn managed to pout harder. “Then it’s a good thing there are 12 days of Christmas and I don’t want to hear anything against it. There will be a Christmas Tree at my place and yours and I expect at least a candy cane if not a proper gift.”

“Why a candy cane?”

“Because you can make little shivs and accidentally stab people, including yourself, with it,” Shawn stated as if it were obvious and something normal people wanted. “Deal?”

Carlton sighed and looked up at Shawn before, to Shawn’s pleasure, nodding his agreement.

“Yay!” he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Carlton, giving him a hug. “Another point for Shawn!”

“I didn’t know we were keeping track,” Carlton said in his ear.

Shawn pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “We Spencers are a very competitive bunch… speaking of which!”

Shawn closed the distance between them quickly, pressing his lips to Carlton’s. The kiss only lasted a few moments before Shawn pulled back with a loud smack of his lips.

“That was my other prize for beating two alphas at once,” he grinned at the stunned alpha. “I figured if I said anything, Henry’d flip.”

In the distance, from the direction of the range, came a familiar yell of ‘Shawn!’.

“I’ll try and visit you on Thanksgiving,” Carlton glanced over to the quickly approaching Henry. “And at least 4 of the 12 days of Christmas.”

“Make it an even 6,” Shawn grinned, looking over his shoulder at Henry. “He’s still not close enough. Smoochies!”

He stole another quick kiss to the corner of Carlton’s mouth before gracefully sliding away from him and off the table to intercept his quickly approaching father.

“We agreed on Thanksgiving!” Shawn exaggerated. “And all of Christmas! He might even move in.”

Seeing the vein on Henry’s temple pulse in anger was so very worth it.

Chapter 6: November 22, 1995

Summary:

It's Not Thanksgiving but Shawn's got plans anyway

Notes:

Posting this a day early because apparently the universe doesn't want me to have internet this weekend.

The apartment building was on the cheaper side of town, a bit run down but safe enough.

Or at least the apartment manager deemed it safe enough as she led him up to Carlton’s new apartment. Shawn had confessed his plan to surprise his mate, showing her a picture of Carlton’s academy photo that he’d made a copy of as proof of their relationship.

Maggie was a sweet older lady who smelled like hard candy and arthritis cream.

“I feel so much better having a cop in the building,” she said, tottering in front of him toward the door. “You never know when you need a cop, you know.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Shawn agreed, trying not to wince as the plastic bags he carried dug into his fingers. Why were turkeys so heavy? “He’s a bit of a workaholic though. He was so disappointed about having to work tomorrow but duty calls and all.”

“He sounds lovely,” she agreed, unlocking Carlton’s door. “A bit short with me but, well, you can’t hold everything against someone. He did suggest I get some security systems for the main entrance if not the individual apartments.”

“Oh, that’s Carly,” Shawn grinned, stepping around the old woman to enter the apartment. “Over-protective to a fault. Have a good Thanksgiving, Ma’am.”

“Oh, I hope you two have one as well.”

Shawn dropped the bags as soon as the door closed.

“Ooooww,” he breathed, flexing his bloodless fingers, working circulation back into them. Grocery shopping was evil. He would never blame a homeless person for stealing a shopping cart again. He should probably do the same, actually. He’d have to always use the elevator though as he suspected going upstairs would be a problem. Going downstairs would be an entirely different problem.

He shook out his hands and took a look at Carlton’s apartment.

It was both smaller and bigger than he expected: the living room, kitchen, and dining room were just one big room separated by a cheap-looking island. But there were two doors, one leading to a closet and the other to a bedroom that could fit a queen-sized bed and not much else.

A part of him was tempted to wallow in the bedsheets, leave his scent behind for Carlton to find… but that felt too much like ‘More-Than-Friends’, a boundary that Carlton probably wasn’t going to let him cross anytime soon. The stolen kisses from their last few meetings were just that: stolen, seemingly appreciated, but not reciprocated… as of yet.

But friends could totally cook for each other! His parents used to have dinner parties all the time! That’s all this was!

A dinner party!

For two!

It didn’t take long to find that the only cooking supplies the older man had were a small pot, a big pot, a frying pan, and a single cookie sheet.

That should be enough, right?

Shawn grabbed up the bags and moved them into the kitchen. The frozen turkey hit the floor with a thunk. That would have to be put on to cook first.

He turned to the oven and, after checking that there were no leftovers or other hidden surprises in its depths, turned the dial up to a number that seemed good. The oven was a bit on the small side but he got a small bird so it should be fine.

Besides, he came prepared!

He pulled the aluminum roasting tray out of a bag and set it out on the counter. That looked big enough.

Next, he pulled the turkey up and hauled it over to the sink. He’d watched his parents preparing a turkey before — they took turns depending on the holiday — and he’d always seen them giving it a wash before they ushered him out of the kitchen for being in the way.

Wash it, stick it in a pan, and put it in the oven!

This was going to be easy-peasy!

 

Shawn stared in horror at the small paper bag that had fallen out of the ice-cold turkey as he tried to carry it from the sink to the tray.

Was that supposed to be in there?

Was he supposed to do something with it?

He set the turkey in the pan with a thud before turning to examine the mysterious bag on the floor.

He knelt down and picked it up by a corner.

It wasn’t a bag. It was a pouch.

Tiny, meaty bits fell out onto the floor.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

 

With the turkey now in the oven and the stray bird body parts carefully scooped up — he’ll have to tell Carlton to get a new broom and dustpan… and kitchen floor… and more bleach because Shawn had sprayed the hell out of the floor where the organs had landed… and more paper towels because he’d used them all the clean up the bleach and turkey juices — Shawn considered the remaining groceries.

He knew the turkey would take a few hours but everything else wouldn’t.

His dinner plan was simple: Turkey, mashed potatoes, and mac and cheese. Because if his school can consider mac and cheese a vegetable, then, damn it, so could he!

By his calculations, Carlton would get off work in three hours and take another thirty minutes to get home, depending on if he stops anywhere.

That gave him an easy two hours of TV time!

He hoped Carlton had cable.

 

Who the hell only buys the small jar of peanut butter?

Shawn scraped the bottom of the plastic bottle with a spoon, trying to get the last few bits of peanut buttery goodness out.

He’s going to have to talk to Carlton about his snack situation because this was just pitiful.

 

Shawn needed to peel the potatoes for the mashing of them.

Carlton didn’t seem to have a vegetable peeler.

What kind of Irishman was he?!

If he didn’t know better and had never seen those blue eyes, black hair, and fine Irish features for himself, he’d think Lassiter was a name his family married into or something.

That was a thing, right?

Shawn eyed the few knives Carlton had for cooking purposes and considered his options.

“Like… they had to peel them somehow, right?” Shawn said, picking up what he guessed was a paring knife. “It’ll be like peeling an apple…”

He sucked at peeling apples.

 

The potatoes, after a struggle that Shawn didn’t want to talk about, were peeled, chopped, and set in Carlton’s largest pot to boil.

Shawn considered his hands mournfully, trying to open one of the remaining band-aids without it sticking to the other band-aids he’d already applied.

Peeling potatoes with a knife?

Nothing like peeling an apple.

And then the dicing? How are you supposed to keep the now naked and slippery potatoes still while you chopped?! They got to use fake food or something on those cooking shows or those chefs were really magicians and the chopping vegetables up that fast was the trick.

He wrapped the last band-aid around his pinkie finger and glanced down at the decimated box that had once been full.

He added it to the list of stuff he was going to owe Carlton when this was done. Though not these plain brown ones band-aid — some superheroes or ninja turtles. Plain band-aids just add insult to injury.

Speaking of, the alpha better be ready to kiss his wounds better. Boundaries be damned, this was a medical emergency and his owies needed smoochies.

 

“Woah, cowboy!” Shawn whistled as he finally got around to opening the doors at either side of the TV stand. Westerns upon westerns. He was pretty sure there was a copy of every Clint Eastwood movie ever made residing in this tiny apartment’s walls.

Shawn had seen all the basics, obviously, but there were a few here he’d never gotten around to watching.

He glanced back toward the kitchen. The pot was only just starting to steam. The pot was taking forever to boil — he was pretty sure time slowed the longer he waited! — but it shouldn’t be a problem to pop one of these bad boys in while he waited. He still had, like, an hour or so before Carlton got back.

He carefully selected a movie and sat down to watch.

 

Boiling! Water was boiling!

So much boiling!

Where did all this water come from?!

WHY WAS IT GROWING?!

 

The potatoes were back to a reasonable simmer, the monstrous growing foam had subsided once he’d turned the heat down… and moved it to a different eye for a few moments… and splashed a decent bit of it on the back of his hand.

Shawn pouted on the couch, a dishcloth filled with ice pressed over his hand.

He was owed so many get-well kisses for this.

Wait…

How was he supposed to get the potatoes out of the water?

 

Something was going on. Carlton could feel it in his bones.

For it being the week of a major family holiday, Santa Barbara was being oddly well-behaved. Only a few calls to break up a domestic disturbance, no parties have been out of control… there were hardly any drunk drivers to pull over.

Which probably meant the actual day of Thanksgiving and the days after were going to make up for it.

But this was something else.

The apartment manager smiled at him when he passed by her office. The most the old woman usually did was give an absent-minded wave if she even noticed anyone passing by her door. But she had looked him straight in the eye and gave him a warm smile.

He didn’t like it.

He was okay with having some kind of community with his neighbors but only in so far as they minded their own business and called the cops when something suspect happened.

He entered his floor and crept down the hall. He kept to the wall to avoid the worst of the creaky floorboards and walked on the balls of his feet, careful not to make a sound. He kept a hand on his gun.

Standing beside his door, he reached over and slowly tested the knob.

His door was unlocked.

He hissed a small curse between his teeth and pulled out his gun. He edged around to the front of the door and, his gun at the ready, threw the door open.

There was a frightened yelp and the clatter of metal on metal then metal on the floor.

“The potatoes!”

Carlton scanned the room quickly, his gun following his gaze.

His TV was on and playing one of his Eastwood movies, the doors to the bedroom and bathroom were both standing wide open, and his kitchen was a mess. There was the faint smell of scorched metal in the air.

And in the middle of it all was Shawn.

Shawn, covered in bandages and staring mournfully down at the mess on the floor. There were two large serving spoons and what seemed to be potato on the floor. Beside Shawn, on the counter, was a still steaming pot and a bowl with a pile of potatoes that seemed to have been mashed with a fork.

He couldn’t help but notice the pot was set directly on the top of the countertop.

“Shawn! What the hell?” Carlton let out a sound that was half sigh and half yell. “What are you… What have…? Why?”

He stepped into the room, tucking his gun back in its holster, closing the door behind him.

Shawn looked up, the pout quickly replaced with a grin.

“Surprise!” He waved an arm around, displaying the disaster that was his kitchen. “I decided to surprise you with Thanksgiving Dinner!”

“I thought I was coming over Friday?” At least that’s the arrangement he remembered being made. A nice dinner and visit when he got off work at noon after making sure overly eager soccer moms didn’t shiv each other in K-Mart over creepy Muppet dolls or something.

“Yeah,” Shawn confirmed, just a hint of a grimace on his face. “But I wanted to surprise you. With dinner.”

He glanced around the kitchen, a bit less enthusiastic.

“Cooking’s harder than I thought,” he admitted after a moment. “Did you know cooking is hard?”

Carlton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A part of him wanted to comfort Shawn, say that he appreciated the thought, but another part of him — the part that thought about his down payment on this apartment, the part that knew this all had to be cleaned up — was not as forgiving.

“If you can’t cook,” Carlton started, shrugging his coat off to hang it up, “why were you cooking?”

Shawn considered him a moment, the calculating look he knew from Henry Spencer entering his eyes.

“Because I wanted to,” Shawn settled on. “And… I thought it’d be easy. I mean, it was just supposed to be turkey, potatoes, and mac… I forgot to cook the mac and cheese!”

He quickly scanned the floor before grabbing up one of the grocery bags off the floor, fetching a large, rectangular box from within. He proudly showed Carlton the cover of a frozen baked mac and cheese. He looked down at the box and his smile faded, turning to a look of shocked awe.

“An hour?!” He looked up at Carlton, scandalized. “This takes an hour to cook?!”

“How long was it sitting out?” Carlton sighed, making his way toward the cabinet at the end of the kitchen, carefully walking around mashed floor potatoes and Shawn. He took a glass and bottle of whiskey down from their safe place.

“Um… a few hours?” Shawn answered, watching him. “Can I have some?”

“God no,” Carlton answered immediately, pouring a few fingers worth of alcohol. He set the bottle aside and turned to face Shawn, leaning back against the counter. “And it shouldn’t take a full hour if it's thawed a bit.”

Shawn nodded thoughtfully, looking at the box.

Carlton took a long sip of the whiskey, letting the burn distract him for now.

He’d been told Shawn was a hurricane and he’d thought he’d seen just how much of a disaster the omega could be. Thankfully, the most damage done seemed to be to Shawn himself.

“Shawn?” he asked, voice a bit rough from the liquor.

“Hmm?”

“The potatoes?”

“Oh,” Shawn glanced down at the fallen potatoes and then over to the bowl and plate, both also covered in potatoes. “I want to put forth that that is your fault for not having a vegetable peeler.” He held up his hands. “I had to use a knife! And then I couldn’t figure out how to get the potatoes out of the boiling water so I…” he made a motion with both hands, as though he were using salad tongs or something. “With the spoons there but potatoes are slippery. Then I realized I only had forks to mash them with… That’s about the time you came in.”

Carlton took another deep breath. He reached over and pulled open a drawer. He reached out and grabbed a peeler out. Then he nodded toward the top of the fridge. There was a colander there.

“Okay, that looks different from the one we have at home,” Shawn defended. “And I thought that was a fancy bowl or something.”

“And do you do much cooking at home?” Carlton asked, rephrasing the earlier question.

“Um… a bit,” Shawn hedged which Carlton took to mean ‘no’.

“So this isn’t some weird attempt to be a good little housemate?” Carlton asked, crossing his arms, the glass resting just above his elbow. “Something you wanted to do because you wanted to? Not to try and impress me.”

Shawn scoffed. “Of course, I wanted to impress you,” he rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I want to wear an apron and spend my life dusting your stuff and vacuuming your floor…” he paused and raised his eyebrows. “Unless… it’s only the apron…”

Carlton downed the rest of his whiskey.

“I hate surprises,” he grumbled, setting the glass aside.

“I kinda noticed,” Shawn said dryly, glancing over to the front door. “I assume you don’t charge into your own home with guns a-blazing for the fun of it.”

Not always just for the fun of it…

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” Shawn asked after a moment, his voice going a bit soft, his scent a bit sour.

“No,” Carlton said immediately before catching himself. “Yes, I am. A little bit,” he corrected. “But I’m trying to be calm about it.” He gestured toward everything. “This is… infuriating but… fixable. No lasting damage, just a waste of time to clean it.”

“…I can clean it.”

“And I appreciate that.”

He saw Shawn frown a bit and knew he’d just caught Shawn in a pity ploy to get out of it.

“Just… give me a heads up next time,” Carlton said. “I’m not one of those people who hates spoilers. I’d rather have something to look forward to than to have it sprung on me.”

Shawn nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I can get that.”

He looked around the kitchen, a bit solemn now.

Carlton pushed himself away from the counter, heading toward the oven. He was glad that Shawn, at least, had found the oven mitts. He’d hate to imagine what the omega would have done if he hadn’t.

“You said there’s a turkey?” he asked, letting his annoyance fade to try and cheer the omega up.

“Yeah!” Shawn grinned, quickly distracted. “It’s been in a few hours so it should be done.”

Carlton’s eyes flickered up to the temperature knob. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Was it, um… was it frozen by any chance?”

“Yeah, why?”

Shawn quickly found out why.

“I didn’t know it could do that.”

They both stared at the blackened skin of the turkey. A large slice of breast had been cut off by Carlton, who knew what they’d find underneath. The still mostly raw insides oozed uncooked juices.

“I can fix it,” Carlton reassured him. “It’ll take some tin foil and a few more hours…”

The phone by the couch started to ring.

Carlton looked over to Shawn, his eyes narrowed. He’d just come off his shift so it was unlikely he’d be called back in. The only friends he had that would bother to call him were actually Victoria’s friends. His family wouldn’t be calling him though they’d expect a call tomorrow.

He went over and picked it up.

He didn’t get a chance to speak before Henry Spencer’s voice said: “Did he burn your apartment building down?”

At least it wasn’t an emergency.

“Surprisingly, no,” Carlton answered before mouthing over to Shawn ‘it’s your dad’.

Shawn rolled his eyes and came closer to listen in.

“Is anything actually edible?” Henry continued.

Carlton looked over at the mess in the kitchen. “Define edible.”

“It is delicious and you would be so jealous!” Shawn said loudly, leaning into the phone to make sure he was heard.

“That’s what I figured,” Henry said, sounding smug. “If you want a proper dinner, it should be ready in about thirty minutes.”

Shawn scoffed, offended.

“I got the turkey in the smoker,” Henry added, as though he were trying to sweeten the offer.

“My turkey’s fine,” Shawn pouted.

“Your turkey could get up and walk out at any minute,” Carlton said, dryly, covering the mouthpiece so Henry couldn’t hear him. “Is your dad a good cook?”

Shawn glowered at him before shrugging in such a way that could mean: ‘whatever’ or ‘yeah but I don’t want to admit it’.

“It’s been a while since I had a good smoked turkey…”

“Nooo, it’s a trap!” Shawn hissed. “A delicious turkey trap!”

“How delicious?”

Shawn gasped, scandalized. “Are you so easily bribed?”

“I’ve never been in your house,” Carlton reminded him. “And it couldn’t hurt. I mean, he saw you kiss me and didn’t shoot me.”

“Yeah, but he could still poison you!”

Carlton thought about the last time he had a smoked turkey, how juicy, how flavorful it had been…

“Are you seriously considering it?” Shawn pouted.

Carlton uncovered the phone. “Let me get cleaned up. We’ll bring the mac and cheese.”

 

It only took them fifteen minutes to clean the potatoes off everything and wrap the half-cooked turkey in foil before forcing it into Carlton’s refrigerator. Then Shawn, still pouting about his failed surprise, grabbed the VHS tape out of the player.

Dinner at the Spencer house was, surprisingly, almost normal.

Henry just seemed amused by the whole thing, having figured out Shawn’s plan when he’d gotten a call from a neighbor who had seen Shawn at the grocery store ‘getting ready for Thanksgiving’. And since Henry had already planned a surprise, albeit small, dinner, he knew Shawn was up to something.

And lately, when Shawn was up to something, it usually involved Carlton.

And as much as Shawn pouted through dinner, he had second and third helpings.

Carlton couldn’t blame him.

That turkey was worth being poisoned over.

But beyond Henry’s smug attitude over his cooking skills, there was little tension in the small beach house. No arguments other than Shawn’s expected sniping.

Henry hadn’t even complained when Shawn announced they were watching the Clint Eastwood movie he’d snatched from Carlton’s apartment.

There had been a glare sent their way when Shawn had settled himself right beside Carlton on the couch, their legs and sides close enough to touch, a blanket spread over their laps, but no verbal objection.

Now, with a half-drunk bottle of beer in their hands, Carlton and Henry watched the last half of the movie. Shawn had fallen asleep thirty minutes in, his head on Carlton’s shoulder.

Henry glanced over at them a few times, eyes tracking the outline of the blanket to make sure hands were where they were supposed to be.

It was nice.

Peaceful.

Henry raised the remote and paused the movie.

“What?”

“Shhh,” Henry hissed, holding a finger to his lips. He was staring over at them, his brows furrowed.

Carlton listened but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary…

Except for Shawn.

A very content and sleeping Shawn…

“Is…” Henry frowned, his voice soft as to not wake his son. “Is he purring?”

Carlton glanced down at the young omega and could feel the soft vibrations moving through him. He’d gotten so used to the sound and feel of it that he’d forgotten…

He nodded.

“He’s done it the last few times we’ve met up,” he admitted. “I, uh, got the impression he doesn’t do it often.”

Henry frowned, staring over at his son. For a moment his face softened, something almost like sadness in his eyes, before he leaned back in his chair. “Not even when Maddie was still here,” he said softly. “He’s been purring?”

“First time when I brought him back on Halloween,” Carlton said, hating to remind Henry of that little escapade but Henry just nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s the first time I’ve heard it,” Henry stated, looking back at the TV with an unreadable expression. “Huh.”

He turned the movie back on and didn’t look their way again.

Chapter 7: December 2, 1995

Summary:

Henry has moved on to step two... whatever that means.

There was something inherently wrong about being at school on a Saturday.

The building was empty and there were almost no cars in the parking lot, no loitering teenagers trying to avoid whatever it was they were avoiding.

It was weird.

“The term is ‘liminal’, Shawn.” Gus wasn’t too happy to be there either, carrying his own towel and bagged lunch. He wasn’t enthusiastic about their little spy mission but hadn’t objected either. “A school after hours is a liminal space.”

“What do lemons have to do with anything?”

“It means it’s a transitional space. A school with no students is…” Gus glared as Shawn stared at him blankly. “Never mind,” he declared before marching past him toward the bleachers that lined the school’s field and track.

The outdoor space wasn’t quite as abandoned, with a few people taking advantage of the empty space to do their own activities.

Shawn spread out his towel over the bleacher beside Gus and began to get settled in. He set out his lunch: a bag of chips, a sandwich, and two cokes and looked out over the field.

In the center, he could see the two men they had come for. Okay, he wasn’t here to watch his father — he saw enough of the man as it is — but beside him, doing a few stretches to get warmed up, was Carlton. Both were wearing old police-sanctioned t-shirts and sweatpants.

The Friday after Thanksgiving, when Carlton had shown up to their house for the promised ‘congrats on surviving Black Friday’ evening of leftover turkey sandwiches and movies, Henry had all but ordered him to show up here today so he could see just how in shape the younger man was.

It seemed Henry had given up on being subtle.

“You haven’t run screaming yet,” his father had announced to them. “And you haven’t taken advantage of the situation. So we’re moving on to step two.”

“What’s step two supposed to be anyway?” Gus asked, popping open his own bag of chips.

“Not sure,” Shawn admitted, digging out his pair of binoculars from his backpack. “I think we’re beyond the ‘I’m going to kill him’ stage, so that’s got to count for something.”

Shawn held up the glasses and gasped. He shoved them over to Gus.

“It’s gone!”

“What is?” Gus asked, raising the binoculars to his eyes.

“The ‘stach!” Shawn grinned, squinting at the figure in gray sweats to try and get a good look without the binoculars. “He looks so much better without it.”

He looked over to Gus. His friend was looking at the other side of the field, following a pair of women lightly jogging around the track.

Shawn grabbed the binoculars back. “These are Lassie-spying glasses,” he informed him, vaguely offended. “Get your own creeper binoculars.”

“I’m not being creepy,” Gus denied. “I was just curious…”

“Then be curious about my mate and his hotness…” Shawn looked back and gasped again. “Jumping jacks!”

“Eh,” Gus shrugged, glancing over before looking back to the women. “You know I’m not that into men, Shawn.”

“So picky,” Shawn accused, turning the dial on the binoculars to get a closer look at his jumping mate. The bottom of his shirt flew up with each jump, revealing a trail of hair that disappeared into his sweatpants. Sweat was already starting to seep through the gray police academy shirt, darkening the center of his chest and pits. Over the collar of Carlton’s shirt, Shawn caught a glimpse of what seemed to be an impressive amount of chest hair.

Shawn licked his lips and swallowed. “I mean… what if your mate’s a guy?”

“She’s not going to be. It’s not weird to only find one gender attractive, Shawn,” Gus tched, reluctantly following Shawn’s gaze. “I just find women — of all dynamics — beautiful and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Shawn didn’t answer for a moment, watching as Carlton finally finished his set.

“I’m sorry, you said something?”

Gus gave him an unimpressed look.

“Oh, come on!” Shawn rolled his eyes. “You wanted to meet him again!”

“Yeah, to talk to him! Get to know him!” Gus clarified. “Not ogle him doing push-ups!”

“Push-ups!” Shawn whipped back around to watch. “Biceps…”

Gus, satisfied his friend was distracted, looked back at the pair of women on the track. He was wearing his nice sweater vest and his high top was nicely trimmed and combed…

“I’ll, uh, be right back,” Gus said, standing up. He made sure his clothes were wrinkle-free before walking off the bleachers toward the women.

If his friend could get a mate, he should be able to, at least, get a girlfriend…

 

In all honesty, Carlton had quite a few problems with what was currently happening to him.

The physical exam Henry Spencer was putting him through — he’d not only got into the academy but passed with flying colors and that included the physical tests he’d had to do! He went jogging every available morning. He was in excellentshape! — just being one of them.

There was also the fact that Shawn and his beta friend were watching from the bleachers, that Spencer was barely giving him any breathing time between sets, and that his face felt oddly vulnerable without the mustache he finally gave up on — it was all a bit demeaning and uncomfortable.

He wasn’t even sure what this was all about.

Carlton finished the tenth set of push-ups and rolled onto his back for a moment to catch his breath.

Henry leaned over him, face stern and unsympathetic.

“I didn’t call for a break.”

Carlton shook his head.

“What’s this about, Spencer?” he panted, looking up at his superior. From this angle, with the sun behind the other alpha’s head, he could tell the other man’s hair was starting to thin. He tried not to smirk at that knowledge.

“Physical exam,” Henry reminded him. “Do I have to add a mental exam to the list?”

“I got that part,” Carlton huffed. “I agreed to do this, remember? I just want to know why.”

“You’re a cop,” Henry scoffed. “Figure it out.”

“I’m a damn good cop,” Carlton said, a bit sharp as he corrected the older man. “Is that why? You want to make sure I’m a good cop?”

What’s that got to do with anything… oh.

Carlton narrowed his eyes. “This is because of Shawn?” He ran down the mental list of what Henry could hope to achieve. There was only one obvious answer he could come up with. “Wait… you want to see if I can protect him?”

Henry scoffed. “I’ve been training Shawn since he could walk.”

That didn’t answer his question.

“Training?”

“Training,” Henry confirmed before nodding over to the track. “I want a twenty-minute mile from you. Now.”

That was easy. Academy standard, actually.

“Well,” Carlton climbed to his feet. “I know I can do that. What about you? Old man.” He smirked.

The glare Henry sent his way was ice cold.

“Get your ass moving,” the older man growled, heading toward the track.

They passed Shawn’s beta friend as he tried to speak to two joggers, neither giving the teenager much attention.

“Out of your league, Guster,” Henry said as they passed by.

“What kind of training?” Carlton asked again, keeping a steady pace that he knew would get him well within the time limit. “That you gave Shawn? Is he going to be running with us?”

Henry snorted at that.

“You make it to step three, then we’ll talk.”

Carlton rolled his eyes.

“It’s about protecting him, isn’t it?”

“I just said it wasn’t.”

“No, you said you trained him,” Carlton objected. “That’s something different if you felt the need to clarify it. And given you’re the most overprotective alpha I’ve met… and given that I’ve actually met Shawn now… it’s a protection thing. You want to know if I’m strong enough to protect him.”

Henry was silent for a moment, keeping pace with him easily… to Carlton’s disappointment. He’d hoped he’d be ahead of the older alpha at least a bit by now.

“Go back to Shawn, Gus,” Henry said as they passed the beta again. Guster had finally given up on trying to stay in pace with the joggers and was now bent over his knees, gasping for breath. “Look, Rookie,” Henry started. “Shawn is… he’s a handful and you’ve only seen the tip of that iceberg. He attracts trouble like a magnet and that’s if he doesn’t go looking for it himself.”

“So… protection,” Carlton summarized again.

“I prefer to think of it as defense,” Henry said dryly. “Maybe even offense if you catch him early enough.”

Carlton shook his head.

“I really don’t understand you, Spencer,” he admitted, glancing over as Gus sat back down next to a frantically waving Shawn who was desperately trying to get his attention. Carlton held up a hand as a gesture of ‘yes, I see you’. Shawn sat back down, beaming. “You’re obviously not the ‘omegas need to be barefoot and pregnant’ type but you also felt the need to clean your shotgun last Friday.”

It was a beautiful shotgun, actually. Henry hadn’t let him hold it though.

“I want Shawn safe,” Henry said simply after a moment of thought. “And Shawn doesn’t have an ounce of self-preservation in his body. And if I’m not there… odds of you being there are steadily increasing, whether I like it or not.”

Carlton huffed out a laugh, only just starting to feel the effects of their run. They only had another lap to go.

“What’s next? Going to test my fishing expertise? Take me on a hunting trip? Make sure I can provide…” Carlton meant the words to be mocking but… “Actually, no,” he concluded. “I’d enjoy that too much.”

Before Henry could confirm or deny Carlton’s guess, Shawn came running up beside them.

“Lassie!” He panted, barely keeping up with them, a can of coke in hand. “I brought… I brought you something… to drink.”

They reached their marker and stopped.

Carlton checked his watch.

Fifteen minutes.

Easy.

Shawn hunched over much like his friend had earlier, holding the can up to Carlton. He could tell the drink was warm by the lack of any condensation on the metal.

He gently took the offering.

“You know this will probably explode as soon as I open it, right?”

Shawn glanced up, brows furrowed. “Oh, yeah.”

“Told you, Shawn,” his friend came walking up, looking miserable as he ate from a bag of chips. “Burton Guster, by the way. We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves.”

“Carlton Lassiter,” he offered a hand to the beta. The beta started to reach for it before pausing, switching hands so he could accept the handshake with his clean hand.

“Just so you know, I can and will be a pain in the ass if you hurt Shawn.”

“Gus!” Shawn straightened up, still catching his breath. “What the hell?”

“Just keeping it real, Shawn.”

“What are you going to do? Throw pencils at him? Sign him up for Newsweek or something?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Shawn,” Guster, defended himself.

The radio clipped to Henry’s belt burst into life. Henry grabbed the radio and took a few steps away to answer the call.

Off-duty cops were never really off-duty.

Carlton took a step to follow him before Shawn grabbed his arm, bringing him back in.

“Tell Gus that you’re not one of those crazy Republicans in love with their guns.”

Carlton frowned, a bit offended. “Excuse me, but I am perfectly sane…”

Guster pointed an accusing finger at Shawn. Shawn winced in response.

“Okay, I promise to vote in every election he votes in so it cancels out,” Shawn said, compromising.

“Hey!” Carlton protested, properly offended now.

“Rookie!” Henry called, jogging over. “There’s a robbery going down a few blocks from here. Get your stuff.” He turned to the two teenagers. “You two! Home. Now!”

 

“He said ‘go home’, Shawn,” Gus scolded, carefully steering his old Toyota through traffic, trying to follow the Crown Vic. “Not ‘come follow us to an active crime scene’. Why are we doing this?”

“Because I want to see my manly man in action!” Shawn grinned, craning his head up as though he could see through traffic better. “Don’t you want to see a good old-fashioned showdown?”

“No,” Gus vehemently denied. “I don’t want to get shot. Or worse, mistaken for a criminal.”

“Gus, you wear pocket protectors,” Shawn scoffed. “No one’s going to mistake you for a bad guy.”

“I don’t think they’re going to be looking to see how protected my pockets are, Shawn.”

“Turn left!” Shawn instructed, pointing toward the street in question. “It’s down that way!”

The flashing lights in the distance told them they had found the right place.

“Stop here,” Shawn instructed, hand on the door handle. “They won’t let us drive any closer but we can definitely sneak our way up there.”

“I am not sneaking up there, Shawn,” Gus protested even as he pulled over into the nearby Target’s parking lot. “I don’t plan on getting shot today.”

“Gus, don’t be a dried-out pool noodle,” Shawn opened his door. “They’ve totally got it under control! Let’s go!”

“You can go.” Gus crossed his arms and made a show of settling down in his seat. “I’m waiting right here.”

“Okay,” Shawn sighed, closing his door but peering in through the window. “Though if the guy makes a run for it and comes this way, he’s going to see a running car with a getaway driver just waiting for him…”

Gus glared at Shawn.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and all but shoved it off before grabbing his keys.

“If I die, I blame you.”

“Sure, buddy!”

The gas station in question was already surrounded, officers putting up barricades to block off the lingering civilians from the scene. The gas station’s front windows were already shot out, most likely from the inside judging by the way the glass was blown out over the ground.

“Dude, it’s almost over,” Shawn said, looking around for the two alphas they’d followed. “In a minute they’ll charge in and take this guy… oh.”

A large man was being forced out the front door by another, slightly smaller though more muscular, man. The first had his hands up in the air while the second very obviously had a gun to the man’s head.

“Well, that’s just insulting,” Shawn muttered, looking at the ample human shield the robber had found.

“SBPD,” he heard Henry’s voice announce over a loudspeaker. Shawn looked around and spotted his father, stationed towards the front with a straight view of the bad guy. To his side, Shawn spied the black hair and gray shirt of his alpha. “Drop your weapon and back away with your hands up.”

The robber just pulled his human shield closer.

“…They can’t get a clean shot,” Shawn muttered, eyes darting back and forth, taking in the scene.

The police straight on and to the left didn’t have a shot because of the angle of the human shield guy. The police to the right, surrounding Shawn, were in the more accessible line of fire — the guy wouldn’t have to move far to get a good shot at them.

They had to get the guy to move… just enough that the human shield guy wasn’t so in the way.

Oh, he was going to get in so much trouble for this…

 

It wasn’t Carlton’s first shootout. Between his childhood days at Old Sonora to holding criminals at bay with gunfire, he was well accustomed to these types of high-stress, life-or-death, situations.

The strange way that time seems to shift, being so slow and yet so fast all at once; the way he had to piece it together later because his brain was on pure survival mode.

He had his gun trained on the scum holding the store manager hostage and had been waiting for the right moment to shoot to disarm. The guy just had to move the right way and…

And there was a yell — high-pitched and distracting. There was the shattering of glass as a bottle was thrown toward the store, drawing the perp’s attention.

He twisted to look and Carlton fired.

A bullet in the arm and the gun was on the ground. The manager was knocked down as the guy curled up on himself, holding his wounded arm.

Carlton stood and zeroed in on the owner of the scream, of who was most likely to have thrown that bottle.

“Spencer!” He yelled, locking onto the teenagers immediately.

Nothing else mattered. His mate — someone who could be his real, proper mate — was in a dangerous situation, doing dangerous things. Things that could have easily gotten him hurt or even killed.

He heard his superior yell his son’s name but it was muffled, forced in the background.

He moved quickly around the barricades, heading straight toward the omega.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

He could dimly feel his throat scrape and tear at the voice of his yelling but it wasn’t important.

“He’s getting back up!”

He heard the words but they weren’t important. Shawn was staring at him, wide-eyed in either alarm, hurt, or both.

He heard the bang of a gunshot…

…then felt the pain as the bullet hit.

Notes:

I feel like this chapter could be written better but IRL problems are being a bitch...

Also. Writing is hard...

Edit: Decided to make it a bit more ambiguous where Carlton was hit.

Chapter 8: December 3, 1995

Summary:

A stay in the hospital and an unexpected diagnosis.

Notes:

Just making some omegaverse crap up now...

Carlton’s been angry before.

Quite a lot, actually.

His family was known for their Irish temper and he saw no reason to hide it.

This was different.

He’d heard the term ‘blind with rage’ but had always considered it a metaphor at best, an exaggeration at worst.

But no.

Seeing Shawn at an active crime scene with an armed criminal holding a man hostage had been infuriating. When Shawn had taken it upon himself to bring that scumbag’s attention towards him… Carlton couldn’t even explain what happened.

All he had seen was Shawn — Shawn putting himself in danger.

Everything else was background noise except for the pounding of his heart, drowning out everything else.

He was so angry! What if that piece of shit had started firing into the crowd? What if he had shot first instead of seeing who was throwing fucking bottles at him?

What if Shawn had gotten hurt?

The thought was so incomprehensible, so infuriating, so… so…

He’d never been so afraid in his life.

And that made him all the angrier.

He couldn’t remember what he had screamed, what had happened. Just that his omega had stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes and he wasn’t sure if the terror was for him or the paramedics that had swarmed him.

He didn’t start feeling the gunshot wound until he was all but forced into the ambulance and away from his mate.

It was only then he realized what had happened.

He’d been shot.

Because he was running over to Shawn — to yell at him, call him a moron, make sure he wasn’t hurt, to use himself as a human shield…

How many times had Henry warned him about Shawn?

A trouble magnet and a troublemaker.

Neither term seemed accurate enough.

He was just trouble personified.

And the worst part?

Henry might not be out of line when it came to keeping Shawn out of trouble.

 

The exam room had the sickeningly sour stench of distressed omega.

Shawn hadn’t been allowed in the ambulance with him but, to his surprise, Henry had brought him to the hospital, following close behind.

When he explained ‘Shawn would have come anyway’, he believed him.

“Lou’s doing the booking,” Henry told him, watching as Shawn fretted around the exam room, sitting down then standing up, pacing from one end of the room to the other, pouring Carlton a glass of water he didn’t want but drank anyway, fussing with Carlton’s sheets and pillows by adding and taking them away as the need struck. He looked ready to cry the whole time. “We’ll give statements later. You’re only here a few more hours, right?”

“Just a flesh wound,” Carlton confirmed, lifting his injured arm and wincing as the movement tugged on the stitches.

Shawn was immediately by his side. “What are you doing? Does it hurt? I can get a nurse! Or the doctor!”

“He’s fine, Shawn,” Henry sighed, tired.

“But still,” Shawn twisted his hands in front of him nervously.

Carlton looked over at Henry with a questioning look.

In the few months he’d known Shawn, nervous was not a word one should use to describe the young man. He saw Henry didn’t like it either.

“Shawn, we should get home,” Henry tried, standing up. “We can see him —”

“No!” Shawn objected, all but jumping to Carlton’s side, grabbing his uninjured hand. “I don’t want to go. I gotta make sure he’s… he’s alright.”

“I am,” Carlton told him, dragging the omega’s attention back to him. “I’m fine. You don’t have to stay.”

A soft but high-pitched whine slipped out of the omega’s throat, his eyes wide and wet.

It’s been the same response for the last three hours — just the suggestion of leaving distressed him to the point of vocalization. No reassurance from him or his father or even his friend, Guster, seemed to help.

It was alarming.

At least Guster got to go home, even when it was clear that Shawn wouldn’t be joining him.

“Everything okay in here?” The woman who stuck her head in was a beta. Her dark hair was pulled out of her face and the lack of exhaustion in her features suggested she was just starting her shift. When no one objected, she stepped in. “I’m Doctor Elena Mallory, the doctor on duty tonight. How are we feeling?”

“Fine,” Carlton said, letting Shawn clutch his hand. The distressed whining stopped. “Ready to go.”

“Not quite,” Dr. Mallory grimaced in sympathy. “Shoulder wounds can be tricky. A few more hours of observation should do it though.” Her eyes darted over to Shawn. “And this is…?”

“He’s — ”

“Mate!” Shawn jumped in, holding up Carlton’s hand as though it were proof. “I’m his mate!”

Carlton sighed.

Dr. Mallory looked at her notes. “It’s not listed…”

“They’re not mated,” Henry corrected, giving Shawn a glare. “They met a few months ago.”

The doctor nodded. “And you are?”

“That idiot’s father,” Henry groused.

“Hey!”

Dr. Mallory nodded again, her brows furrowed. She looked between Shawn and Carlton, her eyes narrowing the more she took in.

“He’s 18,” Carlton supplied, making sure his tone conveyed his thoughts about that.

Shawn whined again, though softer.

“But you’ve not…” the doctor gave them a pointed look, “had intercourse?”

Carlton felt his cheeks heat up. “No,” he confirmed through gritted teeth. “Is that important?”

He doubted he could get an STD from a gunshot wound so there was no need for that question.

The doctor just hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, everything looks good at the moment,” she moved on with a smile. “Just observation, to make sure nothing surprises us. And let me just thank you for your service today, Officer.”

Carlton felt himself loosen up, despite the inappropriate question. He rolled his shoulders back and nodded to her, accepting the praise with pride. “All in a day’s work.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shawn’s smile, a bit too hopeful for his taste. Probably hoping he was off the hook for that little antic today.

“Sir?” the doctor looked over to Henry. “Let’s let these two rest a moment, if you don’t mind?”

Henry looked at the doctor thoughtfully. Carlton watched as the doctor looked them over — to Shawn — then back.

Nope, still nosy.

But that can be the older alpha’s problem.

“Sure,” Henry said, following her out the door.

 

Madeleine had left him almost a year ago. A long, drawn-out year as she slowly gathered her stuff and left his and Shawn’s lives, piece by piece. She had stayed as long as she could, her way of trying to protect Shawn, waiting until he was old enough to not need her anymore.

And he had tried to shoulder the blame for it all, knowing the truth would hurt Shawn more than anything…

But Henry was still an alpha — a relatively recently unmated alpha.

And Dr. Mallory was a very attractive woman. A few years older than him but no mark or ring to show she was already claimed.

And if she wanted to speak to him in private, Henry certainly wasn’t going to object.

She led him to a small waiting room off to the side. It was empty for the moment, the lights dimmed down.

She turned to look at him.

“I hope you don’t think this is inappropriate,” she started. Henry liked where this was going. “But I want to talk to you about your son.”

And Henry’s hopes for a few less lonely days came crashing down.

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. He was still wearing his sweats from earlier and probably smelt like a locker room.

Damn it.

“I’m not happy about that age difference either,” he started, getting to the obvious problem concerning his son and his mate. “But Lassiter seems to be —”

“I think he might have imprinted,” Dr. Mallory interrupted him.

Great.

“Look, Shawn takes to things head first, and yeah, he’s a bit clingy at the moment — ”

“This isn’t bad romance novel imprinting,” the doctor stopped him. “That’s just an exaggerated fantasy of having a partner compelled to love you. No, real life is a bit different. You said he’s only known Mr. Lassiter for a few months?”

Henry took a big breath and let it out slowly. “Back in October. And trust me, I tried to curtail all this before it got too bad…”

“And has Shawn been presenting his secondary traits properly?”

Henry hesitated. “He… presented about two years ago.”

“Okay, but has he been showing standard omegean behaviors? Nesting, purring… I’d ask about trying to find a partner…”

Henry shifted a bit uneasily. “I… it was his mother that usually handled that stuff,” he admitted, trying not to sound, much less feel, guilty about it. “But she left for good right about the time Shawn met Lassiter… but the ‘trying to find a partner’ crap was definitely a thing before… well, before.”

Dr. Mallory nodded slowly. “Nesting? Purring?”

Henry crossed his arms and shrugged. “His nests are more like piles of clothes on the bed…”

She nodded.

“The purring…” Henry gritted his teeth. No point in denying it, not to a doctor. “Okay, apparently he didn’t start until after Lassiter. I just… I didn’t notice until a few weeks ago.”

“He’s only just recently started purring?” she asked, a bit surprised.

“Look, it’s hard to notice the absence of something, okay?”

The doctor just nodded slowly, a look of sympathetic understanding. “It… might not be a bad idea to have him see a therapist. If he has imprinted…”

“You keep saying that,” Henry stopped her. “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly? If it’s not like the crappy romance shit?”

She took a deep breath. “He’s acting like he’s already mated,” she explained. “By the sound of it, he’s been going through some things, probably since he presented and it’s… well, stunted his growth would be the best way to describe it. He has his omega instincts but they’re not fully developed yet. Then he meets his mate and his hormones, which are already out of wack due to puberty and presenting… and his body and brain are latching onto the idea of having a mate… to the point his body is convinced they’re already mated.”

That… sounded about right, actually.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Not by itself,” she admitted. “But it puts him in a very vulnerable state. Easy to take advantage of.”

Henry snorted at that. “I’ve already put the fear of God and myself in Lassiter,” he smirked. “Though… I hate to say it but he seems to be one of the decent ones. So far.”

She nodded. “That’s good to hear.” She did sound relieved. Henry wondered how many imprinting she’s see gone bad… he’s certainly seen enough though apparently not enough to notice it in his own child. “As long as you believe he’s not in danger… though the delay in the secondary presentation is a bit concerning. Are there any omegas in his life that could help him along? Show him the ropes, so to speak?”

Henry thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No one close enough to burden with it.”

She frowned before nodding. “Then, if therapy is off the table, you do some research. Get some help books on how to help omegas present. Make sure he doesn’t wrap his world around his mate, help him figure out how to build nests, and surround him in comforting scents. In a few years, when his hormones level out, he’ll be able to think more objectively when it comes to his mate.”

“Right,” Henry said after a moment, thinking over everything she just said. “I’ll look into it.”

He slowly made his way back to the exam room, thinking the doctor’s words over. The only omega he’d ever known well enough was his mother and she’d died back when he was a kid. The other omegas in his life had been shorter flings, up until he met Maddie. She’d been a beta and about five years older than him, almost done with college while he was just finishing up at the academy.

Would she have known what to do?

She was a police psychologist, not a therapist.

Still… it probably wouldn’t hurt to give her a call…

He paused at the door of the room and stared.

Somehow, Shawn had convinced Lassiter to not only let him climb into the very small bed with him but was curled up beside him, hugging his good arm.

He was asleep.

Lassiter, despite still being awake, though looking very tired, had a very small smile on his face.

Imprinted.

Oh, sweet Jesus. They were so screwed.

Notes:

Happy Birthday to me!

Chapter 9: December 15, 1995

Summary:

The Spencers go visiting and Grandpa has some sage advice.

Notes:

Lol I barely made this deadline...

Grandpa Spencer was an old man in his 70s but he still had a sparkle in his eyes and, though he had to use a walker to get around, was still an active man for his age. But his usually plump frame was starting to thin, his skin starting to hang in a way it didn’t used to before.

And Shawn, despite wanting to spend time with his mate, couldn’t refuse a visit to the oldest Spencer.

He didn’t want to think about why such visits were more important than ever.

Shawn had to hand it to his father: he found the one thing that could possibly drag him away from Carlton’s side.

But it was going on week two and, as much as Shawn loved Grandpa, it was starting to wear on him.

From the very beginning, Shawn had been forbidden from calling Carlton — apparently, everyone assumed he’d be calling nonstop which Shawn found offensive. It was true, but still offensive — to give the man time to heal.

As a compromise, Carlton offered to call him instead… for no more than an hour.

It was something, at least.

And Carlton kept his promise, always calling between 4 and 5 in the afternoon — just after his reduced work hours and after he got home, depending on how difficult traffic or his arm was being…

And so Shawn had claimed a small corner of his grandfather’s small living room, reserved for his ‘talk time with Lassie’. He’d pushed the love seat over to the large, picture window that overlooked the park just visible from Grandpa’s third-floor apartment, pulled up a small corner table with the phone to rest beside him, and it was here that he would wait for the phone to ring.

Shawn stared out the window, his knee bouncing as he stared at the park, waiting.

It was almost 6.

“If you stare too much longer, you’ll set those trees on fire.”

Shawn heard the clap, creak, clap of Grandpa’s walker and scooted over to give the man room. He sank down beside him on the loveseat with a loud, though satisfied, groan.

“This is a break of contract,” Shawn said, worrying at the knuckle of his hand, his elbow propped up on the arm of the seat. “He should have called by now. I should call him.” He glanced over at his grandfather. “Like, I have that right! Right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Grandpa shook his head. “Give him another hour. At least.”

Shawn whined softly, only slightly in distress, mostly just impatience.

“Oh, shush,” Grandpa clapped a hand on his knee, giving it a shake. “Henry’s gone off to get us some grub and I’ve yet to have a good one-on-one talk with you. You two show up like bats out of hell. I had to pry the information that you found a mate out of your dad and only because you were acting like that phone right there was your firstborn child…”

“I’m not that bad…” Shawn protested softly, looking longingly at said phone.

“… and that this mate of yours is a cop,” his grandpa laughed, “who just got shot because you wanted to watch him take down a bad guy.”

“…Can I request a rephrasing of that statement? It’s accurate but still…”

“And, finally, and probably the real reason you’re all the way out here in Sacramento visiting this old fart, is because you’ve gone and imprinted on him.”

“It’s not that bad,” Shawn protested.

Everyone was overreacting.

So what if he’s a bit of a late bloomer? So what if Carlton Lassiter was the hottest thing he’s ever seen? So what if his hormones or pheromones or gramophones were out of wack?

He wanted his mate. That wasn’t a crime.

“Now, see,” his grandfather continued, ignoring the pout Shawn was working up. “In my time, imprintings happened and an omega’s parents had to be ready with the shotgun — to either keep them away or keep them in the church long enough to seal the deal.”

Shawn couldn’t help a small smile.

“But shotgun weddings are frowned upon nowadays, and probably for the better, but that means we got to keep things in check before we can get the shotgun out. So,” Grandpa waved his fingers in a ‘give it to me’ motion. “Tell me about him.”

Shawn frowned for a moment.

“What?” he asked. “About Carlton?”

“Yeah,” his grandfather nodded. He gestured to his walker. “I’m not going over to Santa Barbara anytime soon. So, tell me about him. What kind of man is he? What kind of alpha?”

Shawn smiled.

“He’s tall, kinda lanky but has some muscle on him. Black hair that’s cut very catholic schoolboy but I’m sure I can get him to grow it out a bit. He had a horrible mustache that he finally shaved off a few weeks ago but I think he might look good with a proper beard/mustache combo. Oh! And he has amazingly pretty blue eyes that I just want to swim in…”

Grandpa laughed and held up a hand. “I got that much, Shawnie. You think he’s attractive. But what is he like? What are his hobbies? His likes and dislikes? Hell, what’s his favorite color?”

Shawn frowned and thought about it.

Their conversations tended to be short and supervised, and neither of them wanted to talk about personal stuff when Henry was around. And when they did have time alone, it was more of a concern of what they were going to do about… well, everything.

But Shawn wasn’t stupid. Or blind.

“He’s a cop,” Shawn summarized. “He likes rules which, yeah, boring but his buzzkill tendencies seem to be connected to not wanting Henry to shoot him. Though he did have a rule with his previous fiancee — Oh, yeah, he was with someone when we met — and they broke it off because of it. One of those ‘meet a mate’ things. So, I guess he’s responsible. Gus is too so I can live with it.”

Grandpa nodded, smiling in a way that reminded him of Henry…particularly when Henry was waiting for him to do something.

Shawn continued.

“He has, like, every Clint Eastwood movie ever made,” he added after a moment, smiling slightly. “And he likes watching them with other people which is cute because sometimes he gets so excited for scenes that he leans forward like he’s afraid he’ll miss something. He likes guns and is a pretty decent shot.”

Shawn searched his memory, recalling Carlton’s apartment which he’d only seen the one time. There had still been some unpacking to do so there wasn’t much he could go on. There were the Western movies, the cleanliest that was almost military… he did have that bottle of whiskey hidden up in the cabinets…

“He’s not a social drinker,” he continued. “Like, he hides the good stuff up in the cabinet so he probably doesn’t take it down much.”

Grandpa nodded.

“He’s a conservative…” Shawn said after a moment, frowning. “I think maybe not a Republican, though he kinda didn’t deny it, but definitely has some issues with Democrats. Going to have to work on that. Though it is weird… his mother remated to another omega… then again, he doesn’t really get along with his mother so maybe that’s why?”

His grandfather nodded again.

“And how much of this has he told you?”

Shawn frowned then turned to glare at the unringing phone. Now would be a good time to call! Save him from awkward questions.

“…He actually told me about his mother remating the second time we met,” he defended himself. “And he outright admitted to the ‘not a democrat’ thing and that was in front of Gus. I’ve been having to make a lot of promises to make up for that.”

His grandfather laughed, throwing his head back.

“Well, that’s something,” he agreed, wiping at his eye. “And his favorite color?”

Shawn didn’t answer.

Grandpa nodded.

“I think you’re getting there,” he assured him, patting his knee again. “The physical bits are much more exciting, I know, but it’s not the important part. Not in the long run.

“Now come on,” Grandpa reached for the walker, pulling it close. “We’ve got a few more minutes before Henry gets back and I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“This wasn’t a talk?” Shawn asked, standing to help his grandfather with his walker. “It felt very talky to me.”

“Different talk,” Grandpa smiled at him.

He started heading toward the back of the apartment, where his bedroom was.

It was a room Shawn tried to avoid looking into. The room wasn’t too small but the bed came from a medical supply store and the table beside it was covered in orange and white bottles. On the bed was a rudimentary nest, just a half-raised circle along the backside and nothing more. Obviously made by a nurse just doing their job rather than a loved one wanting to give comfort to another loved one.

Grandpa sat on the side of the bed and gestured for Shawn to join him.

“Now, you know your grandma, my Sofia, passed along when your father and uncle were still kids,” he started, reaching over to pick up the picture that sat on his bedside table. He was a lot younger then and, on his arm, was a pretty woman with black hair and tanned skin. “I met your mother just after she moved up here from Mexico. Most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her dying nearly killed me.”

Shawn shifted uncomfortably beside him. He’d heard the story before, of course, of Grandma dying in a car accident. He was never sure what he was meant to say.

“Sorry I never met her,” he settled on. It was the truth.

“I am too,” Grandpa gave him a small smile. “She was like your father, in a lot of ways. Always took things seriously but loved in her own way. I think when she died, Henry tried to make up the difference. I was an alpha in mourning, your uncle… well, was young and took too much after me.” Grandpa smiled again. “You’re a bit more like me and him, you know. But still, Henry took it upon himself to try and fix everything…”

Shawn snorted at that.

“He means well,” Grandpa said. “Now reach over and get that box at the end of the bed, would you?”

Shawn leaned over. At the foot of the bed was a large, wooden chest, handmade if he had to guess. He’d seen it a few times but was always forbidden from opening it and snooping.

The warning felt too heavy to ignore, some instinct insisting that he listen to this rule if none of the others.

He grunted as he pulled it around in front of him.

“This was your grandmother’s nesting chest,” Grandpa announced. “She’d kept her favorite materials in here: blankets, quilts, pillows, memories…”

He leaned down and opened it with a grunt. A soft smell of jasmine and leather wafted out. A scent.

Grandma Sofia’s.

Shawn had only caught a few whiffs of it before, usually on his grandfather or at his old house. The scent was more concentrated now, sealed in by the wood.

Inside were mounds of fabric, all soaked, though it was fading, with his grandmother’s scent.

He felt the tension in his shoulders quickly fade away: the scent of a related omega could do that.

On top of the blankets and sheets was a framed picture.

It was his grandparents again, both young, but now they were in a well-constructed nest, the walls made of patterned fabric, draped over arches hung near the ceiling to enclose most of it in a den. Between the two adults were two children, curled up between them asleep. Henry and Uncle Jack.

“I’m getting old, Shawn,” his grandfather said, picking up the picture. “And I can’t take anything with me.”

“You’re fine,” Shawn immediately insisted. “Don’t be dramatic, you’ll be around for years.”

His grandfather just smiled at him.

“I want the nesting material to come with me, as much as it can. We’d split it up the best we could when Sofia died,” he said, setting the picture aside. He pulled off the top mound: a quilt with its patches sewn into a pattern of blue waves. “But the box, I think your grandmother would have wanted you to have it. I want you to have it.”

Shawn’s eyes dropped back down to the wooden box. It was well made and cared for, and looked like a responsibility he should not have.

“I…” Shawn struggled to find the words. “I’ll break it or something,” he objected weakly. “And I don’t even have nesting stuff anyway. I’ll fill it with junk or something.”

“Then it’ll be filled with junk,” Grandpa shrugged. “And no one is rushing you. If anything, we’re trying to slow you down.”

Shawn allowed himself a small smile as his grandfather laughed at his own joke.

“You’ll get there, Shawnie.” His grandfather set the quilt and picture aside and closed the chest again. “You might take a few detours but you’ll get where you need to go.”

 

Shawn helped his grandfather back to the living room, carrying the quilt and picture out for him.

He readjusted the phone to sit beside the couch, then let his grandpa pick something to watch on TV while they waited for Henry to return with their dinner. The waves quilt was spread across their laps, the sweet, fading scent of jasmine filling the small apartment.

Henry opened the door, toting two large plastic bags in one hand.

“Lines are insane,” he grumbled, stumbling into the apartment. “Next time, we’re ordering delivery…” He stopped suddenly, as though hitting a wall. He stared for a moment. “Is that… Ma’s quilt?”

“Dug it out just now,” Grandpa smiled over at him. “Thought a trip down memory lane would be nice.”

“Jesus, it’s been ages since I saw that thing,” Henry said, shaking his head. He set the food down on the table between the living room and the kitchen.

Shawn watched him, frowning. There was something off, something he rarely saw in his father.

Hesitation.

He looked down at the sweet-smelling quilt over his lap and felt the warmth that had already gathered in the cloth.

Hmm.

He stood up, folding the quilt gently away from him. Leaving his seat invitingly open.

“Carlton still hasn’t called,” he announced, picking up the phone. “I’m giving him ten more minutes before — ”

The phone rang in his hand.

He snatched up the receiver, already moving away from the two prying alphas who were definitely only there to spy on his conversation.

“Carlton!” He almost yelled into the phone. “Are you okay? What happened? Is it the zombie apocalypse? I warned you that would happen!”

He retreated back to the loveseat by the window, stealing as much privacy as he could.

“Hello, Shawn,” he heard Carlton sigh. “Sorry it took so long. They had some idiot come in to check the power and they ended up blacking out the entire building.” He heard the grumble in his voice and didn’t doubt him.

“You couldn’t have gone to a pay phone or something?” Shawn whined, knowing he was whining but unable to help it. “But everything’s alright now?”

“Seems to be,” Carlton reassured him. “Still enjoying your trip?”

“Sacramento’s boring,” Shawn complained once again, a sentiment he’d expressed with every call.

“Sorry,” Carlton said again and Shawn could hear the amused smile. “You only have a week to go, right?”

“Yep,” Shawn agreed. He curled up on the loveseat, tucking his socked feet up under him. “I don’t think I’ll survive. You’ll be a widower before we’re even mated.”

He heard Carlton sigh and only half listened as his mate both reassured him and lightly scolded him over such jokes.

He looked over the back of the couch to see his father had abandoned their food in the kitchen and had taken his vacant spot on the couch beside Grandpa. The quilt was spread over his lap, his hands wandering over the old, soft fabric. A small smile on his face.

It gave him an odd feeling. Something warm but sad at the same time.

“Shawn? Are you there?” he heard Carlton say over the line. “Damn it, did we get cut off?”

“I’m here,” he assured him before Carlton could hang up and try again. “I was just thinking.”

“I thought that was your least favorite thing to do?” Carlton said back, half joking. Shawn had said that.

“I know, I hate it,” Shawn joked back. “But I just thought… well…” He watched his father pull the quilt up to his shoulders, covering himself with it fully.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Notes:

(Part)Latino!Shawn Supremacy!

I'm glad James Roday Rodriguez is reclaiming his father's Mexican heritage and it sucks he had to hide it/downplay it just to get good acting jobs.

Chapter 10: December 22, 1995

Summary:

Christmas and Family and Fights...

Notes:

Sorry I missed last week's upload so here's the chapter a little early to make up for being so late!

Life got in the way and my writing time was consumed writing a short little Shassie soulmate fic: Doodles

The Christmas tree was small, barely three feet tall, artificial, and white.

Carlton probably could have afforded a slightly bigger one, a more realistic one, but his arm was still only just out of a sling with orders not to stress it too much.

The tree was assembled straight out of the box though, he was annoyed to find, he’d gotten the unlit version. He hadn’t bought any tree lights and he doubted he had time to run out and buy any. But he did have a few packs of plastic baubles hanging on the fake branches and a cheap tree skirt wrapped around the base.

There were even a few presents, set on the side table along with the tree. Most were for Lauren but there were a few for others as well.

Including Shawn… though he was unsure of the protocol concerning gift-giving in their current relationship. He had no doubt that Shawn was someone who enjoyed gifts but Carlton wanted to start small, build up to the bigger, more personal gifts.

Carlton frowned, looking over the stack of gifts and then at the clock.

The Spencers were meant to be back today and he was sure his place was going to be Shawn’s first stop… but he might have time to run and get a few more gifts. Cheap things… chocolates maybe? Those giftsets of body washes?

No, no, what he got would be fine.

He’d already done his best to meet Shawn’s demands for Christmas: his apartment was as decorated as he could make it; tree, stockings, and a bit of garland looped in a few strategic places. He got him a gift.

Hell, he even had a box of instant hot chocolate in the kitchen and a few Christmas movies rented for the night.

Of course, the Spencers couldn’t stay too long as he had to leave in the morning for his mother’s house, something he didn’t look forward to in the best of times.

He was sure his mother was going to explode if she found out he’d been shot a few weeks ago… not that it was any of her business.

It was just a gunshot wound — it’s not like it was serious.

“Okay,” Carlton took a deep breath and looked over the room again. “This is good. This is great. It’ll be fine.”

The last two weeks had been surprisingly long without the Spencers interfering with his life. No hard looks or tests from Henry, no surprise visits from Shawn. The phone calls had helped, Shawn’s rambling, stream-of-consciousness talks oddly relaxing to listen to at the end of the day… though he was still glad for the hour limit that had been set.

I’ll have to build up a tolerance to the constant chattering.

Carlton froze at the thought.

Oh, God. Shawn’s really going to be here for the long run.

The knock on the door froze the thought spiral he was on the edge of falling into. He could worry about his casual acceptance of his mate’s flaws later.

The Spencers were an hour earlier than he was expecting though he wasn’t surprised. He’d learned long ago that Henry liked to be early to catch people off their guard.

Carlton looked around the small apartment one last time, searching for anything he could fix in the next few seconds.

A second knock came.

“Okay, okay,” Carlton took a deep breath and opened the door. “Hello, Sha… Mom.”

 

“Why do I gotta be here?” Gus complained, following closely behind the two Spencers.

They’d only gotten back to Santa Barbara an hour ago, their bags still in the trunk of the car. Shawn didn’t want to wait a moment longer than he had to to see his mate again.

Well, he still went to see Gus first and brought him along for this reunion, but that doesn’t count.

It’s Gus.

A gesture Gus would have appreciated a lot more if they weren’t about to meet up with the guy they accidentally got shot. The last time Gus had seen Lassiter was in the hospital.

“Because it’s Christmas,” Shawn grinned, carrying a large gift bag with a few wrapped gifts hidden inside. “And Christmas is family time.”

“It’s the 22nd,” Gus corrected, slightly mollified by the assurance they were family. “And we did get him shot.”

“Oh, stop worrying about that,” Shawn rolled his eyes. “He’s already forgiven me and everything!”

“Forgave you,” Gus huffed. “He hasn’t said a thing to me.”

“That’s because you’ve been planning to ditch town if you saw him again,” Shawn scoffed. “Don’t think I didn’t see that go-bag under your bed.”

“It’s only a few hours,” Henry shook his head. “Lassiter’s got an early day tomorrow and Mr. Can’t-Be-Patient-To-Save-His-Life over here insisted on seeing him before Christmas.”

“It’s my first Christmas with my mate!” Henry growled softly. “If I can’t spend the actual day with him, I’m at least spending the days before with him!”

“A few hours,” Henry reminded him. “Gifts, Movie, Home.”

“Careful, I think you almost exploded in a shower of Christmas cheer.”

“Laugh it up, Shawn,” Henry huffed. “I didn’t have to bring you over here. Especially not after driving for over 7 hours.”

“Well, that’s just poor planning on your part.”

“Do you guys hear that?” Gus jumped in before Henry could retort. It was muffled but it was definitely voices and they were definitely yelling.

“Ah, Christmas,” Shawn joked dryly. It was coming from down the hall, near Lassie’s room. He smirked slightly. “Think Lassie’s going to come out and arrest them…”

He trailed off.

The yelling was coming from Carlton’s apartment.

Henry moved in front of the two teenagers, holding an arm out to keep the two behind him. He looked back and held a finger to his lips to keep them quiet.

They edged closer.

The muffled yelling became clearer, the words easier to understand.

One of the voices was Carlton but the other belonged to a woman.

Henry glanced back at the two teenagers before straightening up from the slight crouch he’d adopted at the first sign of possible danger.

“I don’t think he’s going to be visiting family tomorrow,” he said dryly. “Why don’t we come back— ”

Shawn glared at him before he could finish the sentence. He stepped around his father and knocked on the door, a bit harder than needed but making his point clear. And also, to be heard over the yelling which quickly stopped.

There was a pause then a few muffled, though clearly angry words, before the door was opened.

Shawn sucked in a breath.

It’d been two weeks since he’d last seen his mate, and the memory clearly had not been enough, but the sight of him now…

His hair was carefully combed, as always, and his arm was finally out of the sling though he looked like he still favored it. It seemed Carlton had tried to pick out a nice outfit, judging by the dress shirt collar peeking up through his dark gray sweater… but that wasn’t what stole Shawn’s breath away.

The man’s usually pale skin was flushed with anger, his eyes almost wild with it, and when that force wasn’t directed at Shawn — okay, he wouldn’t mind it all that much if it was directed at him — the look was…

Incredible.

“Hi,” Shawn said, his voice soft and breathless.

Almost immediately, the anger in the alpha’s eyes died down, the tension in the man’s body fading away as though he were melting.

“Shawn,” Carlton said, no hint in his tone that he’d been yelling just seconds before. “You’re… um, hi.”

“Booker! Who is that?” Came the loud, female voice from before.

Shawn quirked an eyebrow at Carlton.

“Um,” Carlton hesitated. “This might not be the best time.”

Shawn’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face.

“Is… is that your mom?” he asked in a loud, stage whisper. Carlton didn’t answer, though he glanced back into the apartment. “I’m going to meet her eventually,” Shawn informed him of the inevitable. “I thought you were going to visit them tomorrow though?”

“Change of plans,” Carlton said dryly. Why his mother decided to change the habit of his entire adult life now was a mystery. She’d probably claim some crap about maternal instincts. “It might be better if you — ”

Shawn slipped past him before he could finish warning him.

The last few moving boxes had been cleared out and Shawn spied an attempt at Christmas decorations had been made but what caught his attention were the three women — no, two women and a teenage girl, who looked a few years younger than him — standing in the living room.

The white woman, her face flushed red, was obviously who’d been arguing with Carlton… and by those blue eyes, there was only one person she could be.

“Mrs. Lassiter,” he grinned brightly, pouring all the charm he could muster into it as he stepped forward, hand out.

It didn’t work.

Those blue eyes narrowed dangerously at Shawn, eyeing his hand like he’d just spit on it.

“Who the hell are you?” She looked past him toward Carlton who’d stepped aside to let his father and Gus in, a look of resignation on his face. “Booker, why are there children coming into your house?”

“We’re 18,” Shawn protested, trying his award-winning puppy eyes now.

Nothing.

Damn, she was good.

“It’s something I was going to bring up tomorrow,” Carlton said between clenched teeth. “Shawn, Henry, Guster — this is my mother, Mona.” He nodded to the other lady in the room with warm brown skin and a tired smile. “Althea, my stepmother.”

Unlike her mate, Althea stepped forward and took Shawn’s offered handshake. “Whoever you are, if you’re a friend of Carlton’s then I’m glad to meet you.”

Shawn liked her instantly.

“And this,” Carlton said, waving an arm toward the teenager so she’d come up to him. “This is Lauren. My little sister.” She smiled shyly but wrapped an arm around Carlton’s waist in a half-hug.

“I’m Shawn Spencer and — ”

“My superior’s son,” Carlton quickly interrupted, giving Shawn a pointed look.

Shawn pouted back at him.

Mona glared at the three newcomers. “And why are they here? Are they more important than your family?”

Shawn could see Carlton grit his teeth harder, his grip on his sister tightening.

Their fight was far from over.

“We should come back another time,” Henry announced, reaching to grab Shawn by the shoulder and pull him back toward the door. “We didn’t know Lassiter was expecting company.”

Mona was not deterred. “Obviously,” she hissed, glaring at Carlton. “Apparently, we’re not good enough to have anything to do with Carlton. He doesn’t tell us he’s broken up with Victoria! He doesn’t tell us he’s moved!” She gestured toward his arm. “That he was shot. And now he’d hanging around with a group of children!”

“Hey!” Both Shawn and Gus objected that time.

“If I find out you’ve been inappropriate…!”

Shawn cast another look toward Carlton. The man caught his eye and gave a short, sharp shake of his head.

“Look,” Henry stepped forward, moving in front of Shawn while Gus stayed by the door. “There’s a bit of a misunderstanding going on. We were just checking up on him since he’s been going through a hard time lately and —”

“I’m his mate,” Shawn loudly announced.

Carlton closed his eyes and took a deep but, somehow, very angry breath.

 

Shawn had expected the chaos his announcement would bring — he wasn’t that dumb — but, somehow, he hadn’t expected it to be… this bad.

It happened so incredibly fast.

Mona had zeroed in on him immediately. She demanded to know what he meant by that, if he’d seduced her son into some illicit affair, if he was trying to blackmail him. Carlton had placed himself between them which was when she deduced he was the reason Carlton’s fiancee had left him and called him a homewrecker.

That was when Henry stepped in.

Now, standing off to the side with Gus, Althea, and Lauren, Shawn could only watch with increasing guilt, alarm, and distress.

Weren’t people supposed to be happy about their loved one’s finding their mate? Even if it was a bit of a shock…

Was Henry the rule, not the exception?

“You smell like rotten fruit.”

Shawn blinked and turned to look at Lauren with a frown. She was young, a beta, and was staring down at the floor, her arms crossed. Defensive.

Shawn winced.

“Okay, I did not expect it to escalate like this,” he defended himself, weakly. “I thought I’d just… skip the whole pretense and just lay it out.”

Lauren didn’t answer him.

Gus scoffed beside him.

“I don’t think there was ever a chance Mona wasn’t going to be angry,” Althea said after a moment. She had ushered all the ‘children’ into the kitchen while her mate took on two alphas in a yelling match Shawn was sure should make headlines. “She’s very protective of Booker.”

Booker… Carlton. That was the second time he’d heard that nickname.

Shawn stored the information away for later.

“My Dad’s been putting Carlton through the wringer,” he admitted after a moment.

“It was up in the air if he was going to kill him and hide the body is what he means,” Gus snorted a laugh beside him. “I think they’ve only just got past that stage.”

“I thought it was just my dad that was this crazy,” Shawn said, dejected. He glanced over at Lauren. “No offense.”

She shrugged, just as unhappy by the current circumstances as he was.

This wasn’t right. He was meant to see his mate after being away from him for two agonizingly long weeks. He was meant to see, cuddle, and tease him. They were supposed to exchange gifts and watch cliche Christmas movies.

This was supposed to be nice.

Relaxing.

He looked back at the faces around him, hiding away in the kitchen and it was… this was so dumb!

He looked Lauren over. He hadn’t even thought to try and get her a gift. He’d known about her after all, even if they hadn’t met yet.

Through the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, he could see it was mostly his father and Mona still having a go at the fight. It seems Carlton had tapped out for the moment to catch his breath while the other two moved the fight on to Shawn’s… everything.

Lauren discreetly covered her nose.

“Let me make some tea,” Althea announced softly behind him. “Maybe we can all calm down…”

“No,” Shawn shook his head. “I got a better idea.”

He started toward the group.

“Shawn,” Gus hissed, reaching for him but he pulled away. “They’ll tear you apart!”

Shawn shushed him, a finger to his lips, and crept forward. At the archway, he leaned forward and grabbed Carlton’s sleeve. The man jumped, ready to get back into the fight when he saw who it was. He sighed and shook his head but Shawn pulled on his sleeve, pulling him in.

“Shawn, what are you —?” He smelled the distress, despite the openness of the kitchen, and stepped closer.

“Let’s get out of here,” Shawn announced, dismissing Carlton’s concern. “Let’s just go out and have fun until they,” he nodded toward the two fighting parents, “calm down. Or kill each other. Whichever.”

“Shawn…” Carlton sighed. His voice was rough from yelling. It was kind of sexy.

“There’s an arcade down the street,” Shawn insisted. “With crappy pizza. Or we can get slightly less crappy burgers at a diner. We’ll bring the presents with us and open them at the pier.”

He could see Carlton considering it. Shawn looked back toward the kitchen. “What about you guys? Want to run away from this specific problem for a bit? Have some fun while we can?”

Gus, no stranger to Shawn’s bad decisions and their consequences, shrugged his acceptance.

Lauren, a bit wary but with a hopeful glint in her big brown eyes, looked to Carlton.

“I don’t…”

“You should go,” Althea said from the stove where she’d put a kettle on. “You’re all young. Go have fun.” Her smile was a bit devious. “And when those two knock it off, I can tell them they drove their children from the house and watch them stew in it.” She barked out a laugh.

Shawn raised an eyebrow and glanced at Carlton. To his surprise, he’d softened up at the proposed outcome of his mother and Henry’s fight.

Glancing over at the plump woman, he could see how being the subject of her disappointment was all the punishment one needed.

“You don’t mind, Mama?” Lauren asked, excited now.

“Go on, Sweet thing,” Althea winked at her.

They both looked to Carlton.

He sighed and nodded. He walked over to his stepmother. “You don’t mind being left with them?”

“I knew what I was getting into mating Mona,” Althea laughed. She reached up and pulled Carlton down to kiss his cheek. “Now go have fun with your sister, mate, and friend.”

“Thanks, Althea.” He looked at Lauren. “You can probably sneak past them the easiest,” he said. “Go grab Shawn and Guster’s presents. And one of yours.”

“You got me a gift?” Gus asked, surprised.

“I got more than one?” Lauren asked at the same time.

“Go,” Carlton shooed her.

Shawn watched the upcoming change to their early Christmas and grinned. He turned to Althea and gave her a quick, but tight, hug. “Oh, you’re going to be my favorite.”

She laughed and patted him on the back.

 

The day, now night, had been unexpectedly perfect.

There was a part of Carlton that balked at spending so much time with three teenagers, even if one was his sister and another his mate, but that part was won over eventually.

The arcade had been fun, even if he was awful at most of the games and Shawn seemed to cheat at all of them. Lauren seemed to like it, especially as Shawn showered his prizes onto her — to make up for not getting her a gift, so he claimed.

Lauren had accepted them all and, as they were leaving, turned to Shawn and said: “If you hurt my brother, I will kill you.”

Shawn had been delighted. “It runs in the family,” he grinned up at Carlton. “I like her.”

He looked at a smug Lauren and returned the smile, reaching around to ruffle her hair. “I like her too.”

The diner had been crowded and loud but they’d found a booth near the windows. Their food was an hour late but it gave them time to exchange gifts, though it took some convincing to get Gus to accept his.

The beta didn’t want to owe him anything but eventually relented. It was just a biography on Bass Reeves that he’d thought the young man might like.

He definitely seemed interested but seemed much more appreciative of his gift to Shawn: A portable CD player so he’d stop stealing Gus’s. He even got him a handful of CDs to go with it. There were tears in his eyes when he saw the latest ‘Tears for Fears’ album in the mix.

Lauren got a new leather case for her camera and she’d gotten him a CD collection of Marty Robbin’s greatest hits.

And Shawn… Shawn had gotten him a tie. It was navy blue with silver handcuffs embroidered along the length. And a note: For when you’re the best detective in Santa Barbara..

Even now, as they walked along the boardwalk, Christmas music blaring from nearby speakers and bright lights all around, Carlton couldn’t stop running his thumb along the fabric, feeling the raised bumps along the silky smooth length.

If he makes detective…

He’s not studied as much as he needed to over the last few weeks. Not if he wanted top marks. Not if he wanted to rise through the ranks to make it to chief one day… especially not if he wanted to be the youngest in the city’s history.

“You have worry lines,” Shawn said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, 13 is that gross age only perverts like. Gus is a perfect, not perverted, gentleman.”

They’d left Gus and Lauren at the end of the pier to people-watch.

He was wearing Carlton’s coat as he’d left his in Henry’s car. The sleeves were just a bit too long. It gave Carlton a deep, warm feeling in his chest to see Shawn wearing his clothes.

“Lauren would throw him into the water if he tried anything,” Carlton rolled his eyes. “Then tell me and I’ll toss him back in.”

Shawn snorted a laugh and swung their linked hands.

“Did you mean it?” Carlton asked.

“Hmm?”

“Me making detective?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tie. “You think so?”

“Of course,” Shawn said, stopping to face him. “Without a doubt. Besides, you got me.”

Carlton smiled slightly. “I appreciate the confidence, though I think I might need more than a cheerleading squad.”

“Are you doubting yourself already?” Shawn asked, peering up at Carlton. “You’ve still got, like, a month before you’re scheduled, right?”

“How did you…” Carlton let that thought drop. Of course Shawn knew when was set to take the test. “I’ve been putting off studying.”

Shawn shrugged. “I never study and I get good enough grades.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“You’ll do great,” Shawn said, grinning up at him. “If I’m not going to be supercop, I think my Dad’s going to turn his attention on you as the next best thing. Besides, the test isn’t that hard.”

“It’s the test that’s going to dictate the rest of my life,” Carlton disagreed.

“It’s like the driver’s test,” Shawn scoffed. “You can always retake it.”

Carlton scrunched up his nose at the thought.

Shawn laughed and, before Carlton could think to stop him, stood up on his toes and pecked a kiss to his lips. As he dropped back down, he pulled the lapels of Carlton’s coat close to his face and took a long, deep inhale then met his gaze with heavy eyes.

“You’ll be great, Carlton.”

Notes:

Hopefully I'm back on track and won't miss another upload!

Chapter 11: January 2, 1996

Summary:

Shawn makes his move

Notes:

I think this is about the halfway point of this fic...

Shawn pulled the navy blue peacoat closer and breathed in the unique scent of Carlton Lassiter.

He obviously didn’t take the coat out much, especially not to the gun range, as it was missing the acrid scent of gunpowder but it made the woodsy cedar notes of his scent all the stronger, though he missed that aspect of Carlton’s scent, that little spice of possible danger…

He was glad his mate hadn’t asked for the coat back yet; the uniform shirt from months ago was tapped out scent-wise and, though this coat wasn’t as saturated as he would have liked, the scent was still fresh and amazing and… nice.

Turns out, except for that uniform shirt, he didn’t have anything with Carlton’s scent on it — an oversight Shawn was determined to fix.

And if his plan worked, he’ll have plenty of Carlton’s scent around to enjoy.

The pier at Christmas had been great — just the two of them, away from overbearing parents, just holding hands and walking. No worrying for no reason, no one trying to protect his virtue or some crap. Hell, he’d been happy just being with Carlton, even without the promise of sexy times.

But it’s been almost three months since that night at the police station: three months of behaving, of begging for scraps and being sneaky, of having to steal smoochies, and, yeah, Henry’s loosened the leash a little bit and Carlton’s giving it up bit by bit but…

Damn it, he wanted more! He didn’t want to take it easy or to sneak around. He wanted to cuddle (and more) with his mate whenever he wanted without having someone looming over them. He wanted to see him whenever he wanted. He just wanted his mate.

Imprinting be damned.

Realistically, what were the chances he was going to meet another mate? Not very high!

And he liked Carlton.

He liked that he was tall and lanky, he liked his catholic schoolboy hair and his bright blue eyes. He liked that he was obsessed with Westerns and being a cop. He liked that he was a bit of a nerd.

Nothing about this felt platonic. He knew platonic. He and Gus were platonic.

He and Carlton weren’t meant to be platonic.

“So there,” Shawn muttered, pulling the lapels of the coat up to frame his face. A strong gust of Carlton filled his senses.

This was the right call.

He needed to move this along and get past these dumb hurdles.

And this will totally work.

Carlton’s lunch hour was coming up and he always came to this sandwich shop on Tuesdays because of the special they run on Italian BLTs.

And Shawn was waiting for him — with sandwiches and a bag of chips!

At 12:30PM on the dot, the black and white he’d been waiting for pulled onto the street. He stood by the door of the deli and watched. He saw the moment Carlton noticed him, the car slowing sooner than necessary before pulling into the parking lot. He stopped in front of Shawn.

Shawn leaned down and grinned as Carlton rolled down the window.

“Hey, Good-Looking,” he grinned and held up the bag. “I heard you were in need of some sammiches. Which I seem to have an abundance of…”

“Does Henry know you’re out?”

Okay, ow.

“He’s at work,” Shawn shrugged. “And you’re at lunch. I am also at lunch. So… let’s have lunch.”

He watched as the gears turned in his mate’s head, weighing the pros and cons.

“It’s just lunch,” Shawn said again, putting an extra dash of exasperation in the words. He saw Carlton start to give in. “Though I also need a ride home.”

“Shawn…!”

 

The Spencer house was as empty as Shawn promised: his father was at work and was likely too busy to even eat lunch much less worry about Carlton sneaking off to have lunch with his son in their house.

Still, Carlton was cautious.

“It’s not booby-trapped,” Shawn rolled his eyes, setting the bag with the sandwiches on the table before turning to the cabinets. “What do you want to drink?”

Carlton peeked into the living room and saw it empty. He didn’t hear anything upstairs but that didn’t mean the senior alpha wasn’t up there.

“Dude,” Shawn sighed before grabbing Carlton by the arm and dragging him over to the table. He set a glass in front of him followed closely by the jug of milk from the fridge. “Do you think I’d arrange this romantic sandwich date if I thought my dad would interrupt?”

“No,” Carlton answered truthfully. He poured himself some milk. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to let you think you’re getting away with it.”

“True,” Shawn conceded, “but the case he’s working on has got his full attention.”

Carlton perked slightly. He unwrapped his sandwich — it was his usual order, down to the mayo and mustard — and pretended to only be mildly curious. “What, uh… what kind of case?”

“Missing persons,” Shawn shrugged. “Henry wasn’t too forthcoming with information.”

Carlton nodded, a bit disappointed.

He was still months away from any real police work, stuck guarding the sidelines while crime was being solved and criminals brought to justice. The most action he got was when a routine stop did a runner… or when he’s close enough to answer a robbery call like last month.

His shoulder still ached but not enough to keep him at a desk now.

It was a good kind of ache — a wound obtained during the line of duty.

“Okay,” Shawn interrupted his thoughts, speaking around a bite of sandwich. “So, we’ve got an hour or so, right?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Carlton scolded lightly before taking a bite of his own food. He nodded.

Shawn rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Well, I want to show you something. After we eat.”

Carlton frowned. “Show me what…?”

“It’s a surprise,” Shawn grinned. He took a long sip of pineapple soda.

In the few months he’s known Shawn, he’s learned to be wary of his surprises.

“Eat your sandwich,” Shawn instructed before taking a big bite out of his own. “The sooner you’re done,” his words muffled by food, “the sooner I can show you.”

Carlton only finished half of his sandwich by the time Shawn was done. He set his leftovers aside, knowing the younger man wouldn’t have the patience to let him finish.

Besides, he wanted to leave the house before Henry found out. As much as their relationship, if it could be called that, had improved, he didn’t want to push it.

When Shawn saw he was done, he jumped to the feet and grabbed Carlton by the hand, dragging him up. He began leading him through the house.

“What’s so important?” Carlton asked, letting Shawn lead him up the stairs.

This was officially new territory.

Carlton dragged his feet a bit, trying to look at the few photographs that hung on the stairway wall but Shawn wasn’t having it.

“Hurry up,” Shawn whined, tugging at Carlton’s hand. “It’s important.”

Carlton had a guess as to what Shawn wanted to show him. He was an imprinted omega leading him up to what was, without a doubt, his bedroom.

What he’d eaten of his sandwich wanted to wedge itself back up into his throat.

Oh, Henry would kill him for going along with this.

Carlton continued to follow Shawn up the stairs.

Shawn stopped in front of a closed door and grinned up at Carlton.

“I had to rearrange some stuff,” he started, looking almost giddy, “but I think it’s pretty good for a first real attempt.”

Carlton felt his face flush, his ears burning as blood rushed through him. He had suspicions but Shawn was all but confirming it.

His nest.

He was going to show off his nest.

There was no way they were ready for this. Nests were intimate. Nests were ‘we’ve been dating a few months and it’s time to think about being serious’ serious.

But that’s how Shawn saw it: as far as his brain was concerned, they’ve been together since October.

“Shawn…” he protested but there was no heat in the word.

He’d never had an omega want to share their nest with him, even the few he’d helped through their heats had just had a basic setup.

“Don’t start,” Shawn interrupted him. “This is just as much for me as for you,” he insisted.

Carlton should protest, should leave, should… he should…

He nodded.

Shawn grinned and opened the door.

It was a decently sized bedroom for a teenager. The walls were covered in posters and a corner of the room seemed to be dedicated to music: a small bookshelf was covered in records, cassettes, and CDs while a radio and record player sat nearby. The desk had a few textbooks, motorcycle magazines, and maps scattered along the surface. Toys decorated the dresser and bedside table… though the bed was no longer beside said table.

Drag lines along the carpet showed where Shawn had pushed the bed up against the wall, ignoring the debris that had resided underneath.

Shawn had pillaged what seemed to be tent poles from somewhere — probably Henry’s — and had taped an end to each of the bedposts before draping old superman bedsheets over the poles, creating a den. The blankets were pulled aside and Carlton could see a mass of pillows, clothes, and even a few stuffed animals arranged inside, leaving an inviting opening in the middle.

He liked the ingenuity of the tent poles in the making of the den — he doubted Shawn could gotten proper den supports on his own, not without Henry’s help — and even if the material was on the childish side, they had the sweet citrus smell of Shawn, only fresher… younger.

Carlton swallowed hard, a urge that was both protective and soft glowing in his chest.

“I like it…”

Shawn didn’t let him finish.

The smaller omega grabbed him from behind and twirled him around. Before his mind could catch up, Shawn’s lips were on his, hard and demanding. Before he knew it, his hands were on Shawn’s hips, holding on as the other man pushed him back.

Carlton felt his knees hit the edge of the bed, sending him tumbling into the small nest.

Shawn clambered after him, crawling on top but somehow barely breaking the kiss.

Carlton felt hands in his hair, hips rubbing against his own, his cock swelling and meeting the hardness pressing against him.

He pulled away, gasping for air: “Wait!”

Shawn, to his credit, froze. He sat back — directly onto Carlton’s erection — and pouted down at him.

“We don’t have much time,” he tutted, flicking his head back to get his longer hair out of his eyes. “I figure you can be a little late getting back from lunch but too long and people will start asking — ”

“Y-you’re fine with this?” Carlton asked, swallowing back on his arousal as Shawn did not move from his perch. “Just… straight to this?”

Shawn rolled his eyes.

“Duh!” He shook his head. “I’d have been on you on Halloween if you weren’t so uptight.”

Carlton wanted to protest that judgment but pushed it aside. He closed his eyes and imagined glaciers floating in a frozen sea then how it’d feel to plunge naked into it.

His erection was only slightly deterred.

“Shawn,” he sighed, opening his eyes. “You’re still — ”

“Oh, don’t give me that excuse,” Shawn huffed. “I’ll be 19 in a few months which is a year older than legal consent. I know what I want!”

Carlton swallowed hard.

“A-and what is that?” he asked. “Just sex? What if you get pregnant? And don’t say it’s not time for your heat. Accidents happen.”

“Excuses,” Shawn crossed his arms but he could feel the younger man’s arousal fading. “There’s only, like a 10% chance of a heatless pregnancy. Besides, I brought condoms…”

Carlton clenched his eyes shut again and imagined rolling around naked in the snow.

“I appreciate that,” he gritted out. “But… I don’t want… if we do this, I don’t want a fling.”

“This isn’t a fling!” Shawn protested, actual hurt in the words. “You’re my mate. I’ve decided that. This,” he gestured between the two of them. “I’m ready for it to be for the long haul.”

It was a flattering sentiment and one Carlton found he didn’t mind at all.

Except…

“I’m not ready,” he said, meeting Shawn’s eye. “You might be ready or you’re just imprinted and think you want this but… it’s me. I’m not quite ready for this, Shawn.”

He watched as Shawn’s face fell, his scent souring. The younger man finally slid off his lap and almost off the bed if Carlton hadn’t grabbed his hand, stopping him. He gently pulled the omega back into the nest, moving aside so he could be beside him. After a moment, Shawn laid down.

“Is it me?” Shawn asked quietly. “Like, the age thing is just some excuse? Like, you were with a woman before so… are you like… like Gus? Only interested in women? Or am I just…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Carlton took a deep, calming breath. It was easier to think without Shawn on top of him.

“The age thing is not an excuse,” Carlton assured him. “It freaks me out a bit but… but that’ll fade when you get older. And… I find you very attractive,” he flushed as he said that. “And I like you so… so whatever self-deprecating thing you were about to say, you can just forget it.”

Shawn smiled slightly, his scent a burst of happiness.

“I just… I’m not in a good place in my life right now,” Carlton said. “With Victoria… I feel like we’d managed to get to steady ground but… I’m not there anymore. I’ve no savings, I’m hoping — no, I’m going to make detective soon and that’s going to be a whole world of adjustments. I don’t have anything to offer you much right now, Shawn. That’s all.”

“I don’t need much,” Shawn huffed, edging closer. Carlton, after a moment’s consideration, reached out and draped his arm over Shawn’s waist. “I can take care of myself.”

Carlton was sure he thought he could.

“I’m old fashioned,” he said instead. “I… I think I can see you in my life. In that way.” Shawn grinned. “And if that’s the case… I want to do it right.”

“Going to ask Henry for my hand?” Shawn snorted a laugh.

Carlton winced. “Maybe not that traditional. But I want to be ready. I want to be able to take care of you.”

“That’s sweet,” Shawn said after a moment. He leaned forward and brushed the tip of his nose against Carlton’s. “But also very boring.”

“Sorry,” Carlton said, not sorry.

Shawn frowned, considering.

“You’re not going to have your whole life together in a month or two by any chance, are you?”

“Doubtful,” Carlton snorted. “Why?”

“My heat is in two months. March, right around my birthday — great fucking present, right?”

“Language,” Carlton muttered, frowning. “Why are you…?”

“I don’t want to spend another heat by myself,” Shawn answered. “It really sucks. It hurts, it’s uncomfortable, and I can barely remember what happens only that I hate it… and it’s supposed to be easier… you know, if someone’s there.”

March? That was so close and yet so far away…

No, there was no way he’d have everything settled by then, not in the way he wanted.

But he’s helped omegas through their heats before.

This would be very different though exactly the same.

“D-does Henry know?” he asked softly. “That you want… don’t want to spend…”

“It’s none of his business,” Shawn said, bitingly. “I’m an adult. You’re an adult. We’re allowed to do… adult things.”

Carlton took a deep breath.

“I’ll think about it,” he said after a moment.

“That’s not a no,” Shawn said, wiggling closer until he was lying half on top of him.

“It’s not,” Carlton agreed, wrapping his arms around Shawn — holding him while also keeping him away from more sensitive parts of his body. “And like you said, I have about thirty minutes left in my lunch. I kind of want to enjoy your nest while I can.”

Carlton closed his eyes and listened to deep, happy purrs as they filled the small nest.

Notes:

Lassie has amazing discipline, much to Shawn's disappointment...

For now.

Chapter 12: January 19, 1996

Summary:

Henry is a dick and Carlton steps up

Notes:

I'm a bit late with this chapter. Sorry about that.

But good news! My imaginary supermarket is doing great.

The exam was a week away.

Carlton’s brain reminded him of the fact every minute of every hour of every day. He would be in bed, trying to sleep while police codes danced through his head. He would be in the shower and reciting protocol. If someone asked him what the exact wording was on page 58 of the handbook, he could probably recite it verbatim.

He still didn’t feel ready.

This was the most vital step in achieving his childhood dream of becoming the youngest Chief of Police in Santa Barbara history: he had to make detective.

And he only had a week left to study.

And Henry fucking Spencer was being a pain in the ass.

Over the last two weeks, since Shawn had shared his nest with him, he’d managed to sneak over once or twice when the older alpha wasn’t there, up until Shawn started school back… which broke the small fantasy Carlton had unintentionally entertained concerning his mate’s age.

But if Henry knew about those unsanctioned visits, he was keeping it close to the vest.

Or at least he had been.

The older alpha had all but ordered him to meet up at a local diner down the street from the station. It was a common enough spot for officers to grab a bite to eat though there weren’t many officers in there now. It was mostly teenagers, fresh out of school and looking to hang out before going home.

Carlton couldn’t say he was surprised to see Shawn following his father into the diner.

However, he was surprised by how miserable the omega was.

A quick glance at Henry didn’t reveal anything beyond a vaguely smug smirk. He didn’t smell angry but that smirk was worrying. He could have found out about their secret meetings and had already planned his retribution.

“Spencer,” Carlton greeted tightly. “Shawn?”

“Detective Exam’s in a week,” Henry stated, pulling up the chair across from Carlton but steering Shawn into it. He sat down beside his son. “I’ve noticed you studying.”

“Yes,” Carlton said. It wasn’t secret by any means. “I think I have the damn books memorized by now.”

Henry smiled as though he’d said something funny.

“I’m sure you’ll score well on it,” he said, glancing over to Shawn. “In fact, I was thinking on it the other day while I was straightening out the garage.”

Oh no.

That was all but an admission. He knew Shawn had stolen the poles from his father’s tent though, Carlton hoped, he wasn’t too angry about that considering what his son used him for… but it also meant he probably got a good look at the nest and, he was sure, a good whiff of it.

The only clothes of his Shawn had were his old uniform and his peacoat he stole from him at Christmas.

Not enough to explain why his scent would be so strong.

He looked over at Shawn who was glaring down at the tabletop, pointedly not looking at him.

That was more concerning than anything.

“And what were you thinking about?” Carlton asked, feeling the need to be careful, wary of the trap about to be sprung.

“I think it’s time,” Henry announced, glancing over to Shawn then back to Carlton. “If you two are going to be serious one day. No secrets, right?”

Carlton narrowed his eyes at the older man.

He had no real secrets to hide. He had a few embarrassing pastimes when he was younger but that was just that: embarrassing. What’s a few knitted scarves and the knowledge of how to do a perfect double axel going to do to him?

So it must be about Shawn.

He met the younger man after he stole a car. How could it get worse than that?

Carlton cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. “I think that’s something that should be between me and Shawn, don’t you think?”

Shawn glanced up with a small, grateful smile but there was resignation in his eyes. His father would not be deterred that easily.

“Usually, I would agree,” Henry nodded, “but I know Shawn and there are some things he would do everything in his power to hide. Lord knows why.” He rolled his eyes.

Shawn scowled at the table.

Henry looked over to his son. He nodded toward the diner at large. “How many hats?”

“Do I have to do this?” Shawn asked, almost pleading.

“Any longer and you’re cheating.”

 

Shawn had known from a young age that what he could do wasn’t normal. No other kids in the playground or in the preschool noticed what every other kid was doing or what the adults were wearing or what color the cars across the street were.

But Shawn noticed.

And Henry noticed.

It was fun at first, pointing out all the details when asked, learning to notice even more things and what those things could possibly mean.

His father had always talked about wanting Shawn to be a cop like him but it was different than before in a way Shawn hadn’t been able to describe at that age. He knew what it was now: Henry seeing his potential.

Shawn being a cop was no longer a sentimental wish of a new father but an extension of Henry himself. If his son became a great cop, well, he was the man who trained him to become one.

Whatever Shawn wanted was a mild inconvenience.

And everything seemed to be going Henry’s way, even when Shawn turned out to be a male omega rather than a female alpha. For all his faults, Henry didn’t buy into the whole ‘Omegas are sweet and innocent creatures who’d never hurt a fly’ nonsense and he didn’t treat Shawn like he was delicate.

It all just added to the legend that was going to be Shawn Spencer: Super Cop.

And for a while, Shawn wanted to be that legend. He wanted to be a cop, he wanted Henry to be proud of him.

Over the past four years, Shawn realized it wasn’t going to happen.

The Shawn his father wanted was just imaginary and always would be unless Shawn gave up every part of himself to make it happen.

And his father loved that imaginary Shawn, not him.

Shawn refused to put up with any more of his father’s training, refused to go camping, refused to learn survival skills, refused to learn the ins and outs of police work — only taking the Detective’s exam to show Henry how easy and pointless it was: a ploy that backfired as Henry tried to start up the training again.

But as much of a pain in the ass his memory and observation turned out to be… he rarely hated it. It’s saved his ass countless times already. It made him seem charming and mysterious… well, up until people found out how he did it.

Apparently, noticing scuffs on their shoes, the wrinkles in their clothes, the books in their hands? That was creepy whereas just knowing that they had to walk to school because they missed the bus was somehow amazing.

No one wanted to be put under a microscope, however unintentionally.

The only person who never seemed to mind was Gus… which made sense because Gus was a giant nerd who liked nerdy things like intelligence.

Gus never used his gifts against him or expected anything from him because of them.

God, he loved Gus.

But Carlton wasn’t Gus.

If anything, all evidence suggested that Carlton would be like Henry… if he didn’t get freaked out altogether by it.

Carlton was a private person, he knew that.

How would he react if he just started telling him he knew he changed toothpaste because his breath smelt like bubblegum for a few weeks before going back to the cinnamon he was used to. How he suspected the man was allergic to mint as he never saw anything minty in the man’s presence. How he knew he had overslept that morning because there were a few stray hairs on his chin that his razor had missed?

Maybe he’d have told Carlton in his own time, maybe would have let the man figure it out for himself.

But Henry wasn’t going to let this go.

He had a point to prove and to hell with everything else.

So Shawn closed his eyes and began.

 

“…and the trucker left his hat at the bar.”

Silence followed his small lesson on the diner’s patrons. Shawn kept his eyes closed, face turned toward the tabletop.

Was that a good sign? Silence was trickier to figure out, the available information literally absent.

He opened his eyes and glanced up through his lashes, trying to see his mate’s expression without submitting to direct eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the smirk on his father’s face that he once took to be pride but now knew was probably just him being smug.

‘Look how well-trained my kid is! I did such a good job.’

Dick.

But Carlton… Carlton just looked at him. His eyes wide, his brows raised in surprise. He looked around the diner, confirming, then looked back at Shawn. His mouth moved as he tried to figure out which question he wanted to ask first.

How. What. Why.

Shawn swallowed against the bile that threatened to creep up his throat.

Carlton was a detective: observation was one thing… deduction was the obvious follow-up.

Henry was quite relentless with that training.

And then? Then… the memory thing.

When was Henry going to pop that one out?

Was he going to make him recite the entire police handbook? Make Carlton follow along to prove he wouldn’t miss a single syllable?

“Shawn…” Carlton said, a bit breathless.

Shawn shoved away from the table, his chair screeching on the tiles before tumbling to the floor.

He ran.

 

Carlton, his brain was still reeling from piecing together what Shawn had shown him, what it meant, and that Shawn had ran afterward, caught up to him a block away from the diner.

The younger man had slowed his run to a slouched walk, his head down and his scent burning enough that people took a step away from him. He saw one or two stop and say something but Shawn seemed to ignore them.

“Shawn!” he called out, closing the last few feet between them. “Wait!”

The younger man drew in on himself, hiding behind the upturned collar of his stolen coat. He stopped when Carlton grabbed his shoulder.

“Shawn,” he said softly, walking around the younger man to try and see his face. “Are… are you alright?”

Shawn shrugged, not looking up.

Carlton floundered for a moment. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to say, but none felt right, not with Shawn so obviously distressed.

He pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms as tightly around the omega as he could without hurting him. He tucked Shawn’s head under his chin and held him.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, hoping the close proximity to his scent glands, the rumbling of his voice, and the sound of his beating heart would help calm the omega. “I’m here. I’m right here. It’s okay…”

After a moment, he felt hands clutch at his shirt and a nose rub against the base of his neck. He also felt what could only be tears drip onto his skin.

“Okay,” he said softly, rubbing circles over Shawn’s back. He began leading him over to a nearby bus stop, setting them down on the, thankfully empty, bench. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

For a few minutes, Shawn cried on his chest. People walked past them, either not noticing, not caring, or giving them privacy. Finally, Shawn pulled away, sitting back on the bench.

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes, wiping away the leftover tears.

“It’s okay,” Carlton assured him, keeping a hand on his knee. He wanted to ask what had upset him, why he ran, but he waited. He didn’t want to set his mate off again.

Shawn stayed silent for a moment before asking, in a small voice: “Where’s Henry?”

The older alpha hadn’t followed them in. Carlton dimly remembered a rolling of his eyes, a shake of his head…

“Left him in the diner,” he said. “I guess he’s still there…”

Shawn scoffed and roughly ran the back of his hand under his nose, wiping more evidence away.

“I hate him,” Shawn muttered, not looking up from Carlton’s hand on his leg. “I fucking hate him.”

Carlton gave his knee a squeeze.

For the longest time, Henry Spencer had only been his superior: someone he looked up to and respected but only distantly. Then he found Shawn and Henry became this force of nature, a hurdle he had to jump, a foe he had to defeat, even when he wasn’t sure he wanted what was right in front of him.

Now…

Now there was a black hole in the way and he and Shawn were just at the event horizon, on the edge of tipping either way.

Carlton didn’t know what to do, what to say, to keep whatever this was from being destroyed… but Shawn’s eyes were bloodshot, his nose red and still dripping a bit, and he wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Carlton admitted, keeping his voice soft and low so only Shawn could hear him. “I… I know there’s a lot of things I don’t know about… between you and your father but… You were amazing, Shawn. I want you to know that and… and if you never want to do that again, you don’t have to.” Shawn finally looked up at him, sniffling still but his eyes wide. “And… and if you don’t want to see your father again… if he’s hurt you, I… I can get you away…”

Shawn gave out a short, hard laugh.

“It’s not that,” he denied. “He’s a dick. That’s all. He figured out I got my mom’s memory and… well, he wanted bragging rights or… or he wanted to live through me or some other bullshit.”

“Still… if you want…”

Shawn shook his head. “I got a plan for all that,” he said, smiling slightly. His eyes were still tearing a bit but his scent was lifting, the sour stink fading away. “Did you mean it?”

“If you need to get away — ”

“Not that part,” Shawn waved a hand, dismissing it. “The ‘I was amazing’ bit,” he clarified, almost shyly. “You mean it?”

“Of course I did!” Carlton reached up and took Shawn’s hand. “You saw everything, never missed a beat! Nothing got by you. You were incredible!”

Shawn smiled, his cheeks actually flushing.

“Henry would have just said it was ‘good enough’,” he told him. “If he said anything at all.”

“Is he how you…?”

“No,” Shawn snapped out the word. Then he softened. “A bit, I guess. My mom… she can remember anything ever said to her. Anything she hears, really. I kinda got that too only with, well, everything.”

“Everything?” Carlton raised an eyebrow. “You have perfect recall?”

“Perfect recall, photographic memory, eidetic memory, whatever you want to call it,” Shawn shrugged as though that were nothing. “But when D-Henry found out, he decided I would be the world’s best detective and — ”

“Started training you…” Carlton remembered that day back at the beginning of December, of the school track and the physical tests the older alpha had put him through. He had mentioned it back then…

“I’ve been training Shawn since he could walk.”

He’d asked what he meant but he never got an answer.

“Yeah,” Shawn confirmed with a small scowl. “Whether I wanted it or not. Now I… I can’t really turn it off. Even when I want to.”

“Never?”

“The lady across the street has four rips in her stockings on the right leg, all in a line, so I guess she probably either had a jumpy puppy or just visited someone with one. She looked annoyed so probably the latter…”

“Stop,” Carlton said softly, pulling Shawn’s hand closer, wrapping it up with both hands. “Don’t… only if you want to, okay?”

Shawn blinked at him and then grinned, as bright as the sun in July.

“I actually do like it,” he admitted, reaching out his free hand to cover Carlton’s. “Just… on my terms, you know? Besides, people get weird about it… when they know.”

“They’re idiots then.”

Shawn’s smile didn’t fade in the slightest.

Carlton felt his heart thud in his chest, the worry and concern that had consumed it minutes before growing into something warm and lovely and…

He closed the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Shawn’s lips. He could taste the remains of salty tears but also the pineapple-flavored chapstick he preferred.

Shawn kissed him back, for once not trying to deepen it.

The kiss only lasted a few moments before they slowly broke apart. They sat for the moment, their hands tangled together, and the world only existed for them.

“You know what I want?” Shawn suddenly said, sliding off the bench to stand at Carlton’s side. “I want tacos. Benji’s, down at the pier.”

“They were very good at Christmas,” Carlton agreed, standing.

“They’re the best!” Shawn insisted, vehemently.

He tugged at Carlton’s hand, leading him downhill where the ocean waited just on the horizon.

“Thank you,” Shawn said, voice soft even as he swung their clasps hands wildly as they headed toward the pier.

Notes:

In case anyone was curious about the female alpha/omega male comment: in this verse these combinations are intersex and thus one's gender/dynamic are 'wait and see' kinda of thing. So they have an additional 'presentation' concerning which gender they (seemingly) present as at puberty. Around this time, one's dynamic is more or less confirmed but they're not recorded until they 'present' meaning they have their first heat/rut.

Betas, of course, avoid all this nonsense.

Also, because of the intersex thing, instead of having pink or blue bows/flowers for newborns, they get a lovely light purple!

Is any of this relevant to this story? Probably not beyond a few off hand comments (For now) but I just wanted to share!

Also, if you want to see Shawn showing off for Carlton (and not have me just skip it like here!) check out my other fic: Wat Wuz + Wat Culd Bee

Chapter 13: February 2, 1996

Summary:

Shawn and the Grown Up Date

The suit was a dark navy blue with a brighter blue satin lining. It was the most expensive suit he owned, a gift from Victoria when she got tired of his college student wardrobe.

It matched the tie Shawn had gotten him for Christmas perfectly.

His first day as a detective was still a few days away as the paperwork got filled out and he planned to wear the same outfit on that day… but figured it was a perfect chance to show it off to Shawn…

At Gerard's.

The restaurant was pricey but had made the reservation a week ago to celebrate his passing the detective’s exam… before he even took it.

It had been a bold move for him, making plans before he had reason to but… Shawn’s confidence was rubbing off on him. The younger man was so sure he was going to pass that Carlton believed it as well… or at least he had quieted the doubts he had had.

And now they were going on a date.

A real, proper date.

A ‘Grown Up’ date, as Shawn called it when he told him of the reservation.

It wasn’t Carlton’s first ‘grown up’ date but it somehow felt like it. The few he’d had when he was younger, first with his high school crush then with Victoria in college… but this was different. There were no ‘what ifs’ about if they’d be compatible, no worries that he’d somehow embarrass himself by using the wrong fork or set his tie on fire — he really hoped he wouldn’t set his tie on fire — there was an odd freedom knowing he was going on a date with a mate.

But as relieving as it was, there was still a nagging worry in his chest.

What did this mean for them?

Their relationship, as much as he fought it, was turning toward the romantic and, if Shawn had his way, to the sexual. And he couldn’t bring himself to object to the change, no matter his reservations concerning their age difference.

And that was certainly a life-altering decision…

One he was going to have to share with Shawn tonight.

He could only imagine the young omega’s reaction: a roll of the eyes, a smirk at his expense.

Carlton smiled at the thought, his reflection in the rearview mirror smiling back at him.

They still had a ways to go. Their bodies were definitely compatible, their meeting wouldn’t have gone the way it had if they weren’t… but he hoped they were more.

Shawn was so different from him: he was bright, bubbly, confident by default, brilliant in ways he didn’t show off while still being the most exhibitionistic person he knew… he also tended to be childish (even for a teenager), a bit selfish, and stubborn to a fault.

He shone in ways Carlton didn’t, couldn’t, and didn’t even want to.

This was the puzzle that was them: Shawn’s soft and bright pieces and his own more subdued bits… would they fit together just right to make a magnificent picture or would it just be a jumbled mess? Could they end up just a mix of the two; somehow not fitting but still just right?

There was only one way to figure all that out.

Carlton parked at the back gate, the ocean on one side and the Spencer house on the other. He quickly checked his reflection, made sure his tie was straight, and picked up the small bouquet of red carnations he’d gotten, remembering the poem his grandmother used to say:

Roses for ladies
Carnations for men
Red for love always
And white for forever amen…

He could see Shawn through the window, standing by the door and bouncing slightly. He smiled at the display of, possibly nervous, energy. He could see another figure waiting at the door but he didn’t have to wait long to have his suspicions confirmed.

Henry Spencer opened the door when Carlton was only halfway down the walkway to the porch. The older alpha leaned against the doorway, a dour expression on his face.

After the fiasco that was the diner, Carlton had made it clear that what Henry did was unacceptable, that Shawn had been hurt by him. Henry had argued his case, that Shawn would have hidden it from him and wouldn’t take ‘that was his choice’ as an answer.

If Shawn wasn’t over the age of 18, he wouldn’t have taken ‘We’re not asking permission anymore’ as an answer either.

Something the elder was clearly still sore about.

Carlton walked up the steps, meeting Henry’s glare with a cold stare of his own.

“Is Shawn ready..?”

Shawn barely waited for him to ask before all but shoving past his father to get to the porch.

“Hi,” he grinned up at Carlton. He was wearing a brown suit that was slightly too big for him, no tie, and red Converse sneakers. His hair was slicked back with a bit too much gel. He was still bouncing slightly, Carlton’s suspicions about his energy levels being spot on. His green-hazel eyes dropped down to the flowers in his hand. The grin widened. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“I, uh, thought it appropriate,” Carlton confessed, handing the bouquet to him.

“I like them,” Shawn said, dipping his head to smell them.

Over Shawn’s shoulder, Carlton saw Henry roll his eyes and retreat into the kitchen. There was the clink of glass followed by the sound of running water.

At least he wasn’t being as big of a jerk as he could be.

He reappeared and nudged Shawn with the glass of water until his son took it.

“I want you back by 11,” Henry all but grumbled, arms crossed. “And not a second after.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “That’s going to be hard. Our nighttime skydiving lesson doesn’t even start until midnight.”

“I’ll have him back at a reasonable time,” Carlton said. In truth, he had no intention of keeping Shawn out late — even if it was Friday, he was still in school — but he also had no intention of agreeing with Henry’s terms.

“So don’t wait up,” Shawn said, shoving the glass with the carnations into his father’s hands. He stuck his tongue out at him for good measure. He slipped his arms around Carlton’s arm, hugging the limb close, and began tugging him down the stairs toward the car.

Carlton looked over his shoulder and waved a goodbye to the scowling man before he closed the door.

 

Gerard's was definitely a grown up restaurant.

The fancy glass accents, the dim lighting, the cloth covering the tables — there were actual waiters! People who come up to you and get your food for you! And they wore suits! No paper hats or clowns in sight!

Shawn was also pretty sure he was the youngest person in the building… who didn’t work there, at least.

It was kind of intimidating.

When Carlton had told him he had made reservations to celebrate his inevitable conquering of the detective exam, he’d been excited. Excited that Carlton had found this new well of confidence in himself, that they were going on a real, proper date without his father’s consent, and just excited to be with his mate in general.

He had to dig out a suit from his closet, trying to find one that hadn’t seen too many funerals but also fit. He only had a hand-me-down from Henry which was gross, but it was only slightly too big and it didn’t scream 80s, at least not in a bad way. Between his best dress shirt and the Converse for a bit of style, he thought he did alright.

Carlton, as he always imagined, looked amazing in a suit. He could tell the suit he wore now was probably expensive, the fabric too soft and smooth looking to be anything but expensive. And the slight glitter of the embroidered handcuffs on his tie made Shawn unreasonably happy.

He was definitely the tramp in this Lady and the Tramp scenario but he couldn’t bring himself to mind it too much.

Maybe Carlton will do the spaghetti kiss thing with him?

The thought made him smile.

Their table was small with a few tealight candles lit and a small bowl of flowers between them. He was pretty sure the flowers were display only but this was very much a ‘I have money’ kind of place and who knows what rich people ate.

Shawn ran his finger over the gold-colored plate-but-not-a-plate in front of him.

What were they supposed to do? He was pretty sure the food here was only cooked when ordered and cooking took a deceptively long time and…

“Come here often?” Shawn asked, needing to break the silence between them. The only sounds in the restaurant were the soft violin music and the customers muttering to each other.

It was too quiet.

“Only on special occasions,” Carlton admitted, looking a bit relieved as well. “Well, I’ve only really been a few times, actually.”

“So I’m a special occasion?” Shawn asked, putting on his best sultry voice.

“First dates,” Carlton said instead, more amused than seduced. “But you are something special.”

Shawn hoped the blush of joy he felt rushing up to his face was hidden by the dim light.

“So you just bring all your first dates here?”

Carlton started to nod but stopped. He looked down at his plate-not-a-plate thing and seemed to be thinking something over.

“Yeah,” he finally muttered, “I guess I do.”

Shawn watched him for a few seconds. He was telling the truth about that: Gerard's was his go-to first date place. What was wrong with that?

“It’s nice,” Shawn ventured, smiling. “I mean, I don’t have much to compare it to but they don’t list the price on the menu so that’s impressive.”

Especially on a cop salary but even Shawn knew better than to bring up money on a date. He had some class, thank you very much.

Carlton shook his head and looked back up to Shawn. He gave him a small, almost embarrassed smile. “Sorry,” he said, “I just… never realized. I do come here when I want to impress someone.” Shawn’s grin brightened. Carlton continued. “I just… now I’m wondering if I should have changed it up some…”

“Because you bring all your dates here?” Shawn teased.

Carlton grimaced.

Shawn blinked. “What, you really do bring all your dates here?”

“I… I just realized that this is where me and Victo— my ex had our first date,” Carlton admitted.

Shawn sagged back in his seat. “Is that all you’re worried about?”

“I… It feels weird now,” Carlton said, mildly defensive.

“I don’t have a problem with you having an ex,” Shawn said, almost laughing at the thought. “I mean, as long as she’s not going to show up with an axe in a ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ murder spree… she’s not going to murder me, is she?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“I doubt it,” he said, smiling slightly. “She’s a vegetarian.”

“They say vegetarians are more dangerous,” Shawn said solemnly. “Predators just kill to eat, they have to kill to live.”

“That’s herbivores.”

“Is there a difference?”

Carlton paused a moment then shrugged his acceptance of Shawn’s logic.

“But no, I don’t think… I don’t think Victoria’s going to cause us any problems. We separated amicably and… and I wish her all the best.”

“So why is there a problem?”

“Because… first dates are important,” Carlton started to explain. “So the place has to be important too. So when we remember or come back for anniversaries, it just seems all that more special.”

“We’re going to have anniversaries? Plural?” Shawn grinned over at him, propping his elbows up on the table and resting his chin on his fists.

To hell with proper table manners, he had a mate to flirt with.

Carlton rolled his eyes.

“If everything goes well… yeah,” he nodded.

Shawn grinned over at him. “Well, in that case, since you’ve just realized that Gerard's is tainted by the memory of your ex… we can try again next week?”

Carlton tried to hide a cringe at that.

Oh, yeah, a cop’s salary…

“Or,” Shawn continued, “we always have Benji’s on the pier. I mean, it’s not an impressive restaurant with stars or anything but… I really liked Christmas when we were just walking. And their tacos are amazing. We can find another fancy place some other time.”

Carlton looked at him over the candlelit table, his eyes locking onto his and darkening. It made Shawn want to lick his lips… and Carlton’s lips, especially.

“You know,” Carlton said, his voice low and almost husky sounding, “You can be really mature for your age when you want to be.”

Shawn gasped. “How dare you!”

Carlton laughed and sat back. “I’ll try and keep it a secret.”

“You better… can I have some wine?”

“No.”

Dinner was easy after that.

Shawn still didn’t know which fork one was supposed to use for which food. If Carlton knew, he didn’t seem to care. The food was good, though how someone thought to wrap a lump of meat in pastry was awe-inspiring. He dragged Carlton into a discussion on what else would be amazing wrapped in pastry with Shawn’s opinion being ‘everything’.

Then they ended up splitting dessert. Meaning Shawn kept stealing bites of Carlton’s Red Velvet Cake and occasionally offering bites of his Key Lime Pie.

It was a good night.

A great night, really.

They didn’t have to pay the dark blue sedan parked across the street any mind. They could ignore that it was even there, get in Carlton’s car, and never acknowledge it.

There was no way either of them were going to do that.

“Oh, come on,” Shawn whined, spying the car the instant they stepped out of Gerard's doors. “It’s not even 10 o’clock yet!”

“At least he didn’t try and get a table,” Carlton said, glaring over at the sedan. “Not that he could. I had to make a reservation a week in advance.”

“You’d be surprised what Henry can do,” Shawn groused, pouting. He glanced both ways before jogging across the street.

“Shawn,” Carlton complained but followed his mate. “You can fight at home…”

Henry was already rolling the window down as Shawn approached. Through the open window, Shawn spied the crumpled-up takeout bag, the big book of crossword puzzles, and the large thermos of coffee.

He was prepared to wait a while.

“What the hell?” Shawn asked, stopping at the window. “It’s only been three hours!”

“Spencer,” Carlton greeted, coming to a stop beside Shawn. “You realize this is a violation of California Penal Code 646.9…”

“Do you feel threatened?” Henry countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Could definitely make a case for harassment,” Shawn crossed his arms.

“There’s no laws that say I can’t park outside a building that my son just happens to be patronizing,” Henry said, crossing his arms as well.

“It’s still stalking,” Shawn snapped. “And it’s creepy!”

Henry shrugged a shoulder. “I’m okay with creepy.”

“You can’t do this, Henry,” Carlton sighed, leaning down to look into the window. “Shawn’s of legal age. And while we might not feel threatened now, if you keep this up we would have reason to feel differently.”

“I have a right to protect my son.”

“From me?” Carlton asked, ignoring Shawn’s scornful scoff beside him.

“From anyone.”

“Henry,” Carlton started again, “I’m not going to hurt Shawn. And if I do, you know where I live and work. Hell, you’re friends with practically the whole station who’d help you bury my body if I hurt Shawn.”

Henry smirked at that.

“I have nothing against keeping you informed about where we are — ” He ignored Shawn’s indignant ‘Hey!’ — “but you got to meet me halfway here, Henry. I followed your rules to begin with and it was you that ended up hurting Shawn. You forced him to do something he didn’t want and I’m still angry at you for it. So here we are.”

“Yeah!” Shawn backed him up, pointing a finger at his father. “We’re still angry at you!”

“Shawn,” Carlton sighed before looking back at the other alpha. “I’m not asking your permission to court Shawn. And I don’t have to tell you where I plan on taking him on our dates, though I will out of respect. You have to do the same. To both of us.”

Henry scoffed again. “That’s all very sweet,” he said, turning the car on. “You will tell me where you’re going and I’m going to corroborate that in any way I can.” He looked over at Shawn. “Home by 11 or I’m coming to get you.”

With that, the car roared into action, leaving both Carlton and Shawn standing in stunned silence on the sidewalk.

“Wow,” Carlton said after a moment, his voice full of dazed amazement. “I… I’ve never wanted to shoot someone as much as I just wanted to shoot him.”

Shawn snorted in amusement.

“He has that effect on people.”

Notes:

Henry became a bit more of a dick than I intended this chapter... but it works so I'm just going to roll with it.

Also, I'm stupidly proud of the dumb flowers poem I made up. Lol

Chapter 14: February 10, 1996

Summary:

Carlton takes Shawn (and Gus) to meet an old friend.

Notes:

Sorry for the late update!

Carlton knew he wasn’t the romantic type, he was too literal and a bit too practical for grand, sweeping gestures, but he couldn’t help but feel this would count as romantic.

They were already an hour outside of Santa Barbara and just a few minutes from their destination.

Shawn had been excited the day before when Carlton had called to tell him to get ready for an early Valentine’s Day outing, that there was somewhere he wanted to take him.

How Gus got invited along, Carlton wasn’t too sure, but he was growing to like the other teenager the more he got to know him, especially how much he seemed to care about Shawn and Shawn about him.

He got the impression that the two were a packaged deal and, Carlton found, he wasn’t too upset by the thought.

He always wanted a big pack, of family and family adjacent friends.

Besides, Carlton had yet to master the skill of talking Shawn out of things — though Gus didn’t seem to have mastered that either, he was, at least, the closest anyone has ever come.

“Are we there yet?” Shawn whined from the backseat.

There had been a fight over ‘shotgun’ that had only ended when Carlton had gotten annoyed and said they could both be in the backseat. Shawn had pouted until he, loudly, realize he could sit in the ‘shotgun’ side of the backseat and have a much better view of Carlton. Then he had smirked at the blush on Carlton’s cheeks… and how it spread to his neck and ears.

“What’s an hour outside of Santa Barbara?” Gus picked up the whining. “Nothing! That’s what!”

“Quiet,” Carlton answered back, glancing in the rearview mirror. The teenagers were sitting shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the surrounding desert brush. “We’re almost there,” he reassured them.

“We’re not going camping, are we?” Shawn asked, his voice a bit wary. “Henry’s already trying to arrange a trip.”

“So I heard,” Carlton said, dryly. To his surprise, the older alpha had invited him along since ‘it’d be the only way to get Shawn out of the house’. He knew it was a trap, he just wasn’t sure what the trick was. “We won’t be out here overnight,” he smirked in the mirror.

They turned the corner and an old billboard with peeling paper showed an old cowboy on a rearing horse, a lasso spinning over his head and the words ‘Old Sonora’ printed in a stylized Western Movie font written underneath.

He watched as both teenagers zeroed in on the sign and craned their necks as they passed it by.

They both turned and stared at him at the same time, their actions perfectly in sync.

“Old Sonora?” they both asked.

“I know the owner,” Carlton told them, not seeing a point in denying that that was their destination. “It’s an old frontier town.” Kinda.

Gus’s brows rose in interest. Shawn crossed his arms and slumped down.

“Is this a field trip? It feels like a field trip now.”

Carlton pulled into the driveway that would take them to the small, dust covered parking lot. There weren’t too many cars parked there, it being the off season, but that just meant they’d have more of the town to themselves.

Hank never closed it down except for holidays.

“Well, I, for one, look forward to this unique and educational experience,” Gus said, opening his door.

The echo of gunshots rang through the air.

Both Gus and Shawn ducked down with a shriek, Gus slamming the door shut.

Carlton checked his watch and grinned. “A little early but that’s the showdown announcement. We should be in time for the main show.”

There was no entrance sign or even a ticket booth. Hank believed such things took away from the realism of the town. No, any money was made in the bar and diner, the horseback riding trails and lessons, the photo booth, the gift shop, and other such business centered on the small fake town.

Carlton led the two teenagers down the dusty road that would run through the town center. He could hear voices echo up to them.

“Oh, it’s starting!” He grinned at them, unable to keep a bounce out of his step. “Come on, before we miss it!”

They stared at him for a moment before Shawn’s skepticism fell away with a bright, tentatively excited, grin.

“You heard the man,” he looped an arm through Gus’s and began dragging the beta down the road. “We’re going to miss it!”

They rounded the strategically placed desert shrubs that hid the town from the parking lot and the road and entered the town proper.

The road that ran through the small western town was all but deserted, the onlookers watching from the porches and boardwalks, from doors and windows, as the two remaining figures squared off.

They were too late to get a good spot but Carlton pulled his two companions over to the side so they could, at least, get a decent look at the two combatants.

“I know it was you stealing Old Widow Cardon’s best steers, Pete,” the dark haired man on the left announces, a shiny star-shaped badge on his chest, his hand on his holstered gun. “Now, you can come along quietly and peaceable-like or we can put an end to this whole thing right here.”

The other man, wearing a stereotypical dark hat and vest, spat to the side. “Now, I ain’t a quiet or peaceable kind of man, Sheriff.”

And as soon as it started, it was over. The dark cattle rustler had pulled his gun only to fall backward a split second later, the Sheriff’s gun already smoking.

The crowd clapped as the Sheriff holstered his gun.

Carlton’s grin was so wide, it was almost painful. It’s been years since he saw the shootout. The new Stinky Pete was a bit younger than his predecessor but he had a good accent and a general disdain about him that worked well.

“I never get tired of that,” he clapped loudly, looking over to the two teenagers who were still staring wide-eyed at the town center, slowly clapping as they still processed what had happened.

“People pay for — ” Gus started to ask before Shawn elbowed him. “I mean, great show.”

“Oh, I know it’s outdated and not quite PC,” Carlton sighed with a roll of his eyes, “but it’s good fun. And Hank tries to be accurate with everything else.”

“Hmm,” Gus hummed, looking around at all the faces he could see and noting his was the darkest. “Weren’t most cowboys black or Hispanic?”

“Yeah, they were.” Gus and Shawn jumped slightly as the Sheriff started walking up to them, his hands on his hips. They, at least, had the decency to look slightly guilty. “I try to hire ‘em when someone leaves but I usually don’t get many applications. Was thinking of trying some rodeos and what not, add some shows.” The Sheriff’s eyes trailed over to Carlton. He reached up and tipped his hat. “Welcome back, Binky.”

Carlton stepped forward and met the man with a hug… that was quickly ended with a pat on the back then shoulder.

“Hank Mendel, Sheriff and owner of this fantastic place,” Carlton introduced before turning to Shawn, “And this is Shawn Spencer. My… my mate,” he said the word slowly, as though trying it out. “Hopefully long-term,” he added, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “And his friend, Burton Guster.”

“Okay, this feels very important,” Shawn said, taking Hank’s offered handshake, “And I’ll figure it out in a minute but my brain is caught on something else that I need cleared up first before we have any hope of having serious, adult conversations.”

Gus nodded beside him.

“Binky?” Gus and Shawn asked at the same time, both with a tone of almost amused disbelief.

Hank laughed as Carlton pressed a hand over his face.

 

Old Sonora was just like Shawn assumed an old tourist trap Western town would be like: full of mostly white people, bad western accents, and way too much sand everywhere.

It was also, surprisingly, fun.

Sure the accents were hokey but the actors were entertaining (if a bit too kid-friendly) as they played their parts, they still had sodas and ice cream and hamburgers, and there was even a very tiny arcane shoot-em-up game in the saloon.

And they had horseback riding! Complete with lessons!

Shawn patted the brown mare’s neck encouragingly as Carlton held onto the rope tied to the horn of his saddle, leading him down the path.

He very vocally did not trust Shawn not to try and take off on Philly the Horse before he even learned how to canter.

“I’ve got a trot down,” Shawn said again, looking down at the cowboy hat Carlton had donned shortly after they arrived. He had given Shawn (and Gus) one as well. “You could get your own horse and we can go racing.”

Carlton looked up at Shawn with a small smirk. “Maybe another time, when you’ve actually learned how to ride.”

Shawn started to throw up his arms in a ‘Look, I’m already doing that’ gesture but quickly dropped his hands back down as Philly started to lurch to the side.

Right, reins are the steering wheel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he patted the mare’s neck as Carlton helped straighten her out. “I forgot, sorry.”

“And that’s why,” Carlton sighed, giving the horse a scratch along her nose. “But you’re doing good for a first time.”

Shawn grinned back at him.

“I am,” Shawn nodded, sitting back in the saddle like he was born to ride. “I’d make a great cowboy.”

“Eh,” Carlton shrugged, looking back down the trail they’ve come from. “Don’t go joining any rodeos anytime soon.”

Shawn twisted around and saw Gus, riding another brown mare, this one with a stripe down her nose, trotting up toward them. His teacher was jogging beside, the leading rope wrapped up and hanging off the saddle.

He looked back to Carlton, hurt.

“How come Gus doesn’t have the kiddie leash?”

“I guess because Gus actually listens,” Carlton muttered, sounding a bit impressed. “He’s doing pretty good.”

Gus slowed to a stop beside them, grinning brightly. “Did you see that?! I only fell off once!”

His teacher sent Carlton a ‘customers, am I right’ look before reaching over to take the leash back up.

“Hour’s almost up,” he told Carlton, giving Gus’s horse a pat. “Time to start heading back.”

Carlton nodded. “We’ll follow, you can go on ahead.”

“Great.”

Gus held the reins off to one side until the horse turned before giving her a kick to get her going.

“A walk, please!” the teacher yelped, the leash slipping from his hands as he jogged to keep up.

“Caarrly!” Shawn whined, looking after his friend. “I want the horse to jog too!”

“But if you did,” Carlton said up to him, “then we wouldn’t have a chance to talk.”

“We’ve talked…”

“Alone.”

Shawn pouted down at him. Carlton patted his leg.

“We’ll learn more stuff next time we come up here,” he promised. “Besides, you’re already going to be feeling this ride for a day or two.”

Shawn’s legs were starting to get a bit sore but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“Already planning to come back?” Shawn asked, smiling down as Carlton started leading them back, a hand on Philly’s neck. “Do you come here often?”

Carlton smiled at the sultry twang Shawn had added to his question.

“Whenever I have the time,” Carlton admitted. “I spent most of my childhood weekends here.”

“What, really?”

He nodded.

“My, uh, you know my dad died when I was young,” he said, glancing up at Shawn then back down the path. “My mother was always busy so she’d bring me and Lauren out here on weekends. We lived a bit closer back then so it wasn’t such a long drive.” He hesitated for a moment. “Hank’s… well, he’s like a father figure to me. Taught me stuff my own father couldn’t…”

Shawn nodded, reaching down to take the hand Carlton had on the horse. “I get it,” he said, sensing the other man’s discomfort at admitting to feeling emotions of any kind. “This place means a lot to you, huh?”

Carlton only nodded but he gave Shawn’s hand a squeeze.

Shawn smiled. “And thanks, by the way.”

“For?”

“Bringing me here,” Shawn shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing. “For letting Gus tag along. I know this was suppose to be a Valentine’s thing…”

“I was curious about that…”

“It’s no big deal,” Shawn started, knowing most normal people would disagree. “But me and Gus just… we do a lot of stuff together. And Gus doesn’t have a girlfriend or a date or anything and, well, I couldn’t just leave him alone on Valentine’s day!”

“It’s not Valentine’s day,” Carlton reminded him. “We had to do this on the weekend…”

“Valentine’s day weekend then,” Shawn rolled his eyes. “When we’re older — I mean, when Gus get’s a girlfriend,” he quickly corrected himself, “then we can do the double-date thing!”

Carlton’s pursed lips and furrowed brow spoke of his opinion on that. Shawn carried on.

“So… thanks. For this,” Shawn finished as they neared the stables. “It means a lot, you know. To me.”

Carlton nodded, reaching over to pull the steps over for the beginner riders.

“No problem… though maybe give me a bit more warning next time? Hank’s said we’re good but he was expecting two people, not three.”

Shawn, his feet back on solid ground, grinned up at Carlton before standing up on his toes to kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

“We should get pictures taken,” he said once he fell back to his feet. “I really wanted to do the whole costume thing. I think I’d make an adorable cowboy hooker.”

Carlton blinked, dazed by the whiplash of being kissed then being asked to go to one of the more embarrassing attractions and ending with the thought of Shawn dressed as a saloon omega, and started to nod before Shawn’s words finished filtering in.

“Wait, what?”

“Also, can you carry me? My legs feel like they’re about to fall off.”

 

Shawn was very familiar with the concept of the tourist trap photo-op. On family vacations, it was always on the docket, whether his father liked it or not. Though Henry always chose the ‘not’ option because he was allergic to fun so that just meant there were more pictures of him and his mother having a good time.

Carlton, at least, seemed to be on board with it.

It didn’t take too long or much persuading to get the gallery assistant to get him the kind of costume he wanted: corset (with a zipper in the back instead of drawstrings, which sucked but it’ll do), male omegean bloomers that puffed out like a dress and fell just above his knees, and lastly, a leather guard collar.

To his surprise, the guard was real leather, stitched into four panels with a zigzagging black cord so it couldn’t be tied on too tight. It was wide at the bottom to protect the whole neck, not just the mating glands higher up.

The last thing a hooker wanted was to get a bonding bite. They’d be out of business for months until it faded away! And that’s if it was never refreshed!

But as horrifying as that was… guards were kinda sexy.

They spoke of a sexual promiscuity or of an enforced innocence that the omega wearing it was dying to break.

Shawn could totally relate to that.

He also suspected that the implications would not be lost on a history nerd like Carlton.

Shawn threw open the curtain of his dressing booth.

Gus was already in his outfit, a boring cowboy assemble with a truly atrocious handlebar mustache he was currently trying to attach to his upper lip.

“You look like a black Pringles guy,” Shawn snarked, stepping out into the main area.

Gus glowered at him.

“I’m Bass Reeves, Shawn,” he scolded before going back to adjusting his mustache.

“Wow, Carlton’s got you hooked on that guy,” Shawn nudged his friend out of the way to admire his acid green getup. He adjusted his fake corset to look like he had something to push up out of it.

“He was an American legend that we, as a nation, aren’t educated about enough,” Gus defended before looking Shawn over. “Really, Shawn?”

“I know,” Shawn grinned over at him, “I look hot.”

“A hot mess,” Gus muttered. “Your Da— Henry’s going to kill you when he sees the pictures.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Gus, don’t be the last Otterpop frozen to the bottom of the freezer.”

“Tch!”

There was the thudding click of boots on hardwood. Shawn grinned at Gus then turned toward the door Carlton had disappeared down a few minutes ago. He casually leaned against the mirror, showing off the garishly bright omegean prostitute costume as he waited.

Carlton’s costume wasn’t too different from what he showed up in. He still wore the same cowboy hat (Gus and his had been a rental that they had to return), but his white button-down was replaced by a pinstriped gray shirt and a leather vest. Around his neck was a red bandanna and the blue jeans he wore were rough and a bit skinned at the knees.

And on his hips, hanging enticingly low, was a gun holster complete with a colt revolver.

Shawn licked his lips.

He’d been out-sexied.

Carlton looked him over. Shawn noticed his pupil’s widening, his nostrils flaring to catch his scent, and the very slight shifting from foot to foot.

Oh, yeah. Carlton was into it!

“I thought you were kidding,” Carlton said, regaining his composure.

“And miss the chance to wear this?” Shawn tugged at the vividly green bloomers.

Carlton opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it.

“Come on,” Shawn reached over and grabbed Carlton’s hand, pulling him along. “The photographer awaits!”

The pictures were printed in sepia tone, completely ruining Shawn’s choice of costume color but they got multiple takes: the classic group, Shawn hanging off of Carlton is a ‘seductive’ pose, Gus posing with his gun up as he tried to look like a badass lawman and not a Charlie’s angel, and Shawn’s favorite:

A picture of all three of them but with Gus and Carlton’s head blurring out of focus as they whipped around to stare at Shawn as he loudly proclaimed: “Oh, I started birth control, by the way.”

Notes:

I've been looking forward to this chapter ever since I got the idea for this fic! <3

Chapter 15: February 24, 1996

Summary:

Henry sends Carlton running through the woods for the day.

It's worth it.

Notes:

Sorry this chapter is so very very late. Real Life issues and a bit of writer's block got in the way.

Also: the only accurate thing about the forest they're in is that it's the Los Padres National Forest and it's mostly mountains. The rest, especially the landmarks, are made up.

Carlton found the little red backpack resting against his front door. Whoever had left it — he suspected Gus — had knocked on his door before running for it. He was sure if he walked down the hall and took the turn toward the elevators, he would see who his mysterious benefactor was…

But that didn’t feel in spirit with the game.

“Thanks, Gus,” he called out instead, leaning down to pick up the gift.

“No problem!” came the slightly muffled response as the elevator dinged. He wondered what Shawn had bribed Gus with to get him to drive across town before 6 a.m.

Smiling, Carlton looked at the small note pinned to the front:

To Carlie (the ‘I’ was topped with a heart)

I’m trying out nicknames. What do you think of Carlie? I’m not quite feeling it but it’s a start.

We’ll workshop it.

Got you a map + compass + protein bars + some bottles of water. There was trail mix but I ate all the M&M's and the rest of it.

Henry doesn’t know I sent this. There was a picture of a smiling face winking up at him.

Love you! Come save me from nature!

Carlton stared at the note, his cheeks burning, as his eyes refused to move away from the casual ‘love you!’ written there. Was it meant to be in a general sense or a proper mate sense? It was hard to tell with Shawn. His personality was the type to confess such emotions at the drop of a hat with no real meaning to them but given the omega’s imprinting on him…

He hoped it was genuine and not the influence of hormones.

He smiled to himself and tucked the note into his back pocket. He picked up his camping backpack, reasonably full of suspected supplies, and headed out.

Henry had taken Shawn camping the day before with instructions for Carlton to join them in the morning — preferably before sunup.

“Hope the raccoons didn’t get him,” Carlton joked to himself, remembering the tales he’d heard of Shawn’s fear of the masked critters. He suspected most of the ‘attacks’ on Shawn were because the younger man had been eating something, saw a raccoon, panicked, and dropped whatever food he’d been eating.

He could still remember the time he was 13 and discovered Lauren had been feeding the raccoon in the backyard her vegetables instead of eating them herself. That one raccoon had become twenty within a few weeks. He had opened the backdoor one night to get some fresh air and had been met with dozens of tiny, glowing eyes looking up at him.

There was no doubt in his mind that Shawn would get swarmed by the trash pandas if left alone for too long, especially given the omega’s tendency to have snacks on him at all times…

Come save me from nature! was probably a reasonably plea.

 

Los Padres National Forest was a sprawling wildness that Carlton had many fond memories of. The few times his father had been able to take him camping, it was here that they went. The park flowed from the beaches up to the mountains, from forest to wildflower-covered valleys, canyons to creeks that led to waterfalls.

But it seemed Henry Spencer had a certain environment in mind.

Most of the park was chaparral shrub land but there were still forests of pine, oak, and juniper. And black bears. And mountain lions.

Maybe the older alpha was hoping he’d get eaten?

Carlton snorted at the thought.

The parking lot was empty when he pulled up, the only sign of life from the ranger’s cabin at the entrance. The ranger inside was a beta, a little older than him but already wide awake though the sun was still a twinge of pink on the horizon.

“I need to buy a pass for a few days.”

The beta looked him over and grinned. “You wouldn’t happen to be Carlton Lassiter, would you?”

Carlton’s sigh, long and filled with suffering, was all the answer the beta needed.

He was given his permits, already paid for, and a letter.

“Gotta say, Mr. Spencer seemed very amused when he dropped that off yesterday,” the beta said, leaning back in his chair, grinning the grin of a man who wasn’t involved in someone else’s misery. “Was surprised to see Shawn, though. Kid managed to weasel out of most of the trips his dad tried to drag him to. We all get an earful when it happens,” he laughed.

“That sounds like Henry,” Carlton agreed. He thanked the ranger and walked back out to his car.

He opened the trunk and pulled out the full backpacking pack then Shawn’s small — tiny, really, compared to Carlton’s proper hiking backpack — and set them both at his feet. He locked the car up to be safe then, finally, opened the letter Henry had left for him.

I know Shawn gave you supplies so I’m not leaving you anything.

Carlton snorted at the blunt statement. “Guess Shawn was wrong.” He wondered how long it would be until Shawn finally won one of their petty games. He kinda hoped it would be soon.

Got a few sites you need to get to and collect a note. Each note has a number. You’ll need it to open the lockbox at the final site. I’ll know if you don’t.

Under the short paragraph were a set of coordinates and the word ‘Stonehenge’.

“Okay, what the hell,” Carlton said, turning the note over to see if there was any other information but came up with nothing.

So it was a scavenger hunt? In the woods? That relied on him pathfinding through a national park for some prize that he didn’t even know what it was?

Damn it, he wanted to be madder about this but instead… damn it, it sounded fun.

He remembered months back he had asked if Henry was going to make him survive out in the woods, hunting for his own food, going up against nature to see if he came out on top… and how he very much wanted to do just that.

If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think this was some kind of peace offering disguised as a test. More likely, Henry was planning for more of a monkey paw situation and Carlton wouldn’t make it.

With a smile, Carlton dug out the map and compass Shawn had given him then looped the small red backpack onto his own.

He needed to return the pack to its owner, after all.

 

The first site wasn’t too far of a hike, just an hour from the parking lot. The sun was fully up now though still low on the horizon, giving just enough light to see by.

‘Stonehenge’ turned out to be a set of large boulders, each the size of an SUV or bigger, piled together in a small clearing in the woods. At the base of the largest rock was a small red flag. Pinned under the flag was a post-it note.

“Easy,” Carlton scoffed with a grin, kneeling down to retrieve his slightly damp prize.

A new set of coordinates was scribbled on the paper and the words ‘widow makers’ written beside it.

Under both was the number ‘1’.

The second site took longer, sending him down a steep valley that ended in a creek that was too wide to jump over and deep enough to reach his shins.

Carlton huffed at the trap and knelt down to take off his boots and socks and roll up his pants. Like he was going to hike all day in wet socks. He’s read enough warfare history books to know about trench foot, though blisters were a more likely outcome.

The widow makers turned out to be two fallen trees leaning on each other, one stuck in the fork of the other, locking them in place. Beneath the ‘x’ of the trees was another red flag.

Another set of coordinates, another word: ‘lookout’.

The number ‘5’ written on the bottom.

Carlton didn’t need the coordinates for this one. He’d camped in the area before as a child and had some of his best memories with his father in this woods.

Also, it was marked on the map.

It meant a trip back up the valley, out of the woods, and into some other mountainous terrain but the fire watch tower would be waiting.

And the trail that led up to it wasn’t too far from the creek he’d passed.

“Work smarter, not harder,” Carlton muttered to himself, making his way back.

It was past noon when Carlton finally found the right path that led up to the watch towers. As useful as Shawn’s map was, it did not have the trails outlined, just the coordinates, points of interest, and a small smiley face in the corner telling him to ‘Go Get It, Tiger!’.

He’d found a trail easily enough but, with the trees blocking the sky, it took him an hour to realize the sun was in the wrong place. He’d turned around using the compass then took the wrong fork in the trail that had originally gone the way he wanted before winding back down. He’d backtracked again to follow the other fork only to realize a few hours later that that trail didn’t lead up to the tower at all.

Apparently, they’d changed some trails since the last time he was here. It was the only logical explanation.

In the end, he used Henry’s coordinates just to make sure he actually got somewhere.

Whoever redid the trails should be fired and banned from working for the National Park Service ever again.

The fire watch tower was a squat-looking building that only went up two stories but its position on top of the tallest hill gave it the best view this side of the park.

Carlton trudged up the path toward the tower, eyeing the line of smoke billowing up from the cabin’s smokestack. As he neared enough to see the foot of the tower, he saw a ranger sitting on the bottom of the stairs, drinking from a steaming mug with the look of tranquility that only came from not seeing people for a while.

She smiled as he got closer and stood up.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Lassiter, would you?” she asked as he approached. The wind shifted and he smelled pine and heather and omega. He frowned at her. She rolled her eyes and twisted around to show the gun strapped to her hip. “I also got a really big knife, Alpha.”

He grinned, thankful that the rangers in this forest were smart enough to be carrying. “Sorry, instinct.” He paused. “No, I mean. I was worried, not that I wanted to… I hope you don’t have to use either but you don’t have to use it on me and... Fuck.”

She laughed and sat back down, picking up her mug again. “I’m a big girl. Lassiter?”

“Yeah,” Carlton nodded. He looked around and saw a picnic table nearby, a still steaming kettle set on the wood. She nodded her consent.

He gratefully to a seat.

“Yeah, Carlton Lassiter,” he confirmed, sighing as he propped his feet up onto his heels, giving the balls of his feet a rest. “I’m guessing Henry Spencer stopped by…”

“Yesterday evening,” she confirmed, smirking. “Left you a note.” Her smirk widened. “Shawn did too, when his dad wasn’t looking.”

She frowned.

“He’s a bit young for you…”

“I know,” Carlton sighed, debating if he wanted to stand up to retrieve the notes or take a few more minutes to rest. “Trying to talk him out of anything is like trying to talk a pig into flying.”

She laughed again. She reached into the back pocket of her khaki pants and pulled out a Post-it note and a ripped bit of notebook paper. She set them beside her and stood back up.

“It’s an old cabin,” she tells him as she started heading back up the stairs. “We spruced it up some in case someone gets lost and needs the shelter.” She glanced back and winked at him. “Make it a bit easier for ya.”

How did Henry know all these damn rangers?

“Thanks,” Carlton said. He waited a few more moments before standing up to retrieve his notes.

Coords and the word ‘abandoned’. Number 5 again.

Shawn’s bit of paper just showed a stick figure with long hair frowning, a stick figure with angry eyebrows glaring beside the first, and a triangle that had to be a tent between them. Off to the side was another stick figure only the figure’s chest was an upside down triangle, probably meant to be muscles, its little stick hands resting at the tip of the triangle. ‘You’ was helpfully written over this figure.

On the back just said: I asked Patty to just tell you where the last place is. This is stupid. Love you.

Carlton felt his cheeks flush again at the word ‘love’.

“Right,” he sighed, tucking the notes away with the rest of them. “I still got 5 hours of daylight. No problem.”

 

The cabin wasn’t hard to spot.

Most of the logs that made up the cabin were dark with age except for the places where it was repaired, the wood a bright brown compared to the rest of it. The porch was small but possibly the newest addition to the place.

For Patty’s assurance that they’d fixed it up, Carlton could see the bright blue of a tarp peeking out of the carpet of leaves that covered the roof.

It certainly wasn’t a comfy forest getaway but it kept the bears out.

Maybe.

“Almost done,” Carlton sighed, walking up to the cabin. He was pleasantly surprised to see all the windows had their glass still intact. Maybe they were new too. The door was partially open though, just a crack. Either Henry or Shawn hadn’t pulled it to or the latch was faulty.

The door opened with a creak that might have been eerie if he were anyone else. The inside was simple: a pot belly stove in the corner with a pipe leading out, a cot with no mattress on one wall, and a wood table with a split log for a bench.

On the table was the post-it note, held down by a small ziplock bag of trail mix, left, he was assuming, by Shawn.

And there was a squirrel standing over it, its tiny hands running over the plastic, feeling the nuts and pretzels inside but unable to get to them.

Carlton wrinkled his nose at the furry beast. He waved a hand at it.

“Get away from that,” he said, taking a step closer.

The squirrel jerked its head up at him, freezing as though Carlton would leave it alone if it didn’t move. The hands gripped the plastic bag. He could see tiny gnawed-on bits of plastic where the squirrel had tried to chew its way in.

“Go on,” Carlton said, stepping away from the door to give it a clear path. “Get out of — Hey!”

The squirrel grabbed the bag with its teeth and took off running — which was what Carlton wanted except that the post-it note’s sticky back was stuck to the bag… the bag which was how being hauled toward the door.

Carlton slammed the door shut, blocking the squirrel’s escape.

The squirrel skidded to an almost stop before leaping onto the closed door and scurrying up into the rafters.

“Give that back!” Carlton demanded, watching as the squirrel all but bounced from rafter to wall to rafter to stove to wall and back again.

In a gesture that was almost second nature to him, he reached for his gun, drawing it as he visually tracked the tiny criminal ping-ponging around the small cabin. Unless he led his shots and got lucky, there was no way he was hitting the fur ball.

And as if deciding the bag of trail mix was weighing it down, the squirrel dropped the baggie and thus the post-it.

“Thank God,” Carlton muttered, holstering the gun before throwing the door open. “Now get out of here!”

The squirrel saw the opening and darted out, bouncing once on the porch, again onto the ground, then up into the nearest tree and out of sight.

“Pests,” Carlton groused, bending down to retrieve his prize.

As he had guessed, the bag of treats was full of tiny rodent teeth holes. He sighed, opened the bag, and tossed it out the door after the squirrel. He’d pick up the plastic when he left.

The note was simple like all of Henry’s past notes:

Under the stairs. 1

Carlton snorted. He had been expecting one more set of coordinates, one more hike into the woods before he could meet up with the Spencers. But of course, Henry had to throw in a twist of some sort.

He closed the cabin door behind him. He stepped over to where he’d toss the bag, emptied the contents onto the ground, and stuffed the plastic in his pocket. He turned to the porch and knelt down by the stairs. Now that he was looking, he could tell where the leaves had been moved and piled up to hide away the small lockbox Henry had left there.

Carlton pulled the surprisingly heavy box out and sat on the stairs to open it.

1551

The lid opened without even a satisfying creak. He could tell the box was full: he could make out a few VHS tapes, a few boxes of something, and on top of it all was a letter, folded three ways with ‘Lassiter’ written on top.

Carlton stared at the box and the letter. He lifted the box up to check the underside but found no wires or triggers to suggest a trap. He supposed if it was rigged to blow, it’d have done so when he opened it but one couldn’t be too careful, especially around Henry Spencer…

Who seems to have left him what could only be described as a gift package… though maybe not for him.

Carlton took the letter out and set the box aside.

Lassiter.

Maddie was always the one good with words but I feel I can make myself abundantly clear.

I love my son. I hate that you’re his mate, regardless of who you are. You seem a good enough guy but Shawn is my son and nothing is going to change that.

If you hurt him in any way, I will not hesitate to take care of you as only a seasoned officer of the law, with a flawless reputation no one would question, can.

Shawn is turning 19 next month, no matter what I do, he legally doesn’t have to listen to me.

His heat starts at the beginning of the month and, thanks to you, I know it’s going to be a hell he’s yet to experience.

As much I hate all of this, he’s going to need you.

His pre-heat will start soon so it’d be better if he’s settled in at your place by then. Then a week for his heat. A week for recovery.

I want him back under my roof before April. No exceptions, no excuses.

If he comes back pregnant, I’m castrating you.

Don’t tell Shawn about this letter.

As far as he’ll know, you won this right. He doesn’t need to know I can be reasonable.

All my threats apply to him finding out about this.

Don’t fuck up.

There’s a dirt road about a mile south. Follow it to the main road, take a left until you get to the campground. We’re site 12.

Carlton stared at the letter for a moment, rereading the words a few times to make sure he understood what they meant.

Henry was letting Shawn spend his heat with him… Shawn’s heat was soon… Shawn (and Henry) were expected to stay with him.

With Shawn in heat.

In his apartment.

With him.

With him taking care of him…

In his heat.

Carlton felt the flush start from his neck and reach up to his hairline. His cock twitched eagerly in his trousers.

He’d done his best not to imagine Shawn in any… unbecoming… situation, despite the young omega’s best efforts. He’s done his best to see the omega as a young man, full of his own thoughts and ideas and dreams and hopes…

And all that was disappearing under the roaring desire starting to burn inside of him.

His animal instincts didn’t see this as ‘permission given’ because even it knew Henry couldn’t keep him away forever. No, this was ‘prize won’.

And damn, his alpha instincts wanted to claim that prize.

Carlton took a slow, deep breath through his teeth and let it out slowly. “You have the right to remain silent…” he was only a third of the way through saying the Miranda Rights before deciding that wasn’t going to work. “Fuck, um… hippies. Hippies in Alaska. Hippies in Alaska skinny dipping…”

That worked a bit better.

A bit calmer, Carlton tucked the letter away in his backpack, hopefully away from spying hazel-green eyes, and picked the box back up. The tapes were just one or two Val Kilmer movies, the Princess Bride, and Batman, all pretty well watched if the wear on their covers were anything to go by. He set the movies aside and started to reach back into the box when he saw just what was inside: a bottle of omegean heat vitamins that promised to reduce heat pain, a sleeve of heat strength birth control pills, and a box of heat strength condoms that promised ‘secure knotting technology to prevent spillage’.

“Jesus, they’re both going to kill me,” Carlton groaned, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes and began visualizing hippies with dirty hair, surrounded by a cloud of smoke as their pasty pale asses flashed in the bright snow before they jumped into glacier filled water.

 

It wasn’t hard to find that campsite. In truth, Carlton suspected Henry wasn’t really trying to keep him away, just enough to sell it to Shawn.

“Carlton!” Shawn yelled as soon as he saw him, all but stumbling off the back of Henry’s truck (the bed had been turned into a portable tent) as he ran up to him. “What took you so long!”

“Just enjoying the walk,” Carlton said, accepting the hug that threatened to squeeze the air out of his lungs.

This close to the omega, he could smell the beginning hints of something sharp and tantalizing underneath his naturally sweet scent. His pre-heat hadn’t started yet but it was close.

Dizzyingly close.

Alaskan Hippies. Alaskan Hippies…

Carlton caught Henry’s eye as the man sat by the fire, a grill already in place to cook the pack of hotdogs resting by the older alpha’s side. Carlton gave him a small, curt nod over Shawn’s shoulder. Henry gave him one in return.

Shawn pulled out of the hug to grin up at him. “Henry’s going to be so bitchy tonight,” he told him with a smirk that spoke of an ultimate victory. “Wanna guess why?”

“Don’t get any ideas, Shawn,” Henry called over, putting the dogs on to cook. “You’re still sleeping in separate tents!”

 

Later that night, Carlton was awoken by the flap of his tent slowly zipping itself open. He watched as a still sleepy but determined Shawn crawled inside before zipping the tent closed again.

“I thought camping on the ground was just an invitation to get mugged by raccoons?” Carlton said softly, smiling as Shawn unzipped his sleep bag and slipped in.

This was going to be a common occurrence in the very near future, he realized, feeling Shawn’s cold and dirty bare feet brush against him. Thankfully, the part inside him that would be most thrilled by that thought was still too drowsy to latch onto that idea just yet.

“I figured you could fight them off,” Shawn said, snuggling close so his head rested on his shoulder. “Oh, I wanted to ask you something!”

“Hmm?”

“How do you feel about Lassifrass?”

Notes:

I'm going to try and get back on schedule but I don't think Real Life is going to give me much of a break.

But hey! Smut next chapter!

Chapter 16: March 4, 1996

Summary:

First time sexy times

Notes:

Also: Happy Thanksgiving (to those who celebrate it) have some smut to distract yourself from family and loved ones!

 

Just a reminder: Male omegas are intersex so Shawn's sporting both sets down there.

Also, in omegaverse, 'presenting' is our version of 'missionary' style. So to omegaverse, face-to-face is the kinky position.

Staying in Carlton’s apartment was weird.

It was almost like staying over at a friend’s house or a hotel room but not. For starters, there was only Carlton’s scent on everything while his own was disturbingly absent.

He didn’t like it.

He’d only been in the apartment for a day and a half and it was making him antsy.

A few days after they left the campground, Carlton had met him at the Spencer household so that he and Shawn could pack up pretty much every scrap of fabric the omega owned, shoving them into duffel bags, old school bags, trash bags, all of it. He’d even taken down the tent poles Henry had miraculously let him keep though he wasn’t sure they’d fit on Carlton’s bed.

They had carried it all up to Carlton’s apartment and… and they stayed in the bags.

He was already well on his way to marking up the bed — Carlton offering no protest as they curled up together last night, already used to the two nights they spent in a sleeping bag together — but everything still smelled overwhelmingly Carlton. The furniture, the carpet, the air… it just felt like spreading his clothes everywhere just wasn’t enough…

He didn’t want to just add his scent on top of Carlton’s.

He wanted them to blend.

He didn’t want Carlton scent and Shawn scent.

He wanted Shassiter scent. Spencister scent.

Shassie scent!

But the only way that was happening was if they were both there, wrapped up in each other and in blankets, surrounded by pillows.

…Blankets and pillows Shawn could use on Carlton’s…no, their?… bed.

For the nest.

His own scent wasn’t enough and Carlton’s suits were freshly cleaned, a choice the alpha had made before he knew Shawn was going to be staying with him. And sure, Shawn could use the couch pillows in a pinch but…

He didn’t want to.

The itch that was starting to gnaw at the back of his brain cringed away at the idea. They weren’t good enough, the scent not pure due to lingering guest smells, and the shape and size too cumbersome to be useful for a proper nest.

No, they needed to scent up the blankets, clothes, and sheets — both his and Carlton’s so he could make a proper nest. So they could wrap up in the soft safety of them…

But Carlton wasn’t here.

Last night, both of them too exhausted to do more than watch a movie and cuddle, had started that process but then Carlton went into work absurdly early. He’d said something about tying up loose ends, doing paperwork, and blah blah blah so he could stay with him the next few days, weeks, centuries, or something.

It was almost six in the evening now and Shawn felt like he was losing his mind.

Shawn wasn’t dumb.

With the exception of his last heat, he’d gone through the buildup of pre-heat. The restlessness — different from his usual restlessness — and the need to be comfortable — different from his usual need to be comfortable. The beginning of an itch in his brain he still wasn’t entirely sure how to properly scratch.

But at least now he had a better idea of what he needed.

He left the bed alone for the moment — he’d get Carlton to help him move it around later — and went straight to the closet. He spread his arms wide, as though he were about to give Carlton’s clean, scentless clothes a bear hug, and grabbed as much as he could at once. He took his bounty to the living room and dumped them onto the floor.

He shoved the couch back a few feet to give himself more room before going over to the bags of his own clothing and began ripping them out onto the floor.

The thing about fabric was that they held onto scent great — amazingly so! — but having a small bit of fabric, say, clothes, made it a bit harder to build anything out of it. Shirts bunched up, pants had little metal buttons that dug in painfully if you laid on them, and socks just appeared out of nowhere with no partner to speak of.

But he wasn’t building, he was scenting.

Shawn removed the hangers from Carlton’s clothes, being a bit careful not to actually rip any of the Alpha’s, then began layering a fabric pallet on the floor, about the size of a queen-sized bed. A layer of Carlton’s clothes, a layer of Shawn’s, then repeat.

He grabbed the cushions off the couch and surrounded the small nest on two and a half sides — there were never enough pillows! — before he started dismantling the bed. The sheets went over the nest, keeping the clothes together so the layers didn’t start escaping. Normal pillows where pillows belonged and the comforter over top.

He wasn’t happy with it. Over the last few months of experimentation, he found he liked a den-like nest, completely with a canopy roof that kept scents and bodies close together and locking the outside world away…

But there was no hook provided in the living room that he could hang a blanket off of and the tent poles were useless on a frameless nest…

But it would have to do for now.

Satisfied with his work (for now), Shawn began gathering the last few remaining articles of clothing in the house. He pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head and added it to the temporary nest.

 

Shawn could smell him as soon as the elevator opened down the hall: a sweet burst of fresh Carlton scent, complete with a hint of gunpowder and soy sauce.

He grinned but made no move to exit the nest. He was comfortable, curled up in the top sheet from Carlton’s bed, the man’s preferred pillow cuddled in his lap, and Wesley was strapped to the weird torture machine that was oddly focused on his nipples.

It was amazing what they got over on kids.

He paused the movie when he heard the rattle of keys in the door.

“Show time,” Shawn muttered to himself, climbing to his feet, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around him like a robe. He was imagining one of those flowy, Victorian numbers from old movies that barely hid anything, ready to be dropped at just the right moment.

Shawn’s moment was when Carlton turned around to shut the door behind him.

“Sorry I’m late,” he was saying, turning. “There was so much… paper…work.”

He stopped trying to talk, those bright baby blues of his following the flutter of fabric that fell to Shawn’s very much naked feet… then they trailed back up, taking stock of what he was seeking.

He visibly gulped.

Shawn carefully stepped over the nest and met him at the door, taking the bag of takeout from Carlton’s hands as the alpha looked him over.

Shawn all but preened with the attention.

“Good call on Chinese,” he said, taking the food over to the kitchen and setting it in the fridge. “Easy to reheat.”

He heard Carlton come to his senses. There was the jingle of his keys hitting the bowl by the door then the ruffle of fabric as he ditched his suit jacket.

Shawn turned to face him, leaning against the cabinet.

Carlton licked his lips, even as he kept his eyes above waist level.

“You’re naked.”

“Good observation, Detective.” Shawn’s grin widened.

“And you made a nest in the living room.”

Shawn nodded. “Better to mix our scents together,” he wrinkled his nose. “I want the real thing to be so saturated that Gus can’t come within twenty feet of it.”

Carlton nodded stiffly, as though he understood the reference.

“Those are all my clothes, aren’t they?” he asked, almost sounding annoyed but not quite making it. Shawn was sure if he didn’t stink of pre-heat and wasn’t as naked as the day he was born, the alpha would probably be very angry at him.

Shawn swayed closer, confident in the knowledge that he had his mate: hook, line, and sinker.

“Mine too,” he said once he was close enough to drape his arms over Carlton’s shoulders. “And the sheets. Very important we get those smelling right.”

Carlton’s hands came up to rest on his bare waist and Shawn’s eyes almost fluttered shut.

“How long were you planning this?” Carlton asked, his thumbs running over the skin of his hips. “Surprising me when I got home?”

Shawn shrugged. “Just a few hours actually,” he admitted. “When I realized the scent was all wrong.”

Carlton smiled slightly, guiding Shawn away from the kitchen and toward the new nest in their midst.

“Just a few hours,” he shook his head, “and you still manage to beat me to the punch.”

Before Shawn could ask what he meant, Carlton pulled him close and, with a little guidance, had the omega’s legs around his hips. Shawn grinned down at him.

“I wanted to be a bit more romantic,” Carlton admitted, slowly lowering them both down to the nest. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow I was going to cook us a nice steak dinner while you could still stomach it. Get some sparkling wine…”

“I’m liking the sound of that,” Shawn admitted, letting go of his mate so that he could lay back on the mass of sheets and clothes. “We’re definitely still going to do that.”

“We are,” Carlton agreed, “but it looks like we’re going to skip to the finale tonight.”

Shawn wiggled under him, pulling him closer. “Told you you couldn’t resist me for long.”

Carlton snorted out a small laugh. “I could go longer but…” he leaned down and, dodging Shawn’s lips, kissed the omega’s forehead. “Your heat is going to start soon…”

“I’m well aware,” Shawn said with a roll of his eyes before he pressed a kiss to Carlton’s jawline.

“And you’ve never been with anyone before,” Carlton continued, shifting down to kiss Shawn’s cheek now.

“Not for lack of trying,” Shawn agreed, pressing his own kiss to Carlton’s cheekbone. “Though I imagined our dirty talk would be a bit more dirty than this… oh!” Carlton nipped at his jaw, a tiny press of teeth against vulnerable skin before traveling ever lower.

“I want you to remember your first time,” Carlton said, lips pressed against the side of Shawn’s neck. “Your first time being fucked,” he kissed his throat again. “Your first time with me.” Another kiss followed by a small, tiny bite. “No heat to muddle it up. Just you,” kiss, “and me,” nip, “as we are.”

“Ooooh, fuck,” Shawn let out a slow, shuddering breath, his head thrown back to offer his neck to his mate. “Yes….”

Carlton took the offering, pressing a kiss against Shawn’s Adam’s apple, so very close to the mating gland in his neck. Shawn whined under him, his fingers digging into Carlton’s shoulders.

Shawn closed his eyes and let himself feel his alpha’s kisses as they traveled down from his neck to his collarbone then pausing at his chest. He could feel the question there though Carlton pressed a kiss to the center of the scar.

“Surgery,” Shawn explained, breathless. “Hole in heart. All better now.”

“Hmm,” Carlton pressed another kiss to the scar before… oh, god, he was going lower.

Shawn dug his fingers in harder, feeling like he was holding onto the safety bar of a roller coaster. He almost jumped as Carlton pressed a kiss to his belly button, his tongue flicking out to dip in.

Carlton pulled away.

“No, wait!” Shawn’s eyes shot open, his hands trying to pull him back.

The alpha smiled at him and pulled his hands away, giving each knuckle a kiss before setting them down on either side of Shawn’s head.

“We’re a bit unevenly dressed,” Carlton told him, shrugging off his suit jacket, revealing the long button down and the… oh, fuck, that’s his holster.

“That’s so sexy,” Shawn panted, his eyes trailing up the leather to his mate’s eyes. “Wait, what are we doing?”

Carlton tossed the coat over to the cushionless couch before shrugging his empty holster off to follow it. He quirked an eyebrow down at him.

“Apparently, these are the only clothing I’m going to have for the next few days,” he pointed out, pulling at the knot of the dark, a bit too wide, tie. He pulled it off with a smooth gesture then, instead of tossing it to the couch with the coat, he laid it aside.

Shawn swallowed hard at that implication.

“Clothes are overrated,” he said, watching as Carlton started undoing the buttons of the pale blue dress shirt, a dense bush of chest hair already peeking out.

This was happening. Shawn was already naked and now Carlton was getting naked and they were going to be doing naked things, probably with — and to! — each other.

Shawn bit back an excited moan, his legs instinctively falling open further, inviting the alpha in.

Carlton paused for a moment before shrugging the shirt off and sending it over to join the rest of his clothes.

“Keep your hands down,” he instructed, his own hands reaching down to undo his belt. Shawn reached for Carlton’s belt only to be met with a small slap to his hands. He pulled the belt off and tossed it aside. “No, I have plans, Shawn. This is all for you.”

He considered those words for a moment then, with a small shrug: “For me too.”

Shawn licked his lips but let his hands fall back beside his head, clutching at the pillow. He could feel the first trickle of slick start to escape him.

The alpha knelt over him, holding his gaze as thumbed the button undone on his pants but made no other move to get out of them. He leaned forward and placed a hand on each side of Shawn’s head, beside his hands.

“Keep your hands here,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding. At Shawn’s slow nod, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. Shawn whined into it, pressing up to give chase as his mate pulled away.

Carlton stayed close, their noses almost touching as he stared down at his mate with dark eyes, the pupil so wide that there was only a sliver of blue left.

“Have you touched yourself before?” he asked, his voice more of a growl.

Shawn swallowed hard and licked his lips.

“Y-yes.”

“How?”

“I… I’ll jack off,” Shawn answered, almost timidly. “Sometimes I’ll use my fingers.”

“Where?” Carlton asked, moving a hand to reach before them. Shawn jumped as the too hot hand touched his hip. “Just your cunt? Or do you touch your ass as well?”

“Oh, god, that’s more like it,” Shawn gasped at the dirty talk. Seeing and hearing those words come out of such a straight-laced, respectable alpha like Carlton. He trembled as his body shuddered in want.

“Do you?” Carlton persisted, dipping down to run his nose along the length of Shawn’s. The touch was teasing and gentle and Shawn whimpered.

“O-Once or twice,” he admitted. “T-to know w-what it felt l-like.”

It was getting harder to talk — something he always hated about his heats — but this was different. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his lungs were going to collapse, like he was going to throw up butterflies which was pretty weird but somehow felt accurate… because…

Because why else would his mate be asking him this if he wasn’t planning to thoroughly touch those parts of him himself?

“Are you…?” he couldn’t help but start to ask but his mouth suddenly felt too dry to form the words. He swallowed hard.

“I told you,” Carlton said, dipping down to brush his lips against Shawn’s. “I want your first time to be memorable… all of your firsts.”

“All?” Shawn squeaked the word. “Now?”

He felt Carlton nod and shuddered.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, Fucking God…

The hand on his hip moved, skating along his hip bone toward his very much hard erection. There was no hesitation, no building up, as that hand wrapped around his cock, holding it tight but completely.

All it took was one tug…

Carlton held him down with a kiss as Shawn shuddered and whined against him, his cock too eager and wanting, already covering Carlton’s fist with his spend.

Shawn broke the rule and grabbed at Carlton’s shoulders, riding out the unexpected orgasm as the man’s grip on him stayed steady, not even moving, just holding him. He gasped against his mate’s lips and felt tears in his eyes as the orgasm faded away as fast as it had come.

“That’s one,” Carlton said against his lips. Shawn could feel him smiling.

“T-That doesn’t count,” Shawn whined, gripping at Carlton’s short, standard-issued hair. “I-I wasn’t ready.”

Carlton pressed a small kiss to his lips before instructing: “Hands down, Shawn.”

It took more effort than he wanted to admit but Shawn slowly pulled his hands away and let them fall beside him where they were before.

“Still doesn’t count,” Shawn slurred a bit, watching as Carlton began moving back down his body. He swallowed hard, feeling the man’s hot breath ghosting over his skin.

The hand that had been on his cock moved down as well, letting him go to run teasingly down the length, to caress his balls before finding his now sopping wet hole. He could feel the slick all but dripping out of him when the tips of Carlton’s fingers drifted over the lips of his opening.

“So wet already,” he heard Carlton all but purr.

“O-orgasms will do that,” Shawn gulped, looking down the length of his body as the alpha settled between his legs, his head at a very exciting spot.

Those blue blue eyes drifted up to meet his gaze and held onto it. With a small smile, the alpha leaned forward and gave Shawn’s already spent cock a small lick, catching some of the cum that his hand had missed.

Shawn moaned, already reaching down for the alpha again, to bury his hands in that man’s hair and push his head down, but a warning quirk of the man’s eyebrows stopped him in time.

Hands down. Let him work.

God, Shawn wanted him to get to work.

Shawn couldn’t stop himself from jumping as a finger prodded at his opening. He pressed a hand to his mouth, biting the skin between his forefinger and thumb to try and stifle the keening whine that wanted to burst out of him.

The finger rubbed around the entrance to Shawn’s cunt, dipping in just a bit, testing him, before pressing in further.

Shawn bit down harder.

This was… how could it feel so different… his own fingers never felt so… oh, fuck.

“Is this alright?” he heard Carlton asked from between his legs. “You’re so wet, I could slip right in but you’re still so tight.”

The whine escaped despite Shawn’s best efforts. He released the skin of his hand and gasped; “You’re killing me here,” he all but sobbed. “I-it’s not very nice. W-Why you taking so… please just…”

Carlton chuckled and pressed a kiss to Shawn’s thigh, earning a surprised, needy jerk in response.

“Almost there,” he promised, his head dipping lower as the hand at Shawn’s cunt disappeared. He felt both hands moving now, down along his thighs, down to his knees then… then pulling him, lifting legs until they rested on Carlton’s shoulders.

Shawn stared down at his mate in horny shock as the man pressed a kiss to his inner thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped out, dropping his head back down on the pillow.

Another kiss, this one to his balls followed by another just over his opening.

He really was going to die. This was going to kill him.

This was amazing.

Carlton’s tongue dipped inside him and Shawn almost jolted up right. He felt the alpha chuckle against him before grabbing his thighs and pulling them away into a more comfortable position.

The tongue dipped even further into him, lapping at the walls of his cunt with a relentlessness that was so maddening that he almost didn’t notice the finger at his ass, running teasingly over that hole as well.

“C-Carlton,” Shawn mewled as the finger dipped inside him, and the tongue continued to lick deeper into him; both appendages working together to reach some deep, forbidden part of Shawn’s body, some spot that when pushed just right to break him apart…

He wanted it. He wanted him to find it and tear him apart, to have his body crumple into a useless mess, into a puddle of happy omega goo…

But he also wanted… he wanted…

…wanted…

He reached down, even as another of Carlton’s fingers joined the first… and another by his tongue… okay, there were fingers and tongues everywhere and not like this… Shawn reached own and shoved at the alpha’s head, at his shoulders, pushing him away.

Carlton left easily, not putting up a fight. He sat back on his heels, Shawn’s legs still on his shoulders and…

Oh, god, his mouth and chin were shiny with Shawn’s slick and the sight almost made him come again.

Shawn swallowed hard.

“Want…” he gasped. Why were words so hard? His tongue too thick to form them, his brain too hazy to think them… He pulled his legs off his mate’s shoulders and began to turn around.

Carlton seemed to catch on immediately. He helped Shawn’s legs to the ground before grabbing his hips and lifting him up onto his knees.

Shawn keened, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it close to his chest as he leaned down on it, his ass and cunt up and presenting.

“Fuck, Shawn,” he heard the alpha groan behind him. He felt a hand move over his rump, giving him a caress, before the hand all but jerked away.

Shawn looked back over his shoulder with a whimper, watching as the alpha clambered up to his feet. The man all but kicked his shoes off before wiggling out of his pants.

He’d have had to ask about the weird little suspender things on his socks later.

The man reached into his discarded pants and pulled out his wallet, sending the other pocket-dwelling debris scattering on the floor. The man all but tore open the leather wallet and pulled out a sealed, square packet.

Condom. Normal strength. Should work.

The man fell to his knees behind Shawn, shoving his boxers down to mid-thigh and finally giving Shawn the eyeful he’d been craving since they met.

Carlton was on the thicker side, though not as scarily big as those centerfold alphas from the magazines Shawn had stashed under his mattress at home, but he was longer as well.

And he was hard.

Very hard.

He was already starting to leak with want and precome, the head of his cock a deep red that was almost purple.

Fuck, he wanted him in him…

He watched as the alpha unrolled the condom over the head and down the length, stopping at the loose skin at the base of his cock where his knot would expand. It was already looking a bit swollen but there shouldn’t be any knot-popping… not yet anyway.

That was coming up in the next few days though.

Shawn shivered at the mental reminder as slick all but started to drip out of him in want.

Carlton secured the condom and placed his hands on Shawn’s hips.

“God, you’re so ready for me,” he all but growled.

“F-Fuck me already,” Shawn managed to gasp out.

“Oh, I plan to,” Carlton said before he began pulling at Shawn… and pushing him down, turning him back onto his back. Shawn clung to the pillow still, looking up at his alpha with wide, lust-dark eyes. “I want to see you,” the alpha explained, grinning down at him.

So no respectable presenting with minimal touch for pure babymaking efficiency. This was going to be face-to-face, bodies all up in each other, kissing and touching again.

Carlton chuckled as Shawn’s cock jerked in interest.

He knelt between Shawn’s legs again and pulled him close, propping him up on his thighs, his cock just inches from Shawn’s opening. Seeing an opportunity, Shawn wrapped his legs around Carlton’s waist, hooking his foot around his ankle to keep him there.

Carlton smiled down at him and gently pried the pillow out of Shawn’s hands, exposing all of him once again. He tossed the pillow aside and leaned down, looming over his omega.

Shawn reached up and loomed his arms around Carlton’s neck, pulling him down until their foreheads touched.

This was it, this was so fucking it…

“Ready?” Carlton asked softly, nuzzling the hair at Shawn’s temple.

Shawn hesitated for a moment, but only just, before nodding. “I’m so fucking ready.”

He didn’t object as one of Carlton’s hands moved down between them, brushing slightly against his needy cock to take himself in hand, to guide himself into position.

Shawn hissed in a breath and the head pressed into him.

He’d seen it just a few moments ago, had deemed it more than big enough even if it didn’t compare to the alphas in dirty magazines, but it still felt gigantic.

Carlton paused and pressed a kiss to Shawn’s temple.

“Let me know…”

Shawn nodded, ignoring the trembling in his stomach that had nothing to do with arousal. “I’m fine. Go.”

Carlton pressed in further. It felt like his cock was taking him over, filling up some empty space Shawn hadn’t known was there. The feeling of fullness was strange, his slick letting him inside without complaint while a pressure began to bloom inside him, something that was both familiarly alarming and pleasant: something he’s almost achieved with his own hands once or twice but never good enough, never deep enough, just passable for now.

This was so far beyond passable.

By the time Carlton stopped again, Shawn could feel just how deep inside him he was, his cock pressing against every nerve in him and every nerve demanding to be touched more.

Shawn mewled under him and rolled his hips, trying to get what his body was demanding.

“Please,” he pleaded, squirming to feel more of the cock inside him, to make him move and —

Carlton rolled his hips and Shawn saw white for a moment, his brain blanking as pleasure flooded his nerves.

His alpha didn’t wait for him to recover.

Every move sent another jolt of pleasure through him but Shawn forced his brain to keep up, to see through the film of being thoroughly debauched, to keep his eyes open and watch as he was being taken apart.

Carlton, his face just inches away from Shawn’s was a vision of determined concentration — sweat dotting his flushed skin, muscles straining to keep his pace steady and consistent. Shawn managed to glance down between them and caught a glimpse of Carlton’s cock pressing into him.

“Fff,” was all Shawn could manage to say before grabbing onto his alpha’s head, tangling his fingers in that short, black hair, and pulling him down for a kiss.

It was all Carlton’s restraint could take.

He pressed Shawn down into the nest of blankets and clothes and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him so close that nothing could get between them.

Shawn, already sensitive and wanting, came first, his brain tumbling back into the fuzzy bright white of a, frankly, well-deserved and long-awaited orgasm by fucking. His body clamped around the cock inside him, struggling to keep it in without a knot to lock it in place.

He came back down slowly, as though drifting down like a feather on a warm breeze. The nest was soft and thoroughly scented. Carlton was still inside him, his head buried in the crux of Shawn’s neck. He could feel the hot, wet breath against the spot his mating mark would one day be.

For a moment, he was almost sure Carlton would give him a mark, would sink his teeth into the spot on his neck until it bruised enough to stay around for most of the year…

Right in time to be marked again.

He felt a mix of disappointment and relief when Carlton pressed a kiss to the spot before slowly pulling out of him. He kept Shawn in his arms as he turned, tugging him along with him so he rested half on top of him.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice coarse and rough and sexy.

“Hmm,” Shawn hummed back, closing his eyes and resting his head on Carlton’s wonderfully furry chest. The alpha’s heart was still pounding but it was slowly down just like the rest of the world. “I’m amazing.”

He felt the rumble as Carlton chuckled and answered it with his own purr.

“I think you’re closer to your heat than we thought,” Carlton said softly, grabbing Shawn’s discarded pillow and pushing it up under his head. He paused, the scent of it undoubtedly filling his senses. Shawn peeked an eye open for a moment, unable to stop the smug smile as his mate’s brain processed just how thorough Shawn had been about scenting.

Shawn nuzzled closer, letting the motor that was in his chest fill the silence.

Carlton was probably right. His heat was a lot closer than a few days.

He hoped he got to eat the steak Carlton had promised him before the heat put him off most food for a week.

“Shawn?” Carlton asked after a few moments. “Why are you watching a blond man get his nipples tortured?”

Shawn grinned against his mate’s chest. “What, you never saw the Princess Bride?”

“…I’ve heard of it?”

Shawn made a gasp but was too tired to put much feeling into it. “Okay, first I’m going to take a nap but after I’m going to show you the most wonderful movie featuring my first ever crush and then we’re going to get ice cream.”

“I don’t have any ice cream,” Carlton pointed out with a small smile. “I’m not going out just to get some.”

“Wesley would get me ice cream.”

“Wesley’s got suction cups on his nipples.”

“You’re very obsessed with his nipples.”

“It’s distracting,” Carlton defended with no heat in the words. “Potentially distressing.”

“Poor Lassie,” Shawn leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mate’s lips. “I’ll protect your nipples.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

Carlton smiled into the kiss.

Notes:

Sorry this took so long to write. I generally dislike writing pure smut so I kept putting it off.

There'll be more sex scenes in the future but they'll probably less detailed than this if they're just not 'fade to black'.

Chapter 17: March ???, 1996

Summary:

They prepare for Shawn's heat... then they recover from Shawn's heat.

Notes:

No real smut in this one.

Last chapter should keep you heathens happy for now.

Shawn wasn’t an elegant sleeper.

He took over a bed: spreading out from end to end and corner to corner, tangling up in the sheets as if he was the only one using them, muttering in his sleep as he snuggled into the closest heat source available.

Having shared a sleeping bag with the omega for a few nights, Carlton had thought himself prepared.

Pre-heat Shawn, much like every day Shawn, surprised him.

The omega was curled up on his side, still hugging onto him, but he was still, his breathing deep and even. A thin sheen of sweat dotted his naked body, making the now shoulder-length hair cling to his forehead and neck.

His scent was muskier than normal, the sweet citrus from all the pineapple the omega ate getting overpowered by the oncoming heat.

He smelled like every carnal sin Carlton ever thought about committing.

Which meant they definitely didn’t have much time.

He’d meant what he told Shawn the night before: he wanted to make their time together special, whatever introduce Shawn to every sexual act they were probably going to do while the younger man could enjoy them. He'd wanted to pamper the omega a bit before the heat set in.

The steak dinner was definitely going to have to wait until after.

Carlton sighed softly, careful to breathe in through his mouth so the scent wouldn’t tempt him to stay in Shawn’s temporary nest.

He had things to do and no time to do them.

Reluctantly, Carlton kissed Shawn’s forehead and began to gently shake him awake.

“Love?” Carlton asked, testing out the pet name. It felt a bit too soon. “Dear?” No, definitely not. “Sweetheart?” Was a maybe as Shawn shifted in his sleep.

“Hmm?”

“You’re in preheat,” Carlton told him, voice soft in case Shawn was further gone than he thought. “Do you understand?”

“Hmm,” Shawn answered, his eyes fluttering open. They moved from focusing a few inches in front of him to looking around to finding Carlton leaning over beside him. He seemed to be thinking before he scrunched up his nose. “M’ not ready,” he complained softly. “M’ too comfy.”

Carlton smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of his sharp nose. “I know but we need to get ready. What do you think you can do while I go get us supplies?”

He really should have been more prepared, shouldn’t have assumed they’d have a few days instead of the one, not with Shawn so eager and… and imprinted. Not that that seemed to matter much at the moment.

“Got to?” Shawn asked, pulling Carlton’s arm closer, almost sending him back down into the nest.

“If we want to eat and stay hydrated,” Carlton smiled. “We don’t have much to do. Supply run and getting the bed ready… we should have already done both.”

Shawn groaned. “I got the sheets scented.”

“Technically, we both did.”

“But I got it ready,” Shawn insisted with a pout Carlton couldn’t resist kissing.

“You did,” he agreed. “Do you think you can move the bed?”

Shawn paused for a moment before shaking his head. Carlton wasn’t surprised: it was a long shot with Shawn this far gone.

“Okay. Do you think you can handle a bath or shower?” he asked.

“…Maybe?”

Carlton nodded. They could work with that.

“If I got the bed moved, could you set up your nest?”

Another moment of consideration.

“Won’t be as pretty,” Shawn decided.

“Doesn’t need to be,” Carlton reassured him.

He climbed to his feet, leaving the warmth of his mate and nest behind for the moment. He’d need to shower too before he went out. He reached down for Shawn’s hands and helped the omega to his feet. He trembled ever-so-slightly in the colder not-in-a-nest air. He pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his temple.

First thing: Shawn needed to shower: to wake his brain back up a bit, something that wasn’t going to happen while drenched in their combined scents.

While that was happening, Carlton could move the bed to the corner they already decided on. They didn’t have any hooks set up to put a canopy up so he’d have to get those today and install them when he got back. A minor setback but doable.

When Shawn got out of the shower, he could start moving the nest material on the bed and get to work while Carlton took his own shower. He didn’t need to be smelling like a lust-crazed knothead in the grocery store. He’d have to use every new lock he’d placed on the door, maybe light a few incense to block Shawn’s growing scent.

Get home, fix up the canopy, and have a light dinner.

The deal with Shawn’s heat.

It was a plan. Carlton liked having a plan.

Shawn was kissing his neck, a soft whine escaping his throat.

Now, if they can get around to doing it.

 

Things did not go to plan.

From the beginning, Shawn refused to shower by himself. The burst of cold water Carlton had set jolted the omega to full wakefulness but that’s where the problems began. With his ability to form coherent thought restored, Shawn didn’t want to let him out of his sight.

The younger man wrapped his arms around him — an attempt was made to wrap his legs around him as well but Carlton managed to put a stop to that — and refused to let go until they washed each other thoroughly… with the added complication of Shawn wanting ‘smoochies’ every few seconds.

He’d have to take a second shower before he left which just set back the timetable even further.

Now, more or less awake, Shawn feigned still being out of it to get Carlton to help dry him off. He was pouting when Carlton left him in the bathroom so he could go put on underwear before he tried to move the bed into a proper nesting position against the wall.

As he expected would happen, Shawn just watched from the doorway as he scooted the bedside table out of the way before working on the bed, regretting that he had insisted on a solid wood frame.

At least Shawn helped move the nesting material out of the living room and onto the bed. Thankfully, faced with the prospect of remaking the nest and building it to withstand a head, Shawn’s instincts took over.

A shower, a change into yesterday’s scent-free clothes, and the plan was back on track!

He sprayed a scent blocker around the door before locking every lock (new and old). He lingered in the hallway for a few moments to make sure no strange alphas or betas were lurking around before setting off to gather supplies.

He got a few cans of soup, a pack of Gatorade, a large pack of bottled water, apples, bananas, a few large bags of beef jerky, and three pineapples… then another to be safe… and a fifth to make sure Shawn was happy.

He scanned the lobby as he wheeled in the handcart of groceries but found no intruders. A neighbor from the floor above him was waiting on the elevator but gave Carlton a once over and wisely let him have the car to himself. The hall to his apartment was empty and no foreign scents could be found.

Good.

Very good.

Carlton wasn’t a fool. He knew his instincts were starting to get a bit… intense. The few omegas he’d been with, especially during their heat, had brought out the same instincts.

Victoria had hated it though she never tried to stop him either.

He liked to think he wasn’t too overwhelming… at least, not any more than every other alpha.

He opened the apartment door and was hit with the scent of pre-heat omega so powerful that he almost staggered back out into the scent-free hallway.

He felt lightheaded for a moment as his heart started pounding in anticipation: His mate was waiting for him. Why was he keeping him waiting?

It took a few lungfuls of clean, scentless air to rein in the baser instincts screaming at him. He was a proper alpha, fully capable of controlling himself in almost all situations even against his own baser instincts.

Instincts he was going to concede to in short order very soon.

He held his breath and pushed his way into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. He all but shoved the cart of groceries towards the kitchen and went to find his mate.

Shawn had constructed something like a nest.

He was right about his earlier assessment: it wasn’t as pretty as the nest he had made in the living room. He managed to get all the sheets and clothes layered onto the mattress but that seemed to be all he managed to do.

The omega was curled up in the middle of the bed, loosely wrapped up in a sheet. His eyes were clothes, his hair once against sticking to the sweat on his face and neck.

There wasn’t much time left.

“Shawn,” he said softly, trying to not startle the omega but needing him to be awake. They were so close to being fully prepped and ready to go. “I got some food. You need to eat before…”

Shawn’s eyes cracked open, looking up at him as a small smirk grew on his lips.

In the omega’s hand was a folded-up leather collar. He could smell the leather, new and never used, no scents yet sunken into the hide.

“Surprise,” Shawn all but croaked, struggling to sit up for a moment as Carlton stared in shock. He spread the leather out, showing the four panels of soft leather, each panel held together by an equally soft cord. Vines and flowers had been burned along the outline of each panel, the edges burnished smooth.

“Spent like a quarter of my savings,” Shawn continued. “But I thought… you liked it before and… and I know you probably worry… cause I’m so sexy on the best of days… but heat me is amazing. Thought you… would appreciate it.”

Carlton swallowed hard and tried to will the erection now straining against his only clean pair of underwear to die down… or at least wait until the groceries were put away.

He slowly reached forward and accepted the collar being offered to him. He licked his suddenly dry lips as he ran a finger over the leatherwork.

“Y-You didn’t…”

“Wanted,” Shawn said simply before — Carlton groaned low in his throat — turning around and lifting up his hair to show the back of his neck… offering his neck… for the collar.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Carlton lamented, taking a step forward.

It wasn’t just because this was a kink of his — not because he imagined a similar roleplay idea when he needed a bit of masturbation fodder… he put the collar gently around Shawn’s neck, careful not to have it anywhere near tight, much less too tight. The collar just brushed against his Adam’s apple and flared out at the bottom an inch or so, covering the vulnerable skin completely…

Carlton swallowed hard as he adjusted the leather just right: He was only doing this because it was a good idea, because the leather was meant to stop an unwanted mating bite; that was all…

Carlton kissed the tied leather cord and tried to ignore how easy it would be to take it back off.

“Groceries,” he gasped out against the leather before taking a step back. “We… I’ll put them up. Bring water and food.” He glanced up at the open nest Shawn had scrounged together. “Hooks. Put up… put up a sheet…”

It was hard to think, much less talk.

“Hurry,” Shawn said after a moment, all but collapsing back onto the nest.“Want… hurry.”

Carlton never felt so efficient in his life as he sped through the last few things on his list.

Bags of groceries were shoved into the refrigerator regardless of if they needed to be kept cold or not. He grabbed the bag of jerky, a bag of grapes, and the case of Gatorade and took them to the bedroom. He set them beside the nest before grabbing the small package of hooks and all but jumped onto the mattress — feeling a jolt of pleasure as Shawn giggled at him — and screwed in the two necessary hooks before draping a sheet over them both, hooking them in place.

With the white sheet now encasing them, Carlton looked down to see his mate between his legs, laying on his back and staring up at him with glassy, lust-filled eyes. Beside him was the box of heat-strength condoms, waiting to be used. Shawn, with a small smile, opened his arms up to him, and Carlton all but fell onto and into him.

 

Carlton, wrapped up in one of the sheets from the nest and wearing nothing else, was fairly confident that it was around noon.

Of what day was a different question.

After the first few rounds of sex, time started to bleed away until there was only Shawn and him in their newly enclosed nest. Shawn had been reduced to a creature of wanton lust and need, unable to do much more than moan and purr and whimper as Carlton focused on taking care of him in every way possible.

The animal in him had never felt so completely satisfied.

Even now, Shawn was still curled up in their blankets, the heat now over but exhausted to do anything more than sleep.

Carlton was quite proud of that.

His omega was sated and well-cared for, though he would still need him in the next few days as he recovered. Which was why Carlton was now chopping up the last pineapple while wearing a toga made from a sheet. He was glad he had bought so many of the sweet, spiky fruit — it was the only consistent thing he could get the omega to eat.

He filled a bowl with the yellow fruit and stashed the rest away in the fridge.

Once they had their strength back, they’d have to do clean up — namely, wash all of their clothing to get the scent of heat out of them. There was still that steak dinner Carlton had promised as well.

They were promised another week together and Carlton wanted to make that time as special as possible.

“Shawn?” he said softly, returning to the bedroom. He had opened the window to let the fresh air in but the canopy — still hanging despite his rushed work — did a good job of blocking out most of the light. He saw Shawn move a bit in the nest. “Lunchtime,” he announced, carefully climbing back in.

Shawn yawned and stretched, showing off his lithe, post-heat body. The collar was still in place though decidedly lopsided now but it had done its job… the omega’s neck was probably the only place on his body that didn’t have some kind of love mark marring the skin.

Carlton felt so proud of that it almost made him want to purr.

“Hmm?” Shawn hummed and looked at the bowl. His eyes lit up despite that he’d eaten almost nothing but pineapple the last few days. “I love you so much.”

Those words sent a shiver down his spine. Shawn’s used them before, of course, had written them out and teased with them. This felt different. Real.

Very real.

“Love you too,” Carlton smiled, his heart skipping a bit as he admitted it: a knot in his chest releasing and soaring. It was true. It was probably inevitable but true all the same. Somewhere along the way, he fondness he felt for Shawn had slowly but surely morphed into a warmth that saturated his every thought concerning the omega.

He loved him. He really fucking loved him.

Carlton carefully arranged himself so he was sitting up against the headboard, his legs stretched out over the nest. “Come here.” Shawn crawled up to lay beside him, his arms around his waist. He offered his omega a chunk of pineapple that was eagerly taken from his hand, lips caressing his fingers as he did so. “How are you feeling?”

Shawn chewed thoughtfully. “Sore,” he finally croaked out. “Tired…” he grinned. “Very happy. You did a very good job.”

Carlton didn’t bother to hide the pride those words made him feel.

He was a simple alpha with simple needs… being praised for his sexual prowess just happened to be one of those needs.

Shawn snuggled closer, the beginnings of a long purr session in the works. He looked up at Carlton through hooded eyes, a mischievous smile starting to form.

“A big, strong alpha like you…” he started, fluttering his eyes up at him. “Bet you’ve had lots of practice helping defenseless and horny omegas, huh?”

He knew he was being teased but that didn’t stop the heat that flooded Carlton’s cheeks.

“I’ve helped a few,” Carlton admitted, offering Shawn another bite of pineapple. “Victoria was a beta so we only ever had to worry about my ruts… though there were about two or three people I’ve helped after high school...”

“Two or three?” Shawn repeated, chewing his delicious citrusy treat. “Kind of a low number to lose count of.”

Carlton felt the heat creep away from his cheeks to consume his whole face.

“Well, depends on how you count it,” he said before eating his own chunk of pineapple to stall for time. The way Shawn looked at him expectantly told him it wasn’t working.

With Shawn as smart and observant as he was… Carlton was playing a losing game.

“Two omegas,” he sighed after a moment. “One in freshman year of college and… and another during senior year.”

Shawn found the strength to slowly sit up so he was eye to eye with Carlton. His eyes wide and his grin a bit too big.

“Wait… are you telling me…?”

Definitely too smart and observant.

“That I need to keep my mouth shut?” Carlton asked with another sigh before putting a particularly big chunk of pineapple in his mouth.

Shawn's eyes almost seemed to twinkle with the forbidden knowledge Carlton was about to bestow on him.

Carlton took a deep breath and set the bowl of pineapple a safe distance away. He had an idea of how his mate was about to react.

“I helped another alpha with his rut during my police academy days.”

There was a high-pitched squeal and Carlton found his lap full of excited omega. He wrapped his arms around his still recovering mate to help him balance but his efforts were worthless and Shawn all but shoved his down onto the bed so he could be properly straddled.

“You helped an alpha in a rut!” Shawn grinned down at him. “There’s only one way to do that! So you’re say you…” Carlton nodded, sure his face was as red as a tomato at this point. “And you let him?!” Carlton nodded again. Shawn gasped loudly. “Did you like it?!”

“…I mean…” How was he supposed to answer that? “It wasn’t bad…”

Shawn crushed his lips down on Carlton’s, as hungrily as he did just a few hours ago. He broke away with a gasp.

“Can I do it?” He asked, panting hard as he stared straight into Carlton’s eyes. “Please? I mean, I must be easier to take than a rutting alpha! Like we don’t even have to do it now or anything but maybe later when we’re not so fucked out and can I? Please?!”

Carlton blinked up at him.

“Yeah, sure,” he answered easily. What a pointless question! Of course he could top him. “I was worried you were going to hate it.”

“Oh, my God,” Shawn breathed, eyes wide in a way that Carlton could only describe as ‘smitten’. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re going to be insatiable now, aren’t you?” Carlton asked, not daunted by that prospect at all.

“Just getting started!” Shawn leaned down to steal Carlton’s breath away once again.

The bowl of pineapple was forgotten.

Notes:

Shawn: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

 

Anyway, I'm going to switch to posting as a chapter is done. That writers block really threw me and reminded me of why I shouldn't post until I get a fic completely done... but switching to that isn't very fair to you all.

I'll try to get back into a consistent posting schedule but you shouldn't trust strangers on the internet to keep their promises.

EDIT: I just realized I completely skipped over that this is the first time they said 'I love you' and had to edit that acknowledgement in. Oopsies!

Chapter 18: March 15, 1996

Summary:

Shawn wants a motorcycle

Notes:

This is a bit of a short one but something that needed to happen eventually.

A quiet Shawn Spencer was an unnatural phenomenon.

Carlton had known Shawn for six months, had lived with him for the last few weeks, and was still technically living with him for the next 24 hours. The only time he’d stopped talking was when he was physically incapable of it or asleep — and sometimes not even then.

He’d been chipper that morning, waking up tangled up together as had become their routine. Not even the prospect of returning home the next day seemed to bring the young omega’s mood down. Instead, he had insisted they make a day of his last day: The pier, a movie, takeout, then home again for the next round of sex.

Shawn was very insistent on the sex part. Carlton was never going to refuse that.

And yet, as they followed Shawn’s itinerary for the day, he became quieter and quieter.

He still happily sang the praises of the pier tacos that had become their go-to happy place, as Shawn called it, but there was something off, even as the young omega ate his usual three tacos and pineapple smoothie.

The movie was also odd. He expected Shawn to chatter through it — it was their first movie together in a theater but Shawn was definitely the time to talk regardless of how much he was shushed — but even that was at a minimum.

Then again, the movie was about a car dealer arranging to have his wife kidnapped to extort money out of his father-in-law. A part of Carlton’s brain always clicked into work mode but he couldn’t really find fault in the pregnant omega sheriff’s approach to the investigation, as oddly nonchalant as it all played out in the end.

But still, despite all the ammunition such a strange movie should have given his mate, Shawn was disturbingly not as chatty as he usually was.

And now…

Now he was just pushing his rice and peas around his plate, the jerk chicken long gone by now.

It was concerning.

And Carlton wasn’t entirely sure what he should do about it.

Asking, of course, was the straightforward answer but there was no guarantee that Shawn would give him a real answer. He’d either deny it, laugh it off, or both.

He could guess what the problem was — he was pretty sure he had a good idea, considering what tomorrow meant — but he didn’t want to be wrong and, somehow, make things worse.

So where did that leave him?

Carlton looked down at his half-eaten plate. Jamaican wasn’t his go-to food of choice and even the grilled chicken he had ordered was just shy of being too spicy for his taste. He knew the omega would eat what he didn’t but that wouldn’t get him talking, just give his mouth something else to do.

He tried to think of something to talk about.

“So, what’d you think of the movie — ”

“I want to get a motorcycle,” Shawn stated when Carlton finally broke the silence.

Oh, thank god… wait, what?

Carlton blinked at him.

Shawn wanted a motorcycle…?

“You don’t even have a driver’s license,” Carlton found himself saying as his brain tried to process the statement. “For a car, I mean.”

“Yeah, but it’d be easier to get a motorcycle license anyway,” Shawn shrugged.

“I mean… yes and no…” Carlton started with a frown. “There’s a few extra steps involved…”

Shawn’s eyes drifted back down to his plate.

Damn it. He didn’t want Shawn to clam up again.

“Why a motorcycle?” He prompted instead, hoping to bring the omega back out of whatever shell he was retreating into.

He tried not to show his relief as Shawn looked back up.

“Because it’s the ultimate freedom!” he announced, a bright grin breaking out. “The wind in your hair, nothing but open road in front of you! And it can go places cars can’t! It’s great!”

“Hopefully, there’s no wind in your hair on a motorcycle,” Carlton couldn’t stop himself from pointing out. “But I can see that. Kinda like taking a horse to full gallop. We need to keep up with your lessons.”

“Okay, Cowboy,” Shawn winked at him. “You know what I mean then. Like a horse but faster and not as likely to get spooked and throw you.”

As much as the protective side of him wanted to argue the point, statistically, Shawn was right. Horses were great but also very likely to kill you by accident.

Shawn’s smile faded for a moment, clearly waiting for more from Carlton.

“Is… is that alright?” he asked after a moment, strangely timid.

Carlton didn’t like that tone at all.

He reached between them and took Shawn’s hand.

“I… I’m not going to lie and say I like the idea,” he started, “but I’m not going to tell you what to do either. You don’t need my permission, Shawn.” That earned him the brightest smile of the day. “Though… please take lessons before you try to drive one of those death machines?”

Shawn blinked at him. “You can get lessons?”

Carlton held back a sigh as Shawn’s teasing grin returned. He wouldn’t put it past the younger man to try and skip certifications. He’ll have to keep an eye on him.

“What, uh, what brought this up anyway?” Carlton asked, beating back the urge to go over all the things Shawn would need to do in order to get said license — there was a time and place for that and their last day together was not it. Instead, he ran a thumb along the back of Shawn’s hand. He thought back, wondering if they had passed any motorcycles lately… he was pretty sure there weren’t any in the movie… though he did remember seeing a magazine in Shawn’s room back during New Years. There had been a motorcycle on the cover.

“I just always thought I’d go on a road trip,” Shawn shrugged a shoulder, putting on his best ‘cool’ face. Which meant Shawn wasn’t ‘cool’ about this at all — it was important. Carlton straightened up a bit and gave Shawn’s hand a squeeze. “Like, when I graduated. Just take off and see the world, ya’know?”

In truth, Carlton didn’t. He knew a lot of people who said they wanted to do the same but most never did or just went to Vegas for the weekend and called it good. Carlton, on the other hand, had his sights on his career, on being the youngest and brightest Santa Barbara had to offer.

But he could see the appeal for someone like Shawn.

And Shawn had the determination to do it.

Carlton took a deep pull of his coffee, trying to quell the spike of panic that shot through his heart.

“So, like, a gap year?” he asked, his voice fighting through the stranglehold on his throat. He coughed to clear it out. “Before college?”

Shawn flinched slightly, a grimace more than a smile. “Something like that…”

So… no college then.

He had no doubt Shawn would be a brilliant student… if he cared. Which he doesn’t. He’d seen how little Shawn cared about his education, something that wasn’t surprising when he could just memorize the schoolbooks and ace any test.

No, Shawn wasn’t the college type.

“I want you to come with me.”

Carlton didn’t hear the words at first, his mind wandering off as it tried to imagine a life for Shawn when the other refused to follow the traditional path of life.

Then they sunk in.

Carlton blinked and smiled a disbelieving smile because he obviously hadn’t heard him right. “Sorry, what?”

“Come with me,” Shawn repeated, smiling brighter as his idea took hold. “It’d be amazing! We’ll drive around America, take in the sights! Get weird little odd jobs to pay for things. Oh! You could get a motorcycle too! You’d look so hot in a leather jacket!”

Carlton stared for just a moment before shaking his head. “Shawn…”

“It’d be so fun!” the omega insisted. “Just us against the world!”

Carlton continued to shake his head. “Shawn,” the tone of his voice finally seemed to sink in for Shawn. His smile faded away immediately. “I just made detective,” Carlton said, as though he were trying to break bad news to a family already in mourning. “I can’t just leave.”

Shawn slumped down in his chair. “You could…”

“I couldn’t,” Carlton disagreed. Guilt and grief bubbled up in his chest, lodging themselves right beside the panic caused by the idea of the omega leaving his side for longer than a day, week, month… “I… I’ve worked hard to get this position,” he explained, looking down at his now forgotten food. It didn’t have any useful advice for him. “I… I can’t just give it up. Not now.”

Shawn nodded slowly, not looking up at him. The first whiffs of devastated omega started to burn his nose.

“I guess it was a big ask,” Shawn muttered to his plate. “Maybe… maybe we can go on a vacation or something over the summer.”

And just like that, the grief, guilt, and panic about Shawn leaving was replaced by the grief, guilt, and panic of Shawn staying — or rather of Shawn giving up his plans, his desires, for him.

Because he said — or may say — so.

“No,” Carlton reached out his other hand and cupped Shawn’s in both of his. “I don’t want you to do that, Shawn.”

Shawn glanced up at him through his lashes, hazel-green eyes framed by those dark lashes.

Damn, he was beautiful…

“You’ve been planning this for ages?” Shawn nodded with a small shrug, as though it were nothing. “Then… then I want you to do it. Go on a road trip. Or two. Or three.”

The omega’s eyes widened.

“In fact…” Carlton licked his lips, thinking carefully. “In fact, I want you to do something for me. Something very important.”

“…Anything.” Carlton wasn’t expecting such a resolute answer but his heart filled at it. He was doing the right thing.

“I want a postcard from every state,” he said, looking into Shawn’s eyes. “Two or three if you can manage it. And that’s including Hawaii and Alaska. Hell, I’ll even take a few from Mexico and further if you get that far.”

Shawn stared at him, a grin slowly growing across his face.

“Every state, every Latin American Country, and I’ll throw in all the Canadas,” Shawn grinned before launching himself across the table to press his lips against Carlton’s. “You’re so fucking amazing,” he said, pressing a new kiss to his lips with each word.

“Language,” Carlton teasingly scolded, returning each kiss before gently leading Shawn back into his chair. “But I want you to get your driver’s license first,” he bargained though he had nothing really to bargain with. “I’d worry less.”

Shawn wrinkled up his nose, though there was no real distaste in the action. “I guess, if it’ll make my handsome, amazing alpha happy.”

“It would,” Carlton nodded. Besides, if Shawn was only just now planning on getting a motorcycle driver’s license, he’ll be around for another six months, at least. Unless he doesn’t wait but that’s something future Carlton could worry about. He smiled at Shawn. “How about you drive us home— back tonight? See how much work we got to do to get you road-ready.”

Carlton wasn’t sure he liked the devious twinge Shawn’s smile took.

“Depends,” he leaned forward with a Cheshire grin. “Do you have a car chase mixtape ready or should I have brought my own?”

Notes:

I feel Lassie would have mixed feeling about Fargo...

Chapter 19: March 24, 1996

Summary:

It's a certain Birthday Boy's Birthday!

Notes:

I've had two hours of sleep. Oops

Shawn had often heard the phrase ‘you can’t go home again’, a premise that was just absurd. The house is right there, you can so go home again! Just walk right in!

Okay, so maybe it’s not your home anymore if someone else moved in or they built a mall over it or something like that, but it’s the thought that matters!

Or something.

At least that’s how it used to be.

He kind of gets it now.

When Carlton had dropped him off back at the house — barely a week ago! — things had felt… different.

Henry was still hovering like crazy, had sniffed and examined him to make sure Carlton hadn’t tried to leave any claiming marks on him (he had tried to talk his mate into giving him a hickey, just to really freak Henry out, but Carlton didn’t go for it), and had him wash most of his clothes to deaden the scent on them.

He’d been expecting that and, in a show of enormous grace, didn’t fight about it too much. He’d just come back from having his virginity masterfully and thoroughly — very thoroughly — taken in a two week heat-driven sex party for two; the least he could do was not rub it in his father’s face… too much.

But something was just… fundamentally different now.

The house was exactly how he left it, his room was exactly the same — if a bit neater than usual thanks to having to wash almost everything. Gus was the same, Henry was, annoyingly, the same. Mom was still gone.

That could only mean that, if everything was the same, then it must be him that was different.

Shawn always knew having sex would somehow change him — How could it not?! — but he wasn’t entirely sure that was it. He now had a new experience in which to see the world but… that still wasn’t it.

It’s about as groundbreaking as having your first ‘me-time’ and having your first orgasm which is awesome but he never really felt different after that milestone.

Was it an imprinting thing? Was this what everyone was so worked up about? That somehow getting dicked down by his alpha would actually have lasting effects on him?

Maybe but… he’d told Carlton about his dream of traveling America, on a motorcycle no less and… and the alpha was okay with it. Encouraged it and…

And for a moment, if Carlton had said he didn’t want Shawn to go, he’d have stayed. Might not even have argued for it.

That was different. And scary.

And nothing to worry about because his mate was amazing and no one would ever top him. He knew it in his bones and the last month just confirmed it for him:

They were meant to be.

Carlton thought he was amazing, didn’t want to control him and they have mad sexual chemistry. He liked movies, even if he didn’t make nearly enough references, and he was a bit of a nerd but so was Gus and Shawn was sure he could make him at least seem cooler in front of other people.

No, this was it for him.

If he had his way, they would always be Shawn and Carlton. Carlton and Shawn. Never one without the other. Just them — and Gus, always with Gus — against the world!

Though, at the moment, it would just have to be them against Henry.

It was a bright, beautiful day: the sky was blue, the wind off the ocean was just shy of cold, and Carlton was walking around the fence, a wrapped present in hand.

Shawn grinned, staying seated at the small table on the porch, his ‘Birthday Boy’ pointed hat proudly on display. Henry angrily flipped the burgers.

“Shawn…”

“I believe my title is ‘Birthday Boy’,” Shawn pointed to the hat as though his father had somehow missed it the entire day he’s been wearing it. “And did you really think you not inviting him was going to work?”

The sigh his father let out proved his point.

Shawn shot Gus a grin, getting an eye roll in return. He had suggested he meet with Carlton after the birthday burgers because ‘I don’t want to get between two pissed off alphas, Shawn,’ and ‘They used to have duels about this kind of thing, Shawn,’ and ‘If I don’t get my two burgers, three hot dogs, and a gigantic slice of birthday cake, I’m never forgiving you, Shawn’.

Or something like that.

Shawn leaned over to his best friend, grin in place. “Relax, everything’s fine.”

Gus did not look convinced, even as he waved hello to Carlton as the man opened the gate to let himself in.

“Lassiter,” Henry huffed, glaring over as the man approached.

Annnd now.

Shawn stood up, walking around the table. “Hey, Lover!”

“Shaawwn,” Gus hissed beside him, his head falling into his hands.

Carlton stumbled a bit, red rushing to his cheeks as he glanced over to Henry. Shawn heard the clatter of the spatula falling on the grill but ignored everything else as he all but launched himself into his mate’s arms.

Carlton dropped the present — no sound of something breaking! Yes! — and wrapped his arms around Shawn to stop the younger man from falling as he wrapped his legs around his waist. Before the alpha could protest, Shawn pressed their mouths together.

“Ugh!” That would be Gus.

He assumed the roaring silence was Henry.

Shawn broke the kiss with a smack of his lips.

Carlton looked up at Shawn, quirking his eyebrow. He smiled softly as he asked, “Was that really necessary?”

“Infinitely,” Shawn grinned and allowed himself to slide down Carlton’s body until his feet were back on the ground. He grabbed Carlton’s hand and began pulling him up to the porch. He glanced over at his father. “Just a reminder.”

Henry glared at him before angrily throwing a few hotdogs on the grill, the fire flaring up in response, possibly to the alpha’s anger.

“We don’t need reminding,” Gus complained, scooting over to let Carlton sit down on Shawn’s other side. The glance at Shawn told him ‘like hell am I getting between those two’.

Shawn dutifully shoved Carlton into the chair beside him before moving his own chair closer until their thighs touched. His mate smiled at him and leaned closer until their foreheads almost touched.

“Hi,” he said softly, teasing. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Shawn smiled back, reaching between them to grab onto Carlton’s hand. “That was, like, the longest week of my life.”

“I got a surprise for you,” Carlton whispered, glancing back toward Henry who was stubbornly ignoring them. There was the smell of smoke that had nothing to do with the burning charcoal. Shawn suspected they — or at least Carlton — was getting burned hockey puck instead of a burger.

“I’d hope so,” Shawn huffed with a smile. He pointed toward his head. “Birthday boy.”

Carlton rolled his eyes. “I mean besides the gift. Think we can sneak away after?”

“After presents, definitely,” Shawn said after making a show of thinking about it. “Though I got plans for around 6.”

“I’ll have you back before then,” Carlton promised with a smile.

“Hey,” Gus hissed, leaning in closer to interject with his own whisper. “I’m sitting right here! You two better not get me in trouble. I’m here because it’s Shawn’s birthday and I get food and cake! I remember what happened on Halloween, Shawn!”

“Yeah, you got to take a nap in my bed and play my Gameboy!”

“It was my Gameboy!”

“And you got to play it!”

Gus tsked at him.

Shawn glanced over to Henry and the billowing black smoke rising up around him. That was definitely a smirk on his father’s face.

He looked back to his best friend. “Look, we’ll bring you back non-burned food. Or… or I’ll buy lunch tomorrow.”

“Shawn, you’ve never paid for anything in your life.”

Shawn gasped in offense. His offense turned to Carlton as the man pulled his hand out of Shawn’s, glancing over at the other alpha for a moment before reaching into his wallet. He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over to Gus. Gus, his brows raised in appreciative surprise, took the bribe.

“We just need to slip away for an hour or two — ” “Or four!” “Shush. An hour or two. For Shawn’s birthday. For that to happen, we need a distraction.”

Gus considered him for a moment before carefully folding up the twenty and slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A few paper plates dropped down on the table in front of them. The ones in front of Gus and Shawn were loaded with a few juicy-looking hamburgers and the one on Carlton’s plate… yep, those could be used to break a few windows.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Henry’s smile was too toothy to be sincere. He set down the plate with the hotdogs, all of them burnt to cinders. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Gus looked mournfully at the burnt hotdogs, even as he started dressing up his perfectly made burger.

“At least the cake is store-bought…”

 

The brown leather of the jacket was soft and supple, feeling almost like velvet under his hands. It was a size or so too big but he suspected it was on purpose: loose outwear to accommodate his preference for style aka layering. There was no collar, just a high neck and a straight zipper down the front.

Practical and probably cost way too much and Shawn loved it.

“Oh, you guys lost this one,” he announced, holding the motorcycle jacket up to examine it with wide eyes. “Prize for best present goes to Lassie-pants!”

“I didn’t approve of that one,” Carlton sighed at the nickname but the proud — almost smug! — smile didn’t waver.

“It’s not a competiti— ”

“This case holds a hundred CDs!” Gus protested, cutting off Henry’s attempt to prove he didn’t lose this birthday gift competition.

Like, who needs a wallet? Though the leather would go well with the leather of the jacket.

Oh! Maybe he could get one of those wallet chains! That’d look so rad.

“Gus, don’t be the knock-off brand of potato chips at the gas station,” Shawn turned the jacket over so his friend could get a good look at it. “Look at it! You really going to say a CD case bets this?!”

Gus pouted but shrugged a shoulder in defeat.

He lost and he knows it but damn if he’s going to admit it.

“It’s a bit much,” Henry said after a moment, leaning back in his chair as he looked at the jacket in his son’s hands. “What’re you going to do with a motorcycle jacket?”

Shawn glared over the top of the garment. “Look awesome is what, Jack!”

“A good quality leather jacket is a good thing to have,” Carlton interjected after a moment, carefully not looking over at the other Alpha. Shawn made a note to work with him on how to not be conspicuous. “They can last decades if taken care of, they’re warm, and they’re partially waterproof.” He shrugged a shoulder. “And I figured Shawn wouldn’t want a traditional jacket.” He smiled over to his mate. “I’d have preferred something with a collar to help block the wind but…”

Shawn grinned at him. “You so want me in a cowboy costume,” he accused. “Those pictures from Old Sonora not enough?”

Shawn felt a swell of pride — and a rustling a bit further down — as a twinge of pink entered the alpha’s cheeks.

“‘Old Sonora?’,” and Henry was thus distracted. “That old tourist trap out near — ”

“It’s not a tourist trap — ” Carlton started to stand in protest.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Shawn scolded, shrugging on his new leather jacket. “No fighting on Birthday Boy time!”

Carlton caught his eyes for a moment before sighing and sinking back down in his chair. He can defend his childhood’s honor another time.

“Whatever, Shawn,” Henry, for his part, rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing up discarded paper plates to throw them away. “Let's get this mess cleaned up. You got school tomorrow.” He looked up to give Carlton a cold, toothy grin. “And I think it’s about time for our guest to leave as well.”

“D-Henry,” Shawn tutted, “that’s no way to treat Gus! He’s practically family!”

“What’d you mean ‘practically’?” Gus started but looked to see Shawn’s face.

Shawn nodded his head in Carlton’s direction as the alpha looked pointedly back at the beta. Both looked away as Henry looked up.

“I mean…” Gus slowly stood up as well. “Let me help you with that, Mr. Spencer,” he smiled, grabbing up the torn wrapping paper from Shawn’s gifts. “Since that's what family does.”

“Thank you, Gus,” he said pointedly, looking over at his son. “At least someone knows how to be thoughtful.”

“Yeah, Gus,” Shawn answered with a grin. “That’s why I don’t have to be.”

Henry scowled before looking over to Carlton. “Lassiter. See you tomorrow.”

“Spencer,” Carlton nodded back, slowly standing up but not making any other move. He looked back at Gus.

Gus took a deep breath and looked around. His eyes zeroed in on the half-eaten cake still on the table. “Here. Let me get this.”

He snatched the cake up and started heading toward the house. Shawn stood and inched his way to Carlton’s side. As his best friend neared the sliding glass door, he paused to look back at them. He looked determined and resolute in his mission.

Shawn brought his hand to his forehead and saluted him.

Gus nodded and opened the door, ‘carefully’ balancing the cake in one arm as he entered the house.

“Wait for it…” Shawn warned under his breath, grabbing Carlton’s hand to start pulling him back toward the gate.

There was a high-pitched screech from the house. “THE CAKE!”

“Now!”

They turned and ran from the oceanfront yard and down toward where Carlton’s car was parked. Shawn threw open the passenger side door and tumbled in, knocking off the Birthday Boy hat in his rush. They ignored the distant protest of ‘Hey! Get back here!’ as they pulled out onto the road.

Shawn looked out the back window, almost hoping to see an enraged Henry eating their dust but the street remained empty.

He practically bounced in his seat as he turned to look out the windshield, fumbling to pull his seat belt on.

He glanced over to see a matching smirk on his mate’s lips though those devastatingly blue eyes remained trained on the road.

Shawn wiggled around to face him.

“Soooo,” he started, fluttering his eyelashes in a way he was absolutely certain was alluring and sexy. “What’cha got planned for me, Alpha?”

He could see the titlefication of the term hit home — alphas could be so easy — as pink tinted Carlton’s cheek and the sharp scent of arousal spiked for a moment.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you…”

“I could still act surprised.”

Carlton gave him a quick look that screamed ‘No, you can’t’.

“Fine,” Shawn flopped back in his seat, his head still craned over to look at Carlton. “We’ll do it the old-fashioned boring way.”

“The ‘not telling the person you’re going to surprise what the surprise is’ way?” Carlton asked with a smirk.

“That’s the one.”

Carlton huffed a small laugh. “You’ll see soon enough.”

 

It was a parking lot.

Okay, maybe a bit more than a parking lot if the motorcycle on the sign was anything to go by. There was a large oval track beyond the large chain-link fence, the black tire marks dotting the pavement.

Carlton parked the car and sat back.

“You’re under 21 so you need to complete the California Motorcyclist Safety Program to get your certification,” he said, opening the door to take a step out. Shawn followed his example. “And you need six months of driving a bike before you can get your license proper.”

He walked around the car and stopped at the trunk. He leaned on it as he watched Shawn follow him. “Until you get your full license, no passengers, daylight hours only, no highways.”

Shawn rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the grin as everything sank in: Carlton had brought him to a motorcycle driving school, he was lecturing him on the rules, he got him a motorcycle jacket which he had just thought was hot and cool but his mate got it to be practical.

Shawn wanted to wrap his arms around him and never let go…

No, actually, he wanted to do something else but was pretty sure the parking lot counted as a public area and Carlton, as a cop, would have to say no.

It was tempting though.

Shawn inched closer. “You really think I don’t have all that memorized by now?” It was a bit late but incredibly sweet.

Carlton smirked down at him. “You’ll need a helmet too.”

With that, he took a step back to unlock the trunk.

He pulled out a motorcycle helmet, painted shiny silver, with a darkened visor to keep the California sun out of his eyes. He turned the helmet over in his hands as Shawn stared down at it.

“I wasn’t sure what color you’d prefer,” Carlton admitted, looking down at the glossy finish. “But I remembered your hat size from Sonora and the guy at the shop helped me get the right size.”

Shawn reached out and took the helmet from Carlton’s hands. It was gorgeous.

He looked up at Carlton with wide eyes.

“You’re so fucking amazing.”

Carlton’s face lit up at the compliment.

“We’ll have to hide it from Henry,” he said, watching as Shawn undid the straps to give the helmet a test fit. “But… but I paid for your lessons as well. Here, I mean. Every day after school for the week… starting tomorrow.”

Shawn slipped the helmet on, wiggling it about to make sure it sat properly, before looking up at Carlton through the visor.

“Be honest,” he said with a grin. “This is the sexiest I’ve ever been, right?”

Carlton snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “I generally find fewer clothes to be sexier than more…” he paused for a moment, considering his words. “Though I do make exceptions for uniforms and well-tailored suits.”

Shawn quirked an interested eyebrow. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of uniforms.”

Carlton didn’t answer him. He reached for the helmet. “Let’s get this stowed away for now. I also want to let you drive around the parking lot, see how far you are from a proper, not-a-death-trap, driver’s license.”

Shawn gasped as he handed the helmet over. “And you’re going to let me drive your car?” He placed a hand over his heart. “You’re spoiling me, Babe. Sure you don’t want to wear the helmet yourself?”

Carlton had paused in putting the helmet back in the trunk but only for a moment. “I… I guess I don’t mind that one.”

“Which one?”

Carlton looked up, his Irish heritage betraying him again as his cheeks flushed. “‘Babe’,” he said. “I kinda like that one.”

“Well, you are,” Shawn said, moving toward into his mate’s personal space, reaching around to slip his hands into Carlton’s back pockets. “You’re such a babe, Babe.”

Carlton laughed before pressing a kiss to Shawn’s forehead. “Sweetheart,” he said, almost announcing it.

“Damn right I am,” Shawn confirmed, tilting his head up to steal a proper kiss.

“You are,” Carlton agreed against his lips. “Now since you’ve already stolen my keys with that little move, let’s go a few rounds around the parking lot. We can get ice cream afterward and we might get back by 6.”

Right, he had a deadline.

Shawn sighed dramatically as he stepped away from his mate.

Being responsible sucked…

 

Shawn could hear the phone from the driveway. Shawn set the car in park with a jerk as his eyes darted to the clock on the dash.

It was only 5:30!

“T-That was alright,” Carlton said beside him, looking paler and greener than usual. “Definitely need some — Shawn?”

Shawn darted out of the car, racing toward the house.

He ignored Henry standing in the mudroom, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. His father didn’t try and stop him as he rushed to the kitchen to yank the phone off the cradle, eagerly pressing it to his ear.

“Mom?”

He almost melted into the kitchen chair as he heard “Happy Birthday, Goose.”

Notes:

I feel like I need to do more Shawn chapters...

Chapter 20: April 11, 1996

Summary:

Shawn has a few surprises for Carlton - and only one of them could be considered bad!

Notes:

Been dealing with some burnout and insomnia lately but I'm hopefully past it!

Enjoy!

The stuffed animal was sitting beside Carlton in the passenger seat.

It had been waiting on his desk at the precinct when he’d gotten back from lunch. From what he could tell, it was meant to be a horse or something horse-adjacent — a donkey or mule maybe? It was made to sit with its hide legs straight out which is not anatomically correct. It also wore a cowboy hat and a little brown best with a small silver star painted on its chest.

In its little hoof arms was a birthday card of a cartoon cowboy horse, slightly different from the toy, with the words ‘Have a happy Birthday Partner!’ written on it with bright gold letters.

Inside, written in Shawn’s scratchy handwriting, was simply: “Where we first kissed”, which was crossed out and written underneath: “No, wait, the other place. The first totally counts but the department isn’t as romantic as you think it is! Love you!”

He’d tucked the card into his desk before asking to have the rest of the day off, much to Fenich’s smug amusement that Carlton was actually asking for time off on his birthday after rejecting the offer multiple times.

He’d brought the toy along to take home as the police station was no place for such a thing. He’d put it in the passenger seat because it was a gift from Shawn and thus should be treated with some respect. He refused to buckle it in as that was far too whimsical to his tastes.

He was sure Shawn would do the honors soon enough.

The parking lot of the Red Chief Firing Range was practically empty, not surprising for a Thursday afternoon. At one of the picnic tables at the front of the building was Shawn, sitting cross-legged on top of the closest one.

He was pretty sure that was the same one they kissed at.

As Carlton pulled to a stop, Shawn jumped off the table and jogged over. Before he could turn the car off, he’d opened the passenger door. He almost sat on the stuffed animal before he picked the horse sheriff up and plopped down in his place.

“Not here?” Carlton asked, watching as Shawn pulled his seat belt on before settling the toy in his lap.

Shawn scoffed. “I left a clue in my dad’s workplace that leads directly here. I wouldn’t be surprised if Henry already has eyes on us.”

Carlton chuckled as he pulled back out of the firing range. “Where to then?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you where to go.”

Following Shawn’s directions took them out of the city proper and towards the mountains. With every new road they turned onto, the traffic grew less and less until they were on a dirt path halfway up a mountain.

“Over here!” Shawn pointed to a wide shoulder that turned into a dusky rest stop that overlooked the valley below. It was empty except for them, a cinder block restroom, and a few picnic tables by the fenced-off ledge.

“Homey,” Carlton said, quirking an eyebrow at the destination. It was definitely hard for someone to spy on them — the dust from the dirt road would announce anyone coming up.

“I wanted privacy,” Shawn grinned before leaning over the middle console to give Carlton a quick peck of a kiss. “I’ve got a few surprises in store.”

“This still counts as a public area, Shawn.”

The omega rolled his eyes. “I know, you’re still a spoilsport. We can save the sexy fun for later. I guess,” he sighed as though waiting was a great burden he was willing to carry. He pointed Carlton over toward the picnic tables. “Pick a table while I go get the non-sexy fun stuff!”

He reached into his pocket to pull out a set of keys before heading toward the cinder block building, unlocking a utility door off to the side of the bathrooms.

Carlton decided it was best not to ask.

He looked over the tables and settled for the one closer to the fence though he kept his back to the cliff. He wanted to see if anyone came up and it was unlikely Henry would climb a sheer rock face or paraglide over them to catch them in the act. He could be over on another cliff or even mountain with a pair of binoculars to spy on them but even that felt like a stretch.

After a few moments, Shawn came back out of the utility room, two plastic bags in hand. Judging by the shape of one, it was a store-bought cake of some kind.

Carlton smiled as Shawn approached with a grin.

“Special private party for the birthday boy!” he announced, holding up the bags. Carlton spied a sparkly pompom sticking out of the second bag. At least they were the only ones here to see that…

Shawn set the cake down first and pushed the bag down. Turns out it wasn’t a cake but an arrangement of different cupcakes.

“Wasn’t sure which you would like,” Shawn shrugged, setting the second bag down to retrieve the pointy hat Carlton had spotted. To his relief, Shawn put it on his own head. “We really should have a ‘favorite cake, ice cream, pie, dinner, and breakfast’ conversation.”

“Well, you know I’m allergic to mint,” Carlton said, looking over the mixture of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla cupcakes. “Oh, is that Red Velvet?”

“Ah, a man of sophistication,” Shawn smiled, taking off the plastic lid from the tray. “Just as I suspected.” He handed Carlton the cupcake in question. “Happy Birthday, Carly.”

“Still not sure about that one,” Carlton said, admiring the perfect swirl of frosting for a moment before leaning over to press a kiss to Shawn’s cheek. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“Just getting started, Babe,” Shawn grinned. “Still got your gift and another little surprise waiting!”

Carlton felt a flush of warmth at that. It wasn’t that he never had parties or celebrated his birthday — as many problems as he had growing up, his parents always made birthdays a priority — but there was something to be said about a private celebration with someone who he hoped was in it for the long haul. Even with Victoria, who insisted on big formal dinners as a way of celebration, it wasn’t quite the same feeling.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Carlton said, pulling the paper of the cupcake down to get a better bite. “This is more than enough. Do you even have an income to be spending on cupcakes?”

Shawn shrugged, picking up a double chocolate cupcake. “I do some odd jobs now and then. Besides, if I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t have.” He took a bite of his cupcake, the chocolate frosting smearing across his lips. He continued with his mouth full: “You shood no dat bay nao.”

Carlton snorted and reached over to swipe of bit of frosting from the corner of Shawn’s mouth before licking it off his thumb.

For better or worse, Carlton did know.

“Thank you, Shawn,” he said before taking a bite of his own cupcake.

“Don’t mention it,” Shawn grinned. “Though I do get cupcakes out of this deal too.”

He then shoved the rest of the chocolate cupcake into his mouth. Carlton wrinkled his nose a bit but smiled indulgently. “Yeah, as long as there’s food involved, you’re there for it.”

“And you,” Shawn said after swallowing the massive bite of pastry. “And Gus but this is ‘Us Time’ which reminds me, we need to save him at least three cupcakes.”

Carlton rolled his eyes at that but smiled regardless. “I’m going to have to factor in Guster as well as you into my budget going forward, aren’t I?”

“We’re a package deal,” Shawn confirmed.

“I guess I can live with that,” Carlton faked a sigh before taking another bite of cupcake. “Though I do like the intimate birthday celebration, I just want it noted that I don’t mind a big party now and then.”

Shawn quirked an eyebrow as he took another cupcake — vanilla this time. “Is that a hint?”

Carlton shrugged, a twinge of pink rushing to his cheeks. “I don’t mind being celebrated. I quite like it, actually, but I particularly like celebrating my achievements. I plan to be the youngest Police Chief in Santa Barbara’s history, you know,” he said with a familiar flood of ambition and determination. “That I definitely want to have a big celebration for. And when I get promotions or win competitions… things like that.”

Shawn’s smile grew larger the longer Carlton spoke. “Aw, my big strong alpha wants to be celebrated.”

Carlton tried not to pout. That wasn’t too much to ask! Was it?

Shawn leaned forward a kissed him. “I promise I’ll do my best to throw you a parade. I already got a float idea too! A big paper machete statue of you arresting some guy in an orange jumpsuit.”

“You don’t have to tease…”

“I’m not!” Shawn actually did sound a bit scandalized at the accusation. “I mean it. I want the world — or at least Santa Barbara — to know when you do awesome stuff! Big over-the-top parties are so my thing! In case you haven’t noticed, I tend to be — ”

“Dramatic? Flamboyant?”

“Those work,” Shawn grinned before winking at Carlton. “And since we’re talking party preferences: I fully expect a monkey clown named Bonobo Bobo at my next birthday party. And a petting zoo and ice cream cake. In fact, don’t bother waiting for my birthday.”

“I can do maybe two of those,” Carlton said dryly even as he failed to hide a smile. “Now, I believe you promised me a surprise?”

“I did!” Shawn grinned, darting forward to steal a quick kiss. “That’s a freebie.”

He jumped off the table and hurried back to the utility room. He came back with another bag, canvas time though it did nothing to hide the round shape inside it.

“Okay,” Shawn reached into the bag before he even got close to the table, pulling out a small rectangular box. “One I know you’ll love, the other is going to be a bit hit-or-miss I think so we’re doing the 100% grade-A awesome gift first!”

“…Okay, but now that I know the second one is a ‘maybe’, I’m just going to…” Shawn shoved the small box into his hands. It was wrapped in dark blue paper with a single white bow on top. He turned it over in his hands and gave it a small shake. Something of weight clunked inside.

He quirked an eyebrow at Shawn who stood waiting with a grin.

Carlton opened the box and stared.

Inside was a shiny metal star — not silver but still metal done up with a silver finish — with the word ‘Sheriff’ written across the center, the letters darken to appear more antique.

It was far from a real sheriff’s badge but it was a quality prop all the same.

It was silly but very much in theme with the rest of his birthday so far.

He couldn’t help but grin at it.

“I don’t think people are going to fall for it,” he said, taking the badge out of the box to look it over properly.

“If I had my way, the only people going to see it are me and you.”

Carlton felt his cheeks flush and his cock stir in interest. Leave it to Shawn to get him a thoughtful gift that could also be used for sex games.

“You’re right, I do love it,” he admitted instead, pushing thoughts of playing ‘Sheriff’ with Shawn to the wayside for the moment. He glanced over at the bag still in Shawn’s hand and sighed. “I guess I’m ready for the risky gift.”

Shawn’s smile was a bit nervous. “Okay… I figure now is a good time as any to tell you and maybe also soften you up a bit.” He reached for the bag but paused. “Also, I love you very very much. Don’t be mad.”

He pulled out a motorcycle helmet.

Unlike the one still hiding in the trunk of his car, this one was a sleek black with a full-face visor. Not flashy, all practical.

And not like Shawn at all.

“…You didn’t like the helmet I got you?” He asked, bemused and slightly hurt at the prospect.

“I love the helmet you got me,” Shawn said. “This one is yours.”

His? The one reason he’d need a motorcycle helmet was to ride a motorcycle. Did Shawn want him to learn as well? He wasn’t opposed to it… but why would he be upset by that?

There was something else.

“Why?” Carlton asked after a moment, watching as Shawn grew more nervous.

“Well…” Shawn hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. The sour twinge of anxiety drifted off of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic card to hand to him.

A license.

Carlton blinked as he looked it over.

Not a driver’s license.

Carlton blinked again, his brows furrowing.

“I actually started learning in September,” Shawn said after a moment, the sour scent strengthening. “And I know I probably should have mentioned it earlier but you were so thoughtful and awesome and Gus never turns down lessons of any kind because he’s a nerd and learning how to ride would so give him a much needed popularity boost so it’s not like that course went to waste or anything and…”

Shawn already had his motorcycle license. It was only a week old so he had it for a while… or at least long enough to let him know sooner.

Carlton knew what Shawn wanted to do, had approved of it as much as he could approve of his mate leaving but…

He had thought they had time.

He had been imagining August: Six months from Shawn’s birthday, four months from him graduating.

How much time did they really have? If Shawn left when he originally planned…

He sat down on the edge of the picnic table, his knees trembling just slightly.

“C-Carlton?” Shawn asked, his voice uncharacteristically meek. “Say something…”

Carlton stared at the picture of Shawn smiling at the camera.

“…I thought we had more time,” he admitted softly, looking at the license. “You… I thought we had… had about five more months. Six months of supervised practice, the test, then…” He blinked up at Shawn. “Who was teaching you?”

Shawn nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “Um, my D— I mean, Henry knew a few guys in Highway Patrol. Apparently, one of them thought it’d be hilarious to teach Hardass Henry Spencer’s kid how to ride a bike. So, really, was very thoroughly trained up on the basics…”

That was something, at least.

Carlton looked back down at the license.

“I better not catch you in any car chases,” he joked though it sounded weak even to his own ears. “Or jumping anything.”

Shawn smiled hopefully.

“You’re not mad?”

Mad? No… he was worse than mad.

Carlton shook his head. He looked up and swallowed hard. “…And a bike? Do you… do you have one in mind? Saving up for one?”

The sheepish look Shawn gave him was answer enough.

Carlton groaned and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

There wasn’t enough time. They didn’t have enough time.

“You’re mad…” Shawn stated, the sour scent of stress turning sharp and bitter.

“I’m not mad,” Carlton denied. His hands moved from his eyes to grip at his hair, tugging it a bit to pull his thoughts together. When that didn’t work, he ran his hands down his face and stood up, walking toward the fence that overlooked the valley.

Shawn graduated at the end of May… what was that? A month and a half?

Two months, if he was lucky.

It’s not enough time…

“…I… I don’t have to leave.” The words were slow, hesitant, and painful to hear.

Carlton turned around, finger raised to emphasize his words: “Don’t you dare!”

Shawn stared at him, eyes wide and wetter than they had any right to be.

“Don’t you dare,” Carlton said after, walking back up to the omega. “I’m not going to be that kind of mate! I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on things! I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy or… or… the reason you give up on things! Because you think you have to! For me! I won’t allow it!”

Shawn continued to stare up at him.

Carlton reached forward, grabbing Shawn’s shoulders so he could look him in the eye.

“I want you to be happy, Shawn. I don’t want to hold you back or make your life miserable.” He took a deep, slow breath. “I… I’m disappointed,” he admitted, there was no point in denying it. “I was counting on those… those few extra months with you. But I just assumed I had those months. I didn’t ask what you had planned, what you’ve already done…”

“I didn’t exactly volunteer it either,” Shawn pointed out, smiling weakly. “And… a few more months wouldn’t be so bad…”

“No,” Carlton shook his head. “Don’t change plans for me, not if everything is already set…”

“What if I want to?”

A few extra months with Shawn… then having to say goodbye for who knows how long?

“Could you?” Carlton asked, his voice cracking a bit. “If you did stay longer, would you still be able to leave?”

Shawn frowned and didn’t answer.

Carlton nodded.

He pulled Shawn close, tucking his head under his chin, tangling his fingers in the too-long hair.

“We’ll… we’ll make these two months work,” he promised instead. “And I still want my damn postcards. Everywhere you go, I expect to get one. I want a whole set of photo albums of cheesy, crappy postcards.”

He felt Shawn’s hot breath as he laughed against his neck. “Only the cheesiest for you, Lassie. I’ll even write updates on them. I’ll even send letters and photographs and crappy souvenirs.”

“You damn well better,” Carlton laughed wetly, hugging Shawn tighter. “And you’re still getting a damn driver’s license. Just to be safe.”

“Sure, Babe,” Shawn laughed again before pulling back from Carlton’s arms, reaching up to wipe the wetness from his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… I already got a bike.”

Carlton shook his head. “Of course you do.”

Shawn smiled and turned back toward the cinder block building.

“How much stuff do you have in there?” Carlton asked as he reached up to wipe his own face. Then straightened his hair as best he could… and his tie. He hadn’t planned on crying on his birthday, after all.

“Almost got it all,” Shawn said, propping the door open before stepping inside.

After a moment, he rolled out a motorcycle, the words ‘Norton Commando’ written in gold over the black paint.

Carlton didn’t know much about motorcycles but he got the impression this was a good one… and an expensive one.

“Where’d you get the money for this?” he asked, unable to not admire the machine.

“CHiPs guy,” Shawn shrugged. “Gave me a pretty good discount on it. Said he knew I’d take care of it… also promised to tell him all about Henry’s reaction when he sees it.”

Carlton snorted, wondering how many other people Henry Spencer had ticked off and if he could get some of those benefits because of it.

Shawn threw his leg over the machine and picked up his helmet. He looked up at Carlton, giving him his best sultry look.

“Got my license which means I can have someone with me,” he gave Carlton a wink. “What to go for a ride, Babe?”

Carlton quirked an eyebrow. “Is this why you brought me all the way up this mountain?”

Shawn shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Carlton looked back over to the picnic table and the black helmet sitting there waiting for him. He really didn’t have any plans to die in a fiery motorcycle crash.

He sighed. He went over and picked up the helmet, putting it on.

“If I die, I’m haunting you,” he said, approaching the bike and, after a moment of consideration, swung his leg over to sit behind Shawn.

“Please,” Shawn scoffed, putting on his own helmet. “If we crash, we’ll both die. Then we can haunt this road together and have a tragic but scary urban legend about us.”

“I’d rather take ballet classes,” Carlton said, wrapping his arms around Shawn’s waist.

“That’d be sexy,” Shawn said, voice slightly muffled by the helmet. The motorcycle roared to life beneath them. “Oh, do you know what they call the backseat of a motorcycle?”

“We’re not moving yet,” Carlton warned, “I can still leave.”

“It’s called the bitch seat!” Carlton could hear Shawn’s grin as the motorcycle jerked into motion, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Notes:

Carlton's trying so hard to be a good mate. <3

Chapter 21: April 23, 1996

Summary:

Henry finally hits his limit.

Notes:

Shit has officially hit the fan.

Shawn knew a thing or two about pushing his luck.

Or at least he knew when his luck was at its limits and, by his estimate, he had a few good pushes left before luck gave out on him. By all rights, he was three shoves and a nudge away from pushing it.

So, really, coming home from school to find Henry waiting in the kitchen, a dozen photographs scattered across the kitchen table, all of him and his awesome motorcycle, was more than unexpected.

It was violating.

“You’ve been following me?” Shawn asked, dropping his backpack on the floor as he stared down at the closest picture. He was stopped at a red light, his silver helmet shining in the sunlight, oblivious to the violation of his privacy.

Henry sat in his chair, arms crossed and his ‘I’m a cop so get to talking, Scumbag’ expression firmly in place.

“Stevie Hendrix said he saw you on a motorcycle a few days ago,” Henry shrugged. “So I looked into it.”

“Oh, just because your old partner thought he saw me — ”

“He obviously did see you,” Henry stopped him, waving at the mountain of evidence spread out on the table. “That’s strike one. The fact you didn’t tell me about you getting one of those death machines is strike two. You narrowly missed getting a third strike because thank God you’re not suicidal enough to be doing this shit without a proper license.”

Shawn crossed his arms and glared back. “I’m 19, I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You might be legally an adult now but you live under my roof,” Henry scowled. “And I’ve let you get away with a lot of shit, Shawn, but things that actively endanger your life are things I need to know about!”

“What, so you can throw your weight around? Try and stop me from living my own damn life?” Shawn reached over and started grabbing up the photos. As far as he was concerned, if he was in them then they belonged to him! Besides, there might be a cool shot in there. “Because that worked so well with Mom, didn’t it? I’m out of here.”

“Shawn!” Henry barked, standing up so fast that the chair screeched across the floor under him. “I’m not done talking to you!”

“I’m done talking to you!” Shawn snapped back, shoving the pictures into his backpack. He swung the bag over his shoulder and started toward the stairs.

“I found your roadmap, Shawn!”

Shawn froze at the bottom stair and looked back at him. “Oh, why am I not surprised you’re going through my room too!”

“Apparently I need to!” Henry huffed. “Especially if you’re planning on running away after school! Does Lassiter know about that little plan? Or were you just going to leave a note: ‘Fucking off on a cross-country road trip! See ya Later!’”

“Don’t you bring Carlton into this like you give a damn!” Shawn yelled, stepping off the stairs to approach his father. “Besides, he knows! And he approves!”

“Bullshit!” Henry snapped. “He’d better not be dumb enough to let his teenage mate run off by himself to God knows where!”

“Or maybe he’s not a controlling asshole knothead like you!” Shawn moved around his father, marching toward the door he’d just entered.

“Don’t you go out that door!” Henry said, following close behind.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Shawn yelled back, throwing the door open and all but running down the steps.

“Get back here, Shawn!”

“Get bent!”

His bike was still at Mr. CHiPs’s house — a precaution to try and stop Henry from finding out about it. What good that did! It was a short bus ride away. He could get it and go to Carlton’s or Gus’s place and cool off…

Or he could save time and just go straight there. Henry might know where he was keeping the bike but he wouldn’t go after it, not when it was in the possession of another law enforcement officer.

So… just straight to safety then.

 

“Book ‘em,” Carlton said, straightening his tie as the uniformed officer pulled the suspect to his feet to cuff him.

From the two-way mirror, he heard his spectators applauding. It was his first solo interrogation and he had, as Shawn would say, nailed it. He had the suspect dead to rights and every twist and turn he’d tried to pull Carlton was already there with evidence, proof, motive, witness statements, and good old deduction.

He stepped out of the interrogation room and was met with a clap on the shoulder.

“Good job, Lassiter,” Adrian Reid, his senior partner, congratulated him, a wide smile on his wrinkled face. He was one of the older detectives still on the force who gleefully talked about his upcoming early retirement. He’d requested he get Carlton specifically when he’d passed the Detective’s Exam — wanting to impart some final wisdom onto the latest generation.

“It felt good,” Carlton grinned back at the man. “In fact, I think I should take lead from now on.”

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Reid chuckled, leading him back up to the bullpen. “You don’t even have driving privileges yet.”

“Speaking of…”

“You’ll drive my car when I turn in my badge.”

Which was the answer Carlton expected but he still grinned at the older detective. “Oh, I’m sure I can…” he trailed off.

An off-duty Henry Spencer was storming into the precinct, rage in his eyes as he narrowed in on Carlton.

Oh, what now?

“What’s Spencer doing here?” Reid muttered, watching as Henry headed their way. “Looks like he’s got your number.” He smirked over at Carlton. “What? He catch you frisking his kid or something?”

He broke his gaze away from Henry to give Reid his best unimpressed look. Most of the mating remarks had died down but there was always a joke ready to be made at his expense when the opportunity arose.

“Very funny,” he looked back over to the approaching father of his mate and returned the glare he was giving him. “I can handle him.”

“Sure you can,” Reid slapped his shoulder again. “Just scream if he shoots you,” he laughed before heading over to his desk.

With the way Henry was looking, that might be a legitimate concern.

“Henry,” Carlton greeted once the man was close enough. “I thought you had today off —”

“Interrogation room,” Henry said, barely stopping as he went past Carlton, heading toward the rooms in question. “Now.”

Carlton glanced over at his partner’s desk, meeting his questioning gaze with one of his own. He nodded his head toward Henry’s back before following him.

Interview room A was still occupied by the perp Carlton had ruthlessly questioned and broke so he found himself pulled into the second room.

This feels familiar… Carlton thought as he stepped inside.

Unlike the last time Henry had pulled him in here for an impromptu questioning, he stayed standing. No, not just standing — he was pacing. Which meant he was probably agitated.

Not a great sign.

Carlton leaned against the back wall, giving the mirror a quick glance but couldn’t tell if anyone was on the other side or not. He looked back to Henry.

“Is it Shawn?” he asked, a bit warily. He’d hope if Shawn was in trouble, Henry would just outright tell him instead of playing these games. “Is he — ”

“Did you know?” Henry demanded, whipping around on him.

That was a very loaded question with a lot of possible answers he wasn’t sure he wanted Henry to know.

“…About what?”

“Oh, let’s see!” Henry glowered at him. “How about the fact that he’s gotten himself a motorcycle? That’s he’s been having that asshole Llewellyn from the state patrol teaching him to fucking ride behind my back?” Spencer became more and more animated as every word seemed to piss him off more. “Or how about the fact he’s been planning to run away for the last year?” He jabbed a finger at Carlton. “And that you weren’t already well aware of all of this! Or that you’re encouraging him!”

Carlton listened as the older alpha yelled, fighting back his own instincts to yell back, to defend himself and his mate and their decisions.

Finally, he nodded. “That about covers it, yeah.”

If Henry was angry before, he was furious now. His face flushed darker and Carlton was sure he spied a vein start throbbing in his forehead.

“Is this a fucking game to you?” Henry snapped, stalking closer. “Or was this the goal all along? Let Shawn burn himself out so you can swoop in? Make sure he can only rely on you so he has nowhere else to — ”

Carlton didn’t let him finish that thought.

“Hey!” Carlton marched forward, meeting Henry at the table that had been keeping them apart. He slammed his hand down, earning a satisfying bang. “I’ve done my damnest to keep Shawn safe! I kept my distance when I could and stepped up to be there for him when I couldn’t! I let Shawn dig out a space for himself in my heart and I don’t want him to fucking go either! But I refuse to be the reason he wakes up in twenty years and regrets our lives together! If he wants to go explore the world, to go live his life the way he wants, I’ll be damned before I try to stop him! If you loved him as much as you claim, you’d be doing the same!”

“Are you trying to say I don’t love my son?” Henry asked, his teeth bared. He approached the table, his eyes locked on Carlton’s. “What would you know about taking care of Shawn? You got a whiff of him one night and think he’s yours? He was barely over 18!”

“That is not what happened and you know it!” Carlton growled back.

They moved closer to the edge of the table — the only thing keeping them apart at the moment. Somewhere, deep in the back of Carlton’s mind where his rationality had been shoved back, he saw what was happening, where they were heading, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop.

The part of his brain that was more animal than man was screaming in his veins, beating against his skull.

His mate was in trouble. This alpha wanted to keep them apart.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Isn’t it though?!” Henry demanded. “They had to drag you kicking and screaming away from him.”

The animal remembered that too, that this other alpha had taken his mate away from him before. What was to stop him from doing it again? He wanted to keep them apart… he couldn’t let that happen…

Carlton gritted his teeth and clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into the fleshy part of his palms. The pain helped to push past the panicking animal brain, forcing sense and reason to the forefront.

Henry wasn’t taking Shawn away from him — he can’t. He was just trying to protect Shawn and doing a piss-poor job of it. He was angry and trying to get a rise out of —

Henry made it around the table and the animal in Carlton’s brain roared.

 

“That’s the last time I’m riding a bus,” Shawn muttered to himself as he scanned the hallways leading up to the bullpen. He’d seen Henry’s truck in the parking lot, the alpha not having to wait at an overly crowded bench for a smelly bus to pick him up, and then everyone else between here and there and everywhere.

But that was fine. It didn’t matter if his father was already here or not because he knew who else was here.

Carlton.

And it was the Carlton part that mattered.

Still, he’d rather avoid Henry if at all possible, at least until he’d found his mate.

So far, it looked like that was going to be an easy task: the usually bustling hallway was mostly empty. The bullpen wasn’t much better. Out of the dozen or so desks, only one was occupied but even he was looking off toward…

Toward the interrogation rooms.

And now that he was paying attention… that was not only yelling he heard but two very familiar voices.

“Uh-oh…”

The door to the observation room was open with most of the bullpen’s residents hanging around the door, peering in to get a glimpse through the two-way mirror. With the light from the hallway spilling in, Shawn doubted the mirror was doing its job but, by the sound of the voices, it didn’t matter.

Still, the observation room probably had the best view in the house and, all things considered, he deserved that view.

“Excuse me!” Shawn shouldered his way through the small crowd. “Make way. The omega being fought over coming through!”

The officers didn’t fight to keep him back, a few clearing the way to the observation room for him but the ones in front of the actual interrogation room door didn’t budge; no one wanted an omega to try and get between two pissed off alphas, especially if it’d only make them both angrier.

Shawn squirmed his way into the — surprisingly mostly empty — observation room. The only officers inside were Reid, Carlton’s senior partner, and Fenich who looked like he had swallowed a particularly large and sour lemon. His arms were crossed as he glared through the mirror.

Which was pretty weird. Why hadn’t he stopped them yet?

The two older alphas glanced over as he made his way in.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Shawnie,” Fenich said, turning his gaze back to the mirror as Carlton slammed his hand against the table, drawing all their attention.

Shawn watched as Carlton verbally tore into Henry, vowing he wanted Shawn happy and how they were going to be together forever and Henry can go suck it. Or at least that’s how Shawn’s heart heard it given how it was fluttering wildly all around his ribcage.

Even Henry’s butchering of their first, very short, meeting did nothing to stop the surge of warmth and happiness gushing through him.

Damn right his mate loved him. Damn right it was more than stupid hormones and — and that was the sound of a punch.

Shawn blinked, as the two alphas fell onto each other fists up and swinging.

“Damn it!” Fenich hissed, pushing past Shawn to get to the interrogation room… where there was now a full-on brawl going on.

“Stay here, Shawn,” Reid instructed, following the chief into the hall. Shawn looked through the mirror to see a few officers pulling his mate and his father apart. Henry had a split lip and the area around his right eye was already looking red. Carlton, on the other hand, had a river of blood pouring from his suddenly bent nose.

Shawn did not, in fact, stay there.

“That’s enough!” Fenich yelled as he stormed into the room. “I don’t care what bullshit you two have going on but it’s a private matter.” He gestured to the room at large. “This is not private! I’ve tried to let you two work this out but you will not bring this shit into my department! Am I understood?!”

Neither spoke up but Carlton gave him a jerking nod.

“As of this moment, you’re both on administrative leave until I see fit to let you two fucks back into my precinct. Spencer, to my office. Lassiter, go to the ER and get your nose straightened out.”

“I can take him!” Shawn ducked under the arm of the officer who was doing a very bad job of guarding the door.

“Shawn,” Henry instantly growled, locking eyes on his son. “Go home. Now. You’re grounded until — !”

Like hell was he going to let Henry finish that sentence.

“No!” The word was hard and final and Shawn felt quite a bit of pleasure in saying it. So he said it again. “No.” And for added flourish; “I’m not. I’m not going home and I’m sure as hell not ‘grounded’!”

“Shawn…” Fenich sighed, “I don’t think now’s a good time.”

“I think it’s the best time!” Shawn disagreed, glaring back at his father. “I’m 19. I’m an adult and I don’t have to do anything he says.”

Carlton stepped toward him, one hand pinching his nose closed to stop the bleeding. “Shaawwn,” he said, his voice distorted by quite a few things but probably the pinched nose more than anything. “I appwechiate wat youwe twying to — ”

“I want to move in with you,” Shawn announced, putting a stop to any cajoling or caroling that might be about to happen. This was no time for singing… okay, maybe it could be but he doubted anyone in the room was going to join in if he started. He pointed at Henry. “Because the next words out of his mouth are going to be how I live in his house so I have to live by his rules. So I’m popping that balloon right now! If you say no, I’ll ask Gus he’d totally let me sleep in his closet or something if his parents say no, which they won’t because they love me, but I know you love me too and we should totally move in together and not just because it’d piss him off.”

Carlton blinked at Shawn in surprise but the omega could see the gears turning behind his mate’s blue blue eyes. He knew he was right, that Henry would use that card to keep Shawn with him and, yeah, maybe Henry wouldn’t physically hurt Shawn but today proved he wasn’t being as rational as he had been in the past…

If what happened in the past could be considered rational.

“Sheawn…” Carlton started, his brows furrowed. “Awe you suwe…?”

Henry, who had been scowling at Shawn, looked over to snarl at Carlton. The officers readjusted their grip on his arms.

“Don’t you fuc — ”

“I’m sure,” Shawn spoke up over his father.

Carlton glanced over at the angry alpha, at the grip the two other officers had on him. “Lassiter…” he started to growl a warning.

Shawn wanted to tell his father to shut up, that he’s done enough talking to last him a lifetime but he didn’t want to break whatever thoughts were going on in Carlton’s head. He trusted the tall, pale man — Hell, he loved the nerdy beanpole! — and he knew Carlton wouldn’t leave him hanging like this.

Right?

He tried to keep his features confident but he could feel the small twinge of ‘but what if…’ in the back of his mind. Carlton’s sky-blue eyes drifted back to him and Shawn felt him peer right into his soul. That bit of doubt was rightfully banished from this plane of existence as his mate gave him a small smile that was both disbelieving and more than a little bit excited as he said:

“Of couwse you can.”

Notes:

I feel like Henry's a bit out of character now but also, he's going through some things.

But yay! Shawn's moving in!

Chapter 22: May 1, 1996

Summary:

Carlton returns to work and Shawn gets a phone call.

Notes:

Bit of a filler chapter

Also: Happy Birthday Carlton Lassiter!

“It’s not that bad.”

When Carlton had agreed to let Shawn move in — after the very minor concussion had healed up — he’d thought it would be a lot harder to actually accomplish. He imagined Henry Spencer getting in the way, refusing to cooperate, trying every trick in the book to get Shawn to stay.

To both his and Shawn’s surprise, that didn’t happen.

They had gone to Shawn’s house after the fight to find a few of Shawn’s suitcases packed and waiting on the porch. There was even a note telling Shawn to get whatever he needed and to keep his key for ‘when he needed it’.

Henry hadn’t been there.

No more fights, no arguing… no sign of the other alpha.

Shawn was happy if not ecstatic.

Carlton remained suspicious.

The week had been nice, reminiscent of Shawn’s heat week though without the sex, to both of their disappointment. Carlton never realized how much he liked to kiss and nuzzle in general until the very action sent brutal shockwaves of pain through his head if his nose was so much as looked at too hard.

And that was with the splint on!

And now that it was off… both his eyes were black and bruised, his nose still on the swollen side and… and the bridge of his nose was slightly crooked in a way that wasn’t before.

“It’s a bit sexy really,” Shawn was saying, looking his now bandage-free face over once again. The splint lines had faded overnight so there was nothing to distract from the full effect. “Like you’re dangerous because you’re willing to take a punch to the face so people better watch out!”

“I don’t think taking a punch is the dangerous part,” Carlton mused, his voice still slightly nasally. “Throwing a punch should be the impressive part.”

“You know what I mean,” Shawn rolled his eyes with a smile before — carefully! — kissing Carlton’s cheek. “You ready to go back to work?”

“Shawn,” Carlton looked him in the eyes. “I love you with all my heart but I’ve been bored to the point of tears all week. I know I’m going to be on desk duty for the next week or three and I’m excited about it.”

Shawn snorted, reaching up to straighten Carlton’s tie though it didn’t need it. “Come off it, Nerd. You love paperwork.”

“I love my own paperwork,” Carlton corrected. “This is just filling out other people’s reports and forms. It’s tedious and reminds me of what I could be doing. And I’m still ready for it.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t like Mario Bros,” Shawn tutted, “or Donkey Kong. Or even Yoshi! You play as a tiny dinosaur and eat enemies, Carly! And poop them out as eggs! That you then throw to kill more enemies! I thought for sure you’d love that!”

“Tell me when they make a cop game,” Carlton started to chuckle then winced as his nose protested. “Or a western. I might give it a shot then.”

“I’m holding you to that!” Shawn grinned up at him.

Yes, the last week had been pleasant enough but it was time to go back to work which meant the odds of running into Henry Spencer was at an all-time high.

After he dropped Shawn off at school — a thing he still didn’t like to think about but took comfort in that Shawn was just a few weeks from graduating — he returned to the precinct.

Walking through the hallways, he couldn’t help but notice the smirks were back; the smirks that told they knew of Carlton’s relationship hurdles and they were amusing. It took more self-control than he wanted to admit to not snap at Dobson, the newest rookie in the department, when he commented on his ‘nice twin shiners’.

But he made it through the gauntlet that was the bullpen, avoiding the more mean-spirited looks as he sat down at his desk with a small sigh of relief at the, quite frankly, impressive stack of paperwork waiting for him. He was back at work and, as painful as paperwork could be, it was a necessary evil in the pursuit of justice.

Even if it gave him carpel tunnel… and a sore back.

He pulled down the first stapled packet of paperwork, ready to be transcribed onto the computer. He set it down by the keyboard and started up the computer. The large box screen flickered on.

Carlton took a deep sigh and stood back up.

He couldn’t do this. Not right now.

He looked across the bullpen toward Spencer’s empty desk. He hadn’t seen him when he came in but he’d guessed the older Alpha had come in earlier as was his habit. Besides, he didn’t have a broken nose or a mate— or someone else to take into consideration.

By all rights, Spencer should be here. And since no one had warned him to stay away from the other alpha, it stood to reason he wasn’t there to stay away from.

He didn’t like where they had left things the week before. He had wanted to have a talk with the other man, preferably one that didn’t end up in fisticuffs. He wanted the record set straight and he wanted boundaries put in place.

Because Shawn had come to him for protection and, damn it, he was going to protect him.

And while having one of the obstacles to that protection being absent should have been a good thing, it left him on edge.

He’d rather know where Henry was.

After a glance at the computer confirmed that it was only just starting to boot up, he walked over to Fenich’s office and knocked.

“Ah, Carlton,” Fenich said, leaning back in his chair with a small smile. “I trust you haven’t forgotten where your desk is. It’s the one with all the paper on it.”

Carlton returned the smile though he didn’t find the joke as amusing. “I found it alright. I, uh, I didn’t find Spencer, though.”

“Unfinished business?” Fenich asked, his smile sharper now.

“Not of that kind,” Carlton assured him. “But he’s been avoiding me which is understandable, but he’s also avoiding Shawn which is concerning…”

Chief Fenich nodded thoughtfully. “He requested a few additional days off,” he said, “and I thought it would be a good idea.”

“Oh,” Carlton frowned. There were plenty of things he admired — or at least used to admire — about Detective Spencer and his dedication to the job was one of them. If he was taking a break it meant he was taking it harder than he’d thought.

“Look,” Fenich stood up and walked around to sit at the edge of his desk across from Carlton. “That stunt you two pulled? I’m not going to tolerate that bullshit. You’re both valuable detectives to this department and to the City of Santa Barbara. The only reason you got off as lightly as you did — and believe me, this last week was a slap on the wrist! — is because you’re both alphas trying to protect an omega you’re both very close to. But that’s the only warning either of you are going to get.

“So if Henry needs a bit more time to cool off then so be it. I’d ask if you need time as well but I know you’d deny it. Hell, you’d refuse medical leave even if you got your head chopped off.”

“I don’t need more time,” Carlton confirmed, feeling a swell of pride at that. He knew that wasn’t what the chief was going for so he tried to keep from smiling too much.

Fenich snorted and slapped Carlton on the arm. “Spencer will be back in a few days. You have paperwork to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few more days. Carlton could wait a few more days. Hopefully, Spencer would be rational again and just go back to glaring at him across the bullpen instead of breaking the bones in his face.

As Carlton sat back down at his desk, the computer now finished its long booting-up process, his brain helpfully suggested that Henry could be working on some trap for them. Maybe dose Carlton with some kind of drug so he can ship him off to Kalamazoo. Or ship Shawn off to Kalamazoo.

With a small smile at the absurd notion — He’d like to see Spencer try — he got started on the paperwork.

 

“I am so the coolest kid in school now,” Shawn stated, unlocking the three locks to Carlton — and his! — apartment. He opened the door and quickly turned the corner to type in the security code as Gus walked past him. “I’ve moved out into my hot older mate’s apartment. How could I get any cooler than that?”

“Actually have your own apartment and not mooch off your mate?” Gus suggested, dropping his backpack by the door before going over to the couch and flopping down. “Because the only reason having your own place is cool is because you can throw parties. You see Lassie letting you throw a banger in here?”

“He might!” Shawn insisted, dropping his bag beside Gus’s.

Gus gave him a look.

“Maybe a small one,” Shawn conceded with a pout. “Okay, a lame one.”

Gus smirked in victory as he reached for one of the Super Nintendo controllers. “Think we can get a few rounds of Mortal Kombat in before Lassie kicks me out?”

Shawn jumped over the back of the couch in the way Carlton hated and landed beside Gus, already reaching for the other controller. “Prepare your ass to be kicked!”

The phone beside the couch began to ring. The two teenagers looked at it for a moment before looking back at the screen.

“Let the machine get it,” Shawn said, moving the cursor toward Scorpion, trying to click him before Gus. “It’s for Carlton anyway.”

The phone rang a few more times before the answering machine beeped and Carlton’s voice spoke over the sound of battle music.

“Detective,” Carlton had put emphasis on that part, “Carlton Lassiter’s residence. No, I will not buy whatever crap you’re selling. If this is actually important, leave a message.”

“COME HERE!” Shawn yelled, imitating Scorpion as he tried to impale Gus to drag him across the screen but his character easily jumped over the harpoon. “Tch!”

“Hello, Detective Lassiter,” a very familiar voice greeted. Shawn froze for half a second before dropping his controller and launching himself toward the phone. His feet kicked at the coffee table in front of the couch, sending an empty mug and a few books clattering to the floor as Gus shouted in protest. “I’m Madeleine, Shawn’s mo— ”

Shawn snatched up the receiver. “Mom!”

There was a brief pause before: “Hello, Goose,” his mother said and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Shawn sank down into the couch cushions, everything else forgotten for the moment. “Hey, Mom,” he said, letting out a breath. “What’s going? How’d you get Lassie’s number?”

“I have my ways,” she said, then, after a moment of hesitation: “I talked to your father a few days ago.”

A few days ago? Shawn tried not to feel hurt.

“Oh… that right?”

He sat back on the couch and saw Gus looking at him from the corner of his eye. He didn’t look back.

“He called me,” she explained. “Apparently a lot has been going on the last month.”

To say the least. Over the last few months, since he met Carlton anyway, his mother only managed to call a few times. Carlton had been one of the first subjects he’d brought up the first time she called after their meeting. She’d been happy for him if concerned like everyone else was overly concerned about nothing. She and Carlton had yet to talk but each knew of the other’s existence.

“You could say that,” Shawn said, trying to sound cool and unaffected because he was so not affected. “Why, uh, why are you calling now? If you talked to Henry a few days ago… why not call then…?”

“I wanted to give you a bit more space,” she said. “But Henry wanted me to know what happened… I know you don’t want to hear it, but he is taking it hard.”

Shawn snorted.

Gus shot him a look before turning back to the game and began kicking an inactive Scorpion’s ass.

Traitor.

“But enough of that,” Maddie said after a moment. “You’re a few weeks from graduating! That’s exciting.”

Okay, this he could handle.

“Definitely! Freedom!”

“I’m so proud of you, Goose,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “And I have some news as well. I’m finally settled enough that I can take a few weeks off to come visit! I was hoping to come to your graduation, if I’m still invited.”

“Of course, you’re invited!” Shawn protested, offended by the thought. But if she was coming… “Oh! You finally get to meet my Carly-bear!”

Shawn watched as his Scorpion got his body ripped in half as Gus continued to take advantage of the situation. Luckily, he dropped his controller and picked up Shawn’s to move to single-player.

“Oh, we can get tacos on the pier! That’s our favorite spot so it’ll be extra special. I can show you my bike because I know Henry probably complained about that but it’s so cool!”

“I look forward to all of that,” she laughed.

The phone call lasted another half-hour as Shawn watched Gus play his Super Nintendo as his mother caught him up on everything.

“I have to go now, Goose,” his mother finally announced. “I have some work to finish up. I’ll call you a few days before I get there, okay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Okay,” she said. “And Shawn? I know you and your father have your disagreements but he does love you.”

Shawn’s mood faded at the words. “Yeah, sure he does.”

“He does,” she insisted. “And I love you too. So much. Never forget that.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Shawn said. His mom, Gus, and now Carlton were probably the only people in the world he had no problem saying those words to… and probably Curt Smith, if he ever met him. He would pledge his undying love from the rooftops if that man was anywhere within earshot.

“Bye, Mrs. Spencer!” Gus said loudly before either of them could hang up.

Shawn heard her chuckle before the dial tone took over the call.

Shawn slowly set the phone back in the cradle.

“Mom’s coming for graduation,” he informed him with a frown, not bothering to reach for his controller.

“That’s good,” Gus enthused for him but only for a moment. “That’s good, right?”

“No, it’s great!” Shawn insisted, though his face still looked just on the edge of scared.

“…But?”

Shawn looked up at Gus, eyes wide. “What if she doesn’t like Carlton? I mean, I understand Henry being a jerkass but what if Mom doesn’t like him? But that’s impossible, right? No one can dislike Carlton… okay, it’s very possible but it’s impossible Mom wouldn’t like him. He’s smart and interesting and protective and— ”

“Breathe, Shawn!”

Shawn sucked in a deep gasping breath.

“Why are you worrying about this now?” Gus said, forcing the controller into Shawn’s hands. “You’ve been seeing him for months.”

“But Mom hadn’t actually met him yet!” Shawn turned his gaze to the TV and started pressing buttons for the sake of it. None of his punches or kicks hit. “And Carlton… he knows Mom’s a psychologist but he also avoids the department shrink like the plague. Oh, Mom’s totally going to analyze him!”

Gus nodded in agreement on that.

“Okay, I’m just going to have to coach him,” Shawn vowed, looking but not looking at the screen, oblivious to Gus’s renewed assault on Scorpion. “We got a few weeks. I can hide anything red flaggy. Or make them look more mauve or something. Mauve is considered red, right?”

The TV shouted: FATALITY!

Notes:

That ending was a bit more ominous than I intended...

Chapter 23: May 15, 1996

Summary:

Carlton meets Madeleine

Madeleine Spencer was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and Shawn’s hazel eyes.

Carlton had seen pictures of her before, of course he had, but her physical presence held a gravity he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was the mother of his mate or if it was just something intrinsically her.

He hoped he’d never ended up in one of her psych evaluations.

Carlton held up the paper sign with the name ‘Madeleine Spencer’ scribbled across in sharpie but he’d needn’t have bothered: Shawn’s excited bouncing beside him was hard to miss.

She smiled as she approached, her eyes only flickering Carlton’s way for a moment before focusing in on her son. As soon as she was close enough, Shawn launched himself at her, wrapping her in a big hug that was returned.

“Oh, look at you, Goose!” she cooed, taking a step back to look her son over. Carlton didn’t know how long it had been since mother and son had last seen each other but he hoped it wasn’t so long that Shawn had grown noticeably older. “So handsome.”

“I’m going to make someone very happy one day,” Shawn preened at the self-bestowed compliment. He reached over and grabbed Carlton’s hand. “In fact, I already got one picked out! Carlton, this is Mom.”

“Madeleine,” she greeted, accepting Carlton’s handshake.

“Carlton Lassiter.”

“Shawn’s told me so much about you,” she said as Shawn took her luggage and gave it to Carlton, who took it with only a small roll of his eyes.

“And you,” he acknowledged, leading the way to the car. “Shawn’s very much a Mama’s boy.”

There was no point in arguing the fact: given Shawn’s opinions on his parents, Madeleine won hands down.

“I just wish I could have visited sooner,” Madeleine said, following Carlton as Shawn continued to cling to his mother. “I hope I can do it more often now that I’ve settled.”

“Of course you can!” Shawn interjected, an arm wrapped around his mother’s waist to keep her close. “We’ll totally have a room and stuff waiting for you!”

Considering the fact that Madeleine already assured them she’d gotten a hotel room booked so as not to disturb them and the fact that Shawn didn’t plan to be anywhere near Santa Barbara in a few months, it seemed like a big promise, even for Shawn, to make.

“Can we stop for brunch?” Madeleine asked as Carlton led the two Spencers to his car.

“Didn’t eat on the plane?” Carlton asked, opening the trunk.

“I hate eating on planes,” Madeleine explained with a small smile. “But I also wanted to get a head start on catching up with Goose and yourself. I find a good meal and coffee is always a nice ice breaker.”

“Oh, we can go to Patty’s Diner! They have pineapple waffles!”

Carlton sighed softly: he had the day off work but it was always crowded around the airport and Patty’s was on a busy street.

There was nothing more headache-inducing than traffic.

Maybe he could get away with using the sirens — they’d finally given him one for his personal vehicle… Shawn would approve though he suspected Madeleine wouldn’t.

“Sure,” he finally said. “I could use some coffee.”

 

In most cases, Carlton appreciated it when people skipped over the bullshit and cut right to the quick of it: He just wished Madeleine had waited until after they ate to say:

“I spoke to Henry.”

Shawn, in the process of making a crawling worm with the paper straw wrapper, froze and looked up with wide, vaguely hurt, eyes.

“What? Why?”

“We still talk, Goose,” Madeleine informed him, reaching over to pat his hand. “I want to know what’s going on in your lives.”

Shawn scoffed but didn’t pull his hand away. “He’s just mad that he lost.”

“It’s not a game,” Madeleine said, looking between the two of them. “And before you worry, I’m not taking sides.”

Shawn scoffed again and slumped down in the booth beside Carlton. “I’m not going back.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.”

“He can’t make me,” Shawn continued.

“No one is going to.”

Shawn looked over to Carlton and Carlton took his hand. “If Shawn doesn’t want to go back or even talk to Henry, I’m not going to make him.”

“Good,” Madeleine said, a small genuine smile gracing her face for just a moment before she turned serious again.

Carlton took a deep, hopefully inconspicuous, breath. This is why he hated psychologists: they can’t help but meddle and poke and prod and think about feelings one doesn’t want to think about.

“He called me a day or so after your big fight,” Madeleine started again. “Told me what happened…”

“That I ran away from home?” Shawn snarked, glowering down at the table. “That I’m out of control and running around plotting how to make him miserable or something?”

“That you got a motorcycle behind his back,” she supplied, still smiling. “But also that you got a license for it and was taught by a professional that he just happens to dislike…”

That, at least, brought a smirk to Shawn’s face… and Carlton’s.

“…also that he doesn’t know what to do,” she said, stirring a packet of sugar into her coffee.

“I don’t see how that’s our problem,” Shawn said, slouching further still. Carlton was sure that, if he wanted, he could slip under the table with little trouble.

“Spencer’s a grown man,” Carlton said, gently tugging Shawn back up before he lost him to the table. “He’s fully capable of making his own choices. As is Shawn.”

“I fully agree,” Madeleine didn’t argue. It made Carlton’s eye want to twitch. “But that is what we spoke about… and I gave my opinion both as Shawn’s mother and as a mental health expert. And know that I’m telling you this with his permission.”

“Bet he fucking loves that,” Shawn muttered. “Giving ‘permission’.”

“Shawn,” Madeleine scolded slightly. Shawn huffed but didn’t say more. “Given the circumstances and what I’ve been told… if he’s done what he’s promised to do… then he should have started taking anxiety medication a few weeks ago.”

Carlton glanced over to Shawn and knew the incredulous look on his face matched his own.

They started laughing.

“Oh, please! Henry Spencer is the least anxious person on the planet!”

Madeleine waited as they laughed, an unimpressed twist to her mouth being the only giveaway of her disapproval. Finally, Carlton sighed loudly, rubbing tears from his eyes as Shawn’s laughter faded away to giggles.

The waitress brought their food over, a look of weirded-out concern on her face as she put Madeleine’s pancakes, Shawn’s waffles, and Carlton’s eggs on the table.

Madeleine calmly twisted her plate around the way she wanted and added butter and syrup.

“It’s called ‘Lost Pack Syndrome’,” she said, cutting into the first pancake, looking up through her lashes as they started eating. “It’s an anxiety disorder with a focus on the fear of losing one’s pack.”

“I’d never have guessed,” Shawn rolled his eyes, stabbing at a chunk of pineapple. “If he’s losing his pack, it’s his own fault.”

Carlton watched as Madeleine nodded. “Our actions have consequences regardless of the reasons why we did them.”

“So is that what you wanted to tell us?” Carlton asked, savagely cutting his sausages into pieces. “That Spencer’s only been acting like an ass because he’s so afraid of losing Shawn?”

“And me,” Madeleine added softly. “He lost both a mate and then his child… But yes, he’s been an ass.”

“Well, like you said,” Carlton grimaced. “Consequences.” He shoved a bite of sausage in his mouth and chewed viciously. “You know, he hasn’t even been to work since it happened? I was going to be the bigger man and talk about it but he can’t even grace the department with his presence anymore.”

Madeleine nodded. “He’s on leave until he adjusts to the medicine.”

“Medicine Shemedicine,” Shawn said before taking a big bite of his waffles. “Hesh uh deck.”

“Shawn, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Madeleine said, “but yes, I agree with that as well…”

“…But?” Carlton supplied. He had a suspicion of where this was going and he hoped, for once, he wasn’t right.

“…If you’re amenable to it,” Madeleine started, “I’d like for us all to sit down to dinner tonight and discuss— ”

“No,” Shawn stated, his expression sour. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Then you don’t have to,” Madeleine reassured him, reaching over to pat his hand.

Shawn’s expression lightened a bit. “Really?”

“Really,” his mother assured him. “You’re a grown man now, Shawn. You’re fully capable of making your own choices.”

Shawn nodded. “Yeah. Good. Okay.”

Carlton stabbed a bit of sausage into the yolk of his fried eggs to hide a scowl.

He really didn’t like psychiatrists.

 

Carlton watched the entrance to the hotel with a vigilance he’d been perfecting for years: he had to be ready for his first real stakeout after all…

Though he’d imagined his first stakeout to be more official than this. Keeping tabs on your mate’s family was usually frowned upon, as he well knew having been the subject of Henry Spencer’s own stakeouts.

But this was different.

Shawn loved his mother — completely, utterly, and without conditions.

And she was lying to him.

Or at least, Carlton suspected she was.

After their breakfast at the diner, they’d driven Madeleine to her hotel and lingered to make plans. She didn’t hide the fact that she was going to see Henry — to check in on him. Shawn hadn’t liked it, not one single ounce of a bit, but was mollified when his mother promised him dinner tomorrow night and a trip to the beach come the weekend.

Carlton had rounded up Gus for an impromptu movie night to cheer his mate up… and to keep him distracted as Carlton went to get some Chinese food for dinner. Hopefully, his mate was too focused on the movies to notice his errand had already taken three hours.

The last thing he needed was to see Shawn sneaking up the sidewalk and joining him.

He didn’t want Shawn to hear this conversation, just in case his suspicions were right.

Of course, Carlton could leave well enough alone: Shawn hadn’t been hurt by it so far and, if Carlton was proven right, he doubted he’d tell his mate unless severely pressured into it…

But Carlton needed to know, needed to be prepared in case…

Well, in case.

It was nearing ten at night when the next taxi that stopped at the hotel let out a familiar blonde woman. Madeleine paid the cabby before looking around the street — she was a cop’s wife after all. Carlton saw the moment she spotted him. She stopped and stared in his direction, tilting her head in curiosity.

Carlton opened the door and stepped out, standing by the car where she could clearly see who it was.

She watched him for a moment before smiling politely in his direction before making her way over.

“I guess I didn’t pass the test this morning?” she asked, already walking around to the passenger’s side door. “Should I be worried?”

Carlton sat back in the driver’s seat but didn’t start the car.

“You were fine this morning,” he answered her with a small shrug. “A little too fine but you’re a shrink so you should know all the right things to say.”

“Ah,” Madeleine nodded, settling her purse in her lap. Carlton was almost offended by the protective gesture — if she had any self-defense items, they’d be in perfect reach — and kinda hoped she, if not Henry, had tried to teach Shawn something similar and the lesson just failed to sink in. “You’re one of those cops then? Think us shrinks are just trying to find ways to get your badge?”

“Not always,” Carlton denied it. “Though I think most of those in your profession are quacks. I’m not here about me.”

Madeleine sighed and looked out across the street. “Is Shawnie here? I had hoped he wouldn’t take my visiting Henry the wrong way but — ”

“This isn’t about Shawn…” Carlton paused. “Okay, it is completely about Shawn but he isn’t here.” He glanced in the rearview mirror just in case, then in the backseat. “Definitely not within hearing distance, anyway.”

Madeleine smiled slightly. “What’s this about, Detective?”

No names, just his title. Distancing, just in case this was too personal… maybe to make it easier.

There was a good chance she already knew what Carlton suspected.

“Shawn loves you,” Carlton started, placing his hands on the wheel just to give them something to do. “Whenever he talks about you that love just pours out of him. You’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb not to see it.” He took a slow, deep breath as his hands flexed on the wheel. He turned to look at the older woman. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

Madeleine met his gaze, a guilty sadness starting to build in her eyes.

“There’s plenty of things children never know about their parents,” she hedged with a small shake of her head. “But I do love Shawn. More than anything, more than anyone, that I’ve ever loved before. Nothing will ever change that.”

Carlton nodded. Now was the hard part.

“He wasn’t planned though, was he?”

The words hung heavy in the air between them. The sadness in her eyes deepened.

Carlton closed his eyes. He had the answer to his question.

“I wouldn’t change any of it,” Madeleine said softly after a moment. “Shawn’s been the greatest gift of my life…”

“But not enough to stay.”

Carlton had done the math a long time ago: Madeleine had separated from Henry just before Shawn turned seventeen. The divorce was finalized when he was eighteen. There had been no argument about custody and, as far as Carlton knew, visitation hadn’t been discussed because Shawn wasn’t a minor anymore.

Everything worked out so Madeleine could walk away if not without guilt then without loose ends.

“I think he takes after you,” Carlton said once the silence became too much. “He wants to go on a road trip across America. He didn’t get that from Henry.”

“Please don’t tell Shawn,” Madeleine said, her fingers clenching at her purse, her nails digging into the leather. “I never wanted him to feel anything other than loved and wanted because that’s what he is… he shouldn’t be hurt because of me.”

Carlton looked over and, tentatively, reached out and put a hand over hers. “I’m not going to tell him. I just… I had suspicions and… I don’t want him hurt either but I can’t protect him from things I don’t know are a danger.”

There was no way he’d ever tell Shawn any of this, even if it meant lying to him, either on purpose or by omission. But he needed to know if he was right.

“He loves you,” Carlton said instead, reminding them both of the young omega’s feelings on the matter. “I don’t think there’s much you can do to change that but… I’m not going to tell him. I promise.”

Madeleine smiled and squeezed Carlton’s hand. “You’re a good man, Carlton. Though I can’t say I approve of your methods, I can understand why you’re here.”

Carlton nodded, oddly comforted by the reassurance — she’d been mated to Henry Spencer: she probably had a high tolerance for alpha bullshit.

“Just… just make time for Shawn,” Carlton said. “Birthdays, holidays, visits just for the sake of it. Have… have a guest room ready for him, whenever he wants to come over. Just don’t… don’t cut him off or anything like that. I… I don’t think he could handle that.”

“On my life,” Madeleine vowed, a mascara-tinged tear slipping down her cheek. She sniffled and pulled her hand away to reach into her bag. She brought out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “Carlton? If… When I’m not there, promise me you’ll protect him.”

“On my life,” Carlton repeated her words to her. He meant every syllable.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “Thank you.”

She opened the car door and took a step out before leaning back down to look at him. “I’ll call tomorrow. I promised Shawn a nice dinner with just the three of us and I plan to keep it.”

“He’s already looking forward to it.”

She smiled. “Good night, Carlton.”

 

“What did you and my mom talk about?”

It’d been approaching midnight when Carlton got home with their Chinese food that was now to be their breakfast/lunch. Shawn and Gus had worked their way through some movies about a Karate Kid and had ordered pizza just after Carlton had left.

He hadn’t fooled his mate in the slightest.

“I just needed to know who she was,” Carlton answered after a moment. There was no point in denying where he was. “Without you or Henry there.”

Shawn snorted but snuggled closer. “You’re so paranoid.”

“I prefer protective…”

“That too,” Shawn smiled before pressing a kiss to Carlton’s bare shoulder, right over the healed gunshot wound from months ago. “Mom hasn’t called to complain so I guess I can’t get too angry about it. So, what’s the verdict?”

Carlton allowed him a small, soft smile. “She loves you.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Yes, but I like to see it for myself.”

“So, no doubts?”

“No doubts.”

“Good,” Shawn snuggled closer still until he was lying half on top of the other man. “I was thinking though — and don’t joke, I do do it sometimes! — but… I guess, if he behaves… I guess Henry can come to my graduation.”

Carlton quirked an eyebrow at that. “Shawn, you don’t have to invite him…”

“I know,” Shawn rolled his eyes. “But there’s always the chance he’ll come anyway and inviting him takes the pleasure out of shouldering his way in. Besides, I think it’d make Mom happy and yeah, I know I don’t need to do that but I want to. Besides, you’ll be there and Mom will be there so he’s more likely to behave.”

Carlton considered his words for a moment before nodding. “That’s very grown up of you.”

Shawn leaned back to glare down at Carlton. “How dare you insult me this way?”

Carlton snorted and pecked a kiss to Shawn’s nose. Satisfied, Shawn laid his head back down on Carlton’s chest.

“Besides,” he continued, “if it works out how I plan, I’m not going to see him again for years. Maybe never. Maybe at the grocery store or Footlocker where I will ignore him and promptly leave.”

Carlton ignored the twist in his stomach at the idea of Shawn being gone for ‘years’ and pressed a kiss to Shawn’s temple.

“I doubt you’ll run into Henry in the grocery store,” he said, tugging the bed covers over them.

“Why not?”

“Because I wouldn’t trust you to do the grocery shopping.”

“…I might.”

“Yeah, but not for groceries.”

“…Okay, fine. Groceries can be your job. Then when you run into Henry, you can then ignore him and promptly leave.”

Carlton snorted but smiled.

“Deal.”

Chapter 24: May 31, 1996

Summary:

Shawn's graduates and something kind of like an apology happens.

The bleachers of the Leland Bosseigh High School’s football stadium were quickly filling as the clock ticked ever closer to the main event. Friends and families of the graduating class crowded into the space, all facing the center field where rows and rows of chairs were waiting for their leaving students.

Carlton scanned the crowd, noting the ages he saw — his own age group was severely lacking and he had a good idea as to why: He very well could be the only person here with a graduating mate.

It was still galling, even if Shawn was on the brink of no longer being considered a high school student. Still a teenager — he had to wait a few more years to get past that hurdle — but more of a young adult than a child.

…Oh, god, he should be arrested. He should not be allowed anywhere near Shawn or proper society or —

“You’re spiraling,” Madeleine helpfully told him, giving his arm a squeeze. “You’ve not done anything wrong. You deserve to be here and Shawn wants you here.”

It was the mantra she’d been coaching him with the last few days when Shawn’s graduation and what it meant finally hit home. He wasn’t a cradle-snatcher, he was just a bit early when it came to finding a mate. Nothing untoward.

Carlton took a deep breath regardless.

“I’m the only guy in their late twenties here. Everyone is either younger or older than me.”

“Nonsense,” Maddie tutted. “I’m sure there’s a few older siblings here as well.”

“Ha-ha,” Carlton stated dryly.

“See, there’s Gus’s sister: Joy!” Maddie enthused, waving to an older black couple and their college-aged daughter. “Have you met the Gusters, Carlton?”

“I’ve met Burton…”

The Gusters weaved their way through the crowd to them. Madeleine hugged the woman and her daughter in greeting. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, Winnie! It’d been ages!”

“Oh, it has!” The woman, Winnie, agreed as she took a step back. Her eyes darted over to Carlton with a curious tilt. “And who is this?”

“Oh, this is Carlton Lassiter,” Maddie introduced as he smiled in greeting. He watched as the woman’s eyes took on a cold distance. “Shawn’s mate.”

“Oh, yes,” she smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Gus has told us all about you.”

Carlton frowned, sure he was being insulted.

“Now, Winnie,” Maddie shook her head, “You can’t blame Carlton for any of that. Shawn and Gus have always been friends and nothing more. Besides, Gus prefers females, remember?”

Winnie huffed slightly but looked apologetic enough. “They’d have made a cute couple. Childhood sweethearts…”

Beside her, her mate rolled his eyes and offered a hand to Carlton.

“Bill Guster,” he introduced, “Winnie, my mate, and our eldest, Joy.”

“A pleasure,” Carlton forced his smile to be friendlier than he felt. “Burton’s a smart young man. You must be very proud of him.”

“Oh, we are!” Bill grinned as he put a hand on Joy’s shoulder. “Joy even came down from Stanford to be here.”

“Wow,” Carlton blinked in surprise. “Didn’t Gus get into Pomona as well?”

“Yes, he did!” Winnie beamed. “Can you believe he wanted to settle for Berkeley?” She shook her head in disbelief.

Carlton gave her his best ‘What can you do’ smile. Thank God he wasn’t joining up with the Guster family. The last two minutes managed to explain so much about the young man’s… well, everything.

They almost made Henry seem normal and reasonable.

Almost.

Speaking of: “Oh, and there’s Henry,” Madeleine said, looking over to the entrance of the stadium, and raising her hand to flag him down.

Carlton followed her gaze. The older alpha stood by the front gate, his suit nicer than the ones he wore to work. Beside him stood Lou Gamble, his longest-lasting partner, also wearing a nicer suit, and beside him stood a woman also dressed up.

“Oh, the Gambles came as well,” Maddie smiled, “He’s always been like an uncle to Shawn, you know.”

“I’ve heard,” Carlton muttered though his experience with the black alpha was limited: he remembered the man’s amused congratulations the night he and Shawn met. Thankfully, he’s had no problems with him beyond the man laughing at his expense whenever possible and the horrible hemorrhoid jokes the man never ran out of.

Henry finally seemed to catch his ex-mate’s wave but those hard eyes drifted over to Carlton. With his eyes boring into him, he held up a hand and pointed two fingers at Carlton then jerked his head back out the door before turning to go.

“I think he’s calling you,” Madeleine said, amusement clear in her voice. “Don’t worry, there’s too many witnesses for him to do anything but I can come check on you after ten minutes, if you like.”

“I can handle Spencer,” Carlton huffed. “What happened to ‘he’s on meds now’?”

“Oh, that just makes him think clearer,” Madeleine grinned, a bit too much like Shawn really, as she patted his back. “Which is why I know he’s not going to try anything with witnesses.”

“I’ll see what he wants,” he sighed before grumbling, “I better not miss Shawn walking because of him…”

“Scooch,” Madeleine pushed him slightly.

Carlton looked over to the Gusters. “A pleasure to meet you.”

He made his way through the crowd, passing by the Gambles with a nod of recognition, before stepping out into the parking lot. Henry was waiting for him but, without saying a word, began walking out through the sea of cars.

“What’s this about, Spencer?” Carlton asked, jogging to catch up to the older man. “You disappear off the face of the Earth and when you finally do show up, you don’t say anything. Which is an improvement but I think I deserve —”

“Shut up, Lassiter,” Henry finally spoke, stopping in front of a Crown Victoria — the service car assigned to him by the department. He went to the truck and started unlocking it.

“You’re really going to kidnap me in a police vehicle?” Carlton scoffed, not completely convinced that wasn’t the other man’s plan. He watched as the trunk was opened and a plain cardboard box retrieved. Henry slammed the trunk closed and turned to Carlton.

“Look…” Henry started and Carlton could see the words already starting to choke him. “Christ,” he hissed and shoved the box in Carlton’s arms. “I love Shawn, okay! I know I have a weird way of showing it, I know I’m an asshole, blah blah blah. And since no one is using any God Damned sense when it comes to that idiotic plan of his… I’d rather he be prepared.”

Carlton glowered at Henry as he ranted but he looked down at the box. Holding it with one hand, he pried open the crossed-over flaps and looked inside. There was an envelope, thick and bulging, and another small box with the image of a phone on it. Carlton quirked an eyebrow at Henry.

“The phone isn’t activated yet so I don’t know the number,” Henry grumbled. “There’s five hundred in twenties in the envelope. Don’t tell him it’s from me or he won’t take any of it.”

Carlton looked back down at the box again. A means of communication and money, both useful things in case of emergencies.

“I don’t know,” Carlton said, keeping his voice light, “I think Shawn would take the money regardless. Wouldn’t trust the phone.”

Henry snorted and shifted from foot to foot.

Carlton stared at him.

Henry Spencer being visibly nervous was off-putting, almost alarming. He kinda wanted to reach for his gun — which he wasn’t allowed to have while off-duty on a school campus — just in case Henry was an impostor or an alien from one of Shawn’s stupider movie choices.

Henry took a breath and, with gritted teeth, said: “Shawn could do worse.”

Carlton glowered.

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Henry Spencer?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Henry rolled his eyes. “What do you want, a written apology? A barbershop quartet and a banner?”

“You don’t apologize,” Carlton retorted, frown deepening.

“And I’m not now!” Henry snapped back, crossing his arms. “But I’m trying to be the bigger man here and say… if Shawn had to get stuck with some pompous rookie jackass, you’re at least one of the better ones.”

“Anxiety meds my ass,” Carlton muttered to himself.

“That’s the closest you’re going to get to my approval,” Henry scowled, leaning back against the car. “Take it or leave it.”

“We don’t need your approval,” Carlton answered immediately before heaving a deep sigh. If Henry could make something resembling an attempt toward civility then so could he. He looked down at the box in his hands. “But thanks. I appreciate it though I can’t promise Shawn won’t blow the money as soon as possible.”

Henry sighed in what seemed to be agreement.

“When’s he leaving?”

Carlton felt his heart sink as it always did when the thought of Shawn riding off without him came up.

“Next week.”

It was much too soon.

Henry nodded, a pinched look coming over his face. He pushed off of the car and started heading back toward the stadium. “They’ll be starting soon.”

 

Henry was put as far from Carlton as possible: With Madeleine, the Gambles, and the Gusters between them. Carlton couldn’t help but feel it was a bit overkill, given the circumstances, but he didn’t argue it. He didn’t want to sit next to him anyway, even after the ‘apology’.

Carlton watched politely as student after student was called up, given the tiny scroll of paper that marked the end of thirteen or so years of public education, and tried not to feel his age.

Gus walked before Shawn, grinning as he accepted his diploma, his parents somehow both loud and polite beside him.

Shawn was toward the end of the line.

The baggy, formless gown covered the new suit they’d bought him, and his hair was carefully combed back out of his face, and the gold earrings glinted a bit in the light as he walked. He moved sideways to face the crowd, those hazel eyes flickering around until they landed on his small cheering squad. He looked over them, passing over his friends and family before locking in on him.

Carlton couldn’t help but return the smile Shawn gave him.

Shawn stopped just shy of the principal and threw his arms up in the air and Carlton couldn’t help the small scoff as he saw Shawn’s eyes catch on his mother’s face before the rude hand gesture Carlton was sure he was about to shoot everyone was replaced by a slightly less embarrassing double peace signs.

Shawn blew him a kiss before he left the stage.

 

The rest of the ceremony was a blur, mostly because Shawn started ignoring everything else as soon as he sat back down in his chair. There were names, more talking, and then — finally — they got to throw their stupid square hats in the air and scream about it.

And, with the final obligation to the California Public School System paid, Shawn looked around and found the first person he needed to see.

Gus — somehow in a fancier gown with brightly colored ropes and crap on it? No one told Shawn he could have fancy stuff on his gown! — collided with Shawn as they leapt toward each other, arms quickly wrapping around each other, hugging tightly.

Gus was already crying.

He was saying something but crying too hard to actually be understood though Shawn thought it was something like “I’m so happy” and “We’re adults now” and maybe a “This is the first step toward the rest of our lives” or something like that.

“I know, Buddy,” Shawn patted his back before they pulled apart. “Proud of you!” Then Shawn pulled the gown off over his head and shoved it into Gus’s arms. There was no way in hell he was going to be bombarded with photo-ops while looking like he was going trick-or-treating as a trash bag.

He reached over and tugged at one of the ropes hanging around Gus’s neck.

“How come you get neat little rope thingies? Where’s my rope thingies?”

“You didn’t earn any rope thingies,” Gus wiped at his face before slapping Shawn’s hand away. “Where’d you get a suit at? The only suits you have are from when you were 13.”

“And obviously I needed a new one!” Shawn adjusted the jacket as though it didn’t feel weird and that the dress shirt underneath wasn’t starched to itchy perfection.

“Carlton got it for you, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did,” Shawn scoffed. “And I want him to enjoy the fruits of his looms.”

“That’s not the saying— ”

Shawn clambered up onto one of the folding chairs and looked over the sea of students slowly making their way toward the bleachers that were emptying of parents and well-wishers as they entered the field.

Where are they… where are… “There they are!” Shawn pointed out over the crowd. Finally, he spotted the familiar boy scout haircut and the nicer blue suit Carlton had put on that morning. Beside him he spied his mom, the Gambles which was a nice surprise, the other parental unit that he was ignoring, and— “Oh, Joy’s here!” He smiled down at Gus. “Surprise!”

“I already knew she was here, Shawn!” Gus climbed up on the chair beside Shawn and looked toward where he was pointing. He raised his arms over his head and began waving frantically. “Over here!”

Shawn joined in but after a quick jump to try and get their attention that almost sent them both face-first into the other chairs, he thought better of it. They climbed down from the chair and began making their way through the crowd.

As soon as he saw Carlton’s face looming over the surrounding crowd, Shawn took off at a run, heading straight towards him.

“Incoming!” he yelled out a warning. When his mate was in sight and within striking distance, he launched himself forward, colliding with the taller man with enough force to send him stumbling back.

“Shawn!” Carlton half scolded, half yelped as he barely managed to stay upright. He regained his balance but didn’t push Shawn away. He looked down at him with a small, slightly put-upon smile and kissed his forehead.

“I’m a free man now, Lassie,” Shawn used the nickname he knew his mate hated but only slightly less than ‘Carly’. His grin widened as Carlton rolled his eyes. “And all your whining about me still being in school is now void. Any age-related complaints will now immediately be assigned as you being a party pooper and/or because you’re self-conscious and anyone who messes with your self-esteem is on my shit list and that includes you.”

“What, you’re going to beat me up if I have low self-esteem?” Carlton asked, a smirk playing at his lips.

“I think it’d be good for morale,” Shawn grinned shamelessly. “Know what’s also good for morale? Se—”

There was a pointed cough over to their right.

“Mom!” Shawn cleanly broke away from Carlton to hug his mother who hugged him back tightly.

“So proud of you, Goose,” she said in his ear before stepping back to look him over. “And you’re looking so handsome. No wonder Carlton was so excited about the suit he got you.” She winked over at his mate. Shawn didn’t need to see him to know he was pink in the cheeks.

It really didn’t take much to make the alpha happy.

“It’s scratchy,” Shawn sighed loudly, “but such is the price for handsomeness.”

Over to the side, Shawn saw the Gusters having their own moment of hugs and congratulations and over to the side —

“Uncle Lou!” Shawn grinned at the older man, ignoring Henry who was hovering just over to the side. He reached out to shake the hand of his father’s oldest and longest-lasting partner. “You didn’t have to come!”

“Like we would miss it,” Bae Gamble said, giving Shawn a quick hug as well before her husband offered his hand to shake.

“We’re all proud of you, Shawnie,” he said, nodding his head pointedly to the side where a large void of Ignoring Him hovered. “Say, what do you call— ”

Bae slapped her husband in the stomach. “No hemorrhoid jokes, Lou,” she scolded. “You promised.”

He laughed and clapped Shawn on the shoulder. “I think he’s heard them all by now.”

“Most of the precinct has heard them, Lou,” the Void said without a hint of amusement.

Shawn took a deep breath and glanced over to Carlton. Carlton met his gaze and gave him a ‘just get it over with’ look in return. He let the breath out with a loud sigh and turned to face the Void.

“Henry,” Shawn said, looking his father over.

To his relief, Henry didn’t try to move closer or offer a hand to shake or — God forbid — reach out to hug him. He looked Shawn over and offered him a small nod.

“You did good, Shawn,” he said, voice gruff. “Proud of you.”

Shawn bit back a ‘Did that hurt?’ and simply nodded.

Henry sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Look…” he paused to look over at Madeleine who gave him a small nod.

Good, Mom was involved.

Henry looked back to Shawn. “Since you’re going through with this plan—” a small cough from his left and Henry paused for a second before shaking his head. “—Since I don’t know when I’ll… when you’ll be…” He sighed again and yanked a hand back out to run through his thinning hair. “Damn it, Shawn. I love you.” He gestured toward Shawn before letting the hand fall to his side then back into his pocket. “I love you and I want you to be safe.”

Shawn stared for a moment, brows furrowing.

It wasn’t really an apology and he doubted it was meant to be one — he wasn’t sure he’d have accepted it even if it was — but whatever that was, it was like pulling teeth to get Henry to say it at all.

“Right,” Shawn said softly, shifting from foot to foot. “Well… I’ll be fine. I’ll be in touch with Carlton and Mom and… yeah.” He finished weakly.

Henry nodded. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Shawn muttered. “And, yeah. You…” he waved a hand toward Henry much like he had done a moment ago. “You… too. I guess.”

 

“Oh, God, that was so awkward,” Shawn muttered, his arms slipped through Carlton’s as they watched Henry and the Gambles retreat toward the parking lot. “Did I die from that? That felt awkward enough to kill. Death by awkwardness. Feel my pulse!” he grabbed Carlton’s hand to put it over his heart. “Still beating?”

“Yes, you’re still alive,” Carlton said with a fond roll of his eyes.

Shawn didn’t move his hand though, instead keeping it trapped between his own and his chest.

Ha ha! Gotcha!

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out to eat with the Gusters?” Carlton asked as they neared his car. “They did offer to pay…”

Shawn snorted. “It’s just going to be them gushing over Gus and Joy until one of them tips the scales on who is the better child.”

He smirked as he saw Carlton grimace. “I thought that might be the case. Lauren and I never really got competitive…”

“I’m fully aware and thankful for the joys of being an only child. Besides, you’re also, like 12 years older than her,” Shawn reminded him. “Totally different leagues. You were already capable of coloring in the lines when she was 4 and, as cute as you are, I’m no one could out-adorable a little kid Lauren except maybe me and that’s also an unfair comparison.”

Carlton snorted in amusement and Shawn mentally patted himself on the back. In truth, he didn’t want to be with anyone other than Carlton at the moment. Maybe his Mom if she had been able to stay but her flight left around midnight — any last-minute mother-son time had been taken up that morning. Besides, as much as he loved the Gusters, he didn’t want to get stuck in a fancy restaurant with them for any lengthy amount of time.

Also, Winnie was giving Carlton the stink-eye and he had no idea what that was about.

“Yes, you’re adorable,” Carlton confirmed, his voice so dry as to be sarcastic but Shawn knew he was just playing. Anyone who saw him knew him to be the cutest thing in existence, Carlton just didn’t want to feed his ego. “We can still stop somewhere for food on the way home. What are you in the mood for—”

Shawn wasn’t listening, his eyes focused on the scene halfway across the parking lot. Henry was talking with the Gambles, Lou clapping him on the shoulder before shaking his hand. It was a normal enough farewell, he’s seen them do it thousands of times after a late night at the kitchen table, going over case files.

This looked different, something odd about it.

Carlton had stopped speaking and had followed his gaze. There was a furrow between his brows as he watched.

“That’s weird, right?” Shawn asked softly, hoping his mate had spotted just what it was that was off.

“Hmm,” was the only response he got for a moment before: “They’re partners and Spencer’s been out for a month.”

That could be it.

“Hmph,” Shawn grunted before turning back to the car and opening the passenger side door. He stopped short when he saw the box waiting for him on the seat. All previous thoughts flew from his mind. “Oh! Surprises!”

“Huh?” Carlton looked over the car roof at him. “Oh! Right, I didn’t have time to wrap it,” he said, sitting down behind the wheel but turned to face Shawn as he climbed in. “It was a last-minute thing.”

“Eeeeh!” Shawn flopped down into the seat and pulled the box into his lap, tearing open the folded-down flaps. “Oh! A phone! OH! Money! Even better!”

“Phone doesn’t have a number yet,” Carlton said, a bit cautious. “And the money is for emergencies. Actual emergencies, not ‘I really want a five-course lobster dinner’ emergency.”

“Spoilsport,” Shawn grinned over at him, the box with the phone in his hand. He was already tearing at the cardboard to get it open. “You’re so good to me, I love you!” Shawn leaned over to steal a kiss that was gladly returned.

“Love you,” Carlton said back.

Shawn pulled the phone out of the safety packaging, turning it over and over in his hands, and didn’t notice the way Carlton watched Henry Spencer walk back to his truck. After a moment, Carlton started the car and pulled out, making a point to stay out of the elder Spencer’s path.

“We can go to that Jamaican place that just opened,” Carlton announced. “See if you like their jerked chicken any.”

“I can jerk your chicken.”

“…Give me the phone and money back.”

Notes:

Asshole Henry is just so much fun to write sometimes.

Chapter 25: June 5, 1996

Summary:

Goodbyes are said

The morning of June 5th was bright, warm, and the start of one of the hardest days Carlton had ever had.

He and Shawn had spent the previous day packing up the Norton’s saddlebags, striking a careful balance of things Shawn needed and what he wanted, and planning where the omega wanted to go.

Shawn was insistent that he only have the very next destination in mind — he wanted to keep it fresh, spontaneous, and exciting. Carlton convinced him to, at least, keep the weather in mind — he had no business driving around Maine in winter on a motorcycle.

So he was heading north first for the summer. Seattle, apparently.

Seattle was good… Carlton could handle Seattle.

Shawn’s new phone was set up and ready, Carlton’s home, cellphone, and his number at the station already programmed in and Shawn’s into his… and written on a piece of paper on the fridge — as if Carlton didn’t have the damn thing memorized already.

Sleep had been hard to come by that night but they had done their best to exhaust each other, if only to make sure Shawn got a serviceable amount of sleep: the last thing he wanted was to have his mate driving while sleep-deprived.

Carlton had the morning off so could see Shawn on his way which meant he wasn’t due into the precinct until noon. They had plenty of time to get ready and, without an ounce of regret, Carlton had turned the alarm clock off.

Anything to steal a few more minutes with Shawn.

He had held him tight in bed, his body sore from the exertions of the previous night and Shawn’s enthusiastic appreciating of letting him ‘play the alpha’, as he described it. Anything Shawn had wanted.

It set the mood for the rest of the morning; any chance Carlton had to wrap his arms around his mate, he took it.

Most of their shared shower involved him holding his mate close. He almost burned their scrambled eggs and toast because he didn’t want to pull his arms away from him. Getting dressed took ages because Shawn insisted on helping, slowly buttoning up Carlton’s shirt, tying his tie, then burying his face in Carlton’s neck to breathe in his scent.

It was torture.

Now, with the morning sun beating down over them, they stood in the parking lot of Carlton’s building, the Norton packed and ready to go. Shawn was wearing the leather jacket Carlton had gotten him for his birthday, ready to do its job of protecting him while on his journey.

“I guess that’s everything,” Shawn muttered into his chest, his arms wrapped around him tightly.

“Hmm,” Carlton confirmed, lips pressed against Shawn’s temple. He had a few more tricks up his sleeve, to try and stall for as much time as possible. Maybe they could go out for brunch or a smoothie or something. He could, maybe, weasel another hour out of him.

“Ready to go,” Shawn said, not budging from the hug. “Gotta get that wind in my hair — metaphorically speaking because I’ll be wearing a helmet.”

“You better.” Carlton didn’t release him.

“I promise.” He still didn’t move.

They stood for another moment, wrapped around each other.

A car horn blared down the road across from them — probably not at them but startling all the same.

Carlton pulled away slightly, just enough to look down at his mate.

“I, uh, I got you something.”

Shawn blinked up at him, unable to keep the interest out of his eyes. “I thought we were done with the gifts for now? I mean, nothing can really beat last night’s gift.”

Carlton tried not to roll his eyes, even as Shawn’s smirk took on a predatory glint. That would definitely buy them at least thirty more minutes…

No, no, they had to get through this.

Carlton took a step back and pulled out a small, white box from his pocket before handing it over to Shawn. The younger man looked it over with wide eyes, taking in the details of it. He held it up to his ear and gave it a shake. It rattled.

“Jewelry,” he stated, bringing the box back down. “Not a ring, too big for that. I’d lose a bracelet and the box is too thin for a watch.”

Carlton couldn't help the smile as Shawn quickly deduced what could be in it.

“I already have it ready for you,” Carlton added, giving him more of a hint.

Shawn smiled and opened the box.

The round locket was the size of a quarter and thick with rounded edges. The silver front was embossed with a simple compass rose. The stopper at the very top of the locket, just above where the chain connected, was topped with a small pearl.

“It’s a scent locket,” Carlton supplied, more for something to say than to explain to Shawn what it was. “I already cut up a bit of a… shirt… to put in there. And a bit of hair.” He tried not to squirm as Shawn took the locket out of the box. “Should keep scents fresh for a few months… depending on how often you open it.”

Shawn examined the locket for a moment with a smile that he eventually turned to Carlton. “That isn’t fair,” he announced. “I didn’t get to get you something. What if you forget what I smell like?”

“Never,” Carlton smiled. “Besides, I have most of your clothes here.”

“But they won’t be fresh!” Shawn scolded, looking back down at the locket before thrusting it toward Carlton. “Put this on me. It’s more romantic that way.”

“Yes, dear,” Carlton snarked with a smile. Shawn turned his back and exposed his neck. He wrapped the sturdy chain — he didn’t trust Shawn not to break the thin chain that originally came with the locket — around Shawn’s neck and secured it. And, before Shawn could turn away, wrapped his arms back around him and placed a kiss over the necklace’s clasp.

Shawn leaned back into his arms.

“I gotta get you one,” Shawn said, resting his head on Carlton’s shoulder so he could crane his neck around to look up at his mate. “When I find a place to settle for a bit. Oh, we could send the locket’s back and forth!”

“But then there’d be a few weeks where we wouldn’t have them,” Carlton pointed out.

“Oh, yeah,” Shawn deflated for a moment. “Then we’ll have to get multiple. Gotta keep those scents nice and fresh at all times.”

“We’ll see,” Carlton kissed what he could reach of Shawn’s face. He wouldn’t object to a fresh supply of Shawn's scent… depending on how long the omega was gone, of course.

How long did it take to visit every state? Especially if one stayed at least a few weeks at every notable stop? And what if Shawn decided to venture outside the borders of the United States? Canada was huge and cold and if he went to South America — that was a whole other continent!

God, it could take years.

“You’re squeezing a bit hard there, Babe.”

Carlton loosened his grip… slightly.

Shawn turned around in his arms and took his face in his hands. “God, I’m going to miss you.” Carlton leaned forward, meeting Shawn’s kiss halfway. “Are you sure you can’t come with me?” He asked, lips still pressed to lips.

“I’m sure,” Carlton sighed. He pressed another quick kiss to his mate’s lips before stepping back. “You better call me. If not every day then at least once a week. And whenever you get to a new place.”

“I’d call you every hour,” Shawn said, leaning in for another squeezing hug. “I’ll call so much it’ll be like I’m still living in your apartment, judging your movie choices and complaining about being out of pineapple jam.”

“You’d better,” Carlton grumbled, pressing another kiss to Shawn’s forehead. “If you suddenly stopped annoying me I’ll lose the tolerance I’ve built up these last few months.”

“Exactly,” Shawn nuzzled closer. “It’s for your own good.”

“And I’m expecting postcards. And photos. Hell, send me crappy tourist trap souvenirs. I want to know you’re happy wherever you are.”

“I’ll send you a tacky shot glass from every state. Multiple ones.”

“Love you, Shawn.”

“Love you too, Carlton.”

They held onto each other for another fifteen minutes, neither wanting to be the one to break contact. When Shawn finally got on the bike, helmet in place, it took another few moments for Carlton to bring himself to step away and for Shawn to turn the key in the ignition.

By the time Shawn was driving away, Carlton was close to being late for work.

He stayed in the parking lot for five more minutes, looking out the way Shawn had gone, hoping the laws of physics broke so he could keep an eye on his mate for just a few moments longer.

 

There was something off.

Carlton caught onto it immediately upon entering the bullpen. There were a few sympathetic glances his way, a few pats on the back and a ‘you’ll be fine’ said in passing: nothing he hadn’t expected. As long as the pity for him stayed distant and impersonal, he was fine with it.

But this was something else. It nagged at the back of his mind as he walked through the small maze of desks toward his own.

Something was off, something had changed…

“How're you holding up?” Carlton jumped slightly as Adrian Reid appeared beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I hope it wasn’t too rough for you.”

Carlton blinked at his senior partner before he reigned in his paranoia. He gave the man a grimace that could be mistaken for a smile.

“Rough as hell,” he admitted, “but Shawn’ll be fine. He’s got a cellphone and my number. Nothing to worry about, really.”

Reid snorted and patted his shoulder. “He’s… well, I was going to say tough but that’s not right. Wily, I think. Yeah, the kid’s wily.”

Carlton nodded, agreeing with that description.

He glanced around the bullpen again. The nagging in the back of his mind refusing to be ignored.

“Reid,” he asked, looking around. “Did… did something happen this morning? While I was out…”

Henry Spencer’s desk was cleared.

Carlton’s eyes locked on the empty desk, stripped bare of personal effects, the nameplate, everything but the office supplies and computer; ready to be assigned to someone else.

“Ah,” Reid followed his gaze. “Fenich made the announcement this morning. Spencer cleaned out last night. Apparently, the last month was his way of using up the last of his leave and vacation time.”

Carlton turned to look at his partner. “He quit?”

“Retired early,” Reid shrugged. “Wonder how the lucky bastard managed that.”

Carlton sat down at his own desk across from Reid’s but his eyes kept glancing over to the now empty desk. Spencer being gone for the last month, the way he had shaken Lou Gamble’s hand at Shawn’s graduation. No wonder it had seemed odd: It was the kind of goodbye you gave if you weren’t planning on seeing someone again anytime soon.

He’d been planning this for a while.

That bastard.

For once, Santa Barbara took pity on him and the day was relatively crime-free… or at least no one had committed a crime that needed investigative involvement.

Carlton left the station on time without even the hope of staying a second longer.

He’d had the last five hours to think about what he was going to do and he had a plan already in mind.

When he approached the white, red-trimmed house it was with a six-pack of beer. Henry was sitting on the back porch, looking out over the ocean, a beer of his own already in hand.

He watched as Carlton walked up the path, sipping at his almost empty beer.

Carlton stopped at the foot of the stairs.

“You quit.”

Henry shrugged a shoulder and drained the last dregs of his bottle before setting it down beside his chair. There was already an empty bottle waiting there.

“That beer for me, you, or both of us?” he asked, lacing his fingers over his stomach.

“Both,” Carlton said, starting up the steps.

“Acceptable,” Henry said, motioning to the chair on the other side of the small, outdoor table. “Shawn’s gone then?”

Carlton sat down and set the beer at his feet. They were still cold from the store. He pulled two out and handed one over to the other alpha.

“This morning,” he confirmed. “He’s supposed to call when he finds a place to stop for the night.”

Henry nodded, popping off the cap of the beer. “You believe that?”

“Yes,” Carlton said, without hesitation. “I trust him.”

Henry snorted at that. “He’s never told me his plans.”

“You always tried to stop them,” Carlton pointed out before taking a pull from his own bottle. He forced the cheap beer down. “So what are you planning to do? Reid said you retired.”

Henry nodded, eyes not straying from the shoreline. “I got enough saved up and a few investments that are doing okay.”

“So, what?” Carlton coaxed. “You’re just going to sit around all the time now? Buy a boat? Go fishing all the time, live out on the water.”

Henry smirked but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well,” he said, looking down at his half-empty beer. “Maddie’s gone. Shawn’s gone. Don’t see much reason to stick around. Not in Santa Barbara anyway.”

That wasn’t what Carlton was expecting to hear.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, unable to stop the disbelief in his voice. “Just like that?”

“I’m keeping the house,” Henry said with a shrug. “But I wouldn’t mind getting away for a while. Not some road trip crap like Shawn but… I always wanted to move to Florida. Miami maybe. Hear the fishing’s good. Nice weather.”

“Humid as the devil’s armpit,” Carlton scoffed with no real venom in it. “When are you going?”

Henry drained the rest of the bottle and set it down with the other two empties. “Got to pack up stuff, decide what to sell, what to put into storage, what to risk leaving in the house. Make sure to lock everything up to stop any punks from realizing the house is empty and having themselves a party. Few weeks, give or take.”

A few weeks and Santa Barbara will be officially Spencer-less.

It was a hard thing to imagine. The Spencers had crashed into his life with the force of a nuclear explosion, completely and utterly changing the course of his life in ways that can never be undone… and just as fast, it seemed, they were gone.

For now.

“Don’t tell Shawn,” Henry said, not looking over. “If… When Shawn calls you. I doubt he’ll bring me up but that doesn’t mean you get to volunteer that information.”

“You don’t think Shawn deserves to know?”

“I don’t think Shawn would care either way.”

Carlton wasn’t sure if he was right or not. Shawn hated not knowing things, even things he wouldn’t want to know anyway.

“I won’t lie,” Carlton said after a moment. “But I won’t bring it up if he doesn’t.”

“Fine.”

Carlton handed him another beer and they finished the bottles in silence, watching the sun start to sink toward the horizon. It was probably the most companionable experience he ever had with the older alpha and he assumed the beer and the supposed medication he was on had something to do with it. There’s no way Henry would have been this normal without human interference.

With two beers left in the pack, Carlton stood up. Henry, after a moment, followed suit. Carlton turned to face him and, after a moment, held out his hand.

“It’s been… well, not good but an experience, Spencer.”

After a moment, Henry accepted the handshake though his grip was tight. Carlton tightened his own grip in return.

“You know my number,” he said, careful not to grit his teeth. “In case of emergencies.”

“Like I’d call you?”

“In case you need to talk to Shawn,” Carlton said, tightening his grip further as the hold on his hand grew tighter as well. “Though I won’t tell you how Shawn is. Not unless he wants me to.”

Damn, how did Spencer’s grip get so strong?

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

They stood there for a moment longer — like hell was Carlton going to be the one to break first. Finally, in a mutual understanding, they tightened their grips further before releasing at the same time.

“Spencer,” Carlton said with a nod, reaching down to pick up the remaining beers with his unbruised hand.

“Lassiter,” Henry returned the nod but his tone was a clear dismissal.

That was fine with him.

Carlton walked back to the car and, once in the safety of the driver’s seat, shook the soreness out of his hand.

 

The apartment was dark and quiet, so different from the last few weeks. He’d gotten used to Shawn waiting for him when he got home: the TV on some show or movie, the lights on, the rooms warm. Sometimes Shawn had went ahead and bought them dinner — he wasn’t allowed to cook anything that didn’t come with instructions.

Carlton imagined he could already smell Shawn’s scent fading away.

He put the leftover beer in the fridge before contemplating the whiskey he kept in the top cabinet.

No, he wasn’t that lonely yet.

He got a glass of water and downed it, hoping to cut off any hangover at the pass. He filled another glass and took it with him to the couch. He sat and stared at the black TV screen before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the couch cushions.

The phone gave a shrill ring, jolting Carlton back to awareness.

The clock on the wall pointed to 8:48.

Later than he would have liked but he wasn’t going to complain.

He picked up the phone.

“Shawn?”

“I miss you already, Lassie,” his mate’s voice came in through the tiny speaker, tinny but full of warmth.

Carlton closed his eyes and sank into the cushions with a sigh, a tension he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge leaving him in an instant.

“Miss you too, Sweetheart.”

Notes:

This is, technically, the end!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me as I write the longest thing I've ever written! And it even looks like I might finish it too!

There's one more chapter but it's more of an epilogue concerning Shawn's road trip and doesn't add a great deal to the overall story.

Chapter 26: Postcards

Summary:

Carlton endures life in Santa Barbara as Shawn keeps his promise

Notes:

There is a very indulgent crossover that I'm not tagging (here) but if those of you who don't know about Due South but are intrigued by this old as show from the 90s (that just got gayer the longer it went on and was a staple in slash fiction for quite a while) then just know that there's a HD version up on youtube for your viewing pleasure.

The first postcard came a little more than a week after Shawn left.

A picture of Mt. Rainier far in the background as a cityscape stretched out in front of it. On the back scrawled in Shawn’s messy writing was:

‘My butt hurts so much! Why didn’t you warn me that spending over 40 hours on a bike would hurt?! And I’ve been driving for a week! What the hell! I need ‘get better soon’ kisses, directly and indirectly applied. Do you think the post guy is going to read this?

Miss you! Love you! Shawn <3’

Given the pink twinge and the sour note of embarrassment that came off the mailman when Carlton caught him at the mailboxes, he could safely assume the guy, at least, caught a glimpse of the message. Knowing Shawn, the mailman was going to have to grow a thicker skin if this was what Shawn was going to write in places anyone can see.

Still, with a smile, Carlton brought the postcard to his nose, hoping for some stray hint of a scent of Shawn but anything that would have remained was long gone with the distance between them.

He took the postcard with him to work and, when he got back home, carefully slotted the postcard into the photo album he’d gotten just for this purpose.

Shawn had promised, after all…

 

“I think you gave the mailman trust issues,” Carlton said into the carefully balanced phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder as he dried dishes. “It’s been two days and he hasn’t looked me in the eye since.”

Shawn cackled into the phone. When he caught his breath, he said: “Babe, you’re never out there when he delivers the mail but you’ve been there the last three days? I think you’re the one traumatizing him.”

Carlton thought that over for a moment and conceded that Shawn might have a point. Not that he was going to tell him that — bad behavior shouldn’t be rewarded. “Still, you could have complained about your poor little butt over the phone rather than writing it on a bit of card stock that anyone could read.”

“That’s tampering with mail and a federal offense,” he could hear the smug grin in Shawn’s voice. “It’s not my fault if someone wants to peep at my private but sexy messages.”

“Please don’t write sexy messages on postcards,” Carlton sighed, setting the last dish aside before taking hold of the phone properly. “How is it, by the way? Seattle.”

By his estimate, his mate’s been there a little more than two weeks.

“It’s alright,” Shawn said, “bit rainy, as expected. Lotta weird people but they mostly stay in Portland which is a shame because it definitely makes things more interesting. You should totally get a unicycle, by the way.”

“Who says I don’t already have one?” Carlton said, mostly to tease. Like hell he’d actually ever ride one of those clown contraptions — he had pride, damn it.

“Hmm,” Shawn didn’t sound convinced. “Oh, I also wanted to ask: Is it weird for someone to want to photograph my feet?”

“Your feet?”

“And ankles!”

Carlton frowned at that. While he personally loved Shawn’s, well, everything, it was very weird. He dropped his voice down to a whisper, just in case the neighbors heard him through the walls, as a thought came to him: “Like a… sex thing?”

“I don’t think so,” Shawn said, sounding pretty sure of himself. “Like a shoes and socks modeling thing.”

“Oh,” Carlton relaxed a bit. That was okay then. “Wait, someone just randomly came up to you and asked you to model your feet? How’d they even see your feet to want you to model them?”

“Oh, I sent in headshots! Or feetshots, I guess.”

Carlton closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. “If you signed up to have pictures taken of your feet, why did you ask if it was weird?”

“…it can be voluntary and weird. Also, asking more about the photographer than the model, ya’know.”

“Maybe stick to the candy store for a while, Shawn.”

 

Shawn stayed in Seattle for almost two months before moving on.

On one hand, the faster he moved through his journey, the sooner he’d be home and back in Carlton’s arms… but it also meant his mate might not be taking the time he should and enjoying the experience. The whole reason Carlton could justify not having Shawn by his side was so the younger man wouldn’t have any regrets when it came to his freedom.

But also, Wyoming was an unexpected destination.

The only place of interest Carlton knew of was Yellowstone. The postcard he’d received had a splendid shot of the Grand Prismatic Spring that only had the note of:

‘What the hell? That’s not real! Are there other prismatic springs only slightly less grand? This is favoritism and they should protest.’ written on the back.

Shawn was not a National Parks kind of guy.

But he must have found something about Wyoming he liked. He’d found a job at a Natural History museum, of all places.

“How’d you manage that?” Carlton asked, staring up at the apartment building he and Reid were currently staking out. The older man politely pretended to ignore their conversation.

“I’m a very knowledgeable guy,” Shawn insisted, sounding hurt which Carlton knew was a lie. “Also, they have plaques all over the place. It’s not hard!”

As Carlton reluctantly hung up the phone for the night, Reid helpfully said: “That’s not going to end well.”

“Probably not.”

It did not.

The photo Carlton got in the mail a few days later had him pulling down the emergency whiskey as what felt suspiciously like a very angry panic attack gnawed at his chest.

It was of Shawn, as expected. What was not expected was the young man dangling in the jaws of a T-Rex skull. On the back was simply:

‘Got fired. Worth it!’

“Oh, come on!” Shawn had said over the phone as Carlton contemplated the empty scotch glass. “I didn’t break anything and there was a big metal bar I was laying on! It’s fine! Besides, they’re just some dusty old bones someone dug up out of the ground! How much could they cost?”

“A few million dollars, Shawn!” Carlton reached for the whiskey bottle again. “At a minimum!”

“Oh,” Shawn sounded more bewildered than shocked or even apologetic. “That’s stupid.”

Carlton wasn’t sure what was going to happen first: Shawn accidentally killing himself doing something stupid or Carlton having a heart attack worrying about Shawn accidentally killing himself doing something stupid.

“You owe me a bottle of whiskey,” he informed him, already regretting the hangover he was sure to have tomorrow.

A week or so later, a bottle of a vintage malt scotch appeared on his desk at the station, along with a professionally typed note:

Congrats to Detective Carlton Lassiter, formerly known as Junior Detective Carlton Lassiter!

 

As fall neared, Shawn headed south.

Apparently, when Shawn had done what passed as research, he failed to realize how soon it began to snow in the northern states. For once, Carlton wasn’t going to argue about him leaving a job after only a week… though it didn’t mean he could have fun with it.

“You’re going to have to learn to drive it in eventually,” he grinned into the phone, lounging on the couch in the pajamas Shawn had sent him, wallowing in the knowledge that the city of Santa Barbara hasn’t seen a single snowflake in memory. He sobered up for a moment. “You are dressing warm, right? Layers under that jacket? That leather should keep the cold and the wind off.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Shawn mocked, his pout at being mother-henned obvious over the phone. The title still sent a shiver of desire down into his cartoon puppy-spotted pajama pants. “But this is so bullshit! It’s not even Halloween yet! Stop laughing!”

Carlton sighed as his chuckles subsided. “So, where are you heading then?”

“I was thinking Arizona. Phoenix, maybe. If there’s snow, I’m writing someone. I don’t know who but they’re getting a strongly worded letter!”

Carlton winced at the thought of the weather whiplash Shawn was going to be putting himself through. “Maybe wait a bit on those layers…”

 

The gift box was about the size of his palm though only an inch or so deep. The outside was printed in a silver cowhide pattern and the rattle left little to the imagination.

The card read: I wanted to wait until my heat so you could really have something to remind you of me but it’s too perfect to wait! You can wear it under your real clothes if you want but why would you want to? Love, Shawn <3

Nestled inside the box, buried in tissue paper, was a small round scent locket. The face was a perfect oval of turquoise but the back was of silver. A large braided black leather cord was skillfully curled up with the two silver aiguillettes at the ends.

It was just shy of tacky and not something he wanted to be caught wearing in a professional setting.

With a small smile, he opened the stopper and took a deep breath of the scent — pre-heat, like Shawn had warned him — and allowed himself to imagine the younger man was near.

 

Shawn didn’t stay in Arizona long.

After his failed attempt at opening an acupuncture shop — something Carlton is eternally glad didn’t get off its feet or Shawn’d have been sued into the next decade — he traveled the Southwest for a bit. Colorado, Texas, back up to Nevada and Vegas, bringing him so tantalizingly close that Carlton could daydream about putting in a few weeks vacation and heading out to meet him.

He wouldn’t allow himself that thought — it’s only been a few months but if he met up with Shawn now, it’d be impossible to let him go again.

He decided to winter in New Orleans which just seemed to be trading the snow for the mosquitoes which just sounded worse of the two.

“That’s why you need a car,” Carlton tutted at him over the phone. His guns were laid out in front of him on the table. One side was covered in guns that needed to be cleaned, the other side was filled with guns that were finished, and in front of him was a small cleaning station of rags, gun oil, and brushes.

On the other side of the apartment was the small Christmas tree he had gotten last year for Shawn; it was already up but still bare of any decorations. It’d been a busy week, much to Carlton’s relief: a crime-free Christmas was as unnatural as alcohol-free beer, chihuahuas, and vegan cheese.

And the use of his free time to clean his guns? Well, that was just a special treat for a job well done.

“You think my car driving abilities would somehow be better in the snow?” Shawn scoffed, bringing his attention back to him, as always. “You know I’m a worse driver in a car than a bike. I can’t weave through traffic in a car nearly as well!”

Carlton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please tell me you don’t —”

“I’m just messing with you,” Shawn laughed in the one he used that didn’t deny or confirm anything. And then he changed the subject: “I already got a job!”

That was good to hear. It usually took Shawn a week or so of dragging his feet before that happened.

“That’s good.” Positive reinforcement was needed here. “What’re you doing?”

“Get this,” Shawn sounded almost giddy. “Building Mardi Gras floats! Well, just the one but it’s a lot of work. Okay, most of it is already done but the decorating but there’s a lot of decorating to do! You know how good I am with a hot glue gun!”

Carlton didn’t know how good Shawn was with a hot glue gun but now knew to be suspicious the next time the topic came up.

“So you’re going to be gluing things to a parade float?” he asked, picking up the next piece of gun to clean. “Isn’t Mardi Gras in February?”

“They like the floats to be ready to go by then,” he could hear Shawn shrug. “Don’t worry, I’ll send you some beads!”

 

Christmas came and went. They exchanged bits of cloth soaked in their scents to refresh their lockets… Shawn also sent a taxidermied alligator head that almost gave Carlton a heart attack when he opened the box.

Shawn stayed in New Orleans to see his work on display and to have a relatively safe space to spend his heat — the second Carlton wasn’t able to spend with him which was maddening if he dwelled on the thought for too long.

In March, he got another package. It was on the smaller side, so it was unlikely to be the rest of the alligator, being a bit smaller than a shoe box. When he shook it, it rattled.

Inside was a mess of Mardi Gras beads of every color and shape. There were definitely a few rainbow-colored necklaces with tiny plastic machine guns spaced along the beads. And on top was a single Post-it note:

Told you I’d send you some beads. I promise I only ‘earned’ a few of them!

Get to the bottom and there’s an extra little surprise for you!

There were so many necklaces piled into the box that Carlton had to use both hands to scoop them out. At the bottom, nestled under a few stray beads, was a thick envelope.

For your next private time! was written across the front along with a kiss of red lipstick.

Carlton swallowed hard, both at the image of Shawn’s lips stained devil red but also by the implication of those words.

Shawn’s heat was two weeks ago…

Carlton set the envelope down on the table and retreated to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. He sipped it slowly, his head resting against the fridge for a moment as he forced his thoughts to calm.

Unless it was a very cruel prank, he could guess what kind of pictures were in that envelope.

It was only mid-afternoon. He had to get back to work after his lunch break.

Carlton downed the rest of the ice water, grimacing as the cold hammered into his brain. He set the cup down and called the precinct.

With his afternoon now free — what was he becoming? A common deadbeat who calls off work for no other reason than to… to…

He snatched the envelope up and retreated to his bedroom.

There were only a dozen or so pictures and Shawn hadn’t bothered to build up to it.

The first picture was of him kneeling on a bed and holding the camera so he had to look up into it. His neck and chest were covered in beaded necklaces, a few Carlton recognized from the box. He wore nothing else.

He was already hard.

Oh, fuck.

The next few pictures were similar, the camera coming closer, lower so he could see how aroused Shawn was.

The fifth picture made Carlton groan, both in disbelief and desire.

Shawn was holding a neon blue dildo, a large knot settled at the end, and it seemed like he was pretending to jerk it off, like it was Carlton there and not that bit of rubber…

There were words written off to the side in Shawn’s scratchy handwriting.

Not as good as the real thing

Carlton didn’t bother looking at the rest of them, all but tossing them aside to reach inside his pants and boxers, working himself over until he could think once again.

…Maybe he should take tomorrow off too.

 

Carlton stashed the pictures — he was right to take a break because each one after almost sent him over the edge again — in a locked box under the bed. He didn’t want any eyes on them except his.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Carlton told him the next time he called.

“So you liked them then?” Shawn asked, his voice all but dripping self-satisfaction. “Do you want me to send the —”

“No,” Carlton snapped back, quickly cutting off the idea at the head. How was it he was jealous of some blue bit of plastic? “You need to make due until you get back to the real thing.”

There was a pause before Shawn said, his voice husky: “Knew that’d get to you.”

 

The next postcard was of the Disney Castle with the two giant mice posing in front of it. It also came with a mouse headband, complete with a red polka-dotted bow.

On the back of the postcard was a simple:

Got a job already! Who knew knowing how to drive a boat would actually come in handy! I even get a costume to wear! It’s great!

A few weeks later was another postcard, this one just of Mickey but Shawn had scribbled over his face to add horns, a mustache, and fangs along with a speech bubble that proclaimed: I HATE FUN!

On the back was a shorter sentence:

Okay, so there are rules against racing the taxi boats.

 

The postcards and letters remained steady as time went on:

A postcard from Memphis was quickly followed by another from Graceland that spoke of Shawn’s disappointment that he wasn’t allowed to dress up as Elvis to give guided tours.

Then, shockingly, a postcard from Cosa Rica where, somehow, Shawn had convinced the owners of a small tourist trap that he knew all sorts of animals that lived along the river, and look, he was even a boat captain before! That job lasted longer than Carlton expected.

Argentina was another surprise, one he learned of when he got a shipment of what he could only assume was pretty expensive wine — they came in a wooden crate surrounded by straw! Only stupidly expensive things were so carelessly transported!

With both Cosa Rica and Argentina, Shawn sent him reels and reels of film to be developed — of the landscape, the mountains, the people. It was actually quite nice though Shawn always threw him for a loop by adding at least a few pictures of himself — usually naked — between the breathtaking vistas. That damn sex toy made more appearances in those photos than he would have liked, usually around the time of Shawn’s heats… Carlton was sure that was the whole point.

 

It was only one in the afternoon but the day already felt endless. It was early spring and the sun was shining, and apparently, everyone was too busy enjoying it to commit any crimes. Hell, he’d even do patrol if it meant actually stepping outside of the building for more than five minutes.

Though, he could always go to the range when his shift was over. The thought instantly cheered him up as well as the ringing of his phone.

Usually, the phone ringing meant crime and, at the moment, he was all for it.

“Santa Barbara Police Department, Detective Carlton Lassiter speaking.”

“Dude, there’s a Mountie!”

Carlton’s brow furrowed, his brain hurrying to figure out just what it was about to be subjected to. That was Shawn’s voice, no doubt about that. Mountie was the informal name for the Canadian Royal Mounted Police. Apparently, Shawn was somewhere where he could visually see a Mountie.

Which meant…

“Shawn, why are you in Canada?” Carlton sighed, leaning back in his desk chair. At least he wasn’t going to be bored now. “Last time we talked, you were in Argentina!”

“I’m not in Canada!” he could hear the eye roll in Shawn’s voice. “I’m in Chicago!”

“Why are you in Chicago then?”

“Because that was the more interesting destination that still had open seats! Duh!” Shawn had once explained about cheap last-minute flights as long as you didn’t care where you went… which is how one ended in Chicago. “But you’re missing the point! There’s a Mountie!”

“Canadians take vacations too, Shawn,” he sighed but fought back a smile. In Argentina, the reception had been awful — one of the drawbacks of working and living on a vineyard. “How do you know he’s a Mountie?”

“He’s in uniform!” Shawn sounded ecstatic. “Like a big red Christmas decoration. With a less silly hat.”

“Those are nutcrackers, Shawn. They look nothing alike,” Carlton rolled his eyes. “Wait, he’s in uniform? In America?”

“Yeah!”

Carlton thought for a moment. Chicago was a big city and close to the border. He rolled his eyes. “Is he standing guard in front of a building with a Canadian flag?”

There was a muffled voice before Shawn answered. “He says he already did his consultation job or whatever. What, do they advise people on being polite or something?”

He could hear a barking laugh on the other line. He had a sneaking suspicion that Shawn wasn’t just looking at a man dressed as a Mountie.

“Shawn,” he stated calmly, “is the Mountie standing beside you?”

“Yeah,” Shawn stated, as though it were obvious. “I’m using his mate’s phone.”

There were voices again — one indignant and one politely correcting.

“Yeah. Sure. Partners,” he heard Shawn scoff at them before turning back to the phone. “But yeah, Mountie.”

Carlton sighed again. “What happened to your phone?”

“Oh, I still have it.”

“Does it work?”

“Of course it does! What do you take me for?” Carlton waited him out. His voice dropped down to a whisper, “Look, if I used my phone, I wouldn’t have had a reason to see the Mountie!”

Okay, that was fair. “Just… don’t start an international incident, okay? Is that why you called? Just to tell me about the Mountie?”

“Partly,” Shawn said, voice normal, and loud, again, “and to tell you I was back in the States.” There was ruffling as though a hand was covering the phone and a muffled: “Yeah, yeah, I’m almost done. You’re a cop, you got plenty of minutes! Well, that’s just poor planning on your part! Then put in for reimbursement or a tax write-off or something! No, I’m not done!” The ruffling increased as a fight broke out over the phone then: “Bye, Love you!”

Then the phone went to dial tone.

Carlton sighed and hung up the phone. He turned to the computer and started looking up the information for the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

 

Two weeks later, a fairly large package arrived. Inside was a postcard of the skyline of Chicago and beneath, wrapped in tissue paper, was a Stetson hat with a Montana peak crown.

A Mountie’s hat.

Carlton set the hat on the table and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to get his anger under control. Finally, he read the postcard:

Protect it with your life! I want to see you wear it. :)

So much for not starting international trouble.

 

“Did you know Kansas City isn’t even in Kansas?” Shawn greeted him when he next answered the phone.

Carlton frowned and glanced at the calendar. “Why are you in Missouri? I thought you were in Chicago?”

“Oh, Babe,” Shawn tutted, “that was so three weeks ago.”

“Speaking of…” Carlton started, glancing at the closet that housed the stolen partial uniform of another country’s law enforcement officer. “What the hell?”

“What?” Shawn sounded too defensive not to know what Carlton was talking about. “You like silly hats!”

“I like cowboy hats,” he corrected, “and only when I’m out at Old Sonora. Also, they’re not part of someone’s uniform!”

“Well, you could wear your service cap but that’s not as fun.”

“You love my dress uniform and you know it.”

“You’re right, I do,” Shawn sighed dramatically into the phone. “Look, don’t worry about me, Lassie. I just wanted to hurry up and move on. Big cities are boring, that’s all.”

Carlton was sure that wasn’t it at all. He had no problem with New Orleans, Los Angeles, Vegas, or any of the other large cities he’s been in.

“Well, are you at least settled yet? Or did you just get there?”

“Passing through…” There was a ruffling as the cell phone was moved around. “Uh… Something came up. I’ll call you back later.”

Carlton heard the phone leaving his mate’s ear.

“Wait, Shawn!”

To his relief, Shawn answered him: “Call ya later!” A brief pause: “Oh, if a weird guy in a strangely sexy red uniform shows up, you know nothing! Love you!”

The phone clicked before Carlton could protest further.

“Damn it, Shawn.”

 

“Do you even have an apartment up there?” Carlton asked as Shawn finished up yet another rant about the beauty of driving the Wienermobile up in Wisconsin. “Or do you just live in that thing?”

“I don’t live in the Wienermobile, Lassie,” Shawn scoffed before adding: “They won’t let me. I do have an arrangement with the other drivers though! Mostly me taking their shifts but still letting them take the pay…”

Of course, Shawn would.

“Well, I guess you at least save on food,” Carlton grumbled, looking on the brighter side, even if that side was subpar processed meat and high cholesterol. There was a suspiciously long pause. “Shawn…”

“You know I’m here for the hotdogs, Lassie!” Shawn finally spoke up. “It’s just… well… the Wienermobile doesn’t actually… sell them. I got coupons to give out and little whistles I can hand out!”

“Shawn, if you don’t sell hotdogs, how are you eating hotdogs?”

There was another short bout of silence.

“Look, it’s just unfair! In fact, it’s a travesty to all humankind! Why have a Wienermobile if you don’t actually sell wieners!? This thing is big enough to have a kitchen in the back! Just set this bad boy up and put in a hatch and they’d be rolling in business!”

“…Please tell me you don’t have a grill in the back of that monstrosity?”

“She is not a monstrosity, she is a vivacious wiener queen and no, I’m not that reckless!” Carlton waited. “The grill is just packed up until I find a good parking lot then have a nice grilling session. I use the coupons for the dogs then, if the grocery stores are being jerks who don’t want the free advertisement of a nice donation of condiments would bring them, I just buy a bunch of buns and stuff and have at it.”

Carlton did the mental math: That emergency money from graduation was long gone — he wasn’t that naive to think Shawn had actually saved it — and if Shawn was spending most of his money-making hot dogs for other people for the last month…

He sighed into the phone.

“At least put some money up for your next destination,” he asked, wearily. It wouldn’t be a problem to wire Shawn some money but he felt that would set a precedent that would quickly drain his savings.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn said, “you worry too much. Ooh, a charity car wash! Looks like it needs some wieners to get that party started! You still got that hat? Good! Love you! Bye!”

 

It was late July, Carlton’s rut was less than a week away, and he was sure he’d never been angrier in his life and, given the crap with Henry, that was saying something.

Okay, maybe not that angry but it was close.

Apparently, the Mountie had been following Shawn for the last two months — ‘He has more vacation days saved up than you, Lassie!’ — and Shawn had finally broken down from the damn man’s hurt puppy eyes — What kind of Alpha just looks like that?! — which led to the man and his partners, one of whom may or may not be his mate, and a damn wolf turning up on his doorstep looking for the damn hat.

That he could have lived with, that he could have put down to the weird idiosyncrasies that came with both knowing Shawn and living in Santa Barbara…

After all, they were all law enforcement officers, they had common ground! But ever since that trio darkened his door, his life has been hell in a handbasket!

The wolf eats everything it can find, the two cops who were both called Ray but looked nothing alike acted like they wanted to claw each other's eyes out one minute then like best friends the next, and the Mountie — Ooooh, that Mountie… How could an adult man make you feel guilty just by looking at you long enough?!

Was it a Canadian thing? He was never going into that polite hellscape if he could help it!

And on what planet did a rogue zoologist — how can a zoologist go rogue?! — kidnapping a pet groomer solve a ten-year-old bank robbery from across the country make any damn sense?!

“No, that’s mine!” he quickly snatched his donut away from the questing jaws of the wolf and gave it a hard glare. “You’re not supposed to eat chocolate anyway!”

The wolf huffed at him in a way that felt insulting and sulked away.

“As much as I appreciate your concern for Diefenbaker’s health, I feel your approaching rut might be — ”

The blond-haired Ray — he was 80% sure that was the not-mate mate — quickly caught on to the glare Carlton was sending their way.

“Yeah, Benton-Buddy, I’m pretty sure he’s a few seconds away from shooting us,” he grabbed the Mountie’s arm and began pulling him away.

The other Ray, the Italian one, grabbed the other arm as they all but frog-marched him from the station. “Come on, Benny. I was promised a nice California vacation and I’m holding you two to it. Let’s go enjoy the sun and the beach for a while. That’s the whole reason I came along with you two maniacs.”

Carlton watched as they left the department and stayed watching until that black muscle car — one he would usually appreciate if it didn’t contain the most annoying person he’d ever met — sped off down toward the boardwalk.

Satisfied that his territory was no longer being invaded by Canadians or Chicagoans, he stalked over to one of the empty interrogation observation rooms and pulled out his cell phone.

“You fucking owe me,” he growled into the phone as soon as the call connected. “As soon as you get back, you’re not going to be able to walk for a week.”

He listened to the heavy pause on the other in. He heard the wet slide of wet tongue on lips.

“Oookay,” Shawn breathed into the phone. “Sounds like a plan. I love that plan. Rut started yet?”

“Almost,” Carlton couldn’t stop growling, his hackles still raised. Shawn had been in the vicinity of that Alpha, had wanted his fucking hat, had eventually sent him here… “It might be hitting a bit early,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Oh, cool,” Shawn said, breathless. “Cool.” A hard swallow. “When, uh, when it does hit… don’t hesitate to call me up, ya’know. Let me… let me talk you through it.”

Oh, fuck, that sounded amazing.

“Won’t be much for conversation,” Carlton reminded him.

“Don’t need much talk,” Shawn assured him, sounding a bit steadier now. “I got Carlton 2.0 to pretend to be you.”

Carlton was sure the growl he let out could be heard from the bullpen.

 

More postcards and letters came as Shawn ping-ponged across the country: Denver, Arlington, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Honolulu, Fort Worth, Anchorage — the only thing written on that card was ‘NOPE’.

The stop in Atlanta was the next stop that came with a gift: The postcard, instead of a cityscape, just had a picture of a peach. The back of the card just asked the question:

Why is everything called Peachtree? It’s confusing.

But the card came with the gift of a Southern cooking book that specialized in peaches. A picture was used as a bookmark for a peach cobbler. The picture was of Shawn’s butt — he was wearing boxers covered in peaches and Carlton wasn’t sure if he was relieved or regretful of the fact.

Then Shawn left the country again. To Ko Samui of all places…

And he had thought Argentina was far…

“Teaching English isn’t that hard,” Shawn scoffed, the airport intercom clear in the background of the phone call. “Apparently, rich parents just want you to talk at their kid until something sticks.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Carlton frowned down at the cookbook, trying to find something edible that didn’t involve too many peaches. Why would you make peach-fried chicken? What even is that?

“That’s what I thought!” Shawn said, oblivious to Carlton’s dilemma. “But the company insisted that no knowledge of… what do they speak in Thailand?”

“Thai.”

“…That makes sense. But I don’t have to know it.”

“That sounds really inefficient.”

“Dude, if people wanted efficiency, I wouldn’t have gotten most of the jobs on my resume!”

Carlton couldn’t really argue that point. He gave up on the cookbook and set it aside. “How long you staying?” Are you almost done?

“The winter, I think,” Shawn said. If he heard the plea in Carlton’s voice, he didn’t acknowledge it. “But like, it’s a tropical paradise, ya’know? Even if the ‘teaching English’ doesn’t work out, I can be a beach bum for a bit.”

“I don’t think being a bum pays much.”

“You don’t know that,” he could hear the grin in Shawn’s voice. “I can be very persuasive. And pitiful looking.”

“Well, you are pitiful,” Carlton smiled, ignoring the longing squeeze of his heart as he thought of Shawn’s puppy eyes.

“Damn right,” Shawn said. “Love you.”

The pictures Shawn sent were amazing: blue-green seas, clear skies, lush jungles, and Shawn grinning at him in almost every single one.

It was close to torture some days, looking at his mate’s smiling face and not being able to even touch him. The sealed scent baggies they sent back and forth took ages and they only served to remind him that Shawn wasn’t there.

More and more the thought of hopping on a plane and trying his luck in finding his mate in that paradise was popping into his mind. If Shawn hadn’t already found some other destination to explore, if Carlton could get the vacation days he would need, if he could even afford to go there and get a room for weeks at a time…

It was nice to daydream about but he wasn’t going to go. Shawn needed this time to be selfish — or at least more selfish than normal.

Carlton could wait…

He could endure this…

At least a bit longer.

 

Carlton knew something was up the second he stepped past the front desk and into the bullpen. There’s been something lingering in the periphery of his mind that he couldn’t quite place.

It drove him crazy all morning until Reid, fed up with him, took him out for an early lunch and to question a suspect on a few missing hubcaps — definitely beneath his skill set but a distraction nonetheless. It could have been enough to distract him until he got home, or until actual crime happened, but fate deemed not to smile on him just yet.

As soon as he stepped past the front desk and into the bullpen, the scent of bleach and other chemical cleaners all but scorched his nose.

“Sweet Lady Justice,” he covered his nose with his shirt sleeve. “Did someone piss off the crime scene cleaners again? If there are bloody sponges in my desk drawers, I’m…”

There was a pineapple with a lime-green ribbon tied around it sitting on his desk.

Carlton froze, staring at the fruit as his heart dropped to his feet then leapt back up to his throat, pounding the entire time. No one followed him as he cautiously approached his desk.

Sitting in front of the pineapple was a postcard of the Santa Barbara pier. He picked it up and flipped it over.

Please don’t shoot me!

Carlton barely registered the words when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, giving him a hard, tight squeeze.

“Shawn,” he said, the name falling from his breath like it was his last.

The arms loosened as he moved to turn until he was face to face with his mate. The last two years had filled him out a bit more, the baby-fat softness of his cheeks becoming more angular. His hair was shorter now, cut just long enough on top to be styled but no longer down to his shoulders. He even had some stubble growing along his chin.

He knew all these changes from the photos but they didn’t compare to the real thing.

He was the most beautiful Carlton had ever seen him.

“Hey, Bab—”

Carlton didn’t let him finish.

He cupped Shawn’s face between his hands and brought him forward and up for a hard, deep kiss. He wanted to taste every place Shawn had been, breathe in every experience he had without him. He wanted Shawn so close he would never leave again.

Shawn eagerly returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Carlton’s neck, pulling him down as he tried to get as close as possible.

Carlton wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, how long the hoots and whistles around them sounded, by the time they had to be pulled apart, Shawn had wrapped his legs around his waist and Carlton was barely holding him up, even propped up against his desk.

“Okay, this is all very romantic,” he heard Fenich grumble from the general direction of the Chief’s office. “But there’s work to be done. Lassiter, take the rest of the day off.”

Like Carlton needed to be told twice.

 

Carlton pressed his nose to the back of Shawn’s neck and just let his scent soak into every fiber of his being. He hadn’t realized how terrible the ache for his mate had gotten until he had him in his arms again. Even now the memory of that gnawing absence lingered even as it faded.

“How long have you been back?” he asked, his voice hoarse from making noises that weren’t words.

“Just this morning,” Shawn sighed, wiggling back into Carlton’s arms. “Got off the bus, grabbed your sweet, delicious present, and headed straight over.”

Carlton blinked before smiling slightly. “Aw, you put Gus before me?”

“Of course I did, Babe!”

Carlton snorted.

“How was Claremont?”

Shawn gasped in offense. “You really think I’d visit Gus before you? You who are my mate and the love of my life and the whole reason for knowing what the sweet taste of love is even like?”

“He’s visiting his parents?”

Shawn sighed, “Yeah,” then quickly added, “but he also insisted you get first dibs because he didn’t want me ‘mooning’ over you while I was with him so…”

“Very fair,” Carlton said, pressing another kiss to the back of Shawn’s neck before pulling his mate closer and shoving him down into the mattress. He smirked down at Shawn, his grin almost feral. “Because I think I have a lesson to teach you. Mainly how some piece of plastic is hardly a replacement for the real thing.”

Shawn grinned up at him. “Aw, don’t hurt Carlton 2.0’s feelings. She did the best she could.”

Carlton growled and went to work proving his point.

Notes:

This is the official end of this fic!

I've had so much fun writing this and it is, by far, the longest thing I've ever written. I'm glad for everyone who was here from the beginning, for those who joined along the way, and those who are just discovering this fic after it's been finished.

I do have ideas for more fics in this verse but I know myself better than to promise to write more for it.

We'll see!

Again, thank you all for the support and I hope you had a good time!

Notes:

Find me over at https://the-heart-of-leo.tumblr.com/

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Complications