Work Text
2007, Santa Barbara
Carlton, as a rule, hated Valentine's Day. Not only was it a commercialized holiday with no real value, solely perpetuated by Hallmark clichés and people in surface-level relationships where one or both of them were certainly going to end up cheating on the other, but it was also a day flooded with those same people discovering that same cheating and committing crime as a way to get revenge. He'd seen it time and time again, every year without fail. Not to mention, his previous Valentine's Days were tainted by memories of Victoria's thin-lipped smiles or lonely nights with only whisky keeping him company.
This year, however, he was with Shawn Spencer.
Shawn, who made his insides wriggle and ribcage twist in on itself and brain blue-screen; Shawn, who smiled at him like he'd invented pineapples; Shawn, who was the most aggravating, immature, disingenuous, brilliant person he'd ever met...Shawn, who was the sweetest father, partner, and lover that Carlton could possibly imagine.
Yes, this year was going to be different. Carlton had asked for the evening off and he was taking Shawn out for dinner at a very fancy, dimly lit restaurant an hour out of Santa Barbara. (As much as Shawn had endeared himself to Carlton, he wasn't ready to be known as ‘the gay cop’ at the station yet, hence the distance. Shawn had easily agreed to the location, sending several hearts via text that somehow conveyed all of his empathy perfectly.) After dinner, they were slated to return to Carlton's house and enjoy each other's company until Bailey needed to be relieved of Zinnia duty. It was going to be a perfect night.
Until Chief Vick called him thirty minutes before he was meant to pick up Shawn.
“I know you have the night off, but I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't urgent,” Vick said, in her usual no-nonsense tone. “Put your personal plans on hold—there’s another missing infant.”Carlton's stomach dropped. Fuck.
Carlton (5:47 PM): Something’s come up. I have to cancel tonight.Carlton (5:48 PM): I’m sorry, Shawn.
Shawn (5:52 PM): w8 wat??Shawn (5:56 PM): lassiepants wats goin on?Shawn (5:57 PM): baileys alrdy on her way hereShawn (6:03 PM): lassie srsly wtfShawn (6:12 PM): carlton?Shawn (6:34 PM): bails zinn & me r hanging out 2nite thenShawn (6:35 PM): ur welcom 2 join us if u want
Carlton sighed as he ignored Shawn's latest message. Guilt was eating away at his flesh and he wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up in bed, and listen to a good musical alone. Instead, he glared at McNab as he held the front door open.
“Talk to me,” he snapped as O'Hara sidled up to him. She frowned pointedly and he sighed again. “Sorry. I just want to get this over with.”“Okay, but keep your voice down! The parents are in the other room,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her. They stepped through the entryway, past the living room where Dobson was interviewing the parents, down a hallway and into the crime scene. “Victim is Jordan Ava Mitchell, eleven months old. Same as the last four, the parents report taking a nap at the same time as the child, and upon waking found the nursery empty. Nothing else is amiss.”“Damn.” He bent down to inspect the rug. His phone buzzed in his pocket again. “I hate these cases.”“Me too,” O'Hara sighed. “It’s just awful. And there's never any evidence! It's really like these babies are just vanishing into thin air.” There was a moment where she didn't speak, and Carlton thought maybe it was a sign to continue the investigation in silence. Then: “I’m sorry you got pulled away from your date tonight.”He didn't respond until he was sure he wouldn't sound like he was being strangled. “Date?”
“Oh. I just assumed—it is Valentine's Day,” she said, reasonably.
“Right. Of course.”Carlton cleared his throat, collecting himself as he stood. In two steps, he was on the other side of the room, scrutinizing the small window. It could be large enough for a person to fit through, potentially...
“So, was it a date?”He didn't turn around, knowing his face was probably tinged red. The window didn't seem disturbed, which didn't mean it couldn't have been—“Carlton?”“Fine. Yes, it was supposed to be a date,” he said, pivoting to sneer at her. His phone vibrated again and his agitation vibrated along with it, clenching his fists by his sides. “I was called in before we actually went anywhere and I can't reply to any texts if I want to keep focused on the case, so it doesn't matter, okay? I just want to get this over with and go home, because there is nothing we can do about these baby disappearances so there was no fucking point in me missing my date!”“What?”From over O'Hara's shoulder, he saw the grieving mother in the doorframe. Her eyes were wide and wet, hands clasped over her mouth. He deflated instantly, squeezing his own eyes closed.
Shit.
Shawn (7:14 PM): were watchng cars! :)Shawn (7:21 PM): [Sent 1 Image Attachment]Shawn (7:22 PM): zinns fallin asleep 4 her 1st movie xperience smhShawn (7:48 PM): bailey & i r havin fun tho!Shawn (8:02 PM): i need u 2 watch this movie w/ me 1 dayShawn (8:06 PM): u mite h8 it but i hope u dontShawn (8:13 PM): [Sent 1 Image Attachment]Shawn (8:13 PM): this is uShawn (8:19 PM): hes the sheriffShawn (8:40 PM): i hope ur ok <3Shawn (8:56 PM): im not worrid or anthing but
Shawn (9:18 PM): i kno ur ok but i miss u ok?Shawn (9:22 PM): i just wanna c u soonShawn (9:24 PM): h&ks <3<3<3
“Detective Lassiter,” Chief Vick began and, although he couldn't meet her eyes, he knew the exact disapproving expression that was there, “I hope I don't need to explain to you why your behaviour tonight was completely inappropriate.”“No, Chief,” he mumbled, sliding further down in his seat. The lights in her office were buzzing overhead and it reminded him of his buzzing phone. He picked at his fingers in his lap.
“I understand that these cases have been hard on you,” her tone shifted into something quieter, softer, “but I cannot have my best detectives acting anything less than professional, especially in such close proximity to victims.”“I know, Chief.”“You’re lucky O'Hara was able to calm Mrs. Mitchell down, otherwise you would be in for something far worse than a stern reprimanding,” Vick warned, finally sitting down in her chair instead of towering over his slouched figure. “I am this close to taking you off this case, seniority be damned. Do you understand me?”“Yes, Chief.”“Good. Now, you have a lot to be doing, so get to it. We can't keep having the children of Santa Barbara going missing on our watch.” She shooed him away. “O’Hara is waiting for you in the bullpen, I'm sure. I expect a new report on my desk by morning.”
Shawn (11:34 PM): My senses have been telling me this is a police thing.
Shawn (11:37 PM): Carlton if you don't answer me, I'll come down to the station myself.Shawn (12:01 AM): OK then.
It was half past midnight when Shawn Spencer burst into the police station. Well, burst wasn't quite the right word. That’s how he normally entered, loud and flashy and doing everything he could to throw Carlton off balance—now, he slunk through the bullpen causally, merely nodding to the few lingering officers milling about. The only usual part of his entrance was making a beeline for Carlton's desk.
“Hey,” he greeted, softly. The lights were dim, so Carlton had to squint to make out his expression. He wasn't sure what it meant, either way. “How are you doing?”O'Hara had vacated to refill her coffee mug a minute before Shawn came in (he definitely wasn't a psychic, but he had good timing), so Carlton let his mask fall. “I’m so sorry about all this. I keep fucking up tonight.”Shawn ran a slow hand through Carlton's hair—Carlton practically melted. “Aw, baby... You haven't fucked up.”“I insinuated this case was hopeless while one of the victims was in the hallway.”“And you're still on the case,” Shawn gently reminded him. “I know how committed you are to this; you'll figure it out. Everyone will get over what you said, and you'll find that baby.” His hand was still stroking his scalp. “And if you're worried about our date tonight, you didn't fuck that up, either. We both know that the job comes first. I wasn't angry at you—I’m not angry at you. I do wish you'd texted more, but it's all right.”It was all so tender that Carlton briefly wondered if he'd fallen asleep while trying to write his report, and this Shawn was a figment of his imagination. Then, Shawn pulled his hand back as O'Hara re-entered the area, and Carlton knew it was real.
In his dreams, Shawn wouldn't stop.
“Hi, Shawn,” she half-said half-yawned, collapsing back at her desk. After a second, she squinted at him. “Wait, why’re you here so late?”“Ah, just finished up a movie date,” he not-quite-lied with ease, “and the spirits were feeling particularly low in this area of town. I was drawn to investigate—just asking Lassie here how the case was. Sounds like it's a rough one.”“‘Rough’ is an understatement.” She laughed bitterly. “I kind of wish you'd been there, Shawn; you would've been able to pick up something, at least.” She sat up, hurriedly adding, “But, I know why you're not, obviously. I wasn't asking you to—”“I know, Jules.”Carlton closed his eyes, his stomach swallowing itself up. Shawn had voluntarily told Chief Vick that he didn't want to be part of this spree of infant abductions in any way, shape, or form. He used some bullshit excuse about the psychic vibes being higgledy-piggledy due to having a baby of his own and the spirits empathizing with his emotions, therefore refusing to aid him with visions, blah, blah, blah. Carlton knew it was just his own anxiety about his daughter (understandably so). While he hadn't even suggested Shawn do that, everytime he thought about it, he felt a renewed sense of guilt. Maybe, if he hadn't talked to Shawn about it on Christmas Eve, he would have joined the investigation and figured everything out by now...He opened his eyes again as Shawn said, “I can't stick around long—the babysitter needs to go home eventually—but I did bring you a little treat, courtesy of Zinny. Well, me, but she gave me crucial constructive criticism.”Shawn produced two pouches from seemingly nowhere, passing them out. O'Hara took hers excitedly, ready to tear into it, while Carlton's hand lingered on Shawn's for longer than strictly necessary. Inside the cloth bag were several Hershey's Kisses wrapped in pink, silver, and red foil, and a tiny Valentine's card clearly meant for a child. Carlton's had the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it, with Cowabunga, Valentine! You're the Turtle! in a comic-stylized scrawl. On the back, by the ‘to’ line, Shawn had written Lassie with a heart dotting the i. Carlton wondered if feeling so touched by it was due to his exhaustion.
He stayed quiet as O'Hara gushed about her card. It was themed after a cartoon as well, something called Kim Possible—he tuned her out. His mind could only focus on Shawn.
Shawn, who wasn't angry with him for cancelling their date; Shawn, who had gone out of his way to stop by and comfort him, even though he hadn't replied to any of his texts; Shawn, who had brought him and his partner chocolate and cards, silly as they were, to show that he was thinking of them...Shawn, who was the most understanding, considerate, loveable person Carlton could possibly imagine.
Before he could do anything, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket again. This time, he checked it.
Shawn (12:59 AM): id really luv 4 u 2 com 2 my place wen ur done here <3He met Shawn's eyes, his fond smirk, and gave a tiny nod.
2011, still Santa Barbara
“Can I have a chocolate please?” Zinnia begged, standing on her tip-toes in a futile attempt to swipe a Hershey's Kiss from the counter.
Carlton shook his head, continuing his process of taping a Kiss to each tiny Valentine (except for one boy who was allergic to chocolate—he was getting a lollipop). “No, Flower, we already talked about this; these are for your classmates, not you. You'll get some of your own at school later, I'm sure.”“But Papa!”“Did someone say ‘butt?’” Shawn peered into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. Zinnia shrieked excitedly, dashing away from the counter. Shawn wiggled his fingers playfully. “Butt is the tickle monster's favourite word!”“No! No tickling!” she squealed, and Shawn dropped his hands to his sides easily.
“Okay, the tickle monster respects your boundaries,” he said, resting his chin on Carlton's shoulder. “How’s Papa doing?”“Papa’s just trying to decipher our daughter's handwriting to make sure he doesn't poison Timothy H.,” Carlton replied, scrutinizing the large squiggles on the backs of each card. “I thought Daddy was going to help her with her printing?”“Well, our daughter didn't want Daddy's help.” Shawn hummed, then pointed to a card on the upper left of the countertop. “That’s the one.”Carlton tilted his head to give Shawn a chaste kiss. ”Mm, thank you, Daddy.”“You’re welcome, Papa.”“Yucky,” Zinnia groaned, covering her eyes. Both men laughed.
“Sorry, Zinners, we'll be in love in another room,” Shawn said, pulling away from Carlton.
Zinnia nodded. “Good.”Carlton hid his snort with a cough, going back to his candy sorting. Shawn stepped over to their daughter, scooping her up in his arms and giving her a spin. She clapped, squealing for more. Her request was acquiesced until she yelled that she needed to go to the bathroom and Shawn put her down. She teetered for a moment, then dashed out of the kitchen. Shawn chuckled, returning to his spot next to Carlton.
“Happy Valentine's Day, by the way,” he said, as though it had just occurred to him. Carlton just smiled.
“Happy Valentine's Day.” He placed the final chocolate and turned around, allowing himself to be crowded against the counter. Shawn kissed him again, longer. “This reminds me of our first Valentine's together,” he said upon pulling back. When it didn't seem like Shawn was following, he lifted one of the Valentine's cards for Zinnia's class—they were Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle themed.
Shawn beamed. “You’re the turtle, Carlton.”Carlton just laughed and kissed him again.