A/N: Hey everyone! This is my second Psych fanfic. It's basically two one shots about the relationship and dynamic between Shawn and Lassiter but not in a Shassie way. It's meant to be very in line with canon. This is Lassie's chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its characters.

Shawn Spencer annoyed the hell out of Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. The fake psychic was always up to some crazy antics – always intruding on Carlton's crime scenes or invading his desk space or just being otherwise obnoxious. As Spencer solved case after case after case, however, right under Carlton's nose, he simply became more and more of a pain in the ass. Carlton wanted nothing more than for him to just disappear. The days that Spencer didn't visit the station or barge in on a crime scene were some of the best days of his life. He could actually get his work done and go about his day in peace. Days without Spencer were complete and utter bliss.

Today was one such day, thus far anyway. However, it was nearly three in the afternoon and there had been no psychic sightings yet that day. They'd even been able to look at a crime scene completely undisturbed. As Carlton sat at his desk doing his paperwork, he felt great. Except whenever he heard someone walking down the hall. Or whenever anyone spoke too loudly. Or whenever the scent of pineapple wafted his way. His head would snap around, ready to lay eyes upon the nuisance that was bound to destroy his day. Needless to say, while the days that Spencer was mysteriously absent brought Carlton the peace he always craved in the younger man's presence, they certainly did not bring him the peace of mind. Any day Spencer wasn't pestering him, Carlton found himself inexplicably on edge.

How the man managed to get under his skin without even being present was something that irked Carlton to no end, only making it worse. "O'Hara!" he snapped, suddenly.

"What is it, Carlton?" she asked, coming over to his desk as everyone else in the station shied away, thinking he must have found a lead in one of their cases.

"Did Spencer say anything to you about not being around today?" he asked, trying to sound casual and conversational which always only made it sound more awkward and uncomfortable.

Juliet bit back a smile. "No," she replied. "I have no idea where he is. Why he hasn't been here today is as much a mystery to you as it is to me."

Carlton let out what could only be described as a chuckle for him. "Maybe Spencer died," he remarked.

"Carlton!" she exclaimed, hitting him in the arm. "Don't say that kind of thing!"

She stormed back to her desk before the head detective could finish deciding if he wanted to apologize or not. Damn Spencer. Always managed to ruin his day.

As he focused back in on his work, however, a thought kept nagging at the back of his mind. What if something had happened to Spencer? Carlton was sure the annoying psychic would've popped up somewhere today. He checked his watch. He hadn't seen Spencer in approximately twenty-two hours. That was plenty of time for the idiot to get into some sort of trouble. Had he mentioned anything yesterday about a private but dangerous case he and Guster had been working on?

No! Carlton scolded himself. He did not care what happened to Shawn Spencer. If the man was dead, Carlton's life would be all the better for it. Damn him for weaseling his way into Carlton's thoughts again.

Although...Guster wasn't as bad. But if Spencer was involved in some stupid scheme, there was no doubt Guster would have been dragged along for the ride. He could be slightly concerned over whether or not Guster was alive. There's no shame in that. Guster was a decent man. He might even be tolerable if he didn't come with Spencer attached at the hip.

Carlton rose abruptly and headed to the men's restroom. Once inside, he checked all the stalls and the bathroom air vents for the presence of another person. When he deemed the place clear, he locked the door and pulled out his cell phone. Unfortunately, however, he didn't have Guster's phone number. He really should have. All he had, though, was Spencer's. Well, he needed some way to keep tabs on that—that fiend!

With a heavy sigh, Carlton dialed Spencer's number. It rang...and rang...and rang. Carlton was beginning to fear that maybe he had died when an annoying voice chimed, "Lassie! To what pleasure do I owe this call?"

Why was he calling? Was he sick? What in his right mind would have ever possessed him to call Shawn Spencer? Carlton held back a groan. "Is Guster alive?" he snapped.

"Gus?" Shawn repeated. "Well, gee, Lassie, I don't know. Let me check." The fake psychic didn't even bother to pull the phone away before calling to his partner, "Gus, you alive?"

"Yes, I'm alive, Shawn!" Carlton could make out the man's indignant reply.

"He's alive," Shawn confirmed. "Why do you ask, Lassie?"

"I just...he just..." Carlton spluttered, desperately wishing he had never made this call. He sighed agitatedly. "You two haven't been pestering the station and you didn't come waltzing in on my crime scene this morning so I just wanted to see if your idiocy had gotten either of you killed," he explained before quickly adding, "But mainly Guster! Because I couldn't care less what happens to you, Spencer."

"Aww, Lassie," Shawn cooed. "That's so sweet. You were worried about me."

"Spencer, I was not—"

"Gus, did you hear that? Lassie was worried I was dead because I haven't hung out with him today.

"I wasn't worried and we don't ever hang out—"

"Really, Shawn? Because it sounded like he was worried about me," Gus retorted.

"Well, I'm obviously alive, Gus," Shawn countered. "I answered the phone."

"Whatever you say," Gus responded, knowing it was better to just let Shawn think what he will.

"Well, thanks for your concern, Lassie," Shawn returned to the phone call, "but I am very much alive." He paused. "Although I might feel a small case of the sniffles coming on. Did you want to come over and take care of me when you get off work, Lassie?"

"Goodbye, Spencer," Carlton snarled, hanging up on the bane of his existence as violently as he could. Calling that man was the biggest mistake Carlton had made all day. All week even.

The head detective strode angrily out of the men's room and back to his desk. The day had been going so well. What the hell had he been thinking, dragging Spencer into it? Now that his day had been sufficiently ruined, Carlton bore no hope of peace. He resignedly set himself back to his paperwork, far more agitated but also, unconsciously, far less on edge. Still, it didn't change anything. There was no way around it; Shawn Spencer annoyed the hell out of Head Detective Carlton Lassiter.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated. I'll post the next "chapter" after this gets a few reviews. Thanks!

-Theaterbug-