A/N: A new saga, yaaay! To those who were reading 'I Can't Believe its the Escort' I'm sorry to say, that it just wasn't going to happen. After careful thought, the story has been deleted. I had the beginning planned, and the ending planned, but no middle. That and it was pretty bad -I didn't even like it, and I was the one staying up until 5AM finishing chapters.

So! With all that said -I'm starting a completely new fic away from 'I Can't Believe its not Spencer' and hopefully it does just as well! This is just a prologue so please review with your thoughts/opinions!

Thanks & Enjoy!

~Matilda

Prologue: You're What?

Lassiter hated most of today's pooular music. But a younger singer Rebecca Black once said in her work ' gotta get down on Friday.'

At least that's what Lassiter thinks her name is. The name in the last year or so had become a bit of joke among the uniforms at the station, and though Lassiter didn't mind to let the young ones have their fun (after all he used to be a uniform himself) he never quite understood the joke. Nor did he ever see the video.

So perhaps that is why, that on this Friday like most, Lassiter's idea of 'getting down' was planting his ass in a bar stool and drinking exactly one cold beer and exactly one piping hot coffee. The coffee being drank exactly one hour post beer so that Lassiter could drive home relaxed and without incident.

It had become the detective's routine, which was something he couldn't help really. Detective Carlton Lassiter thrived on routine. So when he entered the bar and sat down, it took less than 30 seconds for the man to be served.

Another week. It had been another long week for him. Sometimes he felt like he was just loosing it, and he blamed Spencer. It was always a roller coaster ride with Spencer. One week him and Spencer would be neck and neck in a case, finding all the same clues, and tracking down all the same suspects, then the next week- Shawn would be yards ahead of him. Thus driving Lassiter partially week it had been the ladder.

The victim had been found dead in her bathtub with practically every trace of evidence having been washed away with bleach. The scene had been clean, and Lassiter had been sure that it was the work of a proffessional. So he had dug into the girl's history to see if she had any notable or important enemies. He was close. He was damn close. Then bam! Spencer ends the case revealing it had been the vicitim's hooker step-sister who had every episode of CSI recorded on her DVR.

Why that last detail was important? Lassiter had no idea. He didn't watch TV. He just figured adding in that detail was Spencer's way of yelling 'suck it!'

This was it. This was Lassiter's grand routine. He got up every morning and went to work along side O'Hara, Guster and Spencer, then come Firday he would come to the bar and drink - thinking about Spencer. It was Torture really. Even when he wasn't at the bar, sometimes all he had to do was close his eyes and he could picture Shawn just bursting into the room with his usual gusto.

"Lassie!"

Lassiter froze in his seat, did he just hear? No. No. It couldn't be. Why the hell was Spencer here? Taking a swig of his beer, Lassiter supressed an annoyed growl and turned on his stool to very reluctantly greet Shawn. "Spen-" Lassiter couldn't believe what he was seeing -Shawn took him completely by surprise by looking wildly out of place. The psychic was dressed in a suit taylored to fit him. It was a classic black and white, but the silk green tie was ever Shawn's signature - and it looked damn good on him. Lassiter had to remind himself that he was even greeting the other man"cer." He finished Shawn's name on a quieter note, and played it off like he had something in his throat. Lassiter gave small albeit fake cough. That didn't go unnoticed by Shawn. The psychic rose a slender brow, and for a moment looked as though he might laugh.

Inwardly Lassiter winced. Shawn was here, in a suit, and looking good, but of course he looked good! Suits were made to make men look good dammit! It was no big deal. Lassiter forced himself to make small talk. "Spencer." He tried again. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh." Shawn didn't give a straight answer. "Just stopping in quick. We won't be here much longer."

Lassiter despite himself perched a brow. "We? Is Guster with you?"

"No." Shawn laughed a bit nervously, which was uncommon for Shawn. Without warning Lassiter become concerned.

"Then who are you with?"

"Uh..." Shawn started again and rocking back and fourth on his heels, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "My date. We just stopped in to use the washrooms."

Lassiter understood now. Shawn was on a date. Before Lassiter knew why, a knot formed in his stomach, and his breath hitched. This always seemed to happen when Shawn had a new fling. Lassiter never understood why or cared to find out, he just did his best to bury it because when it came to Spencer Lassiter never wanted to think too hard. He forced himself to speak. "Ahhh I see. You have a secret girlfriend!"

At that Shawn gave a bit of a smirk and bowed his head awkwardly before peering to the exit. Lassiter recognized it as a need to escape. He saw it all the time when he interrogated people. Part of him hated to see Shawn so squemish, but the cop in him pressed on -needing- more information. "So what's her name? Is she cute? How come Guster doesn't know about her?"

"Gus knows."

Of course he did. Gus knew everything. "Gus knows, but we don't - so she's ugly? Is she a bit fat? A lot fat? Which is perfectly fine. Looks aren't everything, my college girlfriend was 300 pounds." ..For the life of him Lassiter couldn't figure out why he just shared that detail. Suddenly Shawn's demeanor changed and he could see shimmers of michief shining behind those eyes, like he had just discovered gold.

"Really?"

"...Yes."

"Wow."

"I know." Lassiter answered suddenly on the defensive. "Just- just drop it."

"300?" Shawn's voice dropped to a disbelieved whisper.

"Stop it Spencer."

"What attracted you to her?" Shawn asked then, he sounded more curious then he did judgmental.

"Her strength." Lassiter answered honestly. "She was the only girl on campus who could throw the shot put as far as me."

"Not bad." Shawn shrugged in acceptance then added with a bit of a grin. "Kind of hot actually."

"Really?" Lassiter never thought he'd hear anyone say that.

"Sure." Shawn said. "So, if she was strong, and you liked strong - why'd you break up?"

"Oh. She dumped me for some up and coming rapper or something, Snoop Bull Dog or something stupid like that."

Shawn actually gawked. Then started laughing. Hard.

"Whoa - what? What's so funny?" Lassiter started to blink repeatedly, what was so funny?

"You -you..." Between laughs and gasps Shawn managed to spit out. "You got dumped for Snoop Dog? !"

"Uh...I guess so?" Lassiter didn't see the significance.

Finally Shawn stopped laughing, and very dramatically he wiped away a single tear that had come to the corner of his eye. "Lassie, seriously. That is the best story I've ever heard in my life!"

"I'm glad you think me getting dumped is funny." Lassiter used sarcasm. Sometimes all he wanted to do was punch Spencer square in the face. This whole time Lassiter had been trying to dig details of Shawn's girl out of him. Yet somehow the conversation turned to Shawn laughing at him about one of his exes, and Lassiter still had no idea who Shawn was even here with. Dammit all.

"Shawn."

Both men turned their heads to see a painfully beautiful male specimen standing perhaps 4-5 feet away, and who was about 6' ''8 tall. Like Shawn he was dressed in a suit, all black, right down to the tie which was hanging loose around his neck- a little too casual for Lassiter's liking. Light hair was tousled purposely to look messy which perfectly suited the stubble that sat atop a strong jaw line. Lassiter's own jaw hit the ground, and the detective had to struggle to connect it back to the rest of his face.

"Hey Cal."

Lassiter saw the reaction in Shawn, it was instant and willing. Shawn's shoulders dropped to that of a submissive and he happily went to the other man. This caused the knot in Lassiter's stomach to turn into a ball of fire. He actually felt like he was going to be sick.

"You're ready to go?" Shawn asked.

"Always ready." Cal answered. He glanced up briefly, deep set dark eyes looking over Lassiter quizzically. For a second he looked like he was about to ask about Lassiter, but all too suddenly the look was gone and replaced with one that said 'this guy has no chance.'

Lassiter's hand twitched, he hated that look. It was smug, and in his line of work it was usually that look that got Lassiter to draw his gun. ...Did Lassiter mention he had a gun?

"Great!" Shawn's eager tone broke Lassiter's train of thought. "Just give me one more second." Shawn turned on his heel and came back to Lassiter looking a bit sheepish. "So yeah, my date's a guy."

"Uh huh." Lassiter's head was reeling. Something about this guy just...just...It took everything Lassiter had, not to grab Shawn's hand and start running. "So - this is why you haven't told anyone?"

"Not because I'm ashamed or anything. My dad knows, and Gus knows, and that's all that really matters to me. It is part of who I am -but it doesn't effect the way I run Psych or the way I work with the SBPD."

Lassiter might've been a lot of things. Irritable, crass, egotistacle, and maybe at times a little maniacle, but he was never judgemental. His voice actually softened. "I know, and it never will."

"So..." Shawn continued a bit awkwardly. "You'll keep this to yourself then?"

"I don't really have a choice do I? Its not like telling anybody would do me any good. Go enjoy the rest of your...'date' Spencer."

"Okay..." Shawn for a second looked to Lassiter like he wanted to ask why Lassiter had put the word date in quotations, but after a split second of thought, Shawn simply took the comment as a blessing and turned back to Cal. "I'm ready now!"

The two fell into step beside each other, Cal's arm resting comfortably around Shawn's shoulders, and as they were walking away, Lassiter heard the start of their conversation.

"Who was that guy Shawn?"

"Detective Lassiter. I work with him at the station."

Wordlessly, Lassiter turned back around in his stool to face his beer. He finished all of it in one defiant swig before sloppily wiping his mouth with the cuff of his jacket.

So.

Shawn was on a date.

Shawn was on a date with an adonis.

Fuck.