Disclaimers: I do NOT own or have any association with anyone who owns these characters or the show Psych. It would be awesome if I did, but alas, it's not to be. I do enjoy playing with these guys and having them play with each other.

Warnings: There will be a man/man relationship in this story with all the trappings that go along with that. Language can get a bit strong, but not terrible. I try not to let the F-bomb drop too frequently, but it does happen in later chapters, sorry.

Notes: I have a Prologue to this story and to establish where these guys came from, you might want to read that one first. This story will probably contain spoilers from all seasons of the show and even though this started with the tag of the episode "From Earth to Starbucks" in season one, the timeline will not follow the episodes from here on out. Obviously, an AU story, as in the show Lassiter is not involved with Shawn romantically. Enjoy, if you can. Let me know what you think afterwards. Good or Bad.

Carlton moaned as the hands brushed against his crotch. He realized he was lying on a floor as the hands continued to touch him through his pants. He wanted more, to have those hands touching without the cloth barrier. He just couldn't find his voice enough to let the owner of those hands know what he wanted.

Even without being told, whoever was touching him must have known what he wanted. He felt fingers dip beneath his waistband before undoing his belt. Then the buttons of his pants were undone slowly. He was fully hard by the time his zipper was lowered and he was relieved of the pants altogether.

One hand reached inside his boxers and grasped around his erection while the other ran through his hair. Carlton pressed against the hand on his cock as he felt warm lips graze against his own. The mouth deepened the kiss and found his tongue as it gained easy entrance. He wanted to see who was touching him, who was kissing him, but his vision was blurred.

Carlton felt like he was losing his mind surrounded by the sensations of the hand pumping him, the warmth of the body on top of him and the familiar spicy, sweet scent he couldn't quite recognize. He came as he heard, "You astound me." whispered into his ear.

"Oh my God."

Detective Carlton Lassiter woke up from the dream in a sweat and his sheets were tangled around his body. It had been a long time since he last had a wet dream. And this one felt different. Parts of this dream felt more like memories, but he wasn't quite sure which parts were which.

He had gone to bed last night confident in his decision to finally proceed to finalize his divorce. If Victoria could move on, so could he. For once, the time he had spent trying to get her back seemed like wasted time. Two years. He felt tired at the thought of how much time he had wasted. His resolve remained strong as he readied himself for work.

His dream had left him more relaxed than he had been in weeks. There was still the lingering feeling that some of what he dreamt had been real and he couldn't shake the faint smell of something he couldn't place. As he got into his car to head to work, he dialed his wife's lawyer's number, and then hesitated. Was he really ready for this?

Yes. Yes he was.

His heartbeat sped up as he left his message with the receptionist. When he hung up and started driving to the station, he couldn't help a smile from forming. He walked to his desk with a little more spring in his steps and began to think about the weight about to be lifted from his life. There was always a chance that Victoria would try to get more out of him before the divorce was final, but he would deal with that if it came.

He dropped his briefcase on his desk and turned to get coffee. He paused at his partner's desk on the way.

"O'Hara. Coffee?"

She looked up at him and saw a smile on his face.

"Uh, sure." She started to stand but he stopped her. But then he realized he didn't know how she liked her coffee. They'd been partners for a while now and he couldn't recall how she liked her coffee? What kind of a partner was he? He guessed his assertion to get her coffee this morning was way overdue.

"Sugar? Cream?"

"Okay. One Cream, two sugars?"

Lassiter snapped his fingers. "Got it. Be right back."

He only walked a few feet before she caught up to him.

"What's up with you this morning? Did you have a date last night?"

"I'm in a good mood this morning, O'Hara. So, no, I did not have a date last night."

"Then what's with the, you know? The niceness?"

"I can be nice. To people I can stand. That includes you, but not very many others." That list was pretty short, he admitted, but there was at least a list. Of about four people.

He handed her a coffee mug, but she was still staring at him.

"What? I just realized that I hadn't treated you to a coffee in a while and I thought I would offer. If that disturbs you, I won't offer again."

"No, it's great. Thank you, Carlton."

"You're welcome."

"But there is something up, isn't there?"

Lassiter walked back to his desk with O'Hara right behind him. When he sat down, she took to the chair at the side. He knew from past experience that she wouldn't let up. She was too stubborn for that and she could crack suspects in the interrogation room with bigger secrets on the line.

"It's personal. But, seeing as we shouldn't hold many secrets from each other," He cleared his throat before he continued, "I have decided to finally have my ex-wife's attorney draw up the divorce papers and this time, I will sign them. I already left him a message and, with any luck, I should hear back by this afternoon.

Under normal circumstances, Carlton would have to wait for six months to pass after the papers were signed and filed before the divorce would be finalized. The six month wait is meant to give couples the time to re-think their decision. But since he and Victoria had split over two years ago, he hoped the judge could be persuaded to overlook the waiting period.

"Oh, Carlton. That is huge. What made you finally decide?"

"I think it's just time. There's no need to keep holding on to something that's over. I need to move on and I think I can do that now."

If he were honest with himself, it was the realization that he wasn't alone in his life without Victoria. He held on so hard before because he thought the divorce would end the only personal connection he had in the world outside of work. That the marriage failing would mean he had failed. The end of the Vallery case had opened his eyes to the fact that his closest connections were right in front of him. The three of them: O'Hara, Spencer and Guster, had helped him without expectation of credit or praise in their direction. They showed him that one bad stumble didn't have to taint the rest of the good there was around him. And as a group they had boosted him out of a downward spiral. He had no need to hold on to the one negative connection to his past anymore. Coupled with the fact that Spencer now held his biggest secret and had made no moves to spill it had Lassiter beginning to trust the man. And for him, trust was huge.

And if all of that didn't come off sounding all flowery and wimpy, he would have said some of it out loud to his partner.

Lassiter looked through the papers in his inbox and found a note from the coroner.

"Well, enough pleasantries, O'Hara. We have a body in the morgue and Strode is ready with his report." He stood and buttoned his suit jacket.

Every visit to Woody Strode's morgue left Lassiter a shade more creeped out than when he entered. This visit was no different. The man was weird, but he was great at his job. If Spencer was in the room, the rapport the two men had left Lassiter feeling like he was out of whatever loop they had found themselves. When he and O'Hara entered, Strode had the body under a sheet, but Lassiter was unprepared to find what seemed to be a mini salad bar on the counter behind the coroner.

"Strode, are you throwing a party down here later?"

"Uh, well detective, not exactly. I figured since most everyone who comes down here only stays a few minutes that maybe they'd stay longer if I offered light refreshments, for after.

"So you have open food down here while you do autopsies?"

"Detective O'Hara, that would be unwise. No. I cover the food during the autopsy."

"Of course." O'Hara looked at her partner with a look of disgust and he returned with a look of his own. Chief Vick wouldn't let Woody keep the food. A certain Head Detective would make sure of that.

"Please. What did you find about the body?"

Lassiter didn't want to stay down here any longer than he already had.

Lassiter and O'Hara walked back upstairs with Strode's report to add to their case file. As he neared his desk, a familiar scent drifted to his nose and he slowed his progress. Just as he thought he could identify the scent, it was gone and when he looked around he saw Spencer's ass planted on his desk. The sight of the man in his rumbled shirts and tight jeans distracted him from trying to find out where that scent had come from.

"Spencer. Why the hell are you sitting on my desk?"

So far the fake psychic had kept his word to keep his secret, but Lassiter was still wary as whether that would hold or not.

"Lassyface, the spirits told me that this was where I needed to be at this very moment. And good thing I was too. Buzz had dropped this message for you and if I wasn't here, it would have gone straight down the vent over there."

Spencer hopped off Lassiter's desk and bent down towards the vent on the floor. As he did, his shirts rode up and the jeans tightened across his ass. Lassiter couldn't help but to look. He caught himself staring even after Spencer had stood back up, and he felt his face flush.

Spencer didn't seem to notice that Lassiter had just checked him out, but he was embarrassed by his actions all the same.

"Well, will you give it to me already, Spencer?"

Shawn's face reddened a bit and Lassiter took in what he had just said.

"My message, you need to give me the message." He reached his hand out indicating that he wanted Spencer to hand him the slip of paper.

"Sure thing Lassie." Shawn placed the paper into Lassiter's hand then let his fingers brush against the detective's hand as he pulled away. He seemed to pull away slower than was necessary, in Lassiter's mind. The touch from those fingers for just that brief moment had Lassiter's mind heading to places not suitable for the workplace.

Was Spencer flirting with him? Or was that just his own mind messing with him? Either way, he was at the station and he was hoping the message that Spencer just gave him was news from his wife's lawyer. He would have time to deal with Spencer later. Much later.

-END CHAPTER ONE-