The day they moved in together, Shawn found himself seriously worried about Carlton's blood pressure. The man's jaw was clenched so tightly shut Shawn could hear the grind of his teeth.
"If you don't want my Rick Astley poster in the living room just say so, Lassie," he suggested in the hopes of calming the man a little.
"I don't want your Rick Astley poster in the living room," Lassiter said plainly.
"But Lassie!" Shawn whined. "How can we possibly Rickroll our guests without a Rick Astley poster in the living room!?" Carlton threw up his hands in frustration and stalked out of the living room. Shawn took personal pride in the fact he'd spent so much time over the past few years frustrating the man that Lassiter hardly ever wasted time yelling at him anymore. At least, not when it was just the two of them; Lassiter had insisted he had an image to maintain in public and if Shawn was going to be a pain in his ass ("Mind out of the damn gutter, Spencer") Lassiter was going to have to yell at him.
Shawn was fully prepared to continue their discussion in the other room (he was pretty sure Carlton had gone to the kitchen to unpack Shawn's multi-colored, fruit-shaped plates to the very back of the cabinet) when the doorbell rang and interrupted his plans to bribe the grumpy detective with various acts of debauchery. Shawn bolted for the door, eager to greet his first guest as a member of the household.
"Ms. Eaton!" he said with a grin as he opened the door for the elderly woman. Lassiter's…their neighbor was a little old woman who looked like a gentle breeze could knock her over. She had a fiery spirit, however, and a wicked sense of humor and Shawn had already decided he totally loved her, ever since she'd walked in on he and Lassie having a little fun in the garage a few months back. There was a familiar twinkle in her eye that had Shawn trying to remember if the bedroom curtains had been closed that morning…
"Is he finally moving you in, dear?" the old woman asked sweetly. "I couldn't help but notice all the boxes this morning." Shawn smiled warmly at her.
"What do you think, Ms. E? Ready for another handsome neighbor?" Ms. Eaton laughed her little laugh and patted Shawn on the arm.
"I'm sure I'll be delighted," she said. "But you must start calling me Susie. I've always told Carlton to call me Susie but that boy just never listens, does he?" Shawn's grin widened as he heard Lassiter enter the foyer behind him.
"Ms Eaton," Carlton spoke up loudly before Shawn could respond to her comment. "How are you today?" Ms. Eaton gave Shawn a conspiratorial wink before she turned her focus on Carlton.
"Oh I'm lovely, dear. Thanks for asking. Just stopped by to welcome Shawn to the neighborhood. I'm taking a weekend trip to Vegas with the girls, but I must have you both over for dinner next week."
"That'd be awesome, Susie," Shawn agreed before Lassiter could come up with some sort of excuse. The woman gave him a warm smile and tugged on his arm until he bent down far enough she could kiss him on the cheek.
"You'd better keep an eye on this one, Carlton," Ms. Eaton said as she moved out the door. "I might try and steal him away from you someday." She gave Shawn another wink as she left the two men alone. Shawn knew it'd been meant as a playful joke, but he still felt a warm flutter in his stomach when he felt Carlton press in closer to him.
"Feeling possessive, Lassie?" he murmured as he turned into the other man. He loved feeling that long, lean body pressed up against his, even when Lassiter frowned down at him.
"More like protective," he muttered. "She probably just wants to stuff you full of cookies and hot chocolate. God knows you don't need any more sugar." Shawn nudged Carlton back into the foyer so he could shut the front door behind them.
"Aw Lassikins, did you just call me sweet?" he asked as he kicked a box out of his path to back Lassiter against the nearest wall. Lassiter's expression looked bored, but Shawn never missed the spark of interest in his eyes.
"More like a hyper-active ten-year-old," Carlton corrected, managing to get the words out just before Shawn kissed him.
"Your neighbor loves me," Shawn boasted with a grin when he pulled back a long moment later. Lassiter rolled his eyes and slid away from him. "She wants to whisk me away!"
"She's eighty-two, Spencer. The woman obviously has cataracts." Lassiter stumbled over a box overflowing with pineapple lights and cursed. "Don't you have a mess to clean up?" Shawn watched fondly as Lassiter grumbled all the way back to the kitchen. Grumpy detectives were so much easier to deal with once you started sleeping with them and Shawn's extra special box of fun had already been unpacked in the bedroom. He had plans for getting his detective to unwind before bedtime.
First, though, Shawn was on the hunt for a screwdriver. Somewhere in that box was a golden pineapple door knocker, just waiting to be introduced to its new home.