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Shawn had a habit of running away. He ran from his dad shortly after turning eighteen. He ran from his mom when she didn’t need (or want) him anymore. He ran from bad relationships. He ran from good relationships that were getting too serious. He ran from bad jobs. He ran from boring jobs. He ran from friendships gone sour. He ran from crappy landlords. He ran. He just ran. All the time. His bike was his only real home.
His bike, and Gus, of course. But he couldn’t just stay with Gus. Gus had a life, and a steady job, and he paid enough to support Shawn as it was. Gus was the home he didn’t stay in. He loved that home, and it was always welcoming and comforting and warm and nice and just great. Gus was great.
But, other than Gus, his bike was his home. And he was not ashamed of that. He liked living on the road. It was freedom. He was free. Sometimes he was running, sure, but sometimes he was just living. It was fun. He was having fun. He liked his bike, he liked the road, he liked the wind, and he was free. He wasn’t a coward, he was free. And Henry was an asshole anyway.
Tomorrow, he’d probably slam his head on a table for that thought. He always felt like such an ungrateful brat when he insulted his parents. But today? Today he was angry. Today he could think that without guilt. Mostly. Henry was an asshole. Hell, even his mom was an asshole. Again, tomorrow, he would kick himself for that. But today, he was just angry.
He had just caught a notorious serial killer who had targeted his mother he didn’t even know was in town, and then she didn’t even want to talk to him. She was supposed to be the nice one! He was supposed to have one good parent. One parent who actually loved him. One parent who actually wanted to be there for him. But no. No she just wanted to rekindle with her ex husband while they both pretended they had never had a kid together.
He wanted to run away again. He liked his job, he liked being around Gus, and his friendships hadn’t gone sour. His mom wasn’t even a regular part of his life here. But if he didn’t run what the hell else would he do? His “coping skills” before turning eighteen and gaining the ability to run were all pretty awful, like cutting himself, and he couldn’t start that again. He wouldn’t start that again. Maybe he could just make a friendship go sour? Have a real excuse.
And that was how he had ended up on Lassie’s doorstep picking the lock to his front door. Lassie was so paranoid he wouldn’t even leave a spare key out. Typically Shawn let Gus pick the locks, but Gus wasn’t here. Gus would probably tell him his plan was awful and should just stay. So, Shawn had to pick the lock. He knew how, Henry had taught him basic lockpicking to get out of handcuffs in case the bad guy stole his cuffs and used them against him or some shit, but he preferred not to simply because Henry had taught it to him. He couldn’t crack a safe like Gus though, just locks with key holes. The lock clicked and Shawn pushed the door open.
“Hey, Lassie!” He shouted as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Lassie was laying on the couch watching TV. He jumped up pretty quickly when the door opened though.
“Spen- Sencer what the fuck!? What are you doing in my house!? Have you ever heard of knocking!?”
“Yeah, but if I knocked you wouldn’t be this mad.” Shawn explained as he made his way to the couch.
“Wha- That doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh?” Shawn raised an eyebrow at Lassie. “So you would be this mad if I had knocked?”
“Why are you here?”
“A subject change, really?”
“Spencer!”
“Hm?” Shawn smiled, innocently, like he had no idea what Lassie was upset with him for.
“Why are you here?” Lassie asked, slowly. Shawn shrugged.
“You did not break into my house, while I’m here, just cause.”
“Sure I did. Why wouldn’t I?” Shawn laid down on the couch, glancing at the TV. Lassie was watching COPS. Cute.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just missed your face.” Shawn winked at Lassie. He really thought that would’ve pissed him off, Lassie didn’t have a reputation of enjoying Shawn flirting with him, but for some reason Lassie relaxed. Shawn was really confused.
“Sit up.” Lassie ordered, waving a hand at him. Shawn sat up. This wasn’t the plan. He was here to make Lassie so mad at him he couldn’t stay in Santa Barbara, but he just had to know where this was going. Lassie sat down beside him on the couch and silently continued to watch the episode playing on his TV. Shawn just blinked.
“You aren’t mad?” He decided to ask.
“Yang has traumatized a lot of detectives, and even though you caught her, I still understand that it was… a hard case.” Lassie explained, not taking his eyes off the TV. What?
“I- I’m not- That’s not- I’m fine.”
“You asked.” Lassie shrugged.
“I- I asked if you were mad! Not- Not if you thought I was fucking pathetic! I’m not-”
“Spencer, I don’t think you're pathetic. Again, Yang has-”
“I don’t care! It’s not- It’s not even about Yang.”
“Do you really think arguing with me is going to help?” Lassie asked, finally glancing over at him. He didn’t even look mad, just tired. Then his eyebrows scrunch together. “What do you mean it’s not about Yang?”
“I- Nothing. Nevermind. This was a stupid idea.” Shawn stood up. “You were supposed to be easy to fight with, you know that?” He laughed. “I mean, you’re always mad at me. Like, I just had to push a little harder and then BAM! You know?” Another, slightly deranged, laugh. “How the hell am I supposed to make Jules mad enough I’m not allowed back?” He asked, in a calmer tone before turning towards the floor. “She’s so nice and bubbly.” He muttered, bitterly.
“Spencer. Spencer.” Lassie grabbed his wrist. What was that about? Were they fighting now? What about? “You don’t have to make people mad at you to take a break. The chief would understand. And- and you're not even actually employed at the station.” Oh. Right. He still thought he was pathetic. Maybe he was pathetic.
“I don’t need a break, I need an actual reason to justify moving to Mexico.” Shawn muttered, hanging his wrist away. “I’m not pathetic.”
“Shawn, I didn’t say that. Your mom almost got blown up, a break is reasonable.”
“She didn’t even want to see me.” Shawn could feel his eyes start to burn. Why did he say that? “She was just here for my dad.”
“Oh.” Lassie replied, barely auditable and they were right next to each other. “I- I’m sorry.”
“No. Nope.” Shawn laughed. “I’m fine.” He declared as the first year escaped from his left eye. “I’m- Fuck.” He spun away from Lassie, whiling his face.
“Shawn, sit down.”
“Fuck you.”
“Shawn.”
“I’m not psychic!” Shawn shouted, turning to face Lassie. Lassie was staring back at him, wide eyed and slack jawed, apparently short circuiting. “You’re right, I’m a fraud.” Lassie just stared at him for another second. This was probably the part where he should start running before Lassie just pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his hair or something. Oh. Yeah. Lassie was wearing a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Damn. He looked nice out of a suit. Lassie shook his head.
“Shawn, sit down.” Fuck. No hand cuffs though.
“Nah, I should leave.”
“Shawn.” Lassie grabbed his wrist.
“I’m leaving.” Shawn tried to yank his wrist away from Lassie again, but his grip was stronger this time. He did not think this through. Why did he never think things through!?
“You should not be riding your bike right now.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“I do not want to be called in about a motorcycle crash and find you dead.” Lassie ground out.
“You know all those guys I put in jail are gonna kill me in prison, right? What’s the difference?” Shawn laughed.
“You're not going to prison.”
“What? Lassie, I’m not sure if you have short term memory loss or something but I just told you I’m not-”
“Shut up. That’s not how this works. Now, sit down.” Lassie tugged him back toward the couch.
“What the hell do you mean that’s not how this works?” Shawn asked, refusing to sit. “That’s exactly how this works. I admitted it! I’m not even drunk!”
“I don’t mean legally, I just mean I’m not accepting that. Now, sit-”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“Sit.” Lassie pushed his shoulder down with his free hand. Shawn held his ground though.
“You can’t just not accept my confession.”
“Yes, I can.” Lassie replied, sweeping Shawn’s ankle and knocking him over onto the couch. Lassie sat beside him, still holding his wrist.
“Not fair.” Shawn pouted.
“Do you want to be arrested? Like, really?”
“Maybe I do.”
“Shawn.” Lassie sighed.
“You were just supposed to declare you hate me and you never want to see my face again.”
“Right after your mom was almost blown up? What kind of monster do you think I am?”
“What doesn’t she like me?” Shawn asked, his eyes burning up again.
“I don’t know.” Lassie whispered back.
“I mean I get why my Dad doesn’t. He wanted more of me. He had, like, expectations. I was supposed to be the new him. But… My mom… she wasn’t like that. She… I just- I don’t know what I did.” Shawn finished as the tears started rolling down his face. Lassie stared back at him like he was torn about something. He probably wanted to kick him out for crying in his house.
“I don’t think you did anything, Shawn.”
“Then why doesn’t she like me?”
“I- I don’t know.”
“I want new parents.” Shawn let out a wet laugh.
“Yeah…” Lassie breathed out as a response, again, barely audible. He bit his cheek, apparently still pondering kicking Shawn out. It was fair. Shawn wasn’t mad about it. Not really. When Lassie let go of his wrist, Shawn was prepared, it did not make him cry harder. He always knew Lassie didn’t like him. It was okay. But when Lassie stretched his arms out and wrapped them around Shawn, he was prepared. He let out a really pathetic sounding sob, actually. “It’s okay.” Lassie whispered. Shawn clung back to Lassie and let out yet another pathetic sob into his shoulder. Lassie rubbed his back.