??) (original) (raw)

Title: Right Place, Wrong Time (4/??)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: This is a long multipart fic that I had to be insane to even start. But I love the boys so much, I just had to! Oh, and this is dedicated to pookaseraph.

Summary: 17-year-old Shawn has a fake ID burning a hole in his pocket, a college party to crash, and a mission to stop being the only virgin in his senior class. Unfortunately, there's this big-earred, good-doing grad student by the name of Carlton who catches him in the act. The unfair nature of cosmic humor being what it is, thus begins something that'll come back to haunt them both ten years later -- when an adult Shawn Spencer decides to give psychic investigation a try.

Past Parts: 1 | 2 | 3

Right Place, Wrong Time (Part 4)

The next morning Shawn was dragged away from sleep by the sound of someone rummaging in dresser drawers, banging them open and shut with little regard to his state of slumber. At first, he didn’t remember where he was and the complaint that Henry should at least wait until he was awake for the random drug searches was on the tip of his tongue as he rolled over to face the noise-maker.

Instead of his father ransacking his drawers, Shawn found himself watching Carlton, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, pulling clothes from one of the drawers of the dresser. He had accumulated a nice stack so far, including boxers, jeans, and a faded T-shirt. He was just adding a pair of white socks to the pile when Shawn stretched and let out a huge, jaw-cracking yawn.

Carlton glanced over at him. "I see you're finally awake. I was beginning to think that you were dead."

"No, not dead," Shawn mumbled, struggling to sit up. "Not quite. Close." When he realized that he was naked under the sheet, he tucked it closer around him as he scooted to sit on the edge of the bed.

Carlton sat down next to him, still clad in nothing but his towel. Shawn liked that look on him. "You want to take a shower? I could probably find something to lend you."

"Ha!' Shawn was still sleepy-eyed but his mind was catching up. "I don't think so. You're, like, a foot taller than me. I'm cool."

"And you'll stink 'til then," Carlton pointed out laughingly.

Shawn waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped was a sexy, seductive way. "You better like 'em stinky then."

Carlton grinned at that and Shawn smiled back at him. "I guess I didn't imagine it. You really are insane."

Shawn took that as a compliment -- and an invitation. He leaned into Carlton and draped an arm over his damp, naked shoulders. "Witty, charming, fun -- I promised, I delivered!"

"Actually you promised me you'd be as quiet as a church mouse, if I remember correctly," Carlton reminded him.

Shawn decided he was doing good at this seductive thing. He leaned in more, trailing a few kisses down the nearest part of Carlton he could reach -- in this case, his collarbone. "If you want me quiet, Carly, you know how to shut me up."

As good as Shawn thought he was getting at this whole sex thing -- he was a fast learner, after all -- he was willing to acknowledge that Carlton was definitely the master. He had Shawn on his back and stretched across the bed in less than three seconds without ever losing his towel. Shawn was impressed -- or he would be if he hadn't been too busy moaning.

All in all, Shawn was calling his mission a success. Although he hadn't gotten to drink and the evening hadn't involved a cute, blonde girl with loose morals, Carlton definitely rated above the other stuff, especially when the fantastic sex was factored in.

Shawn was hoping that Carlton would opt for a little early-morning-after-last-night sex but Carlton eventually managed to pry Shawn off of him and sit up. "We keep that up and I'll have to take another shower."

"Ooh, that could be kinky, sex in the shower," Shawn contemplated, still draped languidly over the bed pillows.

"You're awfully horny for a kid who was a virgin ten hours ago," Carlton pointed out.

He scoffed. "That's probably why I'm so horny! I didn't know what I was missing." He sat up a little and tried that "come hither" look he'd heard about. "Come on, Carlton, you know you want to."

"Be that as it may, I have stuff to do today and staying in bed isn't on the list," he said, standing up again.

"Well it should be!" Shawn declared, throwing himself back against the pillows dramatically.

Carlton snorted and grabbed his pile of clothes. "I'm going to get dressed," he said, ducking into the hall and into the bathroom which Shawn could see directly across from the bedroom.

"There's no need to leave on my account," he called back after him. "Feel free to get dressed in here!"

Shawn didn't hear Carlton's response as he closed the bathroom door behind him. He lingered a moment longer before he took the opportunity to search for his own clothes that littered the bedroom floor. His boxers were close -- wadded up right under the edge of the bed -- but his T-shirt had somehow ended up clear across the room. He was in his jeans and was pulling his shirt back on when Carlton emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed.

"I would've been a gentleman," Shawn told him, mock-seriously. "I would've turned my head and covered my eyes and everything."

"Don't you ever shut your mouth?" Carlton asked, though his tone was laconic, teasing.

"Only when it's more pleasantly occupied," Shawn quipped, smoothing down the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

"Tempting," Carlton admitted with that same gravelly voice Shawn remembered from last night, his blue eyes sparking like fire. "But I do have things to do today. And you aren't on the list."

"So I'm like a surprise?"

"Shawn," he snorted, shaking his head. "We've already slept the morning away. It's almost one o'clock as it is."

Shawn had only been half-listening to Carlton as he searched for his flannel shirt but at the words "one o'clock," his head shot up. "What did you say?"

"That we'd already wasted the morning?"

"No, no, the part about it being one o'clock!"

"It's ten 'til one," Carlton said after glancing at the blinking digital clock on his nightstand. "What about it?"

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." Shawn let out a litany of them as he scurried in search of his flannel which didn't seem to be anywhere. If he wasn't in the parking lot to meet Gus within a few minutes of the schedule, they wouldn't get to Santa Barbara in time for him to beat his parents back to the house. The thought of Henry's wrath if he found out about even one part of this little trip dampened the smug "mission accomplished" glow that Shawn had had all morning. "Oh god, oh god."

"What's wrong?" Carlton asked sharply, obviously alarmed by Shawn's alarm.

"I have to get out of here! Now!" Shawn gave up on the flannel; it would just have to be collateral damage to his mission. He slid past a confused Carlton and grabbed his shoes from the living room floor.

"Weren't you the one not wanting to get out of bed ten minutes ago?" Carlton asked.

"That was before I knew it was ONE O'CLOCK," he explained as he tried to hop into his shoes. Nerves made him clumsy, though, and he almost fell. Admitting defeat, he sat down on the sofa and tried again.

"I'm assuming you have some big date?" Carlton asked dryly, arms crossed as he watched Shawn shove his feet into his shoes.

"Not a date, no, no, I have a seriously important deadline I have to meet," Shawn told him as he tied off the second set of laces. "Very important, life-and-death important."

"I got that the first time, Shawn," Carlton replied, looking very confused. He sighed. "Do you need a ride or anything?"

Shawn actually paused to smile at the graduate student. "Aww, that's sweet," he told him, unable to resist planting another messy kiss on Carlton. "But no. My ride is waiting for me, actually, that's why I've got to go!"

"Well, I should be done with everything about six o'clock tonight," he said. "I can't promise you booze but..."

This was what Shawn hadn't thought about in all his grand scheming. "Um, er, wow, I, Carlton, really, I..."

"A yes, no or maybe will suffice," Carlton said, a little defensively. "You don't even have to form a full sentence."

"I, I, that sounds great, Carly," Shawn said weakly.

"Fine, I'll meet you--"

"But I can't," he finished in a rush. "I would but I won't be here. In fact, I shouldn't be here now. Gotta go, bye!"

Carlton didn't let him flit away, though. He grabbed him by one arm, holding him in place. "What are you talking about? What's up with you?"

"I'd really love to explain but I don't have the time," he whined, trying to pull his arm free. "I really need to go!"

"No." Carlton's voice was hard and steely and Shawn thought it would be a great cop voice one day. "Not until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you!"

Shawn wanted to explain, he did. He hadn't been expecting it the day before but he actually liked Carlton, liked this big-eared, good-doing guy who'd stolen his fake ID and dragged him around town and had bought him dinner and brought him home with him and took his virginity and gave him the first and best blowjob of his life. And, if he hadn't been lying about everything except that, Shawn would've loved to meet up with him again, and possibly again and again.

But he was already running late and it would screw both himself and Gus if Henry caught them. He couldn't risk it this close to summer, this close to graduation, especially not for Gus who was his best friend, after all, and hadn't done anything wrong but help Shawn like he always did.

"Carlton!"

"I've got the time if you do," Carlton told him. The hand on his arm tightened and Carlton shook him a little as if to emphasize the implied threat in his words.

It was after one now and Shawn still had to find the right parking lot on a campus with more lots than he cared to count and that would waste that much more time. The thought of time flying away made desperation bloom all through him, bitter and frantic and biting and Shawn was desperate to get away -- so desperate, in fact, that he opted for the truth.

"Okay, fine, look!" Shawn was still wiggling, still trying to get loose. "Look, I kinda lied to you, well you kinda inferred the wrong thing and I just went with it and the fact is that I'm not a student here, I'm not even a student anywhere except high school but not around here and if I don't get out of here now, I won't make it back home before my dad does and he will kill me when he finds out that I went 200 miles just to get drunk and get laid."

Carlton's hold on his arm weakened as shock stole across his face. "What?" he echoed faintly.

Shawn could've probably gotten free if he'd tried but he was too caught up in his confession to notice. Now that he started, he couldn't stop the words spewing from his mouth. "I'm sorry but you have been so nice and cool and, god, I wish I could meet up again but I will be far, far away from here soon, hopefully not being killed by my dad."

"You're still in high school?" Carlton's voice was suddenly squeaky, like his voice box was rusty from disuse.

"Senior," Shawn admitted quietly as Carlton's hand dropped its hold on his arm. "I'm, uh, not even eighteen yet. Early starter."

Carlton was still staring at him in wide-eyed shock and something about his face made guilt roil in Shawn's stomach. He looked -- hurt, upset and Shawn hated himself for it, hated that his simple plan had snowballed into this messy, complicated thing.

Fate was such a bitch.

"Anyway..." Shawn couldn't take it anymore and he couldn't think of anything else to say and his time was ticking away. "I'll see ya around..."

He didn't wait for Carlton to say anything else. Shawn cast one last lingering look at him and bolted for the front door, clearing the steps two at a time as he raced out of the building.

Shawn had just reached the tree-lined sidewalk that circled the apartments when he heard the screech of an unused window being opened and Carlton's voice calling after him. "Get back here! I think you owe me a little more explanation that that!"

He glanced back at the sound of Carlton's voice, his feet still moving forward, right into a collision with another body -- Rodney.

"Sorry!" he said, as he just shouldered past him.

"Uh, Shawn, right?" Rodney said, trying to again his balance.

"It was nice to meet you, Rodney!" he yelled without slowing. He kept on running, determinedly ignoring the sound of raised voices -- Carlton's and Rodney's -- as he spun around a corner and left the apartments far behind him. Shawn didn't slow until he was halfway across campus and searching for the right parking lot. He finally found it in the last place he looked and Shawn almost fainted in relief when he saw Gus's Ford waiting for him there.

Shawn didn't even slow as he threw himself into the car. "Go, go, go!" he ordered. "We're twenty-five minutes behind schedule!"

"And whose fault is that?" Gus shot back, flooring it and screeching his way out of the parking lot.

"Mine, all mine," Shawn admitted, panting to catch his breath.

Gus looked at him strangely but didn't question him -- for which Shawn was grateful. Before long, they were barreling up the coast with the windows down and radio blaring.

"So?" Gus finally asked, lowering the radio volume. "How did your plan go?"

"Not now, Gus," Shawn told him, closing his eyes and leaning back into the seat. "Later."

"Sure, later," Gus agreed, sympathy in his voice. He cranked up the radio volume again.

Shawn only opened his eyes once before they reached Santa Barbara and that was to glare at the radio for daring to play that stupid R.E.M. song that he'd never liked in the first place.

By the time he and Rodney had stopped yelling incoherently at each other through the open window and his roommate made the journey up the stairs to their apartment, Carlton was sitting on the sofa with his head buried in his hands trying to figure out how he'd ever been stupid enough to do any of the things he'd done last night.

"Well, that wasn't exactly the scene I was expecting," Rodney admitted as he stepped into the living room through the front door which Shawn had left open on his mad dash out. He shot the door a confused look but didn't say anything about it as he closed it behind him. When he noticed Carlton's dejected position, he frowned. "It couldn't have been that bad if he's just leaving now."

Carlton looked up long enough to glare at him.

"What? I'm just saying! If it was that bad, he'd have fled last night!" When Carlton didn't bother answering, Rodney's frowned deepened and he plopped down next to him on the couch. "What's wrong with you? I was expecting the seldom seen '"I had sex last night" Carlton who is oh-so-much easier to deal with."

"I'm going to hell, Rodney," Carlton told him, face still in his hands. He'd suddenly developed the kind of pounding in the back of his head that he usually got from drinking too much but the only thing he'd overindulged in lately was Shawn -- and stupidity.

"There's no such place as hell," Rodney replied automatically. "But what happened to get your stupid guilt thing going this time?"

"There is a hell and I am going there, probably in a hand basket," Carlton argued, uncovering his face, again to glare. He groaned and sat back against the couch. "Oh, Jesus, I cannot believe this!"

"What? What?" Rodney wanted to know, leaning in closer in anticipation. His wide blue eyes were fascinated, watching him as he waited for an answer. "What happened? Something to do with that kid, right? Right?"

"Rodney, could you tone down your prurient curiosity, just a little please? This is my life here!"

"It depends entirely on what prurient information you have to share!"

Carlton glanced over at him and opened his mouth as if to speak. The words wouldn't come to him, not to explain the damned idiot he'd made of himself and the laws -- LAWS -- he'd broke the night before. "I can't even say it."

Rodney's expression was comical in its frustration. "Oh, for the love of...well, you didn't kill him, I saw him leave, so nothing can be as bad as you're making out so just tell me!"

"I slept with him, alright?!" Carlton finally ground out.

"And? So? Therefore?" Rodney scoffed, waving his hand in a "give me more" motion. "What, are we revisiting the gay sex guilt? I thought you were past that already! In fact, I distinctly remember us having that conversation last semester."

"Did he look young to you, Rodney?" Carlton asked pointedly.

"Shawn, you mean.? Well, yeah. A little. Freshman, right?"

Carlton let out an angry bark of laughter. "No, senior, actually."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought."

"A senior in high school, Rodney," Carlton continued, voice hard. "A senior in high school, now do you see?"

"I can see why I thought he looked like jailbait," he admitted. "But it's not like he's the first and only high school kid to sneak into a college party."

"No, he didn't just look like jailbait, he is jailbait," he snapped. "He's only 17!"

"Only 17?" Rodney echoed. "And you slept with him anyway?"

"I didn't know until this morning!"

"So that was the scene I walked in on, huh?" Rodney asked.

"Yes." Carlton closed his eyes and groaned. "Oh, I am so going to hell."

"Oh, blah, blah, no you're not!" Rodney told him. "There's not even---"

"I'm over 21 years of age and I slept with a minor more than three years my junior," Carlton cut in. "That's statutory rape, Rodney!"

"No need to get dramatic, Lassiter," Rodney said sharply. "I don't think the kid was running to the police station to turn you in!"

"That's not the point!" Carlton raked an hand through his hair in aggravation. "I cannot believe I was so stupid. I could look at him and tell he was too damn young."

Rodney sighed and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Look, you made a mistake. Nothing can be done about it now but for you to get over it."

"Easier said than done."

"Does that mean I shouldn't have said it?" Rodney asked snarkily. "And, truthfully, I think you're way too worked up about this. The kid was willing and he was cute in a scruffy, floppy-haired way, so this is not the end of the world!"

Carlton snorted but he didn't bother to reply. Rodney was staunchly, rigidly atheist; he couldn't possibly understand what it was like to live in Carlton's Irish Catholic body with his strong moral center and know what he'd done. He'd broken the law and while that might not have mattered to Rodney, it mattered to Carlton and somehow the line, no matter how irrelevant in reality, between sex with a 17-year-old and an 18-year-old existed in the eyes of the law and that made all the difference in the world.

"He was a virgin, Rodney."

Rodney's eyes widened. "What?"

Carlton nodded, feeling the damnation he deserved crashing down on him with each word. And while Rodney wasn't his usual confessor, it would have to do for this. "He told me...when we started, I asked and..."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Rodney cleared his throat nervously. "I don't mean to sound, well, inappropriate, but that's..."

"Even worse?"

"...kind of hot," Rodney finished.

"Rodney!" Carlton glared at him, lip curling in disgusted exasperation.

"Like you didn't find it incredibly hot when he told you!" Rodney snapped defensively. "Everyone thinks it's hot to sleep with a virgin!"

"Oh, god, I'm going to hell."

"Oh, no, not this again," Rodney said in the same exasperated tone. He stood up and grabbed Carlton by the arm. "What you need is to do something to get your mind off of this."

"I doubt that very much," Carlton argued, pulling away.

"Well, you're wrong," Rodney told him. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at him balefully. "You're obviously mentally impaired at the moment, so just listen to your pal Rodney this once, hmm?"

"And what is it that you want me to do?"

"I want you to go grab your shoes and come with me to Galina's," Rodney explained impatiently. "We'll watch some tapes, drink some of that hooch she always has around and we'll get you very, very drunk until you can't even think straight, let alone think about your little one-night boytoy."

"Shawn."

"See? If you can remember that, you're too sober!" Rodney waved toward the bedrooms. "Shoes, now, go! I'll call Galina and tell her to expect us."

"Didn't she just get rid of you?" Carlton pointed out.

Rodney was already picking up the phone. "Lucky for you, she loves me."

"Yeah, right."

"Go!" Rodney told him again, pointing with his elbow to Carlton's bedroom.

Carlton sighed but did as he was told, wearily rising to his feet. As he ambled into his bedroom, he could hear Rodney on the phone with Galina, conferring in low tones. He blocked out what was probably the sound of his roommate spilling the dirt to his friend and glanced around his room.

Unlike his roommate, Carlton was fairly neat for a single male graduate student and years of habit had him automatically making his bed every morning. However, that morning his bed had been inhabited when he'd woken up and there'd been no chance for it. The lightweight comforter was sliding off the foot of the bed, and the sheets were all tangled, pillows piled against the headboard. It was a chaotic picture, one that fit his current state of mind.

With vicious efficiency, he stripped the bed of its sheets and tossed them into his laundry bag with a vow that he'd take them down to the Laundromat as soon as possible. Then he focused on locating his shoes which he'd kick off rather precipitously the night before. Carlton ended up on his knees, digging his sneakers out from beneath the bed -- which was how he found the well-washed flannel shirt that had come to rest in the same place.

He knew immediately that it wasn't his; he hadn't been that slight since junior high school. He pulled himself up from the floor and sat on the bed, shoes forgotten next to him on the bare mattress. He stared at the soft material bunched in his hands for a moment before he grimly chucked it into the pile with the sheets.

As it sailed across the room, Rodney walked in.

"Moved on to abusing clothes, have we?" he asked archly as he watched it land on the pile of laundry. "Whatever makes you feel better, I guess."

"Did you want something?" Carlton asked, pulling on his shoes.

"I talked to Galina, she's willing to entertain us for the day," he informed him. "She asked if we wanted something a little, er, less legal than alcohol but I explained to her that you'd already broken your share of laws today."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Yes," Rodney said without remorse. "I thought it was pretty clever of me, actually."

"I'm glad one of us did," Carlton said sourly as he tied his shoelaces. "And I really have some stuff I have to do today, Rodney. I can't spend the day in a drunken stupor with you and Galina."

"And you think your little funk won't be at least as unproductive?" Rodney snorted. "Oh, please. I let you go to the library and you may very well turn yourself over to the authorities or go to church to do Hail Marys or something."

"You don't just 'do' Hail Marys," he pointed out.

"Ack!" Rodney raised a hand to hush him. "Don't know, don't care! I don't want to hear about the insidious indoctrination techniques used on you by your parents. Let's go. Galina and her vodka are waiting."

Carlton sighed but nodded and rose to his feet. Maybe Rodney was right and a good, long drunk was exactly what he needed. It wasn't like it could make things any worse.

Tomorrow, he would wake up, do some laundry, and get back on his schedule for thesis work and get back to normal. Then, he would work on forgetting that he'd ever made such a stupid, terrible mistake -- until he could pretend that it had never, ever happened.

To Be Continued...