Shassie Sickfic: Shawn Takes Care of a Grumpy Lassie
The warmth that enveloped Shawn every night slowly slipped away, leaving a chilly emptiness in its wake. Shawn groaned and opened his eyes, looking up just in time to see Carlton swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand. "Lassie," he whined dramatically, reaching for a blanket that he had discarded due to sleeping beside his own personal furnace of a boyfriend.
It was dark, but Shawn could mentally see the don't-be-dramatic look on Carlton's face. "I'll be right back."
"Where're you going?" Shawn mumbled into the pillow.
"The bathroom," Carlton answered. "You know, the one that is fifteen feet away. You'll live."
Shawn pouted. "This wouldn't happen if your old-man bladder could handle a little water before bed." Carlton didn't answer and left for the bathroom, leaving Shawn to wonder if the age jab had gone too far. Shawn loved Lassiter, but his jokes were always hit or miss depending on the detective's mood.
Shawn only knew he managed to drift off again when he felt his furnace return to the bed beside him. With his eyes still closed, he wrapped his arms around Carlton, humming in content. If the detective had been mad earlier, he gave no indication of it now as his hands made his way to Shawn's back where he began to rub gentle circles through his t-shirt. "Get some sleep, Shawn. If you want a ride to work, you have to wake up with me."
The statement made Shawn wrinkle his nose in disgust because early mornings weren't his cup of tea, but they were at least bearable when they showered together and Carlton made their coffee. "'Kay," he agreed finally. The familiar warmth eliciting from his boyfriend combined with the back rubs he received caused him to drift off relatively quickly. Carlton knew exactly how to get him to sleep, and as always, his plan had worked perfectly.
Until it happened again.
"Seriously, no more water before bed for you," Shawn groaned as Carlton rolled away from him and sat up for the second time. Shawn had no idea how much time had passed since his boyfriend's last trip to the bathroom, but he guessed it had only been a couple of hours.
"Sorry," was Carlton's response. His voice was tight, but the man was easy enough to wind up that Shawn was again confused as to whether or not his comments were unwanted, or if he was simply tired. The latter made sense, as Carlton had to be getting less sleep than him at this point. Plus, Shawn could always make the decision to sleep in and take his bike to work, whereas the head detective had a significantly less lenient work schedule.
Carlton headed to the bathroom again, and this time Shawn couldn't fall back asleep. He was kept awake by his usual running thoughts and a slight bit of paranoia that made him wonder if he was going to get a lecture in the morning. Then again, it was just as plausible that Carlton wasn't mad because he had never been the most talkative person Shawn has met. It was also possible that Lassiter--who oftentimes loved to watch Shawn squirm--was messing with him in return by being short with him.
Not for the first time, Shawn wondered why he chose to date the one person he could never quite read.
Carlton's return shook Shawn out of his thoughts. The man let out a tired sigh as he returned to bed, and though it could easily be due to exhaustion, Shawn found himself wondering if something was actually wrong. "Are you okay?" he murmured quietly into his boyfriend's shoulder.
"I'm fine."
Shawn lifted his head slightly off the warm surface. "Are we okay?"
At that, Lassiter looped an arm around him again and gave him a gentle, affectionate squeeze. "Everything's okay, Shawn. Try to go back to sleep."
"I've been trying," Shawn complained. "Did you finally get everything out of your system?"
There was a beat of silence. Carlton let out a puff of air, and Shawn felt it against the back of his neck, leaving him with pleasant goosebumps. "I hope so," he said finally.
Odd, Shawn thought, but he made the decision to let the comment slide. If something was wrong, they could talk about it in the morning when they were more coherent and rested. "Okay, g'night," he said behind a yawn. "Love you. Don't pee again."
Carlton chuckled. "Love you too."
The third time it happened, Shawn was actually annoyed. Carlton sat up in bed, leaving Shawn to glare at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 3:30 in the morning was far too late for either of them to be awake, and he knew that his boyfriend tended to be grumpier than usual (which was pretty grumpy, to say the least) when sleep-deprived. Shawn sat up this time too, glaring as Lassiter rose from the bed again. "Seriously, this time someone better be breaking in, or you better be passing a freaking kidney stone or something, otherwise I'm going to the couch where Mr. Pineapples," Shawn held up a pineapple-shaped plushie that Carlton got him after their third date, "can keep me warm."
Again, Carlton was silent as he walked in the direction of the bathroom. Shawn threw up his hands and scoffed, now feeling as though he was owed a serious explosion for the aloofness emitting from the detective. This time, Shawn followed him after a while, not wanting to let the behavior slide any longer. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked, leaning against it as he waited impatiently for a response. As far as he could tell, the sound of peeing was absent entirely, which only frustrated him more. "Are you seriously just going to ignore me? What the hell did I do? I didn't even slap your ass at work today. I've been on my best behavior." There was only silence yet again, and Shawn decided to take matters into his own hands. "Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous, even for me, and we both know…" Shawn opened the door and trailed off when he realized what had been happening all night. Carlton may not have been peeing, but the sight of him on his knees, hunched over the toilet was more than enough to wash away all traces of anger. "Oh."
Carlton didn't answer, but the muscles in his back did jump as a quiet retch brought up a mouthful of vomit into the toilet. Shawn approached the man slowly, similar to the way he'd approach a wild animal, only his trigger-happy boyfriend could prove to be far more dangerous if the mood was right. Or wrong. Either way, really. Eventually, he knelt down beside Carlton, and up-close he noticed the small tremors coursing through the older man's body. Shawn slowly put a hand on his back, surprised when the touch was brushed off. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know you were sick."
"I'm not," Carlton said stubbornly. "Maybe it was something I ate. Or maybe I got a stomach virus. I don't know."
Shawn raised an eyebrow as he rubbed circles into the man's back, just as Carlton had done for him while they were in bed. "Yeah, I think both food poisoning and stomach bugs constitute as being sick. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I don't typically display weakness in front of others," Carlton answered simply.
Of course. Shawn should have guessed as much, as he has always known that if the two of them were to marry, he'd have to change his last name to Mr. I'd-rather-die-than-take-a-sick-day. It was then that it hit him how much their relationship must mean to Lassiter if he was willing to let Shawn keep him company while he emptied his stomach into the toilet. "Well, I for one don't think this is a display of weakness at all. I mean, here you are upchucking like a champ. You know, I asked for my mommy every time I threw up until I was 30."
Carlton chuckled, spitting into the toilet. "You still do, Shawn."
Shawn pat Carlton's back. "See? Case and point."
"It's case in point."
"I've heard it both ways."
Carlton belched softly, grimacing. "You should probably head back to bed. This is just disgusting."
Shawn tisked. "Lassie, Lassie, Lassie. Have you met Gus ever? My best friend throws up like three times a day. I can handle it."
Carlton grabbed a wad of toilet paper, using it to wipe his mouth and nose. "I'm done anyway. There's no chance in hell I've got anything left after three trips."
Shawn stood so Carlton could have room to pull himself together. The toilet flushed and the older man walked weakly over to the sink, bracing himself on either side of the counter after turning on the water. Shawn decided to step up and he grabbed a washcloth, running it under the cool water. Gently, he dabbed away beads of sweat that were collecting on Lassiter's face, surprised when he wasn't swatted away. If anything, the creases on his boyfriend's face disappearing indicated that the action was appreciated. When that was done, Shawn grabbed a small paper cup from the cupboard and filled it with water, handing it over. "Here. Take a few sips and rinse out your mouth. Maybe not in that order."
Carlton rinsed first and managed to drink a little without immediately spewing. That was a good sign, right? "I'm ready to go back to bed. With any luck, I'll feel better tomorrow morning."
Shawn took him by the arm and began to lead the two of them back to the bedroom. "Even if you do feel better tomorrow, should you still try to go to work? I mean, you should probably get as much rest as possible, and it doesn't seem like you've been getting much sleep tonight."
They made it back to the bed and Lassiter collapsed down onto it with an appreciative groan. "I have a perfect attendance record," he protested quietly.
Shawn scoffed. "What is this, fifth grade?" he slid into bed beside Carlton, this time keeping in mind the sensitive state of the man's stomach as he tangled the two of them together. "You know, if you weren't such a workaholic, maybe you wouldn't be doing impersonations of a wild goose mating call all night."
"I have an excellent immune system, Spencer. I'm not entirely sure that your choice in restaurants agrees with my stomach."
Shawn gasped mockingly. "Lassie, how dare you? Street gyros are an absolute gem. God forbid I make you eat something other than sunflower seeds for lunch."
Carlton's body began to relax against his, and Shawn knew it wouldn't be long before his boyfriend fell asleep. "Sunflower seeds don't take up any time," he murmured.
Shawn rolled his eyes at Lassiter's eating habits (or lack thereof) and listened peacefully as the older man's breathing evened out. With any luck at all, the detective would wake up feeling better and maybe even well-rested enough to make it into work. Shawn made the decision that if he even had the slightest suspicion something was off in the morning, he'd try to give Carlton his famous puppy eyes to make him stay home.
That, or he could threaten him with Chief Vick.
Shawn smirked as a soft snore escaped from the other's sleeping form. He treasured these moments that the two had together--the ones where they could both unapologetically be themselves and not worry about judgment from the other. Shawn kissed Carlton's temple, allowing himself to reflect on all of the right choices he made during his life that led to this very moment. With those pleasant thoughts in his mind, Shawn eventually joined Carlton in a peaceful slumber.
…………………………………………………
Luck may not have been on their side the following morning, but Shawn still took in this moment for everything it was worth.
Carlton, much to his dismay, woke up sore and nauseous, which Shawn knew had to be bad when it was the man himself who suggested that he stay home from work. Shawn, of course, agreed right away and told him to get more rest and hopefully sleep off the bug. That's how he wound up watching over his boyfriend while he slept, grinning unashamedly the entire time. Though they moved in together a month ago and had stayed over at each other's places several times before that, Shawn rarely got to watch Carlton sleep. Carlton was always the first one up, and oftentimes, the last one in bed. When Shawn did stay up or woke up in the middle of the night, the darkness of the bedroom made it impossible to make out any features. Sometimes when Carlton would agree to watch cartoons with him, he'd dose off quickly, but Shawn's head was usually too comfortable in the man’s lap for him to see his face. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed as his boyfriend slept, Shawn had a perfect view. It was refreshing to see his usually stoic and ornery look peaceful for once, and even though he was 99% sure his boyfriend was currently having a lovely dream about shooting someone, there was a hint of child-like innocence while he slept.
Shawn was snapped out of his musing when his phone dinged from the nightstand. He grabbed it quickly and turned the volume down, not wanting anything to disturb his sick partner. It was a text from Juliet, which he had been expecting. Carlton’s colleagues were bound to be a little worried since the man never volunteered to take a sick day.
Hey, Shawn. Chief Vick told me Carlton isn’t feeling well. Is he alright? Do you guys need anything? -J. O’H.
Shawn texted her back:
Lassie’s pukey :( -S.S
Yikes! Stomach viruses are the absolute worse. Do you need me to swing by with anything on my lunch break? The Chief said I could go early if you two needed anything. -J. O’H
Shawn debated the question, looking down at Lassiter’s sleeping form. He texted back quickly:
I was going to have Gus swing by and see if his knowledge from his side-job could serve to be useful. If we need anything from you, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’m sure our little Lassie pup will be back to shooting people and screaming at McNab soon. :) -S.S
Shawn had just sent the last text before he noticed stirring coming from the bed. With a small groan that Carlton would be sure to deny later, he opened his blue eyes and locked his gaze with Shawn’s. “What time issit?” he mumbled.
Shawn looked over at the alarm clock. “It’s a little past nine. How are you feeling?”
Carlton seemed to debate this for a moment. “Sick,” he decided. He curled into himself on the bed, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Shawn noticed he had his arms wrapped around his stomach, a rare sign of weakness that Shawn knew was reserved solely for him.
“Like I’m-gonna-hurl-now sick? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
Another groan escaped Carlton. “Maybe, yeah. I can’t imagine that I have anything left though.” The man swung his legs over the bed and stood unsteadily. Shawn grabbed him by his arm and gently guided him to the toilet where his boyfriend quickly lifted the seat and knelt on the floor. A dry heave instantly wracked his entire shaking frame and Shawn was quick to start rubbing his back to offer any form of comfort he could. Carlton dry heaved again, this time wincing in pain as his stomach lurched.
“Just try to breathe,” Shawn said softly.
“I’m not a child, Spencer,” Carlton snapped weakly. “I know-” he was cut off by a sick-sounding belch that was followed by a trickle of bile that left the older man shuddering.
Shawn ignored the cranky attitude and continued to comfort him. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
Carlton nodded. “I feel like I’ve been shot in the gut.”
Deciding to take a risk, Shawn’s hand crept up the hem of Carlton’s SBPD t-shirt where it rested gently on the man’s thin stomach. He could feel it jolt underneath his palm with every heave and he made the executive decision to rub it gently. Surprisingly, he wasn’t shook off, and even more surprisingly, Carlton let out a sigh that sounded appreciative as he rested his head on the arm that was draped across the toilet. “Are you finished?” Shawn asked.
Carlton nodded. “But don’t stop.”
Shawn smiled genuinely, the request reminding him that his partner, despite his rugged exterior, had complete trust in him. “I’ll continue, but not on the bathroom floor. This can’t be good for your old-man knees.”
Carlton lifted his head, and though Shawn couldn’t see his face, he was sure those pools of blue were glaring at him. “I’m six years older than you, Spencer.”
“But already much, much greyer,” Shawn reminded him, kissing the top of Lassiter’s salt and pepper head.
Carlton flushed the toilet and leaned back in Shawn’s welcoming arms. “Don’t forget I have guns hidden throughout the house.”
Shawn chuckled. “Eight, to be exact. Although, I moved the one that was buried in the pistachio bowl. We don’t hide guns with snacks, Lassie.”
“Excuse me for not knowing that I was going to end up living with the living embodiment of a hungry, hungry hippo.”
“That’s Gus,” Shawn retorted, helping the detective stand and leading them back to the bedroom. “I’m more like a raccoon that lives off of other people’s leftovers.” Shawn pulled Lassiter down onto the bed, immediately curling around the man’s lanky frame. He resumed rubbing gentle circles into Carlton’s stomach, feeling the gratification as he felt him relax. “The spirits are talking to me, Lassie. They say that you’re secretly glad you live with a foodie because doing so reminds you that meals can be so much more than coffee and protein bars.”
“You’re not psychic,” Lassiter murmured into his pillow. “And 99% of the meals I see you consume revolt me.”
Shawn let out a soft ‘aww’ as he nuzzled the back of Carlton’s neck. “My boyfriend has a sensitive tummy.”
“Do not. I’m just not a human dumpster.”
“Do so. I think not being able to handle street gyros speaks for itself.”
“So you admit that you poisoned me?”
Shawn smirked. “I am simply stating that dating me is going to slowly level up your stomach until it can compete with mine.”
“Not gonna happ’n,” Lassiter mumbled tiredly. “I am never eating with you again.”
Shawn hummed, listening as his partner’s breathing evened out once more as he fell asleep. “Whatever you say, Lassie,” he murmured sleepily. Shawn too felt himself begin to drift off. He would just take a quick nap with his boyfriend, and when he woke up he’d have Gus’ encyclopedia brain give him some advice. In the meantime, he was perfectly content right where he was.
