The New Kid (Lassiter x Reader) 2/2

(Lassiter x Reader)

*This turned out to be way longer than I originally intended, but that just means more Lassie for you guys, so congrats  I sincerely hope that this fic is enjoyable to you, and be warned: it is disgustingly fluffy  

The last couple months had been enlightening and maddening. You and the surly head detective didn’t always see eye-to-eye, and a lot of people thought the two of you hated each other. This wasn’t necessarily true. You both disagreed a lot and often very verbally, but ultimately you came to respect each other. Even if you weren’t always very good at showing it. “__________!” You jumped, almost spilling the cup of coffee in your hands, as you turned to glare at Carlton Lassiter. He approached your desk, a stack of thick manila folders in his hands and an evil smile plastered on his face. “I have a present for you,” he said in a sing-song voice, slamming the folders down upon your desk. You stared at it like it was a giant cockroach that had crawled up and started speaking to you. Then you returned your gaze to Lassiter, scowling darkly. He continued to grin, but you continued to scowl.

When it became apparent that you weren’t about to stop, the smile slid off of Lassiter’s face. Now, he looked unsettled, a bit scared. Then, very suddenly, you smiled. “Lassie, can I speak with you for a moment? Alone?” Before he could answer, you stood and grabbed him by the tie, dragging him into a nearby maintenance closet. Just across the way one patrol officer tapped the shoulder of another, pointing the scene out and cackling.

“Looks like they’re finally going to kill each other,” he said to his companion. Then they both cackled.

You let go of Lassiter to flick the light on, as he waited in stunned silence. Turning to him, you sighed. Gathering your thoughts, you put your hands on your hips. You held up a finger, signaling that you were about to begin. “Listen, Lassiter, you’ve had me on desk duty for two weeks now. I’ve been through enough files and case work to bleed out from all the paper cuts I’ve gotten. I think I’m developing an ulcer in my stomach. Thanks to your incessant onslaught of paperwork, I’ve barely been getting any sleep, and when I do sleep, I dream about doing paperwork! Except in my dreams, I get lucky and my paperwork comes to life and kills me. Between all of this, I’ve had no time to spend with my poor dog, and what I’m wondering is why the hell you’re doing this to me?” you huffed, feeling a clench in your throat from the suppression of tears that were urging to be released.

You refused to cry in front of Carlton Lassiter. Your pride couldn’t survive that sort of blow.

He looked down at you, fumbling for a response, waving his hands aimlessly. He finally pulled back, straightening up and composing himself with obvious effort. “If you’re struggling now, you might not be cut out to be a detective. I don’t know what else to tell you. Paperwork’s just part of the job. Have you ever considered a different line of work? Something a bit less challenging, like waiting tables or selling cosmetics?” he offered sarcastically. Now he’d done it. He’d really pissed you off. Like, officially. A growling sound erupted from the back of your throat, as you threw your hands in the air in a gesture of ultimate frustration.

“Dear, God! You are insufferable!” you spat.

“Oh? I’m insufferable? I’m insufferable!” he hissed, starting to get ticked too and edging closer unconsciously. “That’s rich coming from you of all people! You contradict me at every turn, you’re constantly undermining my authority, and it makes me look bad, dammit!” His scintillating blue eyes flashed furiously.

“What? So, I’m being punished for having a mind of my own? And I do not make you look bad! You’re the only one who thinks that,” you retorted, stepping towards him and standing on your tiptoes to get in his face. He curled his lip and opened his mouth to give his reply, breathing heavily from the hot rage starting to course through his veins. You too were beginning to breathe more heavily as anger made you heart beat speed up.

Instead of replying, he closed his mouth again, realizing how close he was to you and feeling the warmth of your body so near to his with a new sort of awareness. His eyes zeroed in on your mouth, your lower lip puffed out defiantly. He swallowed forcefully.

You began to notice the new tension that had settled in too. Not a minute ago, you were about ready to strangle Lassiter. Now you were just as ready to rip his shirt off. You were still on your tiptoes, but your feet began to hurt and you lost your balance, stumbling into him, hands resting on his chest for support. His hands instinctively went to your waist to stabilize you, and you arched your back to look up at him. With your bodies so close, he couldn’t take it anymore. Lassiter’s arms quickly wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, as he moved one hand into your hair, forcing you to tip your face up to his.

He smashed his lips down on yours, moving them with ravenous and demanding force. In response, you gasped and snaked your arms around his neck, reciprocating the kiss with equal ferocity and lacing your fingers in his hair. Your legs and hips pressed heavily against his, as you leaned into him completely, feeling the solid pressure of his badge digging into you, though you hardly registered it.

The kisses began to slow down and take a more tenderly sensual turn. Yours and Lassiter’s ragged breaths comingled, as he broke away very slightly, pressing his forehead against yours. He took a deep, but shaky breath, swallowing again and blinking a few times, while refocusing his dreamy, dilated, glacial-blue eyes. “Would you, perhaps, like to get dinner tonight—y’know, with me?” he asked, his voice cracking from the effort it took to not start sucking on your earlobe. Your hands slid out of his hair and back to his chest, and you chuckled at his question, closing your eyes and nuzzling against him.

“Carlton, I would really like that. I’d like it even more if you’d let me out of desk duty and back into the field, so I can hunt down some outlaw and kick his or her ass. Think that could happen?” you asked matter-of-factly, tilting your gaze to meet his once more, only to find him grinning fiercely.

“I think that could be arranged. And, at the risk of sounding immature, that’s so hot that referred to a perp as an outlaw—Hey! You’re not a Clint Eastwood fan are you?” he excitedly blathered. “Because that would be s-so—”

“—Hot?” you interrupted, smiling.

“No, no. That would be downright sexy,” he replied.

“Hmmm…well, I’ll have you know that I am, in fact, a pretty big Clint Eastwood fan. I’ve seen most of his more famous films, and my favorite is either ‘Dirty Harry’ or ‘Hang ‘Em High.’ However, I regret to inform you of an extremely pitiful truth.” You paused, donning a mask of sobriety and sighing mournfully. “I have not yet seen… ‘Heartbreak Ridge.’”

Lassiter sputtered, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “What?” he managed to blurt. You nodded gravely.

“I know. I know. It’s a travesty for such an avid Clint fan, but you know,” you began, breaking into a wicked and seductive grin, looping your arms around Lassiter’s neck, finger stroking his nape lightly, causing the hair there to stand on end. “You could always correct this grievous injustice by changing the plan for tonight from just dinner to—”

“—Dinner and a movie?” he interrupted, leaning in, brushing his lips against yours, and breathing in your scent reverently.

“Yup,” you said bluntly, stealing a quick, chaste kiss, taking him by surprise. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, thumb gently caressing your tingling, warm skin.

“We’ve gotta piss each other off more often,” he said, then furrowing his brows and looking away. “That sounded better in my head.” You giggled.

“It’s okay, Carlton, I know what you meant. I am inclined to agree…” you said, trailing off and snuggling against him again like a content kitten. “I know we should leave this closet soon before someone comes to check on us, but we also need to come out of here obviously still miffed at each other, so no one suspects anything. Agreed?”

“Agreed. Alright, let’s make a plan…”

You both smiled mischievously at each other.


Shawn and Gus walked into the precinct, discussing the comparative merits of Ripley from “Aliens” versus Elizabeth Shaw from “Prometheus.” They were torn away from their extremely relevant subject by a sudden commotion, originating from the open door of a nearby utility closet. Lassiter was waving his arms about dramatically. “Fine, __________! Fine. You’re off desk-duty—for now! But that means you’re in the field—with me—which means that, as your superior officer, you have to follow my orders. Think you can manage that?” he spat at you. You scowled, forcing a sneer, as you resisted the urge to crack up.

“Yeah, I think I can manage that just fine, sir. However, sir, if I happen to have a suggestion that might be helpful, sir, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be so condescending as to consider it…sir,” you retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Well, on the extremely off chance that you suggest anything useful, I promise to take it under at least a small degree of consideration. But it’s highly unlikely that will happen,” he said, smirking venomously.

“Oh, thank goodness I got stuck with such a reasonable and approachable mentor,” you said, winking discreetly at Lassiter, as you both went to gather your things from your respective desks. He hid a genuine, lop-sided grin, grabbing his blazer from the back of his chair.

Shawn approached with Gus trailing behind, looking skeptically between you and Lassiter, bringing two fingers to his head in his signature gesture. “I am sensing some tension here. Perhaps you both could use some aura purification. Luckily, this is a service I can provide at a reasonable, flat-rate, if you’ll just swing by mine and Gus’s office to sign our standard hiring contract, which comes with a complimentary pack of Smarties and a one-use only pass to caress Gus’s sweet, sweet, magic head.” Gus looked startled.

“Shawn! Don’t go telling people they have permission to touch my head—well, YOU can if you want to, but that’s completely different,” Gus said, going from outraged at Shawn’s audacity to flirting with you within a matter of seconds.

You scoffed good-naturedly, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, as you threw back the remains of your luke-warm coffee with a grimace. You snatched up your blazer, throwing it on, as you checked over your gun and clipped your badge to its customary spot along your thin, black leather belt. “While I appreciate the thought, Shawn, my aura’s as pure as it’s ever going to be. And, Gus, though I recognize what an honor it is to have permission to touch your ‘magic’ head, I’m gonna have to pass. ‘Cause, I mean, why mess with perfection?” you offered light-heartedly. Gus grinned, brushing his thumb to his nose, while Shawn nodded.

“She has a point, man,” Shawn said.

“Oh, you know that’s right,” Gus replied. Finally, Lassiter sauntered over, grazing your arm as he passed, irritation etched on his face.

“What do you two nimrods want anyway? There aren’t any cases for you. Therefore, you are not needed. Therefore, you can scram, as in right now,” he said sourly. Shawn just laughed, gripping Lassiter’s shoulder in a comraderic manner, while Lassiter looked at the offensive hand and disgustedly pried it off.

“Lassie, Lassie, Lassie. You’re in a chipper mood, as usual.  If you must know, we are here to get our check signed from our last case. I need these funds to start a foundation dedicated to discovering a cure for the horrible, immune-system ravaging disease that is currently annihilating poor, sweet Juliet from with—INNN! Also, we need more snacks because last night, in the middle of our ‘Sean Bean Must Die Marathon,’ we ran out, and it was traumatic to say the least. Gus began weeping hysterically, while I held him close to my bosom and soothed him by rubbing small circles on his back and speaking like Christopher Waulken,” Shawn ranted, as Gus glared at him, clicking his tongue.

“C’mon, son! You know that, that is not even close to true. For one, Juliet only has a small cold. She’ll probably be better by tomorrow. And two, Christopher Waulken is not soothing, maybe calming, but not soothing. There’s a difference,” Gus said pointedly. Shawn clicked his tongue, then Gus did too. They went back and forth like this repeatedly, until Lassiter rolled his eyes and shoved past them towards the exit. You raised your eyebrows and deftly swept around them, following Lassiter. Suddenly Shawn turned around, calling after the impatient head detective.

“Lassie! Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Robert Patrick from his role as Agent John Doggett on the ‘X-Files?’” Shawn asked nonchalantly.  Lassiter narrowed his eyes, glaring at the psychic distrustfully.

“No…why?”

“No reason. It’s just that you have so much in common. I mean, you both look alike and you both spend all your time pretending to solve crimes, that’s all,” Shawn said triumphantly. For a moment you were worried that Lassie was going to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius with hot, molten rage, but instead he unclenched his jaw and drew himself up, straightening his tie.

“Whatever, Spencer. There’s a reason I’m head detective of this police department and you’re not. So, your childish barbs? They don’t affect me,” he said, grinning and walking away. You scratched your head for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

“Huh, weird,” Shawn grunted, pulling a face that was reflected back at him when he glanced at Gus. Before you could ponder this occurrence more deeply, Lassiter popped his head around the corner.

“You coming, _________?” he asked.

Shaking yourself, you nodded and followed after him, leaving the disgruntled duo behind. As you hopped down the front steps, you absent-mindedly pulled a piece of gum out of your pocket and popped into your mouth, chewing slowly. You slid into the passenger seat, examining Lassiter as he turned the key in the ignition and went to check his rearview mirror. He faltered when he noticed you staring. “What?” he demanded.

“How did you stay so calm back there? I thought you were going to throttle Shawn.”

“Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. But, most of the time, when Spencer pushes my buttons, I go to my happy place, which usually involves me imagining that I’m shooting a large number of small, woodland vermin,” he explained. “Today that fantasy just wasn’t cutting it, so I had to imagine something else.” He went silent, pulling his seatbelt on and clicking it in. It seemed that he was just going to leave it at that, which was unacceptable.

“So?” you prompted. He dead-panned, appearing to have no clue what you were getting at. “So, what did you imagine today that worked so well?”

He drummed his fingertips along the steering wheel, pursing his lips and shaking his head, gazed fixed on his lap. “Nothing. Well, not nothing. It may or may not have involved you and I, sitting together on my couch, watching ‘Heartbreak Ridge,’ while I kissed several undisclosed locations on your body,” he said, finishing in a rush. You felt a wave of heat flash up from your stomach and into your cheeks and sternum. He glanced at you furtively, waiting anxiously for your response.

“Oh, well,” you started, laughing nervously. “Kissing me better than killing fuzzy animals dead? Carlton,” you said breathlessly, but with a lop-sided smile. “No talking dirty at work.”

THE END


Epilogue:

“Thank you for dinner, Carlton. It’s sexy when a man knows how to cook, especially since I don’t,” you said, waggling your eyebrows at Lassiter from over your shoulder, as you sauntered to the couch. He grinned proudly.

“Well, I have many hidden talents, and if you play your cards right, I might share them all with you,” he replied, coming up from behind you and tracing a hand down your arm until it enclosed around your own hand, gently lifting it to his thin, shapely lips. He gave it a soft kiss, eyes shining with happiness and excitement. Gently he pulled away, turning to set the movie up, while you got situated on the plush, yet firm couch, which reminded you of Lassiter’s mouth, stern, but capable of moulding into delicate and sensuous forms.

He finished setting the movie up, making his way over to you with the DVD remote in hand. He settled onto the couch, nervously stretching his arm over the cushions behind you. There was a twisting knot in your stomach, so you could sympathize with his uneasiness. Part of this was due to the fact that things felt so natural between you two that it was a bit jarring. It was all moving pretty quickly, but somehow, beneath the surface anxiety, it still felt good. More than good, really. It felt right.

Half an hour into the movie, you finally mustered the courage to move closer to Lassiter, leaning into his chest, noticing some hair poking out from the dip in his casually-buttoned dress-shirt with a small smile. You breathed in his manly, alluring scent with a dizzying headiness (it was something like fresh laundry mixed with pine forest). He didn’t immediately respond, a bit surprised, but then he smiled, a quiet, affectionate kind of smile, throwing an arm around you, his thumb tracing circles on your shoulder. You felt his lips and the tip of his nose graze the crown of your head, his breath tickling your scalp. Your heart sang, and you closed your eyes briefly, until you felt Lassiter’s warm breath shift to being next to your ear. “Hey, you’re missing the movie.”

THE REAL END