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It had been a pretty normal day, all things considered.
Carlton had successfully completed his paperwork without any interruptions from his dumb husband and his goof of a best friend.
Crime was less frequent as of late. The only things the department had to deal with were petty crimes and the occasional assault or vehicular manslaughter.
There'd been a few suicides but they were pretty cut and dry. One had a witness, two didn't, but they all had notes and there were no signs of struggle.
As much as he loved his husband, it was a relief to not have to deal with his antics quite as much this week.
The department simply didn't require his skills. Lassiter had solved every case he'd been assigned and he was feeling pretty good about himself.
Really, he should've seen it coming. A quiet week at a police precinct usually precedes something major.
It's almost always messy, and usually ends up requiring way more paperwork than is frankly necessary.
The team are called out to a traffic collision involving three vehicles, multiple injuries and one confirmed fatality.
He arrives with just a sliver of hope that there will be no more casualties. That the remaining victims can all be saved.
He doesn't care what happens to the drunk bastard who caused all of this, and maybe that makes him a bad person but so what?
"Alright, McNab, what do we have here?"
"Uh, drunk driver rammed into the back of someone's car which caused a pretty big pile-up. There's actually four cars, not three. Fourth skidded off the road and the driver is trapped. He's passed out, so we're waiting for Fire and Rescue to get here and cut him out.
One confirmed casualty - the driver that got hit - and the passenger, his wife, is in a bad way. The culprit is in handcuffs over there."
He points as he speaks and Carlton's lip curls in disgust.
There are few people in the world that he hates more than drunk drivers. Those spots are reserved for murderers, abusers, and rapists.
"EMT are on their way now - should be here any minute. I'm just about to speak with some of the victims and get their statements."
Carlton nods, claps Buzz on the shoulder, and moves to assess the damage.
He has to say, it's one almighty pile-up. He walks along, taking in all the traumatised victims; a few of them huddled together.
He scans the area and that's when he spots it, just up the road—his brand new Mercedes, crushed up against a tree.
His heart stops at the horrifying realisation.
The unconscious man in the fourth car is Shawn. Of all the people in Santa Barbara, it's his fucking husband.
O'Hara notices and follows his gaze, only for her eyes to widen when she recognises Carlton's car.
"Carlton, no!"
She chases after him when he starts to sprint toward the crash site.
He pushes through the sea of officers, stopping when he gets to the Mercedes.
It's absolutely destroyed.
The front bumper is missing thanks to the large cedar tree it crashed into, and the roof has a huge dent.
A glance through the passenger side window shows that the driver's side is smashed through.
And Shawn is slumped over the steering wheel, glass shards all around him with cuts on his arms and face.
To hell with waiting. He's getting his husband out now if it kills him, and no one is going to stop him.
He rips open the passenger door and climbs in next to Shawn.
"Shawn?" He asks, gently shaking him. "Shawn, can you hear me?"
"Sir, please step out of the vehicle. The roof could cave in at any moment and it's not safe to move the driver just yet. Fire and Rescue will be here soon."
The officer who speaks tries to pull him away from Shawn but he shoves the man back.
"No! Don't you see? This is my car! That's my husband!"
"I understand, Detective, but it's not safe. We've been instructed to clear the scene for first responders-"
"I don't give a rat's ass, rookie! I'm not leaving him here, alright?!"
He turns back to Shawn. "Shawn, wake up. Come on, sweetheart, wake up."
He gently lifts his head from the steering wheel and is horrified by the blood dripping from a rather nasty gash between his eyes.
He presses two fingers to his neck and the relief that floods through him when he finds a pulse is palpable.
But as he tries to move him, he discovers his legs are well and truly stuck under the dashboard. He cusses under his breath.
O'Hara gently grabs his arm.
He turns to face her with the most frightened expression she has ever seen on the man.
"Carlton, please. You know you can't be in there; it's not safe. Just- just come with me and we'll wait for the Fire Crew to get here.
They'll get him out, I promise. They know what they're doing but you're not trained for this, alright?"
Carlton shakes his head.
His lower lip trembles but he refuses to cry. Shawn needs him, and he needs him to be strong.
"I can't. I can't leave him here, O'Hara. He's hurt and he needs me."
He turns his attention back to his husband and gently brushes his bloodied, sticky hair away from his forehead.
He presses a kiss on his nose, two tears slipping from his eye and landing on Shawn's pale, waxy skin.
"Shawn, honey, I need you to wake up for me. Come on. I'm right here."
As he speaks, he brings Shawn's head to lay on his shoulder and lightly strokes his face.
Juliet's heart shatters at the sight before her. She's never seen Carlton look so desperate in all the years she's known him
"Please. I love you so much. Don't do this to me."
He places a hand on his chest, feeling comforted by the steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.
"Carlton-"
Carlton stifles a sob, letting his chin rest on top of Shawn's head.
"There's so much we haven't done yet, Shawn. So many things I haven't said. I need you to open your eyes for me. Come on , please ."
His voice cracks on the final word, and Juliet lets a tear slip from her eye as she slowly soothes a hand up and down his arm.
Sirens ring out, and Carlton knows help is on the way but he still can't let go.
Shawn needs him.
As the paramedics arrive with Fire and Rescue hot on their tail, one officer guides them over to the injured group of people while another leads them to Carlton's car.
"Oh, hello, sir. We were told there was only one person in the car. Are you injured?"
"No, no. I wasn't in the wreck. My name is Carlton Lassiter and I'm Head Detective of the SPBD. I was called to the scene but this is my husband, Shawn. I couldn't leave him here."
The firefighter, a woman in her late twenties to early thirties with a blonde ponytail, nods in understanding.
"Okay. I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle while my team and I tend to your husband. It's important we get his legs free before the roof caves in, and then EMT can assess his injuries."
Carlton bites his lip. "And there's no way I can stay here and help?”
She sighs. "No, Detective, I'm afraid not. I understand you're scared but he really is in the best hands."
Carlton presses a lingering kiss to Shawn's lips, then hesitantly gets out of the car.
O'Hara links arms with him and guides him away from the scene, ignoring his protests to remain close to Shawn.
"I'm sorry, Carlton, but you'll just get in the way. You have to let them do their jobs. How would you like it if a civilian was getting in the way of our crime scenes and stopping you from doing your job?"
Carlton scoffs. "Shawn does that all the damn time and I am not a civilian, O'Hara."
Juliet gives him a pointed look.
"No, but you're also not a firefighter or a paramedic. Rescuing people from car wrecks is not in your job description. You're a cop."
Carlton frowns. "I'm also his husband. I should be with him. What if he's scared?"
Juliet raises an inquisitive brow.
"Carlton, ignoring the fact that he is quite clearly unconscious over there, this is Shawn we are talking about. The man eats danger for breakfast. He'd be scared if it was you in the car but it's not, so he'll be fine."
Carlton sighs.
She's probably right but it doesn't stop him from worrying. All he does is worry about Shawn.
The wait is excruciating. Not knowing if he's okay; if he's even still alive.
"O'Hara, I'm scared. You saw him; he's in a bad way. What if he doesn't make it? What if I never see him again?"
His breathing starts to pick up but Juliet is right there, hugging him with one arm.
"Panicking isn't going to change the outcome. We both know this. It didn't help him when he was shot and it won't help him now. What he needs is for you to breathe. For you to be calm when he does come around because he will. He's a fighter, Carlton."
Carlton lays his head on her shoulder and closes his eyes, desperately fighting back tears because he can't start crying now.
He needs to be strong for Shawn. If he does come around and sees his husband panicking, it will only send him into a frenzy.
After what feels like hours, a paramedic approaches the pair with a wary smile.
"Detective Lassiter?"
Carlton nods and sits up, wide-eyed and a little bit shaky.
"Your husband was safely removed from the car and he's in the back of the ambulance being checked over. He's in shock but he's conscious and asking for you. Would you like to follow me?"
Carlton slumps forward with relief. Thank God he's okay.
Juliet smiles.
"See? I told you, he's a fighter. Go on, go see him - and keep me updated, yeah?"
Carlton nods.
Hugs her tight, whispers 'thank you' into her ear, then stands and follows after the paramedic.
When they reach the ambulance, Shawn is fighting with an EMT who is trying to wrap him in a shock blanket.
He has a thick bandage around his head. As for his face and arms, the worst of his wounds have been packed and taped.
Adrenaline seems to be aiding him as he wriggles around and shoves the man away.
"Get off me, you idiot! I'm not in shock. Where's Lassie? Lassie!"
Carlton shoots the medic an apologetic look who just smiles, as if this type of reaction in patients is second nature to him.
Shawn's eyes desperately search the perimeter before landing on his husband's lanky figure.
"Carlton! Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry-"
"Hey, hey. What on Earth are you apologising for?" He asks as he approaches the emergency vehicle, taking a seat next to him.
"Isn't it obvious? I crashed your Mercedes! It was a brand new car and you loved it! I'm so sorry, Lass, really-"
"Shh, Shh. C'mere."
He snakes an arm around his waist and gently tugs him until he's leaning against his side.
"This was not your fault, you hear me? I don't care about some stupid car, Shawn. I care about you."
Shawn anxiously wrings his hands, rapidly shakes his head - and Carlton recognises the telltale signs that he's starting to have an anxiety attack.
"I-I- I just panicked! The cars started piling up and I didn't know what to do. I tried to save your car. I did everything I could but it wasn't enough!"
"Shawn-"
"I swerved but I lost control and it skidded off the road and- and there was a tree and I slammed on the breaks but-"
"Shawn. Shawn, listen to me-"
"B-But everything happened so fast and I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was being dragged out of the car and- and there were people everywhere, and I couldn't see you but I knew you'd be here.
I saw all the cars, the crying victims, the dead guy, the cops—but I couldn't see you anywhere!"
Carlton frowns.
"That must've been so frightening. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I was basically dragged away by O'Hara - nobody would let me anywhere near the car as if I was some damn civilian."
Shawn sniffles, and Carlton's heart breaks.
"I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. I swore I'd look after your car and-"
"Shawn-"
"And I fully intended to keep my promise! I should've taken the long road. I should've gone slower. I should've-"
" Shawn !"
This startles the faux-psychic just enough to shut him up. Carlton drops a soft kiss on his hair.
"None of this was your fault, okay? If you want to blame anyone, blame the idiot who decided to drive under the influence and caused this whole mess!"
Shawn shakes his head. His breathing is laboured, his eyes are wide, and he's turning a sickly green.
"Hey, hey. It's okay, sweetheart, look at me."
He gently takes Shawn's face in both of his hands and guides his eyes right back home.
Shawn stifles a sob. "I'm sorry, Carlton-"
"Stop that right now. It's alright. You're okay. Cars are replaceable, Shawn. You're not. "
Shawn whimpers. The sound kills Carlton in ways he never thought possible.
"Y-You're not mad at me? But- but if this was my dad's truck he would kill me, and-"
Carlton shushes him, bringing his head to his shoulder and gently tousling the back of his hair, just where it meets his neck.
"I am not your dad, alright? Yes, I loved that car but I love you more. Now, if you'd been the one driving while drunk, yeah, I'd be pissed! But you did everything right and I am just so glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
Shawn sniffles.
"I love you, Lassie."
"I love you too, weirdo. Now will you stop fighting and let these lovely paramedics do their jobs?"
Shawn sighs, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Okay."
Carlton kisses his cheek, then lets go of him so the medics can help him onto his feet and shift him onto the bed.
Once he's settled, Carlton sits next to the bed and gently takes his hand. Shawn entangles their fingers with a pained smile.
"My head hurts," He whines.
Carlton eyes the bandages around his head and swallows.
"I know, honey. You'll get some pain meds soon, don't worry."
He uses his free hand to gently caress his cheek. Shawn leans into it and closes his eyes.
"Okay. Thanks for not being angry with me."
"I could never be angry with you for something like this, alright? I'm sorry you've been made to feel like it's your fault in the past, but quite frankly, Henry is an asshole. You shouldn't take anything he says to heart."
Shawn snorts. "Wow. You don't mince your words, do you?"
"Not when it comes to Henry, no. He's a selfish bastard who doesn't deserve a son as wonderful as you."
Shawn's face softens. "You think I'm wonderful?"
Carlton rolls his eyes. "Of course I do, doofus. I married you, didn't I?"
Shawn grins. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."
They share a small kiss, then Shawn lies back and closes his eyes.
"I love you, Carly."
"I love you too, Shawn."