My dearest flist...

[rispacooper]

How have you been? What's up? Look at all those stories that have been posted that I have to try to track down now. Pfft. Maybe I shall be lazy and just read the ones rec'd to me. I did notice some kerfuffle, the effects of which are only the vaguest ripple in my neck of the LJ pond at the moment. I'm sure I shall feel them more later. I'm too low energy today to investigate, though I have been downing the B vitamins like you wouldn't believe.

I volunteered to rec for a month on crack_van, though they haven't responded yet, I'm still antsy.

Also, do I have money to go the X-Files movie (and CKR)? Hmmm, probably not.

I'm taking great comfort in the fact that Lincoln didn't really achieve what he wanted until later in life; it makes me feel like much less of a loser dork. And I have this urge to reread all of catlover's "Greg Sanders: Private Dick" AU, which would take FOREVER but is still fun. (And oh, someone needs to volunteer to update the CSI recs on crack_van, they are *old* and haven't been updated in forever).

Blah.

Comments

[senor-coconut-1.livejournal.com]

Still, the memory of Lassi and Hornstock stings fresh in his mind and, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Gus is right. Kind of. He doesn’t want to cross that line with Lassi that would ruin things forever.

Hornstock is a phase. Shawn is sure of that. A stupid, floppy haired, silk-tied, well-educated, easy-lay phase and—

“No, Shawn, I can see you thinking. Leave. Him. Alone. Don’t speak to him, don’t piss him off, and don’t touch him. Find someone else to grope when you psych out.”

Gus knows that leaving Shawn to his own devices in the coming weeks will be out of the question. Which means less time at proper work. Again. He can’t trust Shawn to keep his mouth and his hands to himself and he knows as soon as he turns around that Shawn will be sitting in Lassiter’s lap or affecting that stupid girly voice as he solves a case with a near-orgasmic vision centered directly on Lassiter.

And, of course, Lassiter will flail around, blushing and stammering, and it brings Gus back around to the whole idea that Lassiter wants Shawn just as badly and Gus starts to straddle that line again, that line that divides Shawn and Lassiter and makes Gus a tug of war rope and that hankie tied to him pulls to the Shawn side a little more and he knows it’s wrong to even consider helping the other side win, but until he is sure about Lassiter’s feelings, he has to do what is right for Shawn, especially if Shawn can’t do it himself.

“I know, Gus. I know. Leave him alone. I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll mind my own business and be quiet and have museum hands around Lassi and just stick to solving cases.” Shawn has the pouty lips.

“Good.” Gus crosses his arms in some semblance of triumph.

“Until he touches me, cuffs me, throws me up against a wall, glares at me, or does that growly thing at me when I am off minding my own business. Then all bets are off.”

“Sha—,” Gus starts, but, really, he can’t argue with that and he knows it. If Lassiter does strike first, then he can’t expect Shawn not to react.

“I take your silence as a deal, then? That if by some miracle or divine intervention Lassi makes a move on me, I can do as I usually do and ignore you?”

Divine intervention. Hmm. Something clicks that makes any half-hearted agreement suddenly ok. “Alright, Shawn. Fine. But, for now, he is off limits. Agreed?” Gus extends a hand.