Lassiter’s patience had officially run out.

He stood in his own apartment—his apartment, which he now shared with you—watching as Shawn rifled through the fridge like he owned the place. Again. No knock. No warning. Just there, like an overgrown raccoon.

“Spencer,” Lassiter snapped.

Both you and Shawn looked up. “Yeah?” you said in unison.

His eye twitched. “Shawn Spencer.”

Shawn bit into an apple, unfazed. “What’s up, Lassie?”

Lassiter exhaled sharply. “What’s up is that you’re in my apartment. Again. Without knocking. Without warning. Without any respect for personal boundaries.”

Shawn turned to you. “Is he okay?”

You sighed, closing the file in your lap. “Carlton, it’s Shawn. He’s always done this.”

“That doesn’t make it acceptable!” Lassiter’s frustration boiled over. “We are adults in a relationship! We should have privacy!”

Shawn held up a hand. “Whoa. Are you implying I’m preventing adult activities? Because that’s not a visual I needed today.”

Lassiter groaned. “I don’t need to come home to find you sprawled on my couch, eating my food, and treating my home like a second Psych office!”

You frowned. “It’s our home.”

“Yes, and I’d like to enjoy it without your brother constantly barging in!”

Shawn scoffed. “Wow, Lassie, just say you don’t like me and go.”

Lassiter’s stare turned icy. “I don’t like you. And I especially don’t like you acting like you belong here.”

A pause.

You crossed your arms. “Carlton, you’re overreacting.”

His head snapped to you. “Overreacting?! He was here when I got out of the shower yesterday! Just sitting there eating cereal like it was normal!”

Shawn shrugged. “I was watching the news.”

“It’s not normal!”

But instead of agreeing, you just shook your head. “Carlton, he’s my brother. It’s always been like this.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be anymore!”

Silence filled the room.

Finally, Shawn let out a slow whistle. “Sooo, I’m just gonna… see myself out.”

Lassiter barely looked at him as he slipped out the door. His focus was on you.