A typical day at the SBPD meant two things: paperwork and Shawn and Gus hovering around like a pair of overgrown children. They were standing at your desk, deep in an animated discussion that had long since lost your interest—something about the best flavor of pineapple upside-down cake or whether Gus could beat a squirrel in a foot race.

Leaning on your desk with your elbow propped up, you rested your head against your hand, only half-listening as their voices blended into the general hum of the bullpen. You were just about to tune out completely when a familiar figure crossed into your peripheral vision.

Carlton Lassiter.

Your posture immediately shifted, your back straightening just a little as your eyes followed the way his broad shoulders moved beneath his crisp dress shirt. The way his slacks fit just right. The way—

“You were totally just checking him out.”

Shawn’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you barely had time to school your expression before he smirked knowingly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Staring at Detective Dipstick’s butt, are we?” he teased, nudging Gus with his elbow. Gus merely shook his head with a resigned sigh, as if this were just another entry in the long list of things he wished he hadn’t witnessed.