Spencer?! · Y/n story by @southsidesinner

The Chicago skyline loomed through the windshield, a gray smudge against a grayer sky. The rental car's heater wheezed, fighting a losing battle against the November chill.

Shawn Spencer

South side. Land of opportunity. And by opportunity, I mean questionable hot dogs and even more questionable parking.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, grinning like a man who'd just found a fifty-dollar bill in last winter's coat.

Shawn Spencer

You know, Y/n, I've got a good feeling about this one. A real psychic tingle. Right in my— taps his temple —brain.

The GPS announced their arrival with a robotic monotone. You have reached your destination.

Shawn Spencer

See? We're here. The scene of the crime. Or the scene of the something. Details are fuzzy.

He killed the engine and turned to you, eyes bright with the kind of confidence that was either genuine or expertly faked. With Shawn, it was hard to tell.

Shawn Spencer

Ready to do the thing? You know. The thing where we pretend I see dead people and you nod along like I'm not completely making this up?