Author's Notes: I do not own Psych.
Warnings:Language
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The Girl, the Car and the Jail Cell
Part 1
"You're currently unemployed, you've never held a job for more than six months and you have a criminal record."
"I was eighteen."
"Oh, eighteen, well that makes it ok, let me just scratch this out."
"I borrowed a car."
"You stole a car."
"To impress a girl."
"Was she?"
"Till I slapped the cuffs on her, then all the sudden she's not the wild child she claimed to be."
"Forgive us Mr. Spencer, but this seems far fetched."
"Would it help at all, if I told you she had a bit of a reputation and I was '0' for High school? …Okay fine, there were extenuating circumstances, the arresting officer was my father he was trying to teach me a lesson."
"Did you learn it?"
"I learned that I hated my father; so sure."
-Pilot
March 1995
The day had started out just like any other Saturday. He had woken up early and headed out to enjoy the morning waves. Although he had not anticipated running into Tegan at the beach; apparently she surfed too. He had been excited to find that out. The two had said hello and continued to surf, each keeping their distance yet always watching the other.
They maintained this until the crowds started to show up. Surfing was no fun when there were a hundred toddlers peeing in the water and throwing beach balls at you endeavoring to knock you off your board.
They had found themselves climbing out of the water at roughly the same time and he had nearly tripped over a five year old and, in his attempt to regain his balance he fell on Tegan. Of course, that may not have been a complete accident. He was able to talk her into smoothies on the boardwalk as they dried off, and he convinced her to go on a more formal date with him that evening.
Of course, she had to have an extreme distaste for motorcycles, so he had spent most of the day attempting to commandeer another form of transportation. When it came right down to it, the only vehicle available had been his father's truck. Not very impressive; the cool factor was definitely lacking. But she had been much happier not to see his bike nonetheless.
They had gone to the movies and afterwards driven down to the park for a little privacy. It had been her idea to go there, but he couldn't say he was opposed to the idea.
Things had started off rather nicely, pretty romantically actually, but just after he had stripped from his shirt, someone's hand had gripped his bare shoulder and pulled him away from Tegan. He had flailed wildly, desperate for something to grab hold of to prevent himself from being torn apart from one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever had a chance with.
But the hands had been quick, yanking him from the vehicle and quickly twisting first one arm, then the other behind his back and into a pair of handcuffs. He had been twisted around and found himself staring into a pair of angry eyes; familiar angry eyes.
--
That had been almost four hours ago. Now however, he found himself sitting in a jail cell with Bobby the toothless wonder and a skinny man who had a part time job as an acrobat. He had been in earlier that day when Bobby had been arrested. The man was suspected of murder. He was sitting-no, he was trapped in the same room with a murderer. What if this guy killed him? No, worse…what if this guy had other things in mind? He was eighteen, but he wasn't naïve, he knew what happened to smaller guys in prison.
He glanced to the clock: Three more hours until the station would come back to life, before he would be dragged back to the interrogation room for more "questions". He snorted, that was rich, questions. Leaning his head back against the cold brick wall, he cast one more wary look towards Bobby and their acrobat friend. Comforted by the steady rise and fall of the other's chests, he allowed himself to dose.