I Might Be Holding Your Hand, but I'm Holding It Loose.

"Today's been good, yeah," he smiled as he sat down on the stool, carefully placing his guitar in its stand. "We've recorded two songs, which is pretty good going. How are you darling?"

It was two days in to recording and this was the third time Rebecca and Brendon had spoken on the phone. She was worried he would take the wrong route, or do something that wasn't clean whilst he was away, so she checked up on him. All because she loved him and wanted him to make the best of his very fortunate life.

"Hey, Urie, put that cigarette down! That's the seventh one you've had today! shouted Spencer, smirking.
"What, baby? You said you hadn't smoked in years! I knew this trip was bad for you, I knew you'd be lead astray again-"
"Rebecca, love, calm down. Spencer is just messing around, you know I'd never touch another one, because it would make you upset, and why would I want to do that?"
"Oh Brendon, you are perfect," she smiled, sinking into the couch back home, Brendon's dog on her lap, stroking behind his ears.
He laughed quietly. "I pale in comparison to you,"

Spencer raised his eyebrows and feigned gagging, merely to piss off Brendon and try and get him to swear, which in turn, would make Rebecca upset. Spencer enjoyed making her mad because she hated him, as Brendon was frequently told that 'Spencer was a bad egg, he could so easily lead you in the wrong direction.' He preferred it when Brendon was gay, because at least then, he could have conversations with his boyfriends that didn't entail talking about God's wishes or try and rid him of Brendon's life.
"You're so dense sometimes, Urie," he mumbled to himself, picking up a Biro pen and throwing it in Brendon's direction. He was tempted to accidentally 'slip' and press the button that would play a song at full volume, making it completely unable for them to have a conversation, but he refrained and sank down in his chair.
"Yeah, mmm, okay. Say hello to Bogart for me, and he has his vet's appointment on-"
"Tuesday, 2:10, I know sweetie,"
"Of course you do, you always know what's happening," he laughed lightly. "Alright, I better return to work. I love you,"
"I love you too," she smiled and hung up, clutching the phone to her chest.

"I swear," he breathed. "Since you started dating her your balls must've risen a few inches. Date a real woman, then maybe they'll drop again, and you'll re-hit puberty,"
Brendon chucked the pen back at Spencer. "Leave her alone, you douche,"
"Oh, my! Expletives! What would the Lord think?"
"I can hit you around the head with a bible and see," he snarled and Spencer threw up his hands in defence.

"Tip one, never test Panic! At The Disco about swearing, puberty or Jesus," smirked a woman who had just opened the door, notepad and pen in hand, with an Olympus camera slung around her neck. "You are aware you're being interviewed today, right? If you're not, then you're aware now." she nodded and walked into the room, sitting down on a free stool, sliding across the floor as she did so.
"Can we help you...?" asked Brendon, scratching the back of his neck and picking his guitar back up.
"He is dense," agreed the woman.
"Tell me about it," laughed Spencer.
"I'm missing something pretty vital here," he frowned.
"Right, I'll put this in less complex terms for you Mr. Urie," she nodded, smirking yet again and tapping his knee condescendingly. "I am here to interview you both, and take a couple of pictures, for an account on your new album, so I'll be in and out of the studio for however long you're here. You should recognize me because I'm the person who left you after I found you in our apartment with your cock up Alex's ass."