I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

"Why do you guys do it?"

The room was almost silent until Spencer spoke, and the question caught me off guard.

"I...uh, well, it..." I stammered, unsure of how to -or if I should- answer.

"It's complicated," Ryan replied, sighing and continuing to play with a piece of my hair.

Our room had two beds, luckily; and so the second we'd gotten cleaned up, I'd insisted that Ryan lay down on ours so that I could use him as a pillow.

So far, it was working out damn well because as I'd learned in the closet (Spencer's, not the thoretical closet),  Ryan was actually really comfortable.

"I don't see how complicated it can really be," Spencer said, shrugging. "You said they weren't innocent. What did they do?"

I looked at Ryan.

"I don't see why explaining would be a big deal, since he's kinda like our partner now..." I pointed out. Ryan shrugged.

"It...I don't know," he sighed. "I've never told anyone but you."

I smiled at him.

"You've never had a partnership with anyone but me."

"I know," he laughed. "I mean, it isn't that much of a big deal." Ryan glanced over at Spencer. "I had...family issues growing up. And I guess Brendon did, too."

"You mean his mom?" Spencer asked.

"...his mom?" Ryan echoed, confused. Spencer nodded.

"You know, how his mom was a complete-"

"-ly wonderful woman who shouldn't be talked about," I cut him off, glaring. "I think Ryan meant more like how nobody really approved of-"

"Oh." Spencer's eyes widened. "He doesn't know about your lunatic mother?"

"Shut up," I mumbled.

"...what?" Ryan asked, glancing in my direction. "Your mom was a lunatic?"

"No." I frowned. "Spencer. Homophobes and drunks. We kill homophobes and drunks."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence.

"Um. Well," Spencer started, standing up, "I'm getting a shower. So..."

"Kay. We're just gonna make out on your suitcase, so take as long as you need," I laughed. Spencer rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how we were the most immature murderers he'd ever met.

Although I was pretty sure we were the only murderers he'd ever met, since he was still alive and all...

...whatever.

"So..." Ryan said, looking at me questioningly. I smiled.

"C'mere. His suitcase is lumpy, but let's seriously make out on his bed," I chuckled, standing up. Ryan shook his head.

"No, I mean so, what was Spencer talking about?"

My smile vanished.

"He...nothing. My mom wasn't a very good parent, is all. Can I kiss you now?"

"Brendon, come on. I told you about my dad years ago," Ryan said, frowning. I sighed.

"It's honestly not all that big of a deal," I said, shrugging. "After I came out to my sister, she decided to tell my dad. He told my mom, and she...wasn't happy. Although I knew she wouldn't be, which is why I didn't tell her in the first place," I half-laughed. "But Spencer's right, she kinda was a lunatic. You already know she was overly religious, so she thought I was posessed by the devil or some shit. After that, things started to get even crazier, so I just left. And I guess now she probably thinks the devil has completely taken over, and I'm a psychopathic killer whose thirst for blood will never be quenched! Not that the second part isn't true, but, you know," I concluded. Ryan stared awkwardly at me.

"...the devil?"

"Yeah. I think she threw a bible at me once."

"...a bible."

"A bible."

"Hardcover, or...?"

"Na, it was a softcover one. Still hurt, though."

"Oh."

It was silent again until out of nowhere, Ryan attacked my lips with his own. I kissed back immediately, smirking against his lips.

Things stayed like that for a few minutes; us awkwardly kissing in the middle of the hotel room; until Ryan pulled away and smiled before pushing me back onto Spencer's bed.

"Should we kill her, then?" he asked, hovering over me. It took me a minute to realize who he was talking about.

"No, this is payback enough," I laughed, leaning up to kiss him again.

"Aw, gross! You guys have your own goddamn bed, okay?" Spencer complained, throwing a dampened towel at us. Ryan let out a light laugh and walked over to our bed, throwing himself down on it and shrugging.

"Ours is lumpy."

"That's why I picked this one," Spencer chuckled. "Golden rule, boys. He who has the gold makes the rules."

"But he who has the knife," Ryan began, pointing to the knife he'd cleaned off and put on the top of our suitcase, "can slit the man with the gold's throat, and then make out on both the beds."

"At once," I added. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"One: I'm helping you, stop threatening my life, you sadistic bastards," he laughed. "And two: how the fuck does someone make out on two beds at once?"

"Magic," I replied. Spencer rolled his eyes again.

"Magic?"

"Dude, we're represented by a fucking rainbow," I laughed. "But whatever, fine. Don't believe. 'M tired. Sleep?"

"Yeah, on your bed," Spencer sighed. "Shoo!"

"You suuuuuuuuuck," I whined, sitting up. "Ryan, come bring me to the other bed."

"Why are you so dead set on me carrying you?" Ryan asked. "It isn't even that far of a walk."

"You suck too!" I complained, getting up and angrily laying down on the bed next to Ryan. He laughed.

"Only for you."

"Aw, guys, come on," Spencer groaned. "Seriously. The clothes on rule still applies in hotels!"

"Not fair! If you had a girlfriend, I'd let you guys make sexual innuendo whenever you wanted!" I muttered.

"Well, I don't, do I?"

"Spencer Smith, you are a bad friend."

"Yeah yeah yeah," he laughed, and then the lights were off.

~•~

"Wake up!" Spencer hissed. His voice was accompanied by something hitting me in the head. I groaned and opened my eyes to see what it was.

...shampoo?

"But I got a shower last night!" I whined. Spencer's scowl didn't lighten. I sat there, wondering why until I heard the sirens.

Oh shit.

"Ryan!" I yelled, thwacking him in the chest.

"Fuck, what?!" he muttered.

"Sirens!"

Ryan sat straight up.

"Wha...how?!" he asked, alarmed. I shrugged, standing up and tracking down the plaid and mustache Ryan had neglected to put on last night, even though Spencer had asked us to.

"I don't know, just get dressed!" I commanded. Ryan sprang out of bed and threw on the dress and wig with no complaints.

Hell yeah!

"Spencer, what are we gonna-"

"It's only an ambulance. The police are coming soon," Spencer said urgently, grabbing his suitcase. "Once they're here, they won't let anybody out of this hotel, because they'll need to do questioning. Whatever isn't in your suitcase, leave here. Let's go!"

Ryan nodded and grabbed the suitcase (oh, how ladylike!) and we checked out only minutes before the police arrived.

Halfway down the road, the music on the radio died out, only to be replaced by a male voice.

This is an emergency broadcast. A man was murdered earlier today at the hotel on the corner of Fourth and Fremont street. It is believed to be the work of vicious killers Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross. Evidence found in room 392 suggests that the two have formed a partnership with a man by the name of Spencer Smith, who neighbors say suddenly left town yesterday. It is believed that he is currently aiding the two criminals. If you see any suspicious activity, please dial 9-1-1 immediately. Thank you.