I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

"Start spreading the news! I'm leaving today! I wanna be a part of it, New York, New York!" I sang, giggling a little as I threw myself onto the bed next to Ryan, who was going through some of Spencer's old clothes and deciding what he wanted to keep.

"Would you stop singing that?" Spencer asked from the other side of the room. I gasped dramatically and pranced over, taking both of his hands.

"But Spencer!" I half-laughed. "These vagabond shoes are longing to stray!"

He rolled his eyes, although I could see the hint of an amused smile on his face.

"Please let go of me," he chuckled, tearing his hands out of my grasp. "Oh my god, you're such a nerd."

"Spencer, are you honestly calling Brendon a nerd?" Ryan asked, and I looked over to see that he was holding up a sweater vest with Snoopy on the front that I assumed was Spencer's.

"SHIT, CAN I HAVE IT?" I asked excitedly.

"No," they said simultaneously. I huffed and sat down on the bed, crossing my arms and curling my lips into a pout. Ryan smiled and kissed my cheek.

"Oh stop it, it wouldn't fit you anyway," he said, turning back to the clothes and folding up a white shirt before sitting it in the suitcase Spencer had lent him.

"That's gonna get stained, you know," I pointed out. He shrugged.

"That's okay," he laughed. "I have a collection of bloodied shirts, another one won't kill me."

"Speaking of killing..." Spencer started. "How many people have you guys even killed?"

"As a team, or in total?" Ryan asked, smirking a little.

"Total," Spencer replied, sounding unsure of if he actually wanted to know or not. Ryan looked over at me and shrugged.

"I had, what, twenty one before we met up? And you had..."

"Nineteen," I finished, nodding. "Then we have to have at least fifty by now."

"Yeah, at least," he echoed, glancing back at Spencer. "Google it if you want to know that bad. I'm sure someone's kept track."

"Oh my god," Spencer groaned, sighing. "How did I end up with two murderers as friends?"

"Shut up, you loooove us, Spencer James! We make your life exciting!" I chirped, grinning.

"It's gonna get even more exciting when you get me put in jail, Brendon Boyd," he muttered. My grin vanished.

"We don't joke about jail, Spencer," I said. "The only good thing about it was the jell-o that was in cubes."

"The jell-o?" Ryan asked incredulously, cocking an eyebrow. "Out of all the things you could have thought about while we were in jail, you think about the jell-o?"

"You know what? I don't wanna talk about jail, I'm watching TV," I announced, flicking it on without further warning. My smile reappeared when I was greeted by two mugshots on the screen with a little message under them that read, '(L) GEORGE RYAN ROSS THE THIRD AND (R) BRENDON BOYD URIE. IF SEEN, PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL POLICE. HIGHLY DANGEROUS.'

"That's gonna be our Christmas card," Ryan laughed.

"Oh, yeah. The inside will be written in blood, too. And it'll say, 'Sorry for the death of your Uncle Sheldon, guys. Oh, and the missing arm is in the bathroom wall. Happy Holidays, XOXO, Bden and Ryry," I chuckled.

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but the reporters on the TV started talking first.

"The police encourage people to look out for those two," the man said, and the woman nodded.

"I heard they've killed over sixty-two people already," she chimed in. "Crazy, isn't it?"

"Sixty-two!" I cheered. "There, Spencer! Sixty-two!"

"Ssh," Ryan hissed, and the reporters continued.

"They're smart, though," the man said. "I mean, to have escaped one of the most high security prisons in the country, have everyone know your name and exactly what you look like, and to have still made it this far? You have to be a genius."

"Genius or not, they're still murderers. Killing all of those innocent people...it's sick," the woman growled, narrowing her eyes.

"Innocent? Hardly," Ryan scoffed. I glared at the TV.

"We should kill her," I suggested. "I mean, really."

"Please, no more killing for at least a little while," Spencer pleaded. I laughed, sauntering over to him and completely taking in his expression.

"We can try, Spencey-poo," I chuckled. "But you have to understand, it's sort of addictive, watching them realize all the wrong they've done only seconds before you get to see the lights leave their eyes."

"Watching their families pretend to be upset, even though they're thankful except for the stains on the carpet..." Ryan added.

"Yeah. And hiding them in the walls where you know they might never be found."

"Oh, and I like it when they beg, too," Ryan said, his eyes lighting up. "When they promise they won't tell anyone we were there, that they're sorry-"

"-that they'll never do it again, they swear-"

"-that they realize the errors of their ways..." Ryan sighed. "It's wonderful."

"You guys are really demented," Spencer mumbled, shaking his head. Ryan grinned.

"But honestly, Spencer. Don't you ever think about what it might feel like to play god?" he asked. "To hold someone's life in your hands? To decide whether they live or die with a snap of your fingers while they helplessly watch?"

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as if he was trying to convince himself more than us.

"Stop it, no," he replied. "I don't. Are you done packing? Can we leave? I don't want to be here when they find Justin."

"Someone's uncomfortable," Ryan said, grinning victoriously.

"It's just messed up, okay?" Spencer sighed. "Give me time, I'll get used to it."

"Well, if you wanna leave, let's leave!" I said, smiling. "I've been ready forever. You guys are so slow."

Ryan rolled his eyes and zipped up the suitcase he was using.

"Thanks for giving me these, by the way. I was running out of shirts," Ryan said. Spencer nodded.

"No problem. Alright," he sighed. "Grab that blanket off the bed, and a few pillows. The car ride will be like three days, because god forbid you two show up in an airport; and I don't want to hear complaints about how you're uncomfortable."

"Okay, mommy," I laughed. Spencer scowled.

"Call me what you will, but you owe me a giant thanks for this," he said.

"Thanks," I beamed. "And sorry for almost killing you."

"It's okay, Brendon. I'm kinda glad you didn't, though. Being murdered is one thing. But being murdered by your gay ex-friend who is apparently a murderer now while he's dressed as a woman....was just....not the way I wanted to go out."

"You know what, it was a good disguise, alright? It wasn't even mine, it was Ryan's!"

Spencer scoffed.

"Brendon, don't lie to me. It was totally yours," he laughed. "Now let's go,"