There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey
Title:There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey
Author:S0methingwick3d
Pairing:Multiple, i don't want to spoil the surprise
Rating:R
Summary: A Weekend dinner party is not always all that it seems.
Author's Notes:This is a side fic I'm working on while the actual one's plot resolves itself. When reading, think of the movie Clue.
Brendon Urie was smiling. Not that he didn't smile often, but this particular smile was special. He was smiling because his guests were wending their way around his circular driveway in their chauffered Rolls Royce's, (all in the perfect shade of black), all expecting a pleasant weekend dinner party.
Brendon was smiling because they all had no idea.
*************************************************************
Gerard did not want to go to this thing. He did not like all the glitter and falseness of "The Rich And Famous". He didn't like ostentatious "dinner parties" or "relaxing weekends at my winter lodge." But Mikey, his brother, partner in crime, dual recipient of all their grandmother's billions when she died, wanted to go. He was tired of being made fun of in the news papers, and behind other's hands when he attended committies. He was determined to show these people that he belonged there just like them, and he was dragging Gerard along with him.
Beside him, Mikey straightened his bow tie. " I wish Grandma were here," He murmured, almost to himself.
Gerard smiled. It was sentences like that that reassured him that his baby brother wasn't turning into one of them. "Me too." He said, and squeezed Mikey's hand.
Their driver smiled at them in the rearview mirror. He had been Madame Way's driver, and had watched the boys grow up into the handsome men he now drove around occasionally, (though Gerard generally preferred to drive himself). They called him "Uncle David", and thought of him as family. "She would have laughed to see you boys like this," He said now, turning into the Urie estate. "And told you to show up in jeans and sneakers."
Gerard laughed, even though an ache was starting up in his chest. He missed her every day.
"She always told us to be ourselves and dress comfortable." Mikey added with a grin.
They stopped in front of Urie's sweeping front steps, as a butler opened the door.
"Goodnight, Uncle David," They chorused like children. "See you on Monday."
"Be good, boys."
As Uncle David drove away, Gerard felt a sinking in his stomach that had nothing to do with missing his Grandmother. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad would happen.
"Don't look so glum, Gee," Mikey grinned. "It's only 3 days.On Monday you can go right back to your comics."
It's forever. Gerard thought.
**************************************************************************
Bert McCracken, recalcitrant, obnoxious, billion-dollar play-boy, and all around hip guy, was excited. Terribly, terribly excited. Not because of the dinner party, though, he had been to a million like it and would surely be attending a million more before he died. No, he was excited becase he had just spotted The Way's Royce turning into Urie's driveway ahead of his own.
Oh, Gerard Way. What was it about him?
Gerard was quiet, funny, and brooding. He liked comic books and Star Wars. Kung-fu and horror movies, and he absolutely loved rock music. Because yes, Bert had taken the time to ask around, amidst his almost non-stop partying, after a chance meeting with Gerard as they both waited for their respective family members to get out of some committee for the homeless. Gerard had been humming Morrissey, (Bert looked it up), with his eyes closed.
Bert smiled, remembering the conversation they had, (if you could call it that).
"Hey."
Gerard opened his eyes. "Hi."
"My name is Bert McCracken."
If Bert had expected Gerard to gasp and start kissing his feet,(which, come to think of it, he sort of had been expecting), then he was to be disappointed.
Gerard stuck out his hand. "Gerard Way."
There was a silence, during which Bert leered at Gerard, and Gerard smiled back faintly. Disinterested. Which had, quite frankly, never happened to Bert before.
"Who are you waiting for?"
"My, brother, Mikey. You?"
"My mom. She insists that I accompany her to these things, because--"He adopted a high falsetto-"--'it's the only time I get to see you, darling.' I usually sneak out and wait for her here."
Gerard smiled at him. "My brother likes them. He wants to give back to the community, which I really aggree with, it's just that these committees are usually glorified coffee cloches where nothing real gets done. Mikey's words, not mine."
Gerard stood up. "Oh, there he is."
Bert had turned around to see a tall gangly kid in glasses. Who was actually really pretty, and who Bert would have probably gone after, but after Gerard...
Gerard turned away. "Nice meeting you, Bert." He murmered.
And then he was gone, leaving Bert with a kind of single-minded interest that you usually only saw when you were in love.
Was this love? Bert wondered.
Just then his cell phone rang. It was Jepha.
"Look behind you."
Bert turned around and saw Jepha, riding next to his driver instead of in the back, waving like a maniac through the sheets of rain. Bert laughed, and waved back.
"Hey. Stop thinking about that guy, Gerard," Jepha ordered. " I know that face."
"You can't even see my face!"
"So?"
********************
Peter Wentz, and his best friend Patrick Stump came in the same car because, as Pete said, "We go everywhere together, what's one more party?"
Patrick was nervous, Pete was not. And why would he be? Patrick reasoned. He belonged here.
Patrick did not. He was rich, but not as outrageously rich as the rest of the attendants. Therefore, he was looked down upon. It only really bothered him when he attempted to go somewhere without Pete, at which point he was openly disdained.
It was going to be another of those weekends.
*********************************************************************
Frank stood in the kitchen with his best friends Quinn, Bob, and The Tomboy, Alicia, all fellow servants.
"I cannot believe how nuts Mr. Urie is," Alicia was declaring. "If he wants some cock he should just purchase it online like everyone else."
Bob snorted at her. " Urie's not that kind of guy, though. He likes to move people around like chess."
Frank was quiet."I don't think that's all he wants. He wants to lay these people bare. He hates the richies just as much as us, I think, in his own way."
Quinn nodded. "I think this weekend is going to be alot weirder than all the others..."
Okay, so! that was the exposition of characters. likee? no likee?
Author:S0methingwick3d
Pairing:Multiple, i don't want to spoil the surprise
Rating:R
Summary: A Weekend dinner party is not always all that it seems.
Author's Notes:This is a side fic I'm working on while the actual one's plot resolves itself. When reading, think of the movie Clue.
Brendon Urie was smiling. Not that he didn't smile often, but this particular smile was special. He was smiling because his guests were wending their way around his circular driveway in their chauffered Rolls Royce's, (all in the perfect shade of black), all expecting a pleasant weekend dinner party.
Brendon was smiling because they all had no idea.
*************************************************************
Gerard did not want to go to this thing. He did not like all the glitter and falseness of "The Rich And Famous". He didn't like ostentatious "dinner parties" or "relaxing weekends at my winter lodge." But Mikey, his brother, partner in crime, dual recipient of all their grandmother's billions when she died, wanted to go. He was tired of being made fun of in the news papers, and behind other's hands when he attended committies. He was determined to show these people that he belonged there just like them, and he was dragging Gerard along with him.
Beside him, Mikey straightened his bow tie. " I wish Grandma were here," He murmured, almost to himself.
Gerard smiled. It was sentences like that that reassured him that his baby brother wasn't turning into one of them. "Me too." He said, and squeezed Mikey's hand.
Their driver smiled at them in the rearview mirror. He had been Madame Way's driver, and had watched the boys grow up into the handsome men he now drove around occasionally, (though Gerard generally preferred to drive himself). They called him "Uncle David", and thought of him as family. "She would have laughed to see you boys like this," He said now, turning into the Urie estate. "And told you to show up in jeans and sneakers."
Gerard laughed, even though an ache was starting up in his chest. He missed her every day.
"She always told us to be ourselves and dress comfortable." Mikey added with a grin.
They stopped in front of Urie's sweeping front steps, as a butler opened the door.
"Goodnight, Uncle David," They chorused like children. "See you on Monday."
"Be good, boys."
As Uncle David drove away, Gerard felt a sinking in his stomach that had nothing to do with missing his Grandmother. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad would happen.
"Don't look so glum, Gee," Mikey grinned. "It's only 3 days.On Monday you can go right back to your comics."
It's forever. Gerard thought.
**************************************************************************
Bert McCracken, recalcitrant, obnoxious, billion-dollar play-boy, and all around hip guy, was excited. Terribly, terribly excited. Not because of the dinner party, though, he had been to a million like it and would surely be attending a million more before he died. No, he was excited becase he had just spotted The Way's Royce turning into Urie's driveway ahead of his own.
Oh, Gerard Way. What was it about him?
Gerard was quiet, funny, and brooding. He liked comic books and Star Wars. Kung-fu and horror movies, and he absolutely loved rock music. Because yes, Bert had taken the time to ask around, amidst his almost non-stop partying, after a chance meeting with Gerard as they both waited for their respective family members to get out of some committee for the homeless. Gerard had been humming Morrissey, (Bert looked it up), with his eyes closed.
Bert smiled, remembering the conversation they had, (if you could call it that).
"Hey."
Gerard opened his eyes. "Hi."
"My name is Bert McCracken."
If Bert had expected Gerard to gasp and start kissing his feet,(which, come to think of it, he sort of had been expecting), then he was to be disappointed.
Gerard stuck out his hand. "Gerard Way."
There was a silence, during which Bert leered at Gerard, and Gerard smiled back faintly. Disinterested. Which had, quite frankly, never happened to Bert before.
"Who are you waiting for?"
"My, brother, Mikey. You?"
"My mom. She insists that I accompany her to these things, because--"He adopted a high falsetto-"--'it's the only time I get to see you, darling.' I usually sneak out and wait for her here."
Gerard smiled at him. "My brother likes them. He wants to give back to the community, which I really aggree with, it's just that these committees are usually glorified coffee cloches where nothing real gets done. Mikey's words, not mine."
Gerard stood up. "Oh, there he is."
Bert had turned around to see a tall gangly kid in glasses. Who was actually really pretty, and who Bert would have probably gone after, but after Gerard...
Gerard turned away. "Nice meeting you, Bert." He murmered.
And then he was gone, leaving Bert with a kind of single-minded interest that you usually only saw when you were in love.
Was this love? Bert wondered.
Just then his cell phone rang. It was Jepha.
"Look behind you."
Bert turned around and saw Jepha, riding next to his driver instead of in the back, waving like a maniac through the sheets of rain. Bert laughed, and waved back.
"Hey. Stop thinking about that guy, Gerard," Jepha ordered. " I know that face."
"You can't even see my face!"
"So?"
********************
Peter Wentz, and his best friend Patrick Stump came in the same car because, as Pete said, "We go everywhere together, what's one more party?"
Patrick was nervous, Pete was not. And why would he be? Patrick reasoned. He belonged here.
Patrick did not. He was rich, but not as outrageously rich as the rest of the attendants. Therefore, he was looked down upon. It only really bothered him when he attempted to go somewhere without Pete, at which point he was openly disdained.
It was going to be another of those weekends.
*********************************************************************
Frank stood in the kitchen with his best friends Quinn, Bob, and The Tomboy, Alicia, all fellow servants.
"I cannot believe how nuts Mr. Urie is," Alicia was declaring. "If he wants some cock he should just purchase it online like everyone else."
Bob snorted at her. " Urie's not that kind of guy, though. He likes to move people around like chess."
Frank was quiet."I don't think that's all he wants. He wants to lay these people bare. He hates the richies just as much as us, I think, in his own way."
Quinn nodded. "I think this weekend is going to be alot weirder than all the others..."
Okay, so! that was the exposition of characters. likee? no likee?