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Title: ...And The Family Won't Like This
Fandom: Bandom (Panic at the Disco, The Academy Is.../William Beckett)
Pairing(s): William Beckett/Brendon Urie
Word count: 760
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone. Title from Bust Your Kneecaps by Pomplamoose.
Summary: Beckett's conversation with Brendon that Ryan stumbles on. From How Do You Sleep While The City Is Burning?
Brendon rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked into his office, feeling that his day couldn’t get worse. Especially after coming across that dame’s body in the hotel. He couldn’t imagine who could’ve killed her; anyone in Beckett’s mob that mattered knew that the Palmer dame was necessary for business. That was how things were run.
He could feel the music coming from the dance floor of the cabaret under his skin and he leaned back against his office door, closing his eyes and letting his fingers tap against the door. He’d have to talk to the musicians about keeping up with the jazz.
“What’s the story behind this, Urie?”
Brendon’s eyes snapped open, gaze going over to the desk as Beckett tossed a notebook onto the desk and leaned forward in Brendon’s chair. He tapped the notebook, locking eyes with Brendon.
“Do you know anything about this?” Beckett repeated, tapping the notebook again.
Brendon glanced down at the notebook, reading the shorthand on the page. It was a news story about the Palmer dame’s death. He didn’t recognize the handwriting of the main story, but he thought he saw Stump’s writing at the top.
“Didn’t kill no dame,” he grunted finally, shrugging a bit and looking down at his polished shoes. “I showed up on time like you told me, and there was her body. I didn’t touch nothing or nobody, and no one saw me leave her room.”
He looked up when the chair squeaked as Beckett stood up, crossing the room. Beckett raised an eyebrow, grabbing Brendon’s tie and adjusting it. Beckett seemed to be calm, despite the fact that an associate of theirs was dead and the papers already had an interest in it. Brendon wasn’t terribly sure that the calmness was a good thing, especially not with Beckett straightening his tie.
Brendon opened his mouth to ask what the matter was before Beckett silenced him with a kiss, taking advantage of the fact that Brendon’s mouth was open to lick his way inside and pinning him against the door.
He wasn’t sure how long they kissed before Beckett pulled away, hand wrapping around Brendon’s tie and using it to pull Brendon over to the desk. Once there, Brendon found himself pushed up onto the desk, making a mess of it and knocking the notebook to the floor.
“You’re makin’ a mess of my desk,” Brendon mumbled as Beckett kissed him again, rougher this time as the taller man worked on getting Brendon’s pants down.
“Make a mess of you.” Beckett smirked in response, kissing Brendon’s jaw as he finally worked Brendon’s cock out of his pants, fingers stroking lightly. “’s rightfully my desk anyway, since I own the joint.”
Brendon shuddered as Beckett’s fingers worked faster, head falling back and fingers curling into the wood of the desk. He bit down hard on his lip, knowing that even though nothing in this office could be heard in the cabaret proper, he or Beckett didn’t need anyone listening in.
He was close to release when Beckett’s hand stopped, squeezing a bit. He couldn’t stop the whine that escaped as he blinked his eyes open to look up at Beckett, who looked back at him, face unreadable.
“I’ll ask again. Did you kill the Palmer dame? You knew she was important to our business.”
“I told you, that dame was already dead when I got there. I touched nothing.” Brendon flinched at how needy his voice sounded, but he managed to keep himself from flinching again when Beckett straightened up, straightening his own tie and smoothing his suit like nothing had happened.
“I’m not accusing you of killing anyone, Urie. No one saw you enter or leave her room, right?”
There was something in the tone that let Brendon know the mood had shifted again, and he pushed himself up, trying to get himself back in order and cool himself down. He got the feeling that this would be unfinished business for later, after the Black Canary closed for the night.
“Told you. No one saw me.” Brendon paused. “Only people I ran into was some newshound gettin’ in on the elevator when I was gettin’ out and the elevator operator.”
Beckett’s eyes flickered toward the notebook that had gotten knocked off the desk. “A newshound? Which one?”
Before Brendon could answer, there was a knock on the door, followed by Hall opening the door. Before the burly man was the same newshound Brendon had seen earlier, looking at both men with wide eyes.
“Him.”
Fandom: Bandom (Panic at the Disco, The Academy Is.../William Beckett)
Pairing(s): William Beckett/Brendon Urie
Word count: 760
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone. Title from Bust Your Kneecaps by Pomplamoose.
Summary: Beckett's conversation with Brendon that Ryan stumbles on. From How Do You Sleep While The City Is Burning?
Brendon rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked into his office, feeling that his day couldn’t get worse. Especially after coming across that dame’s body in the hotel. He couldn’t imagine who could’ve killed her; anyone in Beckett’s mob that mattered knew that the Palmer dame was necessary for business. That was how things were run.
He could feel the music coming from the dance floor of the cabaret under his skin and he leaned back against his office door, closing his eyes and letting his fingers tap against the door. He’d have to talk to the musicians about keeping up with the jazz.
“What’s the story behind this, Urie?”
Brendon’s eyes snapped open, gaze going over to the desk as Beckett tossed a notebook onto the desk and leaned forward in Brendon’s chair. He tapped the notebook, locking eyes with Brendon.
“Do you know anything about this?” Beckett repeated, tapping the notebook again.
Brendon glanced down at the notebook, reading the shorthand on the page. It was a news story about the Palmer dame’s death. He didn’t recognize the handwriting of the main story, but he thought he saw Stump’s writing at the top.
“Didn’t kill no dame,” he grunted finally, shrugging a bit and looking down at his polished shoes. “I showed up on time like you told me, and there was her body. I didn’t touch nothing or nobody, and no one saw me leave her room.”
He looked up when the chair squeaked as Beckett stood up, crossing the room. Beckett raised an eyebrow, grabbing Brendon’s tie and adjusting it. Beckett seemed to be calm, despite the fact that an associate of theirs was dead and the papers already had an interest in it. Brendon wasn’t terribly sure that the calmness was a good thing, especially not with Beckett straightening his tie.
Brendon opened his mouth to ask what the matter was before Beckett silenced him with a kiss, taking advantage of the fact that Brendon’s mouth was open to lick his way inside and pinning him against the door.
He wasn’t sure how long they kissed before Beckett pulled away, hand wrapping around Brendon’s tie and using it to pull Brendon over to the desk. Once there, Brendon found himself pushed up onto the desk, making a mess of it and knocking the notebook to the floor.
“You’re makin’ a mess of my desk,” Brendon mumbled as Beckett kissed him again, rougher this time as the taller man worked on getting Brendon’s pants down.
“Make a mess of you.” Beckett smirked in response, kissing Brendon’s jaw as he finally worked Brendon’s cock out of his pants, fingers stroking lightly. “’s rightfully my desk anyway, since I own the joint.”
Brendon shuddered as Beckett’s fingers worked faster, head falling back and fingers curling into the wood of the desk. He bit down hard on his lip, knowing that even though nothing in this office could be heard in the cabaret proper, he or Beckett didn’t need anyone listening in.
He was close to release when Beckett’s hand stopped, squeezing a bit. He couldn’t stop the whine that escaped as he blinked his eyes open to look up at Beckett, who looked back at him, face unreadable.
“I’ll ask again. Did you kill the Palmer dame? You knew she was important to our business.”
“I told you, that dame was already dead when I got there. I touched nothing.” Brendon flinched at how needy his voice sounded, but he managed to keep himself from flinching again when Beckett straightened up, straightening his own tie and smoothing his suit like nothing had happened.
“I’m not accusing you of killing anyone, Urie. No one saw you enter or leave her room, right?”
There was something in the tone that let Brendon know the mood had shifted again, and he pushed himself up, trying to get himself back in order and cool himself down. He got the feeling that this would be unfinished business for later, after the Black Canary closed for the night.
“Told you. No one saw me.” Brendon paused. “Only people I ran into was some newshound gettin’ in on the elevator when I was gettin’ out and the elevator operator.”
Beckett’s eyes flickered toward the notebook that had gotten knocked off the desk. “A newshound? Which one?”
Before Brendon could answer, there was a knock on the door, followed by Hall opening the door. Before the burly man was the same newshound Brendon had seen earlier, looking at both men with wide eyes.
“Him.”