"So how much do I owe you?"

Dallon licked his lips. "Um. Fifty?"

"An hour?" He nodded. "Sweetheart, you're worth more than that." Bert ran the backs of his fingers down the younger's cheek. "I've been with you for what, two hours? Let me give you two hundred at least."

"I don't need it." Dallon looked down at his lap, an oversized shirt being the only thing he wore.

"Then why did you stand on the street looking all pretty like ya did, hm?"

"I..." He shrugged. "I was lonely."

Bert scoffed. "Lonely, riiiiight."

Dallon put his head in his hands. "I used to be good at this." He exhaled shakily. "I used to be able to pick guys up in a heartbeat just by fluttering my eyelashes. I charged a lot but they didn't seem to care; it was worth it, they said. And then I met Brendon fucking Urie and he stole me away, stole my life, stole my money." He punched the bed in frustration, feeling Bert's arms wrap around him. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I just -"

"It's okay. You sound like you've got a lot to get off your chest, kid." Dallon shrugged, so Bert shuffled them both backwards on the squeaky, filthy motel bed, pulling a bottle of whiskey from underneath it. He opened it and took a swig, before giving it to Dallon. "Here. Drink up. It'll make you feel better."

The young prostitute glugged at the amber liquid, shuddering in Bert's arms, and once he was done, he clasped the half-full bottle in both his hands. "Brendon Urie ruined my life." He admitted, though it didn't make him feel any better - in fact, he felt even worse. "He used me and he ruined me and he hurt me and I fucking fell in love with him." He began to cry, and Bert held him closer, glad that he'd actually put clothes on. "But Spencer...Spencer's the real monster."

"How so?"

"He's - he's mean, he's cruel, he's manipulative - I remember when Brendon first told me about him, he said that he was really sweet and would be so upset if he found out about us, but from what I've seen he's just an angry petulant child - and if he wants something, he'll get it, like he's getting Ryan Ross to -" he clapped his hands, still holding the whiskey bottle, to his mouth, glancing up at Bert.

"Getting Ryan Ross to what?" His eyebrows rose, feigning curiosity.

"Nothing. I'm not allowed to say."

"C'mon, you can trust me."

"No I can't. You're just some guy who's gonna pay me for sex."

Bert smirked. "Oh, so you do want paying?"

"Of course I do." Dallon gulped down yet more whiskey. "I'm a useless filthy prostitute, I always want the money." He shivered, closing his eyes. "It's all I'm good for. At least, that's what Spencer always says. He thinks I'm just in the way, that Ryan can't destroy Brendon if I'm there. But Brendon's perfectly capable of destroying himself. He doesn't need that dumb bitch. Seriously, like Ryan Ross likes to make people think he's all intelligent and shit, but he's not, he's vain and naïve and stupid. And I didn't think he'd ever be able to get Brendon to fall in love with him, but I guess he likes vain and naïve and stupid..." He hiccuped, tears streaming down his face. "Can I stay? I mean, I just, I don't want to go home." He looked up at Bert with wide, sad eyes. "Please?"

Bert fake-smiled in reassurance. "Yeah, sure."

~

It was one am when he got the call, and he slipped from the room, standing outside on the worn motel balcony as Dallon slept soundly on the bed. Bert answered his phone, not even bothering to say hello, simply grunting in greeting.

"Bert." Gee purred, and he smiled, this time for real.

"Hey. Are you checking up on me?" He leaned against the wall, lifting one leg to press his foot against the dusty brickwork. Down below, in the parking lot, a girl stood beside a streetlamp, clearly waiting for someone to pick her up and use her.

"Not at all." There was a pause. "How is he?"

"Not good. I mean, the sex was great, and then he started talking about Brendon and Spencer and Ryan and everything else under the sun. I think he told me his fucking life story."

Gee sucked in a breath. "Damn. Are you still with him?"

"He's inside, sleeping. Looks so peaceful, too. Like Brendon isn't hurting him and Spencer isn't destroying him and Ryan isn't being a dumb vain bitch -"

"He really said that about Ryan?" There were breathy moans in the background, and Bert rolled his eyes.

"Yes." He replied tersely, teeth gritted.

"But why - hang on a sec, Bert." More moans, slightly louder. People said killing two birds - two Berts - with one stone was a good thing, but he didn't think they meant something like this. "Yeah, right there baby. Mhmm. Ohhhh, yeah - you're doing so good, so good, so -" of course, Gee never hung up for anything, and Bert probably should've hung up himself, but that required effort, and Gee was having a fucking orgasm - Bert wouldn't miss that for the world. "Okay." He said, several minutes later, after he'd told whoever he'd been having sex with (Frank, most likely) to go clean themselves up. "Why'd he say that shit about Ryan?"

"Because it's true?" Gee scoffed. "Well, I don't like him, even if you two are best friends all of a sudden."

"We're not best friends, fuckface. I'm helping him. Anyone can see that he's better for Brendon than Dallon or Spencer ever were."

"Cut the crap, Gee. You don't think that at all. You just want to hurt people."

"So why are you helping me?"

There was a pause, as Bert thought it over. "Because you asked."

He could practically hear the ex-pornstar's grin. "I had a feeling you'd say that, Bert. So don't start on me for doing what a guy's gotta do, when you'd do what I ask you to in a heartbeat, okay sugar?"

"Fuck off, Gee."

Gee tutted in disapproval. "If you don't wanna do this, leave him now. Put four hundred dollars on the nightstand and leave. He can pay the bill for the room."

"No. I'm helping. I said I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Besides, Brendon's promised that he'll stay away from Dallon, which means that they'll have some sort of confrontation and he'll go crying to Spencer."

"Really? That's an improvement; last time I heard, Brendon couldn't stay away."

"I know." He could hear Gee moving around, stretching, adjusting. "Ryan's doing well."

"What?"

"Yeah, it was because of him that Brendon agreed to anything."

The door opened beside Bert, and Dallon poked his head out, tired eyes looking up at him. "Bert?" He said, and the elder sighed.

"Gotta go." Bert muttered, and Gee snorted before he hung up, and he took Dallon's hand and led him into the motel room, the door clicking quietly behind them.

~

The clacking of heels tended to signal Gee's arrival, and, as ever, the door opened and he walked in. But he wasn't smiling brightly. He wasn't giggling and flirting. He looked tense and pissed off.

He was holding a magazine in his hands, and he slapped it onto the table in front of Mikey, who flinched away from it. Plastered across the cover were pictures of himself, snapped unsuspectingly by paparazzi: holding Pete Wentz's hand, kissing Pete Wentz, in a booth in a nightclub with a curly-haired man Gee didn't know. Emblazoned were the words, "Ex-pornstar's cheating brother (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree)".

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Gee raged, stood in front of his brother, who didn't look up, couldn't look up. "This is exactly why I'm quitting what I do - so you don't get dragged into my mess! But you're getting into your own mess!"

Mikey said nothing, his lips pressed together so tight he could feel them disappearing. His phone was buzzing incessantly in his pocket, and he knew exactly who it would be. He couldn't answer it. He couldn't hear the heartbreak in his voice. He couldn't face what he'd done.

"Look at me, Michael." The younger Way hesitantly raised his head, met his brother's blazing eyes. "I barely wanted you out with Wentz - who's this?" He jabbed a finger at the mystery guy, and Mikey swallowed. "Who is he?!"

"Just some guy I met. He's nobody."

"Then why were you cheating on Pete with him?! Why did you let yourself get caught?! You stupid boy - journalists are going to be on you like vultures now!"

"I didn't mean to!" He cried out, shooting to his feet, tears filling his eyes. "He was just there, and Pete and I had had a fight, and he bought me a few drinks - the picture makes it look so much worse -"

"So much worse - your tongues are down each other's throats for crying out loud!"

"Gee, please! Concentrate on your own unravelling life before you shit all over mine!"

"I'm sorry, what?" Gee set his hands on his hips. "What are you trying to say?"

"Getting involved with Spencer Smith was just about the worst thing you could do." Mikey folded his arms, furiously wiping the tears away. "What would Mom say?"

"What would - Mom is fucking dead! Mom never gave a shit! Neither did Dad!"

"What about Elena?"

The pain alerted Mikey to the fact that his brother had just punched him in the face. "You hypocrite! You fucking -"

The doorbell ringing stopped them, and together they went to the front door, opening it to see Bert holding a drunken Dallon to his side.

"Afternoon, brothers." He grinned, glancing at Mikey's bloody nose, Gee's flushed face. "Have I interrupted something?"

"No." Gee hissed. "Bring him in."

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