(A/N) Oh my god I am so sorry! xD I haven't posted anything in like, forever! And I can't promise that I will. Things have been tiring and I'm so busy with other unposted stories- I just don't want the responsibility of having a story posted on here with people waiting for me to update. I'll post the things you've been waiting for eventually, but for now, enjoy Mr. Stump's Murderous Dinner Party! (I worked so hard on it omg)

The invitation arrived in the mail just a day before the party, but the guests knew better than to question Mr. Stump's motives for the late sending. A welcome into the Stump Manor was not something to be passed up because of the petty issue of a miffed demeanor at not having more than one night to prepare yourself for the dinner.

There was no guest list on the card, which was also a minor issue for some of the guests. Many of the posh, elegant inhabitants of the city in which they lived weren't in good terms with each other, for money related reasons, business related reasons, or personal reasons. But most people were in good terms with Mr. Patrick Stump, and there was a large factor of fear and worry for many of the invited people that at the party they would meet with some rivals, enemies, or exes. However, a party hosted by Mr. Patrick Stump was, as always, not indeed something to be passed up for any reason, no matter how unfathomable someone's hated for another might be. They would just have to do their best to avoid that person as not to start a ruckus.

On the night of the party, the first person to arrive was a certain Mr. Wentz. He was a good friend and large scale employee of Stump Industries so it would only seem customary for him to be invited to Mr. Stump's dinner extravaganza. Mr. Wentz is also not one to be fashionably late, either, but fashionably early; the lone time with Mr. Stump would be an advantageous opportunity to lean even farther into Mr. Stump's list of elites.

The wine was served in abundance, food other delicacies piled high on the tables by Mr. Stump's servants and valets. When Mr. Wentz arrived, he caught the aroma in the air and wished in retrospect that he'd eaten before he'd come, because he knew that before dinner there would surely be some matter of small talk and conversation between guests and host, and he was positively wary that he couldn't stand the fragrance of the delicious meals in between courses and not be tempted to indulge himself. Hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty, he thinks.

The guests trickle in one by one. A Mr. Smith, a Mr. Iero, a Mr. Way, another certain Mr. Way, a Mr. Beckett, a Miss Salpeter, a Mr. Walker, a Mr. Toro, a Miss Ballato, one of the two Mr. Letos (Jared Leto), a Mr. Saporta, and one George Ryan Ross the third.

Jon Walker glares at Ryan Ross as he arrives. He had no idea that he'd been invited. He wonders what he did to get on Mr. Stump's good side. Something large, certainly. No one likes that Ross boy. He was certifiably insane. Why on earth is he here?

It's a bit into the evening when the last dinner guest, quite a bit too late to be fashionable, arrives. Frank Iero rolls his eyes as the posh, too-good-for-you Mr. Brendon Boyd Urie bounds into the sea of people, flaunting his over expensive three- piece suit and silk waistcoat.

"Ah!" Mr. Stump cries. "Brendon, how lovely too see you!"

"Oh, Pat!" Brendon laughs. "It's been far too long, friend." They embrace in peals of chuckles.

Mr. Stump walks gracefully to the top of his winding staircase to see all of his dapper guests. He addresses all of them when he bellows, "Hello, friends, comrades, business partners, and others, and welcome to my humble abode!

"It will be a pleasure having you here; I am of the surest mind sight. Please, make yourselves at home. Dinner will be served shortly." He comes back down to the lower level.

Gossip and small talk ensue at this point. Most are having seemingly harmless chats, but Jared Leto is having a hushed conversation with Greta Salpeter, who is sneaking glances at Frank Iero as Jared whispers to her. Gerard Way is glaring at the two as he strolls up to Frank, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him off, out of their sight.

Brendon Urie has cornered one of Mr. Stump's servants, one Adam Siska, (called Sisky by most) and is fawning over the young boy. Brendon has one hand on Sisky's hip, a flirtatious expression on his face; Sisky looks incredibly nervous.

William Beckett struts over, pulling Sisky away from Brendon, who pouts. Bill shoos the grateful Siska into a Brendonless room and then reenters the party.

Ryan Ross is leaning against the wall in a corner, glaring and looking people up and down as they pass by him. He seems to be taking in the scene. Ryan shoots a look at Spencer Smith that is just a tad more venomous than the looks he shoots at the others. Spencer returns the scowl.

Raymond Toro, Ray to his friends, is talking with Michael Way using multiple gesticulations in his story. Michael is nodding, a thoughtful hand on his chin. Pete Wentz saunters up to them, greeting Michael fondly and nodding at Ray. "Mikey," he says sweetly. "Would you be kind enough to steal away with me for a moment to a more… private place? There's something I'd like to tell you, in confidence, be sure."

"Of course, Pete," Mikey says, "so long as Ray doesn't mind you stealing me away."

"Oh, it's no matter," Ray responds curtly. He nods at them and wanders off to find Gerard and Frank as Pete leads Mikey up Patrick's winding staircase and away from the party.

Jon Walker is laughing at a joke that one Lindsey Ballato has cracked. His head thrown back in laughter, and he lays a friendly hand on the beaming Lindsey's shoulder. He says something in a hushed tone, then, nodding at Greta Salpeter. Lindsey nods, and says, "Yes, she is. Would you be interested?"

Jon seems to be considering. "Possibly. Before I make any decisions, though, I'd have to drop by the club and see for myself."

"Of course," Lindsey says. "Surely. Though, I doubt you'll be disappointed in my work." She winks at Jon and is off to converse with a lonely looking Jared Leto.

Gabriel Saporta is has his hands folding behind his back and is closely examining the food on the posh dinner table lit by candlelight and the crystalline chandelier. He picks up a piece of fruit, an apple, and looks at it closely. He looks surreptitiously around him, pulls a cloth of some sort out of his breast pocket and rubs it over the apple. He lifts the apple to his face, sniffs it, and smiles. He places it back in its basket.

"Gabe?"

Gabe whips around. "Bill! What are you… doing here?"

William looks suspicious. "I was going to take a peek at the meal. What on earth did you do to that piece of fruit, Gabe?"

"Oh, what? Nothing, nothing," Gabe says.

"Well, alright," Bill answers, but he sounds uneasy when he turns on his heel and leaves.

A little while later, the first course is to be served. Pete and Mikey are still missing, which worries Gerard some, but Frank coaxes him back down into his seat, assuring the young, dark-haired man that Mikey and Pete surely just lost track of time and will be back down in no time. "No time at all," Frank had said.

Patrick is the life of the party, cracking jokes and telling stories of his magnificent life. He'd laugh at his own jokes but it wouldn't be stupid, for his jokes were marvelously comic. Just at this point, Pat is throwing his head back in laughter at a comment Jon had made about Patrick's expedition to the Amazon. Patrick's laughter dies down into chuckles and he brushes his dirty blond hair out of his face. "Jon, you dog!" he cackles, and takes a bite of a shiny apple.

Cautious and paranoid as always, Bill reaches out an arm nervously and says, "Pat, I'm not so sure you should-"

Patrick barely hears him. "Oh!" he exclaims. "I nearly forgot! I purchased this fabulous silver candle holder at an antique shop in Brazil. Let me go fetch it, and I'll be right back down." He disappears up his long staircase.

Some of the young men and women sitting at the table turned to their neighbors and started up a small chat, while others just picked good- naturedly at their food. A few rise to their feet to go do various things, such as glance at some decorations in Mr. Stump's eloquent house. Brendon checks his watch and glances at the staircase.

"What's wrong?" Jared asks him. "You appear nervous."

"Oh, it's nothing," Brendon says off-handedly. "Just wondering when Patrick will return."

Suddenly, a moan echoes through the house, and then a scream. Greta shrieks. "What is that?" she cries.

"Mikey-!" Gerard yells. "He's up there!"

"Brendon, Gerard, Spencer, Ryan- come with me!" Jared calls, and they fly up the stairs.

The site that is awaiting them is not a pretty one. Mr. Stump is laying on the floor, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He has a knife protruding from his slim stomach, a small amount of blood staining his thin, sandy hair.

"Patrick-!" Spencer cries. "Pat!"

Ryan wordlessly drops to his knees and checks Patrick's pulse and heartbeat. "Nothing," he says emotionlessly, and stands.

The five men stare at the body of their host, and say nothing.

"Gerard?"

Gerard's head shoots up as he hears his little brother's voice. "Mikey—what happened—Pete!"

"I- I don't know," Pete says. "I was with Mikey, in the other room—is Pat okay? Patrick?"

Pete drops to the floor and shakes Patrick hard. He had not only been a boss, but a good friend and loyal comrade, too. One that Pete no longer had.

"Patrick-!" Mikey cries. "Oh, Patrick!"

"Come on," Jared says. "We should get him out of here." He bends to pick up Mr. Stump's body, and with little assistance, he carries Patrick to his bedroom and lays him down on the bed there.

Brendon has said nothing at all. From the moment he laid eyes on Patrick's body, he's been silent and stoic, his eyes empty and glazed. Spencer lays a hand on his shoulder. "Brendon- are you okay?"

"What?" Brendon snaps back to reality. "Oh, yes. I- I'm fine. Well, not fine, you know, with Pat being dead and- I- fine, Spencer, fine, please, don't mind me, what is Mr. Wentz saying?"

What Mr. Wentz was saying, after all, was laced with emotion. "We must find out who did this!" he chokes, vehement. "We must punish the murderer of Patrick Stump!"

When the news broke that Mr. Stump had been killed, of course, chaos broke out. That can be understood.

But some of the accusations made? Quite ridiculous.

"You!" Greta shrieks, pointing to William. "You've been acting suspicious all day!"

"What say you, Greta," William spits pointedly. "I was down at the dinner table with you the whole time!"

But as time goes on, and the initial shock wears off, the accusations become a bit more justified.

"Gabe-," William pulls him aside. "I saw you mess with that apple. You didn't- you couldn't have- poisoned Patrick?"

Gabe gapes. "Will, you can't really think-,"

"I'm sorry," William says, "but it's increasingly suspicious! Did you?"

"No!"

"Then what on earth did you do to that apple?"

Gabe sighs. "Will, you of all people should know about how cleanly I am. You were there, when I was a child? I plucked an apple straight from the tree and bit into it? It was dirty and I was sick for days?"

William nods. "I remember. We couldn't have been even ten at the time."

"Yes. I was simply wiping the apple off with my handkerchief, William." To support his facts, Gabe pulls said hanky out of his pocket.

William sighs. "I'm sorry, Gabe. I just suppose that I'm nervous about the prospect of having a murder among us."

"Understandable," Gabe returns. "I forgive you, friend."

Outside their conversation, fingers point everywhere. People are accusing friends, lovers, family. No one is out of the question; you're guilty until proven innocent. There is a killer among them, after all.

"You weren't here! You were upstairs! During the murder!"

Mikey looks close to tears. Gerard scowls at Spencer, the accuser. "How dare you!" he yells. "Mikey, you wouldn't-!"

"Oh, no, Gerard!" Mikey cried. "I couldn't!"

"Can you prove yourself and Pete innocent?" growls Jared, who seems to have joined Spencer's side of the argument.

"Well, no, I suppose not," Mikey stuttered, lip quivering. "But I didn't kill Patrick! I would never do such a thing!"

"Pete," Spencer says, "I cannot believe you would-!"

"But I didn't!" Pete cries. "I wouldn't ever harm Pat! What would my motives be, tell me, Mr. Smith!"

Spencer thinks for a moment. "Stump Industries. You could try to take over in Patrick's absence."

"Mikey, Pete…" Ray interjects nervously. "You didn't- did you?"

"No, Ray!" Mikey cries, anguished that his own friend could think him possible to commit such a crime. "You know that!"

"Do I?" Ray asks, looking close to tears.

"STOP THIS FOOLISHNESS!" Frank yells. "They didn't do it!"

"And how would you know!" Jared turns on him.

"I went up there to use the restroom, just before dinner." Frank explains. "Not to embarrass you two, but I'm sorry, it seems the place and way to restore your innocence. But I saw the two of them, in one of the guest bedrooms, well, you know. Intimately-,"

"Okay!" Gerard yells. "Don't particularly want to hear it. But does that satisfy you, Mr. Stump? Mr. Leto?"

The two men grumble and stalk away, displeased that their suspects were nothing of the sort.

"Greta, Jared—." Frank says. "I saw you two sneaking glances at me before dinner. Might I ask what on earth you were discussing?"

Greta and Jared redden visibly. "Well, just gossip," Greta assures him. "You know, there are indeed some rumors about you and the eldest Way brother…"

"Well," Frank says. "I'm just glad it had nothing to do with Mr. Stump's murder." He says nothing about his and Gerard's social status, but as he leaves, he winks at the two flushed gossipers.

"Miss Ballato," Ray says, "if you don't mind my asking, what were you talking to Mr. Walker about earlier this evening?"

"Oh, that? Well-,"

"Because it sounded to me like you two could have been planning to stalk and murder her."

Greta gasps, and then shrills, "Oh! Oh!"

Lindsey, and Jon, now beside her, scowl. "How on earth did you interpret that from our chat?" Jon asks.

"Well," Ray says, "I happened to overhear it. And you said that Mr. Walker may be interested- in her murder!- and will check by the club to see if she's the kind of person he'd have some intent to murder her for. Maybe he wanted her money!"

Lindsey shakes her head. "No, no, you've got it all wrong. Jon said that Greta is very talented. I agreed. He owns a record label, and is interested in signing her, not murdering her. He's going to check out the club to hear her play. I said he won't be disappointed in my work because I've been training her."

"Oh," Ray says. "Oh."

After that, finally, everyone at once seems to turn simultaneously to Ryan. He's been leaning against the wall nonchalantly the whole time, silently assessing everyone and everything. "You!" someone points. "You've been suspicious all day!"

"Yes!"

"Insane! He's the killer!"

"He probably wasn't even invited to this party at all!"

"Doesn't he work for Stump? Maybe he wants power!"

"Did he get into the party for being an employee? They'll let anyone in fine places nowadays!"

Lindsey is jumping up and down, the ruffle of petticoats sounding around her. "Yes! Of course it's Ross! Who else?"

"That devious boy!"

"Arrest him!"

Jared and Frank grab at Ryan, who is terrified, showing some emotion for once. "I didn't-!"

Brendon is having a near panic attack. Things were happening way too fast. "Wait! Stop! I- I know someone- a detective! He can figure this thing out for real! Just- let me call him. Wait."

"It won't make a difference," Gerard says.

"Yes!" Spencer cries. "He's guilty!"

"Full of guilt, that boy is!" Pete yells, anguished.

But Brendon has already picked up Mr. Stump's telephone and is dialing the number, so the party is forced to wait.

"Mr. Weekes!" Brendon cries, relived. "You're here!"

"Brendon!" Dallon says. "So great to see you again."

"Dallon, we've got a bit of a dilemma. A murder, you see." Brendon gives Dallon a pointed look.

"Ah," Dallon says, confused. "I see…?"

He lowers his voice, leaning in. "But Brendon-."

"Detective Weekes," Brendon says, emphasizing Dallon's title, "you must find the killer." Another pointed look.

"The killer." Dallon chuckles and Brendon looks horrified.

"Dallon—!"

"Oh, fine, sure, of course. Just let me, 'investigate the scene of the crime'." Dallon snickers again.

To do this, the man simply glances about. He points a finger at Pete. "Him."

"Sir, we've already determined that Pete is innocent," Frank says politely.

"Oh," Dallon says, turning. "Him, then." He points to Ryan.

The room explodes. "It's been determined by a detective! He must be guilty!"

"Grab him!"

"Capture the felon!"

"Argh!" Brendon shrieks, grabbing at his hair. "Not him, Dallon!"

"Well, you didn't tell me that!" Dallon yells. "This whole 'detective' thing was not part of the plan! Where on earth did this come from? My god, first the murder, now this, Brendon-!"

Brendon and Dallon's eyes both widened. "Shit," Dallon says.

Ryan breaks loose from the grip of his captors. "What did you say?"

Brendon sighs as Dallon stumbles over his words. "No, Dall. That's it."

Dallon turns and smacks Brendon upside the head. "You idiot! We would have gotten away with it!"

"No!" Brendon yells back. "We never would have! I never would have been able to live with the guilt, Dallon! I would have told someone eventually! No amount of money is worth a life. I wish we'd never have done this." Brendon slides down the wall and buries his face in his hands.

Dallon sighs. "Brendon, please, just tell me. Why give it all up? Why did you call me? Why not let these people accuse him, that man I accused? I'm no detective, I don't know. Why didn't you let him get arrested?"

Brendon looked up, tears streaking his cheeks. "I—I—I couldn't let him take my blame."

"There's more than that to it."

Brendon's gaze flickers to Ryan. "I still love him."

Ryan's eyes widen. "Brendon—."

Brendon laughs dryly. "I even got Patrick to invite him to the party, just so I could see him again! I obsessed over every little detail. That's why I was late." Brendon's blush grows. "I wanted to look perfect. I had to, if I was going to win him back." He lifted his head to look a stunned Ryan in the eyes.

Dallon poked Brendon with the tip of his shoe. "Yeah, well. Good luck with that relationship, Romeo. Might be a little difficult what with being in jail and all."

Brendon's eyes widened, and he dropped his head onto his knees again, tucked up against his chest. "I can't go to jail!" he moaned. "Dallon, you know what they do to guys like us in prison!"

"Might have thought of that before, dipshit!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jared says. "Stop fighting!"

"Yeah!" the other partygoers cry.

"Call the police!" someone yells, and a dial tone starts up.

"Oh, no," Brendon moans, his eyes filling with tears.

Ryan kneels down beside him, wrapping his arms around Brendon's slim torso. "Hey, it's okay. I'll visit you, and when you get out, I'll be here, waiting. I promise, okay?"

When Brendon looked up to meet his gaze, there was the tiniest flicker of hope in his eyes of a life to come.

When the police arrived, the entire story is explained. Dallon takes most of the blame for the murder, but his sentence is yet to come. Brendon, because he's still incredibly young, still has to wait for his trial, but the most he'll be sentenced for is five years, but probably less. It was Dallon who did the dirty work, after all.

Before the dinner, Brendon had unlocked an upstairs window for Dallon to break in through. When Patrick went upstairs, Dallon had been there, waiting.

"Which explains why Brendon was so anxious during dinner," Jared recalls.

After all is said and done, and the morticians have removed Patrick's body, the police officers take Dallon and Brendon in handcuffs. Before they can push them into the backseat of the cop cars, Ryan gives Brendon a short kiss on the cheek and reminds him that he'll be waiting.

The sound of sirens fades into the night.

(A/N) Review, or Bden's experience in prison will be the worst of his life! xD (Did anyone catch the MCR refrence. Anyone at all.)