Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ UGLY JEALOUSY ✩

Frank groaned when he heard Brendon rambling on about something in the ear piece, making him even more annoyed which was almost fucking impossible.

He looked like a douchebag, no, worse than a douchebag, Frank thought. What kind of self respecting adult would wear a black floral dress shirt to a night club in the middle of fucking January? Well, apart from the likes of Brendon of course.

In a perfect world, Frank would never have to go undercover, but unfortunately that was just a part of his job. Though Frank had to admit he didn't exactly hate going undercover, he could definitely live without it though, and he could especially live without going undercover as Carlo Perez, a man on the look out for true love in some sleazy bar and an owner of a horse farm.

The backstory was of course curtesy of Brendon and Bert who were having a fucking blast and practically pissing their pants in laughter as they listened to Frank grumble under his breath as he hugged himself tightly. He walked to the boisterous and honestly quite appalling club. One that, so Frank been made aware, had the best margaritas in Brooklyn. According to a very unprofessional and biased Pete.

Frank sighed when he saw the large line outside of the club, his first instinct being to turn around and just head home, but of course that wasn't exactly allowed tonight.

"There's a huge fucking line," Frank said with an exhausted groan, "I'm just gonna try to find a way around it. Bathroom window or something."

"Okay, just don't get caught or step in any piss." Brendon said, and Frank just clenched his jaw at that.

"You're a fucking hoot, aren't you, Urie?" Frank asked lowly in annoyance, feeling relieved when he saw what looked to be a metal, storage-type door near the back of the building.

Frank had just crouched down to try and pick the weak lock when what looked to be a very drunk couple stumbled past him. He winced when he smelled the strong alcohol coming off of them, his eyes practically burning at the scent.

Luckily they seemed too out of it to care what Frank was doing, which worked out great for him despite their horrible stench.

"Dude," Frank heard Brendon say in an absent tone, the tone he usually used when he wasn't really listening or particularly interested, "Dude, hurry your ass up."

Frank rolled his eyes and picked up the pace of his fingers and lock-pick he conveniently brought with him everywhere ever since Bob had accidentally locked them out of the apartment a few months back.

He smiled a little to himself as the click indicating the door was unlocked filled the air. He gently pushed it open, squinting when a small gush of air and dust hit his face, making him cough into his shoulder.

"You good?" Brendon asked in a worried tone as Frank tried to make his way around what looked to be dark storage room, filled with liquor and tables.

"It was just dust, asshole," Frank muttered, feeling his stomach bubble in dread when he heard the loud techno music filling his ears, along with the sounds of annoying chatter, "You need to learn to calm the hell down."

"Y'know one of these days you seriously won't be good, and you'll be sad that I didn't ask." Brendon said back childishly, though Frank wasn't really listening anymore. He was a little busy trying to navigate himself through the sweaty and dreadful club, having found an exit to the dusty room a few moments prior.