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"The tap leaks!" Sanji declares dramatically after kicking the door open hard enough that it hits the adjacent wall with a thud, breezing into the supposed landlord's office.
His entrance is ruined somewhat by the fact that said landlord isn't present. In his stead, there's a crumbled piece of paper pinned badly to the wall behind the desk at the far side of the room, a black scrawl on it, 'Not in. Wait or not, I don't care.'
He scowls. It's his first day at his new place and already he feels like that shitty apartment's falling apart at the seams, ready to crumble with so much as a soft tap to the wall.
And now it seems like the landlord's as dysfunctional as the rest of this crappy place. He's only taken the apartment because the rent's cheap as hell and it's within comfortable walking distance of both his workplace and culinary school. He doesn't have the money to pay for transportation and he'd rather live in a dump than ask that shitty old geezer for a favor.
He reaches for the pack of cigarettes he keeps in his inner pocket as well as his lighter, hesitating for all of two seconds before shrugging lightly and placing one of the smokes between his lips, flicking at the lighter and sucking until the end of the butt glows a bright red, exhaling audibly. Tapping one foot on the floor in a quick, impatient rhythm, he contemplates what to do next.
Should he wait for the guy to show up or should he just give up and come back at a later time? He doesn't mind waiting for a lovely lady but doesn't really care for doing the same for some male bastard. He lets his gaze wander about the rather spartan room, his eyes almost immediately landing on a picture of three swords hanging right above the shitty note. A place of honor.
A closer look reveals that they aren't swords at all. They're katana; he recognizes them from back when he was still a member of his local gym and some guys used to fight with these. He doesn't get why three, though.
Does his new landlord collect katana? He's always thought collecting things just to look at them being a pretty pointless thing to do on top of it being a waste of money, but to each his own, he supposes.
Still, he finds he can't look away. Even with his inexperience and just seeing a photograph of them, he can tell that these are no ordinary weapons.
"Give it up, these aren't anything you could get your poor-ass hands on if you tried," a voice behind him suddenly jeers, making him jump slightly.
Dammit, how the hell has he not noticed the other man enter the room? Not used to being sneaked up upon, he turns around pointedly casually to compensate for his slip and examines the owner of that deep, gravelly voice. It turns out to be a frowning, muscular man, holding his thick arms crossed in front of his chest in a way that makes the fabric of his shirt cling to his skin as he meets Sanji's stare head-on.
He blinks. The guy's hot as fuck. And totally the type he'd usually go for in a heartbeat but fuck if he's going to make a move on someone who's insulted him before so much as a fucking greeting.
He provocatively stubs his cigarette out in the half-empty cup of water he detects standing on the desk, silently reveling in the narrowing of piercing eyes the action earns him. "The fuck do you know? I could be loaded," he sniffs, raising his chin defiantly, silently daring the other.
What has to be the landlord snorts derisively, his stance unfurling slightly. "Yeah, right. That's why you've moved into this shithole."
Just great. Even the owner of the place thinks it sucks big time. How very reassuring. At least this way his attention gets channeled back to the problem at hand and he takes a step forward.
"My tap leaks," he repeats haughtily, looking at the other challengingly.
Mister landlord grunts, bodily shoving Sanji out of the way as he strides across the room and dumps himself down on the chair behind the desk. "Then fix it," he says simply, not bothering to so much as look at Sanji anymore.
Sanji just stares at the man for a moment or two, too dumbfounded to do anything else until his brain kicks in again and his temper explodes, body burning with fury. "THAT'S YOUR FUCKING JOB," he yells, pointing an accusatory finger at that jerk. The fuck?! What the hell was with this asshole?!
The other man shrugs, clearly unbothered by it all. "I don't have to do anything," he responds calmly, as if what he's saying was actually making perfect sense and as if Sanji was the one behaving unreasonably.
"B–but–" Sanji's so angry his stuttering's back. He hates when that happens and it's not something anyone's managed in less than five minutes of meeting him, ever. What a shitty new record.
The green-haired moron's watching him now. "Not my fault you haven't read the contract properly. Your parents haven't taught you to always read the small print?"
He wants to claw that smug smirk off that bastard's face. "Fuck you," he snarls with feeling, barely able to refrain from launching himself across the room and kicking the expression off. He does need that apartment.
The grin widens knowingly. "Is that how you're supposed to talk to your landlord?"
"Screw you," he says again, with less conviction this time.
The landlord's gaze wanders downwards and before Sanji knows what's happening, the other's checking him out. Something in the man's gaze sharpens as if he likes what he sees and, his anger all but deflating under the intense scrutinizing, Sanji finds himself blushing like an innocent virgin, mentally cursing himself for it.
"That an invitation?" Landlord-san crooks an amused eyebrow at him, watching him curiously through the eye that doesn't have one serious-looking scar running down the length of it.
Sanji takes a deep breath before straightening up slightly and strolling casually over to where the other's still seated. Pretty sure he hasn't imagined the hunger he's read in the other's stare, he bends his upper body over the desk until he can feel the other's breath stir his bangs.
"That you'll have to find out for yourself," he murmurs in his best seductive purr.
And then he turns on his heels and strides out of the room, his hips swaying sensually, not actually checking but confident that he won't be arriving in his new shitty home alone.
Maybe his tap'll get fixed, after all.