Work Text:
Ian was startled out of his accidental nap by loud banging on his door. It was the afternoon, but it was a sketchy neighborhood. He didn’t have much to steal since he just moved in, but he’d put up a fight. The banging continued until he opened it with the useless chain locked.
“You fucking Ian Gallagher?” A shorter, but wider man stood there almost on his haunches.
“Who’s fucking asking?” Ian didn’t have time for whatever this was. He was probably one of his neighbors he’d have to call the cops on a lot. Yet another thing to add to his list of complaints to his unresponsive landlord.
“You him or not?” the man growled.
“Yeah, I am. You need something?” Ian felt for his phone but it must have fallen between the couch cushions. Shit. He could just slam the door and hope he went away, but he didn’t seem like the type to back down. He could maybe take him.
“What’s this about you not paying rent?”
Ian unlocked the chain and opened the door wider. He crossed his arms and shrugged. “You might want to do the same if you actually want something to get done around here. I’ve been putting in work orders for two weeks and nothing. Guy’s a lazy con artist.”
The guy clenched his jaw, then thumbed at his nose. He snorted derisively, although he looked genuinely amused. “Lazy con artist, huh? How do I know you just don’t have the money this month?”
Ian raised an eyebrow. “What’s it to you?” he asked. He’d had nosy neighbors before, but maybe there was something he was missing? The guy shook his head with a laugh. He straightened his posture and stood a little taller, which wasn’t much, crossing his arms before pointing to himself.
“I’m Mickey Milkovich.”
“Who?” Ian froze. He’d definitely missed something.
Mickey cocked his head and sneered. “Lazy con artist.”
“Huh?” Ian scratched the back of his neck.
Mickey rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “I’m your landlord, Jesus fucking Christ!”
It still took a beat for Ian to recover. “Oh! Oh…ohh shit, I can explain.”
Mickey put his hand up. “First of all, learn who you’re fucking dealing with and put a foot in your mouth before you get one up your ass. Second, you’re not the only tenant I have. Third, you need to put your rent in an account as proof you’re not just negging. Fourth, I got a kid to raise. And last, you got two hands and some brains it seems, so fix some shit yourself.”
Ian stood there, dumbfounded at the turn of events. He was slightly embarrassed and a little mad his neighbors hadn’t warned him about the man fully ready to rip him a new one. He was afraid to breathe for a few seconds, shifting from foot to foot in his doorway. This Mickey guy was scary, but Ian couldn’t help notice his eyes or his perfectly gelled hair. He wore jeans and a button down with the sleeved rolled up. His dick was getting conflicting messages.
“How old’s your kid?” he suddenly asked.
Mickey’s face flashed annoyance then calmed. “Be three in a month. Won’t let me out of his sight for more than two seconds.”
Ian nodded. “Fuck. I didn’t…I’m so–”
“Look, I can’t be chasing after you like some bitch for my money just because you can’t work a fucking hammer.”
“I know how to hammer,” Ian said without thinking. The other man stared at him and bit his lip like he didn’t want to say something. “I-I just don’t have any tools,” he stammered, flushing red.
Mickey shrugged after a moment, keeping his eyes on him. “You can borrow mine. I live on top of you.”
Now Ian stared, not sure if that was an invitation for what it made his brain think of. He swallowed. “Thanks. If you’re tied up, I’d be happy to help–”
“Whatever,” Mickey cleared his throat and shifted back,“…just have my money tomorrow and I’ll look at that outlet.”
He turned and left.