((Gallavich Ian/Mickey)) I'mma teach ya how to behave

"Well hi, Mickey."

Ian studied the teen. He was a little shorter with dark brown hair and a cigarette stuck between his lips. He was wearing a too big shirt and a dirty hoodie over it to keep himself warm. His jeans were baggy and looked like they would be torn apart just by a single wind.
The teenager spit to the left and raised one eyebrow. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

Ian opened his mouth and was on his way to exclaim defensively that the boy had no reason to be rude, but he quickly shut it in. Ian Gallagher was a self controlling man and a simple teen wouldn't make him lost it. He cleared his throat. "Rule number one; no swearing. I won't tolerate any curse words from you - or at least not if you're talking to me."

The boy chuckled with a careless grin and took a drag, blowing the smoke rebelliously into Ian's face. "Does it look like I give a fuck?" He asked coldly.
Ian frowned for a moment and took a deep breathe, coughing a little from the smoke. "You better do, Mikhailo."
The boy looked up and his eyes were shining, dangerous anger was glittering in his pupil. "Don't call me Mikhailo. Don't call me anything."

Ian had to use all his powers not to smirk at the stubborn look on the boy's face. He had read his file, he knew about him. "That's right.. you liked to be called Mickey, right?"
The teen looked down and took another drag though his hands was now shaking. "A shame though, your father gave you an remarkable name.."
"Shut the fuck up!" The boy growled and throw his cigarette to the floor and stepped on it until it was buried in its ash, "you better be careful, oldie! If you fuck with me I'll smash your brain out!"

Ian raised an sternly eyebrow. "Actually, I'm gonna represent you to the Smashcompany later, so sure. Show me what you got."
The teenager chuckled lowly and then got quiet. "Wow, the rich dude thinks he's funny, ey?"
"I'm not a dude for you, Mikhailo." Ian replied strictly, using Mickey's full name on purpose, "I've already sign the papers. You legally belongs to me now, literally is my son, friend or whatever you want to call it. But I am sir for you. Or dad if that's what you wanna call me."

Mickey laughed sarcastically. "You're a freak. I won't do anything that a pussy tells me to."
Ian shrugged. "Either you go out nice and quiet to my car, or I can send my boys to help you out from here."
Mickey snarked unsurely, unconfidence was clearly shown in his eyes for the first time. He gulped and rubbed his neck. "Fuck it.. I don't want your gay friends to touch me..."

Ian smiled softly. "Good choice. But that makes me wondering; are you a homophobe?"
Mickey took another cigarette and lit it up casually. "They're disgusting."

Ian pouted but decided that they'd talk about that later. Mickey throw his bag over his shoulder and walked out, turning to look at Ian with the cigarette placed between his fingers. "Move your tits, red head!"
The elder man chuckled softly and jogged after the teen, pointing at s limousine. "Not too fancy I hope.."

Mickey smirked and throw the rest of the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it again, running a hand through his hair. Ian suddenly felt a weird need of running his fingers through Mickey's hair as well, but he held his distance, remembering Mickey's history. He nodded to one of the custom men and he opened the door to the elegant black limousine, narrowing his eyebrows in disapproval as he watched Mickey sit down inside of the car.

The difference between Ian and the teen was as big as the difference between a horse and a fish. They didn't seem to match.
Mickey with his husky clothes and raw south side attitude, Ian with his custom and spotless shoes and combed hair.
Ian sat down by Mickey's side and smirked. "So.. how many homes have you lived in before mine?"

The boy snorted and looked out through the window. "Haven't you read my file?"
"Yes, but I'd like to hear an answer from you." Ian cooked an eyebrow and scooted unconsciously closer, not even Mickey -that was focused on the things they passed- noticed, and he said softly, "I trust humans, not papers.."

Mickey didn't look at him when he answered carelessly: "12..."
Ian nodded. "Quiet many, don't you think?"
"You think it was my fucking choice to get transferred from a shitty hole to another?"
Mickey's voice were cold and sharp like a knife, and he pulled out a third cigarette quickly and lit it up though he had seen the sign on the door as well as the roof of the car 'no smoking'.

Ian sighed lowly. "Didn't I told you not to swear towards me, Mikhailo?"
"You want me to punch you, fagot?" Mickey growled and took a deep drag.
Ian noticed that the teenager was shaking and sweat ran down Mickey's neck. So hot, Ian thought for a second and pushed it away.
"I count 'fagot' and 'pussy' as curse words Mickey. And you've said things with 'fuck' in it like three times. That's five." He intertwined his fingers and leaned back in the nice leatherseat, not expecting Mickey to care.

"Well oh so fucking interesting.." Mickey muttered and took another drag.
"Six." Ian started to giggle, "take my advice and don't repeat what you just said.."
The boy turned around and pointed towards him with the hot cigarette and snarled: "Why would I //fucking// listen to you?"

Ian busted out in laugh and looked at Mickey, shaking his head. "Well 7.. Seven days, that's a week."
The custom man in the front seat smirked and hummed and Mickey looked at Ian in confusion and slight concern. He took a deep drag and blew the smoke through his nose.
"S-so?"
"You better enjoy your cigarette.." The custom man said casually and Mickey snapped immediately:
"Shut up! Why are you even here? Sucking cock?"
"He's my security guard," Ian explained slowly to see that Mickey calmed, "and I'll let 'cock' slip away this time, but you should take your time on that cigarette Mickey."

Mickey licked his lips and then shrugged. "Why?"
"Because as soon as we arrive at my place I'll take away your cigarettes, every packet. at least for a week."

Mickey gasped and shook his head. "No. You got no fucking right to-"
"Nine days," Ian interrupted and smirked sarcastically, "how many days without cigarettes do you need before you understand that I am serious about my rules?"
Mickey leaned back angrily and crossed his arms over his chest. "Jeez Christ..." he snarked, "you should go get a life, you know that?"
"I get to hear it sometimes," Ian shrugged and giggled at his own sassiness.
The teenager was quiet for a few minutes, fighting with himself if he was going to pull up a fight or actually giving up to the redhaired taller man.
"Fine.." he muttered in irritation and turned his look to the window.
"You won't swear?" Ian asked calmly and raised his eyebrows, chewing on his lip.

The teenager sighed and said, clearly angry; "are you stupid? I said fine as in 'fine I won't swear if that means so fucking much to you'!"
"Ten days.." The guardian mumbled and Ian giggled, glancing at Mickey and he saw that the boy would be happy to hit the other man in the nuts.
"Good," Ian distracted Mickey and smiled, "then we'll get along. I'll tell you the rest of the rules when we gets home."