"At Your Service"
‼️WARNINGS‼️
•Swearing
•Season 3 Spoilers
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(Requested by: @miss_president615 )
Second Person POV
"What do you mean there's no one available?" A raven-haired male growls under his breath at his unhinged assistant. The brunette leans against his office doorframe and sighs as they adjust a rolled-up sleeve of their snow-white button-up. Outstretching their right leg to then cross behind their left with taupe slacks and a matching vest, their hands stuff into their pockets before responding. "I don't know how else to present it. Do you want me to order a telegram for you? 'We have no openings for cleaners at the last second because you always hesitate to hire new companies!' Like that?" The brunette cracks a mocking smile at their boss, hoping he finds it the least bit of amusing.
Simply rolling his steel-grey eyes, he rolls his chair back in front of his computer, furiously typing away at the keyboard. "Guess I'll start dialing up telegrams..." The tall brunette mumbles as they get the memo that the man does not have the patience to be disturbed right now. Before they have the chance to leave, the frustrated man jumps. "No telegrams, Hange! Find me a new cleaner! ASAP!" He barks more orders, which doesn't faze his assistant, whatsoever. "You got it, Mr. Ackerman." Hange salutes by flicking their right hand away from their forehead.
Mr. Ackerman is the owner of a real estate company that buys and flips houses for resale. His typical day consists of managing his employees who work on these houses but unfortunately on a day like today, his go-to cleaners quit on him without notice. As to why they did? Apparently they found a better gig with more pay at a different company. Now, his latest dilemma is finding someone to come in and take care of the mess before deliveries for the house get delayed because of this one problem. If worse comes to worse, he himself may have to show up to the property and roll up his sleeves instead. Mr. Ackerman may be particular about his cleanliness but even he would rather avoid doing the work himself.
As the day nears its end, the clock ticks louder and louder with each passing second, reaching closer to 5-o'clock. Just as Mr. Ackerman's hands almost rip out his hair from staring at a bright computer screen all day, a booming knock startles him from his hunched-over position. "What the hell do you want?!" The raven snaps his head towards the doorway to spot his assistant, Hange, bouncing on their toes. Face dropping from its annoyed-looking state, a bored expression replaces his façade. "What is it?" He mutters, straightening himself out. "I found someone to come in tomorrow morning!" The brunette gleams like they had won an award at school.
Rubbing his slender fingers and cold palms over his sore, pale face, Mr. Ackerman releases a quiet sigh, partly in relief. "Tell them I'll meet them at the site at 8. I expect them to be courteous by showing up on time." Mr. Ackerman stares at his excited assistant as they nod in response. "Will do, sir! Have a good evening!" They wave "bye" then run off before he can demand more. Just like they had expected, the man pushes himself up from his chair to do exactly that but Hange is long gone. Dropping himself back down on the cushiony seat, his eyes linger towards the wall clock, realizing the hour hand had finally struck "5."
The following morning, Mr. Ackerman meets Hange at the abandoned ranch house in a small town, about thirty minutes from the office. Climbing out of his slick black BMW M850 convertible, Hange strolls over, holding a clipboard of thick papers with all kinds of notes and whatnot. "Mornin', shorty! They should be here any second." Hange grins as they pull a pen out of their breast pocket to vigorously click on the top. "They should have been here before us, four-eyes." Mr. Ackerman ignores the taunting name, already used to their unprofessional behavior. Hange does the same and leaves it at that, knowing there's nothing they can do about the cleaning team's arrival.
Just like that, a metallic Toyota Prius pulls up the long, gravely driveway, parking a few feet behind Hange's red Lexus IS 500 F Sport. Before Mr. Ackerman can even make a negative comment about the suspiciously small vehicle, the passenger door carefully opens on the side opposite to them. "There they are!" Hange grins as they wave over the cleaner. Stepping out, a youthful but collected figure makes their appearance as they round the hood of the Prius, showing a shy smile towards the business folk.
Striding over to the two, you stretch your hand out towards the male first, making sure to smile extra kindly. "Hi, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you." You shake the man's hand before doing the same to the taller brunette beside him. "I apologize for my tardiness, I don't think my ride realized how far of a drive it was." You jab a thumb over your shoulder towards the car you arrived in. "No worries! Glad you made it!" Hange speaks up on Mr. Ackerman's behalf. Before he can utter a word, you speak up again, instead. "I'll go grab my supplies then you can show me around the place?" You suggest, already heading back to the trunk to gather your materials.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Ackerman grips Hange's beige lapel, pulling them down to his height. "You hired some kid off the street to clean my property?" The raven mutters in their face, brows stitched together in irritation. "They're not some random kid, Levi! They're a college senior! At least, I think... I did most of the talking." Hange chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of their neck. "How much did you pay them?" He decides to question, almost afraid to ask. "Like... thirteen-hundred." Hange shrugs like its a regular Tuesday. Before Mr. Ackerman can begin to scold his assistant, he quickly releases their blazer to compose himself before you return with your cleaning supplies, making sure he looks mature and polite. Like he totally wasn't just about to fight someone.
You eventually stand back in front of Mr. Ackerman and his assistant Hange, with whom you spoke to yesterday, waving at your ride as the vehicle drives off. "I'll follow your lead." You grin as you expectantly glance between the two figures. "Hange, I'll see you back at the office, then." Mr. Ackerman checks his watch, strolling towards his car. "Hooold on, shorty." Hange taunts, grabbing his shoulder before he's too far off. Shrugging his shoulder away from their grip, he dusts off his jacket with disgust, eyes glaring at the brunette. "You told me to meet with the contractors about the changes you wanted in the kitchen. Soooo, looks like you'll be playing tour guide today." Hange smiles triumphantly as they walk past the short male. "Nice seeing you again, Y/n!" The brunettes waves your direction, then leaves.
Left alone with the "big boss," you face the man with a bit of nervousness but determination to make him pleased with your work. "Shall we?" You decide to speak first, tilting your head towards the house. "I suppose so." The raven mumbles, leading you up the two steps to the front door of the old house. Upon entering, its a relatively decent size for being one-story. You figure it'll still be a long project, though.
Ignoring the trash thrown everywhere, Mr. Ackerman fights the urge to lose his shit at the ungodly sight, pushing through the house. "I apologize for my... assistant, the other day. This won't be a problem for you with school, right?" Mr. Ackerman rolls his eyes as he walks ahead of you down a hall. "No, not at all. I just graduated a few weeks ago, so I've got nothing going for me right now." You shake your head even though he can't see you behind him. "No job?" His brows furrow as he makes it to the entrance of a petite bedroom. "Ah, no. I mean, a part-time one but no career." You laugh slightly, a bit embarrassed to admit. Slightly nodding, Mr. Ackerman immediately moves on to a different room, only giving you a few seconds to see each place.
Trying to find clear paths to walk through as some trash and debris littered the home seemed unsettling but you're determined to get it spick and span. After being shown around, Mr. Ackerman leads you back to the small antique kitchen, crossing his arms over one another. "How long will it take you to get this place clean?" The man asks, resting his hip on the edge of a counter. Doing a once over of the main living area, you return your gaze to the man after calculating. "Honestly, I can get it done by this afternoon." You confidently answer, noticing a subtle change in Mr. Ackerman's stance. "Today?" He raises a brow, almost not believing you. "Yes, sir." You nod, staying firm. Mr. Ackerman takes a look at your supplies, still on the fence but he's got no other choice. You only brought a handful of folded trash bags, gloves, a duster, and wipes. Not to mention a little paper bag that probably has your lunch in it.
Ultimately giving in, Mr. Ackerman quietly sighs, pushing himself off the counter's edge. "Let's see what you got, then. I have a meeting back in the city, so call my assistant if you need anything." Mr. Ackerman reaches into his pocket for his wallet to pull out a business card. Holding it out between his index and middle finger, you glance down at the paper card before pushing it back to the man. "I already have their contact. They kind of took my phone from my hands to punch it in." You chuckle at the thought of the encounter from yesterday. "Typical." Mr. Ackerman shakes his head, not surprised, yet again.
"You renovate these, right? I could come back once its done to do the final cleaning." You offer, glazing your eyes over the kitchen. Pausing in place from attempting to leave, Mr. Ackerman adjusts his jacket. "Worry about this step first and maybe I'll consider it." He almost snaps, showing a bit of his lack of patience. Not taking it to heart, you simply nod in understanding. "Yes, sir." You reply, pulling out gloves and opening a trash bag to get to work.
~~
By late afternoon, Mr. Ackerman returns to the property to check on your work after attending meetings all day. Pulling up the driveway, he's surprised to see you sitting on one of the porch steps with trash bags beside you. Quickly exiting his car, he quickens his pace to find out what the hell you're doing. "What's this all about?" He asks, throwing his hands on his hips with a wide stance as his short frame blocks the sun over you. Looking up at him from your position, you glance at the trash bags. "I finished the inside before noon so I started doing yard work. Then I finished that about thirty minutes ago." You shrug like no big deal. With stitched brows, Mr. Ackerman is a bit flabbergasted. "I didn't hire you to do the outside." He puts his foot down. Pushing yourself up from the creaky step, you dust your bum off, "Well, I'm done anyway." You stretch out your back.
"How come you're hanging around here, then? Don't you have a life?" Mr. Ackerman questions as you brush past the businessman. "My ride bailed." You answer and swing two trash bags over your shoulders, looking around. "Are there dumpsters around?" You furrow your brows. "In the garage." Mr. Ackerman pinches the bridge of his nose, eventually leading you over to the detached garage to open the door. After tossing all the trash, you return to the porch to gather your supplies as Mr. Ackerman pulls out a check from his inner pocket. "Here. I'll call you a ride, too." He then retrieves his phone from a different pocket after you hesitantly accept the check.
"You don't want to see the inside first?" You raise a brow out of confusion. Blinking three times, Mr. Ackerman puts his phone away to head up the steps without a word. Quickly following behind, you stay quiet as the man carefully inspects every inch of the house. His silence is eating you up, afraid he's judging the job you did. Maybe it doesn't meet his standards? Before you can make a peep, Mr. Ackerman pauses in place once he ends in the kitchen. Turning around to face you, the man adjusts his jacket, parting his lips. "Not terrible, kid." Is all he has to say as he brushes past you to leave. You ignore the "kid" name as he maybe only has a few years on you.
Following Mr. Ackerman out, he's already fishing for his phone once again, probably to call you a ride. "Mr. Ackerman, I can stay longer to clean more if you're not satis-" You begin to say but end up getting cut off by the man grunting in frustration. "No service." He mutters, stuffing the phone back in his pocket. After staying silent for a few seconds as if contemplating something, he whips his head towards you. "Just get in the damn car." He sighs, climbing into his vehicle. Caught off guard, you need a moment to process the command before actually following.
Approaching the driver-side window, Mr. Ackerman rolls it down to glare at your slow self. "You coming?" He furrows his brows in impatience, staring over the brim of his silver-framed aviator sunglasses. Fumbling over your words at first, you eventually manage to get them out coherently. "Won't my supplies dirty your car?" You glance down at the items in your arms. Pursing his lips, Mr. Ackerman stares forward again. "Get in the car." He mutters in an annoyed tone, clearly not caring at the moment.
Untying the jacket from around your waist, you wrap it around the broom as not to get dust everywhere, setting it on the backseat along with the rest before finally getting in yourself. "Where to?" Mr. Ackerman questions the second you sit down in the passenger seat. "Um... Shiganshina. Its just south of Maria." You reply, carefully buckling yourself in with the expensive-feeling seatbelt. Nodding once, Mr. Ackerman changes gears to head down the long driveway and back onto the narrow country road.
Continuing down the road for approximately twenty minutes, Mr. Ackerman suddenly parts his lips. "What's this part-time job of yours?" The raven male asks. Glancing over at him to see his eyes not leaving the road ahead of him, you return your own to the same position. "The typical post-college job, waiting on people." You respond before parting your lips once more. "Its a mom and pop restaurant in my town, only open until lunchtime on the week-" You don't get the chance to finish as the man cuts you off. "Quit it." He easily states like repeating his full name. "I-... Mr. Ackerman, what do you mean?" You twirl your head back over to him, caught off guard. Adjusting his hand on the wheel by making a wave motion with his fingers to loosen his grip, the businessman sighs without another word.
Patiently waiting for any sort of answer, the man has nothing more to say. Pursing your lips, you lean back against the seat, quiet until you reach a red light moments later. "Left at the next light. My place is down the block." You give Mr. Ackerman directions as soon as the light changes. Curtly nodding, he glances over his shoulder to change lanes.
Eventually, you pull up to your building, looking up and out the window. "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Ackerman. Although, it really was unnecessary." You look back over at him with a shy grin. Turning his chin your direction, dark-tinted sunglasses still concealing his eyes, the businessman makes a "tch" sound. "If you want a real career, it starts by quitting your pitiful part-timer." Is all he has to say even though that conversation ended long ago. "Excuse me?" You furrow your brows, hands frozen on the seatbelt buckle. "Quit your waiter gig if you want a grownup's job." His expression is incredibly bored. Still dumbfounded, you decide to unbuckle and get out of the car, not sure if you should take his comment as an insult or as advice.
Pulling the seat forward, you reach back to grab your supplies. "Again, thanks for the ride." You mumble sheepishly, closing the door before he can reply. That is, if he was even going to. As Mr. Ackerman watches you head up towards the entrance to your apartment building, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, speed dialing his assistant. "Hey, Mr. Shorty! What's up?" The voice on the other end chirps enthusiastically. Biting back the urge to insult Hange, Mr. Ackerman releases an inaudible sigh. "I want you to hire Y/n as our new house cleaner, so send them an email with all the details. They can clean the house after renovation, too." He says in one take. "Wow! Really? Okay, yeah, I can text them for their email address-" Hange goes off on a tangent but Mr. Ackerman hangs up the phone mid-sentence as not to listen to them.
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Hello, readers!
Its been so long since I've updated any of my books, my apologies! I'm almost done with my summer class then I get a week break before I start fall semester aka my last ever school semester before I graduate :')
I hope you all enjoyed this one-shot even though it took quite some time. I promise I'll get the rest of the requests done when I can! See you soon!
~AlpineBreadStick