Chapter Text
Okay, look.
He was getting kicked out at the end of the month anyway and he couldn't use free wi-fi the whole time, alright? He needed to find a place or he'd just be stranded in the middle of the semester, so. He.
He sorta replied to someone shady on Craigslist.
And now he's going to talk to them, at a location they asked for first, in a really shady part of town.
He stares at the door. Oh, jeez.
Ren knocks before he can run away from the door, five times. His ears flick as lockdown sirens go off on the other side of town. He jams his hand into his pocket.
The door creaks open to reveal one of the most wanted villains in the city. "Ah," he says, and holds out a metal hand. "Are you here for the listing?"
Ren shakes his hand on autopilot. "Yeah," he hears himself say. "Craigslist, right?"
Doctor Monster laughs a little. "Yes, unconventional, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't put my full name on there, either, but I think people would have burned this place down if they knew I was staying here."
He steps into the shadowed house, still talking, and Ren, on about four hours of sleep for what must be the third week, submits to whatever whim of fate this is and follows him in.
"I've already checked it out," Doc M’s voice echoes around the empty house. "It looks alright to me, I just need someone else to sign the lease." His head pokes out of a hallway. "If you want to, I mean."
Ren looks at the sinks, examines the heat and air, checks the smoke detectors and vents. He pulls out his phone to check out the internet in the house–two bars. One more bar than the last place he was in.
"It looks good to me," Ren says when he can catch Doc again (who is eyeing a stain on the ceiling with a careful, measured stare). "How much is it a month?"
"Oh," Doc says, "I'll cover it."
Ren blinks slowly. "What?"
"I've got it," Doc says. "I'm not going to buy all the groceries or anything, but I'll cover rent."
Ren stares at him.
"It's not that crazy," Doc M insists. "I just need to, ehh, look less suspicious and have someone else's name on the lease. The landlord won't talk to me." He rolls his eye. "You burn one building down, and the entire housing market is done with you."
"I'll do it," Ren says. "I'll sign."
"Oh, nice," the supervillain says, pulling the crumpled lease papers out of his pocket because of course he does. "I think I've got a pen somewhere on me, hold on..."
This is one of the more dubiously legal things Ren has done, and clearly there's going to be payment in some other form of currency, like favors, but he can live with that. Ren scribbles his signature on the last dotted line. He's almost surprised when it doesn't zap into ash like a magical contract.
When he shows up the next afternoon with his meager furniture, the apartment is transformed.
There's a couch. There are tables and a couple of chairs. There are a lot of lamps, turned on instead of the glaring overhead lights, and for some reason–possibly evil–there are two fridges.
Man, this dude is rich or something.
Ren dumps his stuff in the room they had settled on and plugs in his laptop to charge. There's a lot of mysterious rattling and the occasional screech of tortured metal coming from Doc's room, which is next to the bathroom, so Ren walks into the kitchen to wash his hands. The water doesn't come out for a second, and then it gushes rusty sludge. Ren waits for it to clear, washes his hands, realizes there's no soap and trudges back to his room.
He should settle in, but there are a couple of essays due tonight. One of which he has not looked at in a week, and another he has not started.
There’s a knock on the doorframe and a polite “Excuse me.” Ren looks up to see Doc with a mattress under his arm.
“I don’t have anywhere to put this,” Doc says. “Can I, ehh, lean it up against the wall in here or something?”
“Sure!” Ren scrambles to his feet. “Go right ahead, I’ll help you carry it–”
Ren hoists one end of the mattress and carries it into the room with ease. They lean it lengthwise against the wall.
“Oh, before I forget,” Doc says, and launches something at Ren’s face. He snags it from the air on instinct, a little nervous at what it might be, and opens his hands to reveal a set of keys.
“You, ehh, you have a car,” Doc explains. “Those are the garage keys. You can park it inside if you want, I don’t mind.”
Ren blinks at the keys in his hand. “Is it okay if I do this later?” he asks. “I’ve got some work I need to finish before midnight.”
“Oh!” Doc backs out of the room. “Yes, that’s alright. I’m sorry, I’ll stop bothering you.”
“It’s fine,” Ren starts, but Doc is already walking down the hallway out of earshot. He sighs and pulls out his laptop.
These essays won’t write themselves.