Male!Cruella De Vil X Male!Child!Reader ~ Running

Chapter 3

"Where are we going?" Curt's angry huff followed after you as you skipped along the back road, looking for the side entrance to the department store. "We can't just go shopping!"

"Well you can't just go around wearing that." You called back at him as Domino kept up, sniffing at the edge of the road and giving the occasional growl to the dog napper if he moved too fast, or his demeanor turned too aggressive. You ignored both of the overdramatic males as you finally found the door you were looking for and heaved it open, letting you right out into the clothing area of the department store, and you dragged Curt in after you while Domino sat to wait patiently outside, glaring at the tall man distrustfully as the two of you went in alone together. "Find something else to wear."

"We don't have much money, so don't go overboard." He sighed at you, looking in the satchel the police had confiscated from him when he'd been arrested. Clearly it had money, among whatever other supplies he'd decided to bring when he had left to go on the run. You shrugged and sat on a nearby bench to watch him, swinging your legs loosely beneath you while he flipped through suits. He noticed you, and raised an eyebrow. "You're not getting clothes? I'll make an exception this once. You can't go around wearing that."

You looked down at your own clothes when he brought them up. Just a simple t-shirt and jeans, dirty and torn from going outside every day. You had very few pairs of clothes. Even if you were to look at the new sets here, you had no idea what you were looking for or anything. Your fashion sense was, quite literally, non-existent, which was fine because you didn't have the money to afford new clothes.

"I wouldn't be able to pick anything nice out." You commented dismissively, turning your eyes to your swinging legs once more. "It would probably be better to stay in this – it's not like the police will know I'm with you. They won't be looking for me until tonight." You sighed. It was a long time since you had been given any new clothes – with the girls' home as low on funds as it was, the children mostly had to make do with frequent washing and re-washing of what they did have – until it was so small for them that there was no way they could go on wearing it. "It's not like I could afford to pay you back or anything."

Curt frowned at you for a few moments before taking one of the suits off of the racks and heading into the changing rooms. He returned a few minutes later, new suit on, the clothes he had been wearing before nowhere in sight. He dropped his bag next to you and moved past you. You were a little confused, but thought nothing of it seeing as he had just left all his money with you. It wasn't like he could just turn around and leave you alone now.

It was another few minutes before he returned, what looked like half of the children's section piled up in his arms. You stared at him in shock.

"In. Now." He told you, jerking his head towards the changing rooms. You paused in surprise for a moment before you grabbed the bag, seeing as he didn't have the hands to hold onto it himself and you didn't want to leave it alone, and did as you were told, hurrying into the changing rooms ahead of him and watching as he dumped the pile on the bench in one of the cubicles and stepped back to let you in, moving away from the door as you closed and locked it behind you. You were wary of him and didn't want him trying to come in, but he didn't seem to have any intention of doing so.

You hummed nervously to yourself as you looked through the clothes he had given you, pulling out from the pile a baggy t-shirt and shorts and quickly changing into them, before opening the door to see Curt stood there waiting for you. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest as he scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor, eyes fixed on this. He looked up as you left the cubicle and frowned at your clothes.

"Change the shirt." He suggested, and you looked down to see the tacky logo on the front and pulled a face, before returning to the cubicle and closing the door while you found a jumper, pulling that on instead, and came out to see him once more. He pulled a face himself now and ushered you back inside, looking through the pile himself. You looked at the clothes he set aside and took a large hoodie, stripping off your shirt and pulling the hoodie on instead, hood up so it almost completely obscured your face. You looked like a miniature thug.

"How about this?" You questioned him, and he turned to peer at you with a raised eyebrow. He took one look at your outfit and let out the loudest most undignified snort you ever heard, turning away with a bright red face as he burst out laughing, pressing a hand over his mouth as he tried to hold it in, bending over even further than he had been, sorting through the clothes. You couldn't help it, bursting out laughing alongside him.

As the tall man tried to continue sorting through the clothes through his laughter, you cast your own eyes over his – remarkably boring – suit. You might not know much about fashion, but he was going to stand out like a sore thumb in those clothes. While he continued through the pile, still chuckling, you darted out of the cubicle and in the direction of the men's clothing section, going through and picking out shirts and items of clothing that would like natural on the streets of London until you had a pile that was smaller than his – but seeing as the clothes were so much bigger than yours you still struggled under it.

You found Curt stood just outside the cubicle, looking confused as he looked around for you before staring at the clothes in your arms.

"What are those?" He questioned, looking rather put out.

"Clothes for you." You told him, dropping them in his arms. "You can't go out in those either, you'd only draw more attention to yourself." He frowned at you, eyeing the clothes in annoyance. Finally, he groaned and accepted them, exchanging them for another set of clothes, before retreating into the next cubicle to allow you both the privacy to change. You yourself put on the clothes that he had offered you, and looked down at yourself. It was quite a simple outfit, considering the man who had chosen it seemed rather eccentric in his own ideas of fashion; he'd given you a long-sleeved jumper over a pair of jeans, and trainers with thick socks. As it was autumn and getting cold out, and rain was even more frequent than usual around London, he had also given you gloves and a hat, and a long (on you) coat.

You pulled all of this on and honestly felt warmer and more snug than you could remember being in a long time. Eyes widening as you thought about this, you dug through the pocket of your old jeans and found the number Arthur had given you the night before. It was creased in such a way that paper tends to become when it has been wet and dried, and you stared at it for a long few moments.

Arthur, if you were to call him, would insist on taking you home, and immediately put Curt back in prison – he may even add kidnapping to the list of crimes, despite that your joining him had been entirely your idea, and the dog napper was particularly reluctant to have you tag along. But you didn't want to throw your friend's number away just like that. With some resolve, you put it in the pockets of your new jeans. At least, when you were a little older and he could no longer have any say in your life, you could try and call him back and make him understand.

There was a knock on the door, and you emerged quickly to find that Curt had finished dressing also, and was currently waiting outside for you. He'd exchanged the suit from before with a long sleeved shirt and jeans, under a cream coloured coat that came to his thighs. Not something that would draw so much attention of the people on the street as the fur coat he usually favoured or the suit he had picked out before, but expensive looking enough that it wouldn't offend his prickly sensibilities. He didn't comment as he took the bag from the cubicle behind you and led you to the checkout section, leaving a staff member to return the unwanted clothes to their rightful racks. A cheerful looking lady scanned the tags on the clothes you were both wearing and even helped to remove them for you.

"If I may, sir," She started to Curt as he was counting out the money to pay her, and he cast a frown up at her to say that no, she may not, but she was cheerfully continuing with what she was saying regardless. "One of our staff members heard you both laughing in the changing rooms earlier," She told him, and he tensed, "He said it was heartwarming to hear you and your son enjoying yourselves – everybody is so serious nowadays."

"He's ... not my son." Curt said in a quiet voice that you had to strain to hear, handing over the money. The woman didn't say anything more beyond a quiet 'oh', and you yourself were silent as you both made your way out of the store to rejoin Domino.