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

Chapter 7

Upon completing your sandcastle army, the tide had come further in, so you stripped off your trainers and socks and left them with Curt, rolling up your jeans and finding a place where the water wasn't over stones so that you could wade in it for a little while. But in the cold your feet quickly started to feel numb, and it was getting dark. Giggling, you returned to where Curt had started packing things away, and Domino was lying on the sand beside him, panting, with the ball in his mouth, and you dried off your feet on the towel so that you could pull your shoes and socks back on before he put it away. You fed Domino once more before Curt led you back up towards the road and you set off walking. You held his hand again, and again he didn't pull away, and you chatted happily to him as you walked.

After a little while, Curt stopped walking, and you looked up at him to see that he was looking back at you with a small, strange smile on his face. You let out a strange squeak, embarrassed and unsure what to make of this, and looked away, and as you did so you noticed for the first time the McDonald's you were standing right in front of. You looked to him hopefully and he laughed, gesturing for you to go in ahead of him.

When you had ordered and received your food you came back outside so that you could eat it on the low wall under the light of a street lamp, Domino sprawled out by your feet. Neither you nor Curt had been able to get the ball off him again. For a while you ate, and chatted happily, and after a while the conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence. It was a few moments before Curt broke it.

"Why McDonald's?" He questioned, and your eyes widened and for a long few moments you remained silent, the words hanging awkwardly in the air between you.

"My mum used to take me here sometimes." You told him finally, fixing your eyes on your food rather than him. "My real mum. When things were happy at home."

"Are your parents-?" He said the words quickly as if before he could lose his courage, but tailed off at the end, though you could tell what he was trying to say.

"No." You told him softly. "Well, my dad is. For a few years now." You were sat on the wall with one leg drawn up beneath you, and you stared at your dangling leg before swinging it and allowing it to kick back against the wall. "Mum didn't like being alone. She brought men home often. The last one ... didn't like me much. He didn't want to be my dad. But mum really liked him."

"She kicked you out because her new boyfriend didn't like you?!" Curt sounded unexpectedly angry as he said it, and you looked at him uncertainly to see that he wasn't looking at you at all, but was looking out into the road with a scowl on his face as if he wasn't really seeing that either. You didn't answer beyond a sad, silent shrug that he didn't see, and the rest of your meal was eaten in silence.

When you had both finished eating, Curt seemed to want to make up for how dinner had gone, as he took you further into town for a little while. He bought you some sweets, which you stuffed in your pockets for a later time, and even some new clothes (among them some actual pajamas!) and another toy before bringing you back to the inn. Something in the back of your mind told you that this happiness couldn't possibly last, and there was a part of you that almost expected to find blue flashing lights in front of the inn that would be the sign that the police had finally caught up with Curt, or Arthur had you, so that you were actually surprised when the building came into view and the peaceful night remained undisturbed.

Upon returning to your room, Curt offered to finally wash your clothes for you, so you had a bath for the first time since leaving London (Curt took a shower every night), got dressed into your new pajamas and he took your clothes and was gone for a little while. It was a little after that that you realised you had forgotten to take the sweets out of your pockets before handing over your jeans. Curt still hadn't returned. He would take the sweets out, right?

But you left the room anyway, shutting the door behind you, and a young woman in a maid's uniform kindly told you when you asked how to get to the laundry room. You followed her instructions and found Curt leaning back against one of the dryers as the washing machine in front of him worked loudly, staring at something in his hands that you couldn't see from where you were stood.

"Curt?" You called cautiously, and he started, looking quickly round at you as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"What is it?" He questioned, frowning when he saw you stood there in your pajamas.

"Um ... I left the sweets in my pockets." You told him nervously, shuffling over to him. His hands were empty.

"Yeah, I found them." He told you, taking the small pile of sweets from on top of the dryer he was leaning against and handing them to you. You looked to him curiously.

"What were you looking at just now?" You questioned, and for a moment he was silent.

"Nothing." He said distractedly. "Just this scratch." He gestured to a small scratch on the palm of his right hand, near his ring finger. "I couldn't recall where I got it."

"Oh." You said cheerfully, peering at it. "That happens to me all the time."

You stayed in the laundry room with him until the washing machine had finished, and when the dryer had also completed its work you offered to carry the basket for him. He declined with a small laugh, and balanced it under his arm as he left the room. He did, however, give you the key, and when you reached the floor the two of you were staying on you ran ahead with it to unlock the door, holding it open for him to enter.

You sat cheerfully on your bed, [toy/name] clutched in your arms, and watched him as he folded the freshly cleaned laundry and put it away in his bag. The events of the laundry room you had deemed as so unimportant that you promptly forgot them, and you barely even noticed that he seemed to lapse into uncharacteristically thoughtful silences whenever the conversation lulled.

"Where are we going tomorrow?" You asked him during one such silence, swinging your legs cheerfully over the side of your bed.

Wherever Curt's thoughts had taken him it took him a few moments to return from, and he looked at you for a few moments without really seeing you before his mind processed what you had just been saying.

"I'm not sure yet." He told you finally in answer. "Further north, probably. Away from London."

For a long time, these were the only words that were spoken, but when Curt crawled into bed and turned off the light you were overcome by a sudden anxiety. Ever since your mother you had suffered a deep-rooted fear of being abandoned, and even the thought of Curt leaving you as well caused you to panic. With a small quiet whimper, you climbed out of your own bed and into his, snuggling up to him in the darkness. He couldn't leave you if you were clinging to him, after all. You felt him jerk in surprise, but he didn't say anything, or push you away, instead allowing you to curl up in his arms, one hand gently running through your now short [h/c] hair as you drifted off to sleep.