Work Text:
Estella had never been kissed. In between homelessness, stealing around with the boys and cleaning toilets for twenty-seven hours a day, she hadn't had the chance. She hadn't even thought about it, not seriously anyway. Now, living full-time as Cruella, she realized she didn't understand kisses in the first place, so what was the point? She never had. Understood them, wanted them, needed them, deserved them.
Jasper, on the other hand, had thought about it, about Estella having never been kissed. She was clever like no other, of course, he could see that, always with some witty line out of her pocket and the best dressed woman in London —no, in the whole world. But she had never experienced love, and Jasper could tell. He hadn't always been homeless, there was a time both his parents lived and he attended an average middle-class school; so he had male friends whom he heard talking about girls, how they acted, felt, thought, the things they pretended to be and the things they were serious about. He was also a good observer, like when he used to ask for pennies at cinemas entrances and he watched the older couples come and go. That was the time he promised himself —if he ever got to live a normal life again— that he would have romance, he would have a girl.
That girl, the girl of his dreams, quickly became Estella. Practically since the moment they talked for the first time, only that he was pretty sure she didn't feel the same way about him. And he knew Estella lacked love in her life, always did. Like everytime she cried, it broke him. Her foster mother had probably loved her very much, but Jasper also believed in the other kind of love: the love of a partner, a companion, the one you base your life around. Estella thought he couldn't notice her loneliness, but he did. He did and he loved her more for it.
But he kept quiet, for more than ten years (had it really been that long?), never making a move, never trying to flirt with her. Not even Horace knew how he felt. And now, as Jasper and Estella sat at the balcony of that Valet bloke's house, which felt cold and impersonal compared to their old home, he felt everything was pointless anyway. She was there with that disturbing make up on, the dark dress, the tenderness in her eyes gone forever.
Still, he decided to try something. Anything but staying there quietly and let life pass him by.
"Estella", he called.
"DON'T use that name", she snapped at him, side-eyeing him.
Jasper couldn't pronounce "Cruella" and felt he'll never be able to. So he went on, at the risk of being insulted by her.
"I'm buying myself a place in Manchester".
At this, Cruella turned her cold eyes on him, studying him like a suspect.
"With what money?"
"I stole more than usual from the Baroness. Don't tell Horace".
He gave her a small smile.
Cruella winced a little, and Jasper could tell the news had upset her, but then she said coldly:
"So you're betraying me. You no longer want to work for me".
"I'm not betraying you, Est-- it's the opposite. I want you to come live with me in Manchester".
Well, that came out a bit too blunt, Jasper thought. Meanwhile, Cruella had her eyebrows up.
"With you? But..." and she hid her fidgeting hands away. "There aren't wild things to do in Manchester", she smirked. "No fashion queen whose life I can destroy in order to become the real queen".
Jasper was hurt, just like everytime she talked like that. But he took a deep breath and again, went on with his proposal.
"That's why I want you to come with me. Not that I'm forcing you, I mean, I would never force you... to do anything..." Jasper had gotten agitated. "Wouldn't you like to be away from all this? It's insane, you almost got killed, me and Horace were arrested..."
He stopped talking because Cruella was glaring at him like he was a mental patient.
"This is my life. This is what I was destined to be".
"There's no such thing as destiny."
"Oh there isn't? I thought I'd taught you better".
Her last words felt like a sentence, like humiliation, and yet... Jasper kept going. Even though it was more difficult and dangerous than stealing from the royal family itself.
"I miss Estella", he said. "I'll never get tired of saying it. And I know you miss her too".
"Bollocks", Cruella looked away from him.
"C'mon now... We used to have so much fun together, we used to be really close!"
"Horace still has fun".
"No, I meant just you and me".
Cruella looked down on her fabulous heels and stayed there for a long while, silent. Jasper could see strong emotions behind her eyes, even though she was clearly trying to conceal everything. Finally, she took a deep breath herself and faced him again.
"What's this all about anyway? If you want to leave then fine, leave. It's all the same to me".
Jasper smiled.
"It's not about me, you weird, clever girl..." Cruella frowned hard at him but kept quiet, which Jasper took in his advantage. "It's about you".
She tilted away from him.
"W-whatever do you mean?"
This time Jasper's mouth didn't utter any more words. He quickly stood up, stepped towards her and, cupping her face between his hands, kissed her on the lips.
Cruella didn't push him away. To Jasper's surprise and delight, she was kissing him back, quite clumsily in fact, but that was to be expected. After a while, she started trembling and sort of gasping, but the more she did so, the closer she got to him (she was standing too by now). Jasper wanted to be sure, life had been so cruel to him he had to be assured that his lifelong dream was really coming true; so he took Cruella (was she Cruella anymore by then?) by one hand and felt her pulse under her wrist. It was love alright.
He parted his lips away from hers and placed them next to one of her ears, where he muttered:
"I love you, Estella. I've always loved you. Please, run away with me..." On her end, silence. "I promise everything will be alright”.
Cruella/Estella suddenly pushed him away, with such strength he almost fell on his back.
"Wha...?” he said, confused.
"How dare you do that?!" she shouted at him, make up ruined by... Were those tears? "How dare you come here and do something like that?! Are you insane?!"
"Estella..."
"Don't!"
"Don't you want to come with me? I know how you-- I know you feel the same way. You didn't fake it, I know it!"
Cruella rolled her eyes.
"You don't know how I feel".
Next, she did something that brought the most intense tenderness in Jasper: she went inside the house and came back wearing the hat she used to wear as a kid to hide her unique hair colors. Then she sat on the same balcony with it covering most of her face. It still fit her, she was still hiding from the world the minute she felt things. Jasper would have laughed at the whole situation if he wasn't completely broken inside. The only reason he was playing it cool was for Cruella, who hated weakness, and because he knew Estella was still in there. Her kiss had told him so.
"You know", he said to her, "I think you looked the most beautiful with your old red hair".
Cruella turned her head a little, still not daring to look at Jasper fully. But he noticed her expression had softened, even if wasn't completely like Estella's yet. Maybe, there was still hope...
"It's the Devil!!!"
Horace's shouting from below startled him. He turned to the streets and saw his friend in a new fancy car. Horace was gesturing at something, very excited, but Jasper couldn't notice what it was. That night he couldn't focus on anything else except for her.
"New car?" he heard Cruella shouting down. Incredibly, she had regained her posture, the hat was gone and her smirk was back.
"Yeah, it's called Devil!" Horace answered.
Jasper sat on the bare floor and put his hands over his face. He was suddenly very weak, like he had ran a marathon.
"Jasper?" Horace called. "You alright, mate?"
"He's fine!" Cruella shouted, more devil than the car.
Horace rushed inside the house and climbed upstairs. When he saw a devastated Jasper he froze on the spot, as if trying to decide which side to take.
"If you want a better future you better pick me", Cruella said to him. "This one is leaving".
"What?! Jasper, really?"
Jasper nodded. "To Manchester".
Horace had gone pale. "You can't! You can't possibly---!"
"I'm doing it tonight", Jasper said. With the corner of his eyes, he caught Cruella doing one of her flinches again, and staring in his direction. You can't even stop turning to me, Estella. Please... "I'm going to pack", he said, standing up, and disappeared from the balcony.
When he came back, both Cruella and Horace were in the same position he had left them in. It felt awkward to be standing there in front of them both with a suitcase in his hand, a situation he never imagined to be in. He was used to changes and goodbyes, having lived on the streets, but this was different, way different. He thought in that moment that perhaps we wouldn't ever forget Estella. He could find a job in Manchester, a good one, leave his mugging past behind, be a respectable citizen, but he could never stop loving her.
He was tearing up when he asked Horace to please leave them alone for a moment.
"Alright..." Horace said, and stared at them both before entering the house and closing the door.
Jasper wiped the tears with his jacket sleeve.
"Hey..." he said to Cruella. He put his suitcase down.
"What".
"Can I ask you something? One last thing, 'cause I'm leaving anyway. I won't bother you anymore".
"Ask away, darling. As long as it isn't my hand in marriage".
She said the last part hoarsely, with her head up high. Jasper spoke immediately after, trying to catch her off guard.
"Was our kiss your first kiss?"
He had succeeded. Cruella was shooting a deadly glare at him, but didn't seem to dare to answer his question.
"Well?" Jasper insisted.
"Of course I've kissed before. Do not be ridiculous".
"Really? I had to guide you there for a bit", Jasper teased.
Cruella remained stoic, but her cheeks flushed the slightlest bit either way and so she pretended to cough. Jasper smiled, but then remembered his "destiny" was now Manchester. Perhaps humans had a set-in-stone destiny after all.
"I must go now", he said and picked up his suitcase. "For real".
Cruella smirked. "Do you want a final handshake from me?"
"A handshake? Come on, Est... I mean, we were good friends once. Even if you don't want me..." saying it out loud hurt him more than anything else in the world. "I think we deserve more than a handshake".
"You want a hug?"
"Well, yes. I promise I won't try anything else".
Cruella shrugged and said, "oh, what the hell".
She took her time to get close to Jasper, even though he was stepping forward at the same time. When their bodies were finally inches away from one another, Jasper didn't wait another second and opened his arms to embrace her. She hugged him back, but putting a lot less effort. He didn't care, though. Just the smell of her hair, her perfect shape around him, he could stay there forever.
"I love you, Estella", he muttered in her ear. "Thought it bears repeating".
They broke apart, and Cruella was smiling.
"I'm Cruella, Jasper. Don't ever forget it". Her voice was clear and stoic, yet somehow shaky in places. Jasper wanted her to keep talking so that he could see through the cracks, find the hidden Estella again. "We each have our destiny in the world".
Jasper didn't reply.
-------
As he drove out of London on a Vespa he had found at the park, he found out he hardly remembered his final words to Estella, to Horace, the probable look on Estella's face when she saw him leave the house. It was like his mind was protecting him from memories that could probably knock him down to the ground, like a defeated boxer.
But then, he felt something falling off his jacket pocket. It was impossible, for he didn't even hear it hit the ground and what was more, he was sure that pocket had been zipped up the entire day. Yet for some reason he truly sensed something had fallen or flown out of it, so he pulled over to the side of the road, got off the Vespa and started searching the grounds. It wasn't long before he found a ticket from the Tube, either belonging to himself or Horace, he didn't remember well, from their little trip that very morning. He asked himself why was he caring so much about it, about a stupid ticket, it was all nonsensical, but something was compelling him to pick it up, a force greater than himself.
He bent over and grabbed the ticket. It had a number, the origin and destination, same old same old. But it seemed to also have some text written on the back, thin enough that Jasper could hardly read it in the darkness of the night. He flipped the ticket over and squinted hard: The handwriting looked oddly familiar... something he hadn't seen in roughly nine years: disjointed, inconsistent, playful and sort of funky, like disco music. Truly, stray kids who couldn't finish school often wrote like that.
With his heart in his mouth, Jasper ran towards the nearest lamppost to put the mysterious message under a light and read it more clearly.