happilyeverbeginning | he's down on his luck / he's down on his knees (scrooge x poe)

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he's down on his luck / he's down on his knees (scrooge x poe)

This hadn't been the best plan, but for Poe De Spell, it was the only plan he had. He'd lost track of how long it'd been since that fateful day he ran away in the middle of the night, in a desperate escape to get away from his parent's clutches. The arranged marriage had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

What a sight he must be now, he mused. The high-class fashion he was once so proud of was basically in tatters. He had long since run out of the money he could use - he didn't bring his credit cards, that would have made for easy tracking. Anything he had managed to take had now been sold just so he could eat and maybe find a roof to sleep under, but even that wasn't made to be forever.

Where did one find work when your grades were bribed to As? Who did you trust, when his parents had a bounty on his head?

He did keep his phone, but it was off. If he turned it on, his parents would find him. But it was a last chance deal - if truly all else failed, he'd use it. He prayed it never came to that. Even if it meant selling the last thing he had - himself.

He sat on the side of the road, ignoring his stomach growling for the umpteenth time, eyes distant and not really staring at anything.

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Poe had indeed expected to fall asleep at boring tales of people who were worm food. But, much to his own surprise, he found himself rather invested in the stories - who would have thought Scrooge would get such a good storyteller? And who would have thought Poe would be interested in stories in the first place?

They were moments away from their destination as Poe laughed at the latest trade. "Okay, now you're making stuff up. Your family did not invent golf."

Scrooge laughed. "We did! Good old Black Donald invented the sport and then almost immediately nearly got it banned!"

Poe put a hand to his head as he continued to laugh. "Do you have any idea how many of those rich, old, elite-est farts would have a stroke knowing their 'beloved past-time' was made on the backs of commoners?"

Scrooge chuckled. "Aye. It'd definitely give them something to think about. Though at the time, we'd still somewhat recently lost our noble status." Pause. "Relatively speaking, of course. It was three hundred years after Sir Roast's not-so-little donation."

"He's the one who died from over-drinking, correct?"

Perhaps it was odd to know that Poe had, almost instantly, memorized this information... then again, who knew how close Poe had come to the same fate?

"Aye. Though if you look it up anywhere else, they'll claim it was overeating that did him in." Scrooge sighed. "The dirty family secret, I suppose."

He pulled into a WacDonald's parking lot. Then he unbuckled himself to reach under the seat to root around through a hole in the covering. He then pulled out a cashbox secured by a combination lock, definitely unlocking it.

There as probably about three hundred dollars in the box. Not exactly a king's ransom, but enough for Scrooge to get gas, pay his cell bill, and pick up a few meals. He handed a five dollar bill over to Poe.

"Get me a coffee, and you can get whatever you want with what's leftover."

Poe raised an eyebrow. In his previous life, coffee would have cost a lot more than five dollars. What kind of swill was Scrooge used to drinking? ... The same swill Poe would have to adjust to, he realized.

"Ah, right." He unbuckled himself as well. He would have at least thought Scrooge would make sure Poe didn't see the combination to the lock. It was a lot of trust for a little amount of time. "... I'll be right back."

Honestly, Scrooge hadn't wanted him to see the combination, but if they were going to be working/living together, they'd both need to contribute to the box. And if they worked different shifts, it wasn't safe for Poe to carry large amounts on him.

And if Poe actually thought about it, he'd realize that the number was familiar: the twins' birthday.

The logic had been it was something easy to remember (the De Spells had never made it a secret when it was their birthday, having some grand party that only the elite members of their school could attend) without being related to him. Besides, who would believe he'd guard his money with the birthday of two people who'd made his life hell?

Poe could scarcely believe it himself - although it would made the guilt of stealing it much heavier, should the dirty thought ever cross his mind. A brilliant strategy.

As he bought the coffee - along with a small cookie - he mused that if Magica was in his place, she'd be flailing that this was a sign of Scrooge's "feelings" for her. She was so cute that way...

Damn. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about her. He shook his head, trying to get her out.

"I'm back."

"Thanks." He took the coffee and took a sip. He then raised a brow. "Only a cookie?"

"Yes. Now shut up and eat it."

It was for Scrooge.

Scrooge rolled his eyes and handed over the coffee to Poe. He then split the cookie in half, keeping one half for himself and holding out the other to Poe.

"For the record," he said between bites, "WacDonald's has a dollar menu. I should've mentioned it."

Fine, fine, fine. Poe took it and ate it one bite. "... I figured the sugar intake would help keep you awake. Can't say I'm terribly comfortable with the one meal a day idea."

"Which is why we need to find work as soon as possible. The cashbox won't last forever."

Scrooge popped the car into drive, scanning the signs and storefronts for a secondhand store.

Poe leaned back into the seat. "You're either way too calm about this, or you're much better about hiding your panic than I am."

"What's panicking going to accomplish right now?" Scrooge countered, still scanning the storefronts.

"I didn't say it'd accomplish a thing." Poe pointed out. "Feelings are rarely rational."

Scrooge shook his head. "Sorry. Force of habit. Whenever I start panicking, I ask myself if it's going to help the current situation. If not, I force it to the back of my mind to deal with later if I still want to panic."

"... Do you ever deal with it later?" Because Poe sincerely doubted it.

"Usually I no longer feel like panicking later."

So no.

"Or you've got it shoved down way more layers, and one day, you'll explode." A frightening thought, to be sure.

Scrooge rolled his eyes as he pulled into a second-hand store. "Hopefully the prices aren't too high here."

"Nor too low," Poe grumbled to himself. A second-hand store... his stomach nearly curdled.

But as the truck came to a stop, Poe managed to compose himself. "Thankfully, I can look good in anything." At least some parts of his narcissism remained intact.

"We're not here for a fashion show. Pick something out that's versatile," Scrooge told him.

"Just because we're poor doesn't mean we can't turn heads." Poe sniffed after he unbuckled and opened the door. "First impressions are the same up and down the social ladder."

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