[Saying that Corrigan had dreamed of this day would be a lie -- he'd never been one for traditional things like weddings or marriage, after all, not even for tax purposes. But perhaps he'd imagined a more raunchy, R-rated version of things -- some type of commitment, collaring ceremony, culminating in a semi-public display of him bending Kurt over the altar and fucking them senseless.
In said daydream, they'd be wearing lace and satin, clinging fabric that exposed much more than it covered up, lingerie and garters meant to tease and excite, rather than clothe. All in white, of course, in keeping with the blasphemous spirit of the day. Something that could've happened if he hadn't fucked things up.
Corry doesn't say it ended badly, because to him it didn't end. Kurt had screamed at him, kicked him out, told him to never come back, never speak to them again, and for years he'd honored that -- in theory. They'd never been fully out of his watchful gaze, though, his influence insuring they got the best apartment and car and amenities, that they slept peacefully without being harassed or preyed on. They wouldn't be his, but Corrigan would be damned if they weren't safe.
Greg had been a bit of a surprise -- clean enough background, no major skeletons in his closet, decent job, secure and stable. Boring as fuck, but if that's what Kurt wanted, then fine. Corrigan had held back and bit his tongue, resolving to let them live their life alone, in peace.
Until he caught wind they were going to marry the guy. Then no amount of promises or old threats could keep him away. Kurt was a flame Corrigan had never, could never extinguish, and he wasn't about to let them ruin their life with the human equivalent of cardboard.
Now, leaning against the doorway, the years only showing in the slight grey at his temples, Corrigan flashes that same old grin.] Hello to you too, baby.
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Date: 2022-11-11 03:46 am (UTC)In said daydream, they'd be wearing lace and satin, clinging fabric that exposed much more than it covered up, lingerie and garters meant to tease and excite, rather than clothe. All in white, of course, in keeping with the blasphemous spirit of the day. Something that could've happened if he hadn't fucked things up.
Corry doesn't say it ended badly, because to him it didn't end. Kurt had screamed at him, kicked him out, told him to never come back, never speak to them again, and for years he'd honored that -- in theory. They'd never been fully out of his watchful gaze, though, his influence insuring they got the best apartment and car and amenities, that they slept peacefully without being harassed or preyed on. They wouldn't be his, but Corrigan would be damned if they weren't safe.
Greg had been a bit of a surprise -- clean enough background, no major skeletons in his closet, decent job, secure and stable. Boring as fuck, but if that's what Kurt wanted, then fine. Corrigan had held back and bit his tongue, resolving to let them live their life alone, in peace.
Until he caught wind they were going to marry the guy. Then no amount of promises or old threats could keep him away. Kurt was a flame Corrigan had never, could never extinguish, and he wasn't about to let them ruin their life with the human equivalent of cardboard.
Now, leaning against the doorway, the years only showing in the slight grey at his temples, Corrigan flashes that same old grin.] Hello to you too, baby.