When Corrigan was small -- tiny, actually, for his age, something that seems impossible now, but he'd been scrawny well into his teens -- he'd tripped once while chasing after the bigger pups. He'd fallen hard, bruising his palms and skinning open his knees, blood bursting out with a shock of pain that had struck him as wildly unjust, prompting a wail that was more surprise than genuine pain. His first instinct then had been to sob out Papa, in pain and confusion, and in that instant, his father, the Alpha, had been there. Nothing else had mattered, the instant Corrigan had called out. Papa had been there.
There's a bitterly cruel symmetry in how Kurt's response to pain, to fear, is also to call out for their father -- but in a plea for mercy, for forgiveness, to stave off the inevitable punishment. Corrigan had suspected the cause of his mate's deep-held pain, as had Naseer, but Kurt's tearful begging brings it into stark confirmation. For the rest of the pack, it's an unthinkable, abhorrent thought: first, that there are parents who harm their own children. Second, that one of them shares blood with the pack's beloved, their chosen, their mate.
The ripple of realization is tangible, a mixture of rage and grief and confusion, audible snarls as the pack finally puts together the pieces. Benji is half-growling, half-sniffling, Kai looks ready to put his fist through the wall and Corrigan loves them, loves their righteous fury, their impulsive rage, but they are not helping. He doesn't blame them, but this isn't the place Kurt needs to be, knelt on the ground, surrounded by anger. They've been there too many times.
So the Alpha acts, leans forward and scoops his mate easily into his arms, folding them against his warm, broad chest. He meets Naseer's gaze, briefly, half-apology -- he won't go far, but he needs Kurt to have space to get out of the terrified memory they're trapped in. He needs his Beta to calm the others, soothe them through this initial shock, just for a little. Help the pack be strong so they can comfort their mate.
Then Corrigan steps outside, into the chilly shock of the evening air, into the bright scent of the forest and the sound of the river and the soft coo of owls and mourning doves -- all different from the sounds and scents of Kurt's human world, he hopes. And, if that isn't enough to bring them back, Corrigan keeps them close to his chest, hand stroking up and down their shivering back, voice soft and rumbling through his chest and into theirs: "My love, my beloved, you're safe. You're safe. You're here, you're with me, I won't let anyone hurt you, ever again. You're safe, Kurt. You're safe."
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Date: 2023-06-21 06:23 am (UTC)There's a bitterly cruel symmetry in how Kurt's response to pain, to fear, is also to call out for their father -- but in a plea for mercy, for forgiveness, to stave off the inevitable punishment. Corrigan had suspected the cause of his mate's deep-held pain, as had Naseer, but Kurt's tearful begging brings it into stark confirmation. For the rest of the pack, it's an unthinkable, abhorrent thought: first, that there are parents who harm their own children. Second, that one of them shares blood with the pack's beloved, their chosen, their mate.
The ripple of realization is tangible, a mixture of rage and grief and confusion, audible snarls as the pack finally puts together the pieces. Benji is half-growling, half-sniffling, Kai looks ready to put his fist through the wall and Corrigan loves them, loves their righteous fury, their impulsive rage, but they are not helping. He doesn't blame them, but this isn't the place Kurt needs to be, knelt on the ground, surrounded by anger. They've been there too many times.
So the Alpha acts, leans forward and scoops his mate easily into his arms, folding them against his warm, broad chest. He meets Naseer's gaze, briefly, half-apology -- he won't go far, but he needs Kurt to have space to get out of the terrified memory they're trapped in. He needs his Beta to calm the others, soothe them through this initial shock, just for a little. Help the pack be strong so they can comfort their mate.
Then Corrigan steps outside, into the chilly shock of the evening air, into the bright scent of the forest and the sound of the river and the soft coo of owls and mourning doves -- all different from the sounds and scents of Kurt's human world, he hopes. And, if that isn't enough to bring them back, Corrigan keeps them close to his chest, hand stroking up and down their shivering back, voice soft and rumbling through his chest and into theirs: "My love, my beloved, you're safe. You're safe. You're here, you're with me, I won't let anyone hurt you, ever again. You're safe, Kurt. You're safe."