Fic: Taking Care - RPF Cory/Chris, PG
My dear shia_labeouf is to blame/thank for getting this ship in my head. These pictures of Naya Rivera's hot mess birthday shenanigans in Vegas provided the rest. For those that don't know, Cory is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict of some persuasion.
Cory Monteith/Chris Colfer RPF
established relationship/ridiculous saccharine schmoop/issue!fic
PG - 765 words
~
“Hey babe, can you talk?” Cory sounds warm and rumpled through the receiver and Chris thinks he can actually picture the comforter billowed around him, cocoon-like. He is so tired himself he aches for the image, for Cory and the undoubtedly huge, soft bed.
“Of course I can, hi, hi hi. You’re back in your room already?” Chris speaks quickly, making a “be right back” hand signal at Darren before turning a sharp corner down yet another unexplored hallway of the Cravens Estate. The Dalton Academy location totally creeps Chris out, especially late at night like this, but at least it affords a lot of private spaces to sneak away to.
Cory’s curtains are drawn tight against the garish, unrelenting glow of electric sex out on the Strip outside his window. He smiles to himself and snuggles down a little further into the bed, feeling comforted by the way Chris knows him so well, could tell exactly where he was and what he was doing just by his voice.
“Yeah. I did the arrival line and stayed a little while but...it was just too much. They’re all so wasted, babe. Like, Golden Globes night had nothing on this. I’m pretty sure regular people would get kicked out of the place...Chord and Kevin kept knocking the table over and spilling stuff. But they just send like three club girls over to clean the mess up and restock all the booze you spilled so you can start all over...”
Chris frowns, listening to Cory’s description. He’s seen them all at their wildest, so it’s not exactly surprising to him. They are definitely a bunch that likes to cut loose, and their new-found status, especially this year, seems to encourage them to push the boundaries of decorum and intoxication even further. Chord didn’t even really drink before he started with them, but now...still, it’s not their shenanigans that worry Chris, just Cory’s reactions to them.
Chris looks down at the marble floor, scuffs his expensive black uniform shoe along the design in the tile. His Dalton shooting schedule and his stubborn still-not-21-ness meant he didn’t stand a chance of flying out for the party. He’d been on set in Pasadena for almost twelve hours, hadn’t even been able to take Cory to the airport himself. “Sweetie, I know it upsets you but you have to just let them do their thing, and leave when it’s too much, like you did. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you so we could at least have a little fun in that big room together.”
Cory murmurs a self-pitying sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. “I wish you were, too. I’m just feeling...it’s not that they party so hard, like, whatever, I don’t expect other people not to do that stuff just because I can’t. And I knew coming here that’s what it would be like. I just feel lame that, like, this is how it makes me feel. I don’t want to be a grumpy old man yelling at the kids to get off my lawn. I’m only 28...you’re not even 21 yet! What’s going to happen when you want to go out and party and do body shots off of strippers?”
“Lea wasn’t supposed to tell you about that,” Chris interjects with a joke, hoping to stop Cory’s slippery slide into maudlin. Cory laughs softly over the phone and Chris relaxes, keeps talking in a way he hopes will soothe Cory more. “Honey, we’ve been over this many times, and we always work it out. We do what feels ok to us both, and if I go out I come home to you, right? If you think I’m going to turn 21 and magically become a completely different person, and love going out and drinking more than I love you, you’re crazy.”
Cory curls onto his side, feeling sappy and ridiculous and clutching the phone against his cheek to hold Chris’s words as close as he can. “I love you...so much. I don’t even understand how we make this work but...I’m really glad it does.”
“It works because you may be a grumpy old man but I’m a wise old grandma inside, remember?” Chris teases, his voice low and gentle. Cory laughs again, and Chris knows they’re ok.
“Perfect. Yes. You’re so right. I’m taking the first flight out in the morning. Bright and early. I’ll come crawl in bed with you.”
“You better. I’ll be there waiting for you. Under my afghan.”
“Love you, Chris.”
“Love you, old man.”
~
Cory Monteith/Chris Colfer RPF
established relationship/ridiculous saccharine schmoop/issue!fic
PG - 765 words
~
“Hey babe, can you talk?” Cory sounds warm and rumpled through the receiver and Chris thinks he can actually picture the comforter billowed around him, cocoon-like. He is so tired himself he aches for the image, for Cory and the undoubtedly huge, soft bed.
“Of course I can, hi, hi hi. You’re back in your room already?” Chris speaks quickly, making a “be right back” hand signal at Darren before turning a sharp corner down yet another unexplored hallway of the Cravens Estate. The Dalton Academy location totally creeps Chris out, especially late at night like this, but at least it affords a lot of private spaces to sneak away to.
Cory’s curtains are drawn tight against the garish, unrelenting glow of electric sex out on the Strip outside his window. He smiles to himself and snuggles down a little further into the bed, feeling comforted by the way Chris knows him so well, could tell exactly where he was and what he was doing just by his voice.
“Yeah. I did the arrival line and stayed a little while but...it was just too much. They’re all so wasted, babe. Like, Golden Globes night had nothing on this. I’m pretty sure regular people would get kicked out of the place...Chord and Kevin kept knocking the table over and spilling stuff. But they just send like three club girls over to clean the mess up and restock all the booze you spilled so you can start all over...”
Chris frowns, listening to Cory’s description. He’s seen them all at their wildest, so it’s not exactly surprising to him. They are definitely a bunch that likes to cut loose, and their new-found status, especially this year, seems to encourage them to push the boundaries of decorum and intoxication even further. Chord didn’t even really drink before he started with them, but now...still, it’s not their shenanigans that worry Chris, just Cory’s reactions to them.
Chris looks down at the marble floor, scuffs his expensive black uniform shoe along the design in the tile. His Dalton shooting schedule and his stubborn still-not-21-ness meant he didn’t stand a chance of flying out for the party. He’d been on set in Pasadena for almost twelve hours, hadn’t even been able to take Cory to the airport himself. “Sweetie, I know it upsets you but you have to just let them do their thing, and leave when it’s too much, like you did. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you so we could at least have a little fun in that big room together.”
Cory murmurs a self-pitying sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. “I wish you were, too. I’m just feeling...it’s not that they party so hard, like, whatever, I don’t expect other people not to do that stuff just because I can’t. And I knew coming here that’s what it would be like. I just feel lame that, like, this is how it makes me feel. I don’t want to be a grumpy old man yelling at the kids to get off my lawn. I’m only 28...you’re not even 21 yet! What’s going to happen when you want to go out and party and do body shots off of strippers?”
“Lea wasn’t supposed to tell you about that,” Chris interjects with a joke, hoping to stop Cory’s slippery slide into maudlin. Cory laughs softly over the phone and Chris relaxes, keeps talking in a way he hopes will soothe Cory more. “Honey, we’ve been over this many times, and we always work it out. We do what feels ok to us both, and if I go out I come home to you, right? If you think I’m going to turn 21 and magically become a completely different person, and love going out and drinking more than I love you, you’re crazy.”
Cory curls onto his side, feeling sappy and ridiculous and clutching the phone against his cheek to hold Chris’s words as close as he can. “I love you...so much. I don’t even understand how we make this work but...I’m really glad it does.”
“It works because you may be a grumpy old man but I’m a wise old grandma inside, remember?” Chris teases, his voice low and gentle. Cory laughs again, and Chris knows they’re ok.
“Perfect. Yes. You’re so right. I’m taking the first flight out in the morning. Bright and early. I’ll come crawl in bed with you.”
“You better. I’ll be there waiting for you. Under my afghan.”
“Love you, Chris.”
“Love you, old man.”
~