RP Log: Meaghan and Caradoc
Who: Meaghan and Caradoc Where: Their house; Dublin When: 11 February 1980, afternoon What: Meg & Doc say the vows. Rating: PG Status: Complete
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Meaghan had absolutely no idea what her crazy boyfriend was on about, but she was entirely too tired to argue with him--or anyone, for that matter. Angus had been a part of her life since she was a little girl, when her mum was at her absolute peak and had just played for Scotland for the first time. He was part of the constant group of burly, hard-drinking, fun-loving Scotsman that had been her surrogate father figures, who had never let her act like a prissy little princess, and who had taught her to love having a laugh, taking the piss, shots of whiskey, and most of all, Quidditch. Losing him, feeling responsible for his death, had been like a punch to the kidneys--but also like a distant ache she couldn't identify. Perhaps the most terrifying part of this whole ordeal was how numb she had become to the misery of losing someone she cared about. How exhausted she was from living in constant fear.
She got out of bed at Caradoc's order and bathed her face, putting on her favorite dress as requested, and struggling gamely for a few minutes to get her hair and face in order before walking out to the kitchen to meet him, irritated that the day should be so sunny when she was so distinctly not. She figured he was taking her to the doctor, and the dress was meant to cheer her. Whatever he had planned, she only knew she wasn't in the mood.
Caradoc hardly knew what he was doing. This spontaneous desire, fueled by the impending reality of their own mortality, was something that he would rather not analyse too thoroughly. It was there and that was enough for him. Given that he had long since abandoned the idea of having a matching suit, he wore a simple grey jacket and his typical blue button-down with denim trousers.
It was no matter. Every anxiety fled from his mind as she descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen, the picture of pale sad beauty. This certainly wasn't the bright thing who had so forcefully wrecked all of his carefully constructed walls. But he loved every stitch that made her. His hand slipped from his jacket pocket (where it had fumbled thoughtfully with something hidden therein) to gently cup her face and draw her in for a brief kiss of greeting.
"Are you ready?"
The corner of her mouth turned up into the approximation of a smile when he held her face, leaning into his kiss for the brief moment that it was. She knew that without this man to love her, to hold her pieces together when she felt like her center could not hold any longer, she would have been done for months ago--she had endured too much tragedy to survive it alone. The way he had taken Kirley on as his own, the way he had set aside his fears about bringing a child into the world when she had told him they were having one of their own--how could she ask for (or find) better? He was her love.
She brushed her fringe back from her eyes when he released her, hoping she didn't look as much like warmed-up death as she felt. "As I'll ever be."
"Alright, well," he smiled crookedly. "Hang onto your knickers -- " and with no more than a moment's thought (and the tell-tale gut pulling of Apparition) they were in Dublin, outside of a rather ornate, grand old building.
She rolled her eyes, still finding it extremely funny when someone as composed and regal looking as Doc said something so immature. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she Apparated with him and blinked in the sudden sunlight, looking up at the unfamiliar building with genuine confusion. "This isn't the doctor's office."
"No," he agreed, "It's not. We're in Dublin. This is Carlow Courthouse." And as he spoke, he sunk to one knee and pulled the delicate white gold and emerald Claddagh band from his pocket. "Meaghan McCormack, my love, I would have been long gone without you. Please do me the honour of accepting my hand."
Her furrowed brow quickly gave way to a mask of shock as he knelt in front of her, her mouth falling open in a most unlady-like fashion. Staring at the ring he held out to her, her world narrowed instantly to contain only the two of them, everyone else--including the few passersby who had stopped to gawk and hear her answer--didn't exist in that moment. "Caradoc, I..." She blinked, regaining control of her mind.
Pulling him to his feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck and very thoroughly kissed him. "Wanker." She whispered against his mouth, her eyes lighting with laughter for the first time in awhile.
With his arms around her waist, he cleared her feet a full foot from the ground and spun her in a circle before setting her easily to her feet.
The ring, poised at the tip of her finger, waited upon her single word.
She laughed, exuberant from the twirling, wiggling her fingers at him. "What, wanker wasn't enough? Yes. Yes."
"I wanted to do it right and proper," he said, finally slipping the ring onto her finger with a soft kiss for the palm of her hand. And as the words left his lips, he conjured a full boquet of calla lilies and orchids. "C'mon, then."
She followed him into the courtroom in a bubble of happiness, not minding the tedium of waiting in line for papers, of producing her (forged) birth certificate, of the tedium of obtaining the license, of waiting for the judge to call them to stand before him. The only thing she could remember from those hours was the feeling of his hand in hers, and the look on his face she though must mirror her own, and thus could only be called akin to worshipful. Finally, finally, they stood together, and she swore to him, her eyes never leaving his: "I, Meaghan now take you, Caradoc to be my husband. In the presence of God and before these witnesses I promise to be a loving, faithful and loyal wife to you, for as long as we both shall live."
Taking part in this ritual, holding Meaghan close, despite the environment and the amount of faces present, he felt one with all those who had come and gone before him. There was connective tissue between the whole lot of them. He felt the world crowd around them.
"I, Caradoc now take you, Meaghan, to be my wife. In the presence of God and before these witnesses I promise to be a loving, faithful and loyal husband to you, for as long as we both shall live."
And as the Justice of the Peace spoke the words to unite them forever, he took her face in either palm and kissed her as if his life were dependent upon it. There was an ocean roaring in his ears and as they turned, now husband and wife, he finally felt content.
When they were back outside, she looked around at the brilliant day, one hand in her husband's (her husband's), the other pressed against her stomach. "Come along, husband. We have to find you some tartan."