Devi | Nefiko CEO @devi-n0valty - Tumblr Blog

real or not real?

pairing: pope cody x bambi!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: somehow pope ends up being your fake boyfriend content warnings: they fake date to get craig to stop flirting with you, mention of parties + alcohol and drugs, reader's mentioned to have soft hair + puts it in a ponytail, reader sits in pope's lap, some angst in the middle, kissing - lmk if i missed anything! a/n: by far my longest fic!! which is quite exciting to be honest and also very nerve wracking. also yes, i did include a bunch of references from my favorite pieces of media in this!! gif credits to @wesandresons!! <3 wc: 11k

♡ bambi!reader and pope cody

It was really an act of desperation.

You had in no way planned to ask Andrew Cody to be your fake boyfriend.

The party was loud as always, and you were stuck. Literally. Stuck beneath Craig Cody's arm as he watched some girls play games in the pool. And you were too polite to tell him to please, please get his heavy arm off your shoulder.

And you were warm. It was too hot outside, and you hadn't realized there was a party going on when you arrived, and when you did, Craig had already pulled you towards the crowd.

So here you were in your dress, warm and in desperate need of the Cody's house's chilly air conditioning.

You let out a quiet huff, feeling more and more exhausted by the second, and failed to notice Pope walking up to the two of you, tapping Craig on the shoulder.

He would've resorted for a shove though he worried that shoving Craig would drag you down with him. His younger brother looked over his shoulder and his face fell, promptly lifting his arm off your shoulder with an annoyed sigh.

Pope watched you glance up at Craig, confused but relieved at the same time, rolling your shoulders.

You finally turned, following Craig's gaze, until it landed on Pope. "Andrew!" you sounded so excited and Craig rolled his eyes at the sound.

Pope wasn't sure how anyone could be annoyed upon hearing your sweet voice, but then again he knew he was always the reason for it. He never had to wonder what it would be like to be on the other end of it.

He held out his hand and for a second he cursed himself, What if you didn't want to leave Craig's side? But it took you exactly two seconds to put your soft hand in his and let him drag you away from the loud party.

Over your shoulder, you managed to say goodbye to Craig just in time before you were out of reach. Pope suppressed a smile, knowing it wasn't exactly politeness to his younger brother but rather a stab to an already existing wound.

He tugged you into the house, your flip-flops producing wet noises on the floor as you continued to trail behind him towards his room. He shut the door behind him, blocking out the noise, and you let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you." You gave him a smile, brushing a hand over your dress, getting rid of imaginary dirt, before taking a seat on his soft bed.

"You should tell Craig you don't like him touching you," he said quietly, still standing in front of you, arms crossed.

"Don't wanna be rude." You toyed with the soft fabric of your brown dress.

Pope's eyes lingered on your legs for a second, before getting a hold of himself, finally deciding to take a seat on the other side of the bed.

"S'not rude to tell him that you don't want him to touch you." Pope shot you a look. One you purposefully avoided as you straightened your back against his headboard, settling comfortably against it.

"To you." you mumbled.

"To everyone," he corrected, eyebrows furrowed, irritated almost.

You finally met his hazel eyes, and he stared back at you, still holding the same annoyed expression. It wasn't the first time he'd told you to tell Craig to back off.

You lowered your gaze. "I'll try to tell him next time."

Key word try.

Pope prayed there wouldn't be a next time, because the sight of you and Craig this close, upset him in ways he didn't think was possible.

You both sat shoulder to shoulder, staring at nothing before you turned to look at him. "Does it—does it seem weird that I let Craig just… flirt with me?"

You've had this fear for a while, worried that everyone would think you were torn between two brothers, that you were playing with both of them. You had seen the looks Deran shot you sometimes, like he knew you were pining hard after his older brother, and you feared that he thought you were stringing Craig along.

In reality, you just…hated saying no.

Pope looked at you, tilting his head lightly as if to figure out what you were thinking. "No. Do you like it?"

He couldn't help but ask. He needed to know if you did. Because god knows his fingers have been itching to get you a flower bouquet these past weeks. Every time he walked past the flower shop at the beach, he resisted the urge to get one. But the idea always faded when he saw Craig flirting with you. Pope would be quick to crumble, shaking his head and getting rid of the fantasy where you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as you took the flower bouquet. Maybe you really did just want Craig.

"No—no." How could you tell him that you tolerated Craig's absurd flirting because it made you feel less alone? You knew how desperate that sounded.

But the teasing made you feel like there was actually someone out there who thought of you pretty enough to pine after. Even if Craig's idea of pining wasn't exactly to your taste.

"I don't like it." You concluded after a long silence, crossing your legs beneath you as you stared at his white wall in front of you. "I guess I just—I let him, because I worry that if I won't, I can't come over anymore."

Yeah, you were that lonely. Besides being unable to say no to anyone, you also couldn't bear not having to do anything all day besides your job.

Pope watched your profile, the way your lips curled in embarrassment, and how you were rubbing a finger over your heart necklace. "Yes, you can." he appeared sincerely perplexed, not comprehending how you'd gotten to that conclusion. "I'd invite you."

You turned your head and your heart fluttered at his earnest expression. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Pope replied quietly, watching you try and cover your smile by looking down at his blue bed sheets. "Will you tell him to shut his damn mouth then?"

You raised your eyebrow, turning to him, clearly caught off guard by how he just phrased the question, not fond of it. "Will you tell him to—stop talking to you like that?"

"Uh—I'll try." You leaned your head back further against the headboard staring up, avoiding his eyes again.

"You won't," Pope stated, sounding disappointed and almost hurt.

Did you not trust him to keep inviting you over? He would, he really would.

You continued to stare at his plain ceiling. "I don't think he'll back off unless I—I don't know get a boyfriend or something and even that wouldn't stop him," you replied quietly.

"I can make him stop."

"I appreciate that, but—it's fine, I'll just deal with it."

Pope shook his head. "I can make him stop if you tell him you have a boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend," you said, confused, now finally meeting his eyes.

Pope's lips twitched. "You can lie."

You shook your head. "He won't believe me."

"Why not? You're—You're nice and—and really pretty." He gestured with his hand in the air before placing it back in his lap, timidness setting in. He kept staring at his entangled hands in his lap, even as you raised your head to look at him. "He'll believe you," he added quietly.

Really pretty.

You opened your mouth before closing it, but then you shook your head. Again. "No, he would want to meet the guy, and then he'll realize I don't have anyone, and it'll just be this huge embarrassing thing and—"

"Just tell him I'm the boyfriend."

Pope doesn't know what came over him to say such a thing, to propose the idea of being your fake boyfriend. He really, really didn't.

Even you had sat up now, mouth agape as you just…stared. "Craig would get really mad" was all that managed to come out of your mouth.

Pope tilted his head, an arrogant expression taking over. "I can deal with him."

His way of saying that if he causes his any trouble, he would beat him up. Pretty easy to understand.

You stared, and then the answer came out easy, had been ready on your tongue the moment he asked. "Okay."

Pope stared at you, repeating the word. "Okay."

The two of you stared at each other for a while, each one of you more shocked about what was happening than the other.

And then he quickly got off the bed, boots thudding loudly on the wooden floor. "Do you—do you want anything to eat?"

And before you could reply, he was already answering the question himself. "I'll get you water. It's hot and you haven't had a sip of water all day."

Right, so he had been watching you earlier.

Then he was gone, out the door and in the kitchen You were left there, staring at the door with your wide mouth open.

Andrew Cody was your fake boyfriend.

Though you hadn't discussed specifics, the idea of it warmed your heart so much that a disbelieved giggle just stumbled out from your throat. He had called you pretty.

Andrew Cody had said you were really pretty and proposed the idea of being your fake boyfriend.

When he came back, he was holding a glass. One glass of water and you wanted to laugh. You weren't' sure if it was obvious to him that you knew he had to calm himself down and that's why he spent five minutes getting you water from a kitchen that was two feet away from his door.

"It's clean. I cleaned it." he mumbled, pointing at the glass with his free hand and you took it, purposely brushing your pinky finger against his.

"Thank you." You took a sip, though you weren't thirsty whatsoever, but he seemed to be content watching you drink and so you drank the entire thing in one go, hoping that'll make him even happier.

His eyes rested on you, as he rounded the back, taking a seat in his earlier spot. He placed his hands in his lap, posture straight, as if suddenly everything was different since he'd stepped through the door a minute ago.

"We should discuss details so—so it's not obvious it's a lie." you said quietly, having had enough time to think about it. You set the glass on his night stand, careful not to leave too much of a rim on the wooden stand. "And we're going to have to put on an… act too."

Pope nodded, still looking down at his hands, remaining silent, so you took the lead. Again. "We can just—just say that you asked me out on a first date. To a restaurant maybe. A few weeks ago."

Was it that easy to ask you out? Should he have done that a long time ago? If he would have asked you out on a restaurant date would you have now been his actual real girlfriend?

"The restaurant at the beach. Your favorite." he said, meeting your surprised eyes. "Craig doesn't know your favorite restaurant."

He held your stare. See i know you better than him. He wanted to prove to you that he was better at than his younger brother, better at knowing you. That there's a reason you agreed to let him be your fake boyfriend and not Craig.

"I don't think Craig knows anything about me." you grimaced lightly, leaning forward and taking your flips flops off, peering over the beds edge as you dropped them on the ground. You scooted then closer, to Pope, facing him this time until your crossed legs were nudging his thighs.

Pope scoffed at that. "Craig doesn't know about anything but himself." Reminding you that was his fault not yours. You were plenty interesting. Craig was just a jerk.

"I asked you to be my—girlfriend after our third date. Ice cream date," Pope knew you had had plenty of those, though you never dubbed them as dates. It was a believable lie.

You nodded, shooting him a small smile, as if telling him good job. "Right. okay. Think that's all right?"

You both knew it wasn't all. It was as just the question of who was going to ask about it.

"I—yes that's all." It definitely wasn't Pope and so you looked up from your lap, spotting his red ears in a second.

Your eyes wandered off to the window, heart still racing as you thought about what a crazy idea this all was, and how much, how desperately you still craved it. Your hands were practically itching to start the lie, to get your hands on Pope, to have him touch you like you were someone he loved.

"I think we should act like a couple in front of Craig." You murmured, eyes still lingering on the tree outside his window.

"How?" Pope watched you, feeling safe enough to watch your pretty face, noting your distraction.

"I don't know." you shrugged, slightly embarrassed, clearly. "How do couples act?"

Neither of you knew. Inexperience evident in the both of you.

"They—touch each other?" Pope proposed and you giggled. "Yeah I guess so."

"I don't know how couples act." his tone turning defensive as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You giggled, nudging his thigh with your knee."Just put your arms around me when we sit on the couch or something or hold my hand."

Pope nodded. "I can do that."

Neither of you mentioned how you've already been doing this, acting like a couple, going on dates, being in love.

"Seems like i can finally get rid of Craig."

We. Pope wished to say, but he just gave you a small nod.

It wasn't until days later that your made-up lie came into handy.

You were in the kitchen, looking at the options of cereal Pope was holding out for you. "How sweet is that one?"

"Sweet. Makes my teeth hurt." He tilted his head, looking at the yellow cereal in thought. "Though you have a sweet tooth, so you might like it."

"I'll take that one then," You leaned your chin in your palm as you watched him pick out the red cereal for himself, measuring it carefully.

You tapped your fingers on the counter, turning in your chair lightly, eyes still resting on the eldest Cody boy. You liked watching him in the morning. Sometimes you came over early on purpose, knowing no one was awake during the early hours. You always got to have breakfast with him alone.

Craig's loud groan was heard throughout the entire house and both you and Pope's heads snapped up, forming the exact same disappointed expression.

There goes the quiet.

Pope frowned, turning to grab two spoons from the cupboard. He should've just taken you to a diner this morning.

But he had been so excited to discover that his mother wasn't home, and he hadn't even hesitated to invite you over. This was his home, Smurf or not, and sometimes he liked to share it with you.

"Hey!" Craig grinned, sounding happy upon spotting you until his brother came into view.

Pope pushed your cereal bowl towards you, holding Craig's stare, and stood next to your seat, promptly stopping his younger brother from hugging you.

You replied with a small "Hi," unsure of what to do with the tension between them.

The two brothers stared at each other for a while, until Craig let out a frustrated scoff, holding out both palms as he backed off, opting to grab a drink from the fridge instead.

You pretended to not have seen the entire thing and looked down at your cereal, taking your first bite. "Sweet! I like it."

Pope suppressed a smile by taking a bite from his own cereal, eyes still lingering on Craig. The tall man now stood up, holding a water bottle as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, letting out a loud moan.

"I never get used to hangovers," he groaned, eyes watching you take a bite from your bowl. "Where were you yesterday? Had this huge party going on. Was really damn good."

And then he waited, like he'd actually wanted an answer as to why you didn't come to hang out with his drunk and high-as-kite friends.

"Oh sorry." You gave him a small smile, deciding to just apologize, because it was always the easiest way to get Craig off your back. "I hope you had fun though."

And he took it as a sign to start talking, telling you about all the crazy things that happened that you, quite frankly, had no interest in.

Meanwhile Pope was seething. Had he forced you to apologize for not attending a party? Had Craig never realized that you didn't like them? How did he not pay attention to you?

Eventually, Craig wandered from the counter to where your seat was, hips touching the counter. Pope watched you straighten up, giving the younger Cody an uncomfortable smile. Your spoon abandoned in the bowl, the dish still full of the sweet grain.

Pope set his own spoon back in the bowl, glaring at Craig. But his younger brother failed to notice him or your weak smile, as you tiredly nodded over and over again, having not said a single word in the past five minutes.

Pope slowly rose from his seat, bowl in hand, missing your helpless looks. He cleaned his bowl carefully, setting it in the dishwasher alongside his spoon and then leaned his hands on the counter, listening to his brother as he went on and on about how he had leaped off the roof and into the pool.

Pope swiftly turned around, feeling the anger rise up in him and interrupted his brother mid-sentence.

"We have a date to get to." He reached for your hand, tugging you off the chair, and you hopped down, staring at Pope in the same incredulous manner his brother was.

"You have a date?" Craig spat out, bewilderment flickering in his eyes.

"Yes." Pope pulled you even further away from his brother, until you were practically concealed behind him. "Clean that up." he pointed at the two cereal bowls with his free hand, before pulling you towards the sliding doors.

Neither of you said a single word as he tugged you towards his car, but your smile spoke a hundred words.

Pope opened the car door, like the gentleman he tried so hard to be and waited for you to set foot in the dark truck.

But you paused, smile so bright it felt like the sun was shining in his eyes and blinding him.

"Thank you for saving me back there," You squeezed his hands twice, fingers curling around his hands tight like you didn't want to let go.

"He was talking too much." Pope replied dryly, though his lips were quirking.

"Mhmm." you hummed, smiling as you took one long look at him, eyes shining with joy. With his help, you climbed into his car, settling on the plush cushions as you let go of his warm hand.

He paused, not yet closing the door, and tapped his fingers restlessly against the back of it. "Was—was that okay? What I just said to Craig?"

You smiled softly. "Yeah, it was great."

You sounded so thrilled that Pope let out a puff of relief, closing the door gently.

It wasn't until two days later, that you went over to the Codys again. It was a rainy day, and you didn't want to be alone at home, you never wanted to be alone at home, though somehow you always were.

Determined not to spend the afternoon sulking in front of the TV, you texted Pope asking if it'd be okay to come over and, just as you hoped, he had replied with a 'Yes'.

Pope was already waiting for you in the garage, hands in the middle of a toolbox.

You hopped into the garage, excited to see him as always. "Hi Andrew."

He pulled up a chair next to him wordlessly as he took you in. A frown formed on his lips. "You told me you were coming over in an hour. I would've picked you up." He tilted his head, watching the way your wet hair drenched your clothes.

’S'fine," you smiled. "I love the rain." already turning your back to Pope to watch it pour with a smile.

"Do you like the rain?" you asked right as he stood up behind you, dropping the utensils he'd just been gripping tightly a minute ago. His warm chest pressed up against your cold shoulder, warming you up. Maybe even intentionally.

"Sometimes," he watched the rain pour down on his car with pursed lips. "It cleans everything." he murmured after a while, looking back down at you and the way your hair was starting to curl around your face. "But it's wet."

It sounded like a five-year-old writing his first sentence in the first grade. He always sounded like this, but you never minded. You always liked what he had to say regardless of how he said it.

"It is wet," you mumbled, your eyes traveling from the torrent, down to your jeans and shirt.

A simple outfit really, though you'd tried to look just a little dressed up, hoping to grab Pope's attention. Although you knew deep down in your heart that you've always and always will have it. Your brown shirt was covered in white bunnies, and your jeans had hearts on all four pockets. It was a sweet outfit really. You'd been proud of it earlier, which was a rather rare occasion for you.

Pope was always surprised at how quickly you understood him. You knew he didn't have the vocabulary to tell you that he didn't like being caught in the rain, that he didn't like the feel of his clothes clinging to his skin or the danger of the water on the streets.

"You can have some of my clothes. You're going to get sick."

'M'fine," you mumbled, unconsciously leaning back lightly against his chest, eyes still lingering on the rain.

"Come on," Pope nudged your shoulder lightly, already turning on his heels and back into the house.

You followed without another word, knowing you couldn't deny him the kindness he was granting you, and he knew you too well to know that when you said 'I'm fine' it was your way of saying the exact opposite.

It wasn't until you finally had your shirt in Pope's laundry basket and his brown hoodie on that you encountered Craig in the hallway.

"A date and his hoodie?" he snickered, and you didn't bother with a reply. You kept walking, past him and into the living room where Pope was already waiting for you.

You hurried to take a seat next to the older Cody brother, and always one to follow orders, Pope had already laid out his arm around you and you dropped a bit further on the couch, and Pope's arm followed, hovering just above your shoulder. Looking up at him, you scooted closer, as if giving him permission to close the space fully, and he did. His heavy arm draping around you like a blanket, warming you fully, more than the house air conditioning ever could.

It felt nothing like Craig's arm. No, Pope watched your expression carefully, brushing his thumb over your upper arm, trying to warm you as much as he could.

He was distracted by your shivering form, when he heard Craig approach the living room, and he couldn't help but relish the way Craig paused his steps, watching the two of you with a mortified expression.

"You two seriously dating?" he snarled, the question more so directed at his brother. He was in sheer disbelief that Pope had gotten the girl he had been pining after for god knows how long.

"Yeah."

Craig let out a scoff. "There's no way." he sauntered down the stairs to the living room, blocking the TV and your view. "You seriously with that guy?"

As if Pope was a stranger.

You frowned, now finally getting your voice back. "Yeah, I am." It wasn't as brave as you wanted it to sound, but at least you had said something.

Craig let out a laugh. "Jesus, I can never win in this house." and if Deran hadn't walked in and gotten Craig distracted, you were sure you would've exploded under his livid stare. Had it been from embarrassment or sheer anger, you weren't sure.

While Craig loudly complained and Deran shot you stunned looks, you turned your head to Pope. "Don't think he believes us," you mumbled, careful not to let younger Codys hear you.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled back, just as quietly as he glanced back at Craig.

As long as the two of you kept it up, he would have to believe you.

But your troubled expression remained, and you glanced over at Craig, clearly just wishing for him to leave. You looked back at Pope, a hesitant expression flashing across your face.

"If you need to make it believable, you—you can."

He lifted an eyebrow, not even glancing over when he heard Deran laugh at one of Craig's displeased comments. "What does that mean?"

"Like—like if you need to kiss me for him to believe us, that's —that's fine." you faltered, now realizing what you had said.

Pope stared at you. Kiss you?

A hundred things went through his mind and he couldn't help the way his eyes wandered down to your lips. Somehow your lip gloss was still shimmering, despite the rain. He looked up again, meeting your big eyes and fear was holding them tight.

You had said too much.

He realized then that you hadn't really meant to say that out loud. He had cornered you by asking what you meant exactly. You figured he knew what the word believable meant, like he was supposed to know that meant kissing you.

"No." Pope shook his head, forcing his eyes from your pouting expression and back to the TV. "Not like this."

You froze, the hand that had been curled around one of the hoodie sleeves loosening. You stared at him for a while, and he didn't move. His eyes remained on the moving screen in front of him.

Stiffly, you turned your body back to the TV, Pope's arm around you now feeling like a rope, choking you.

He didn't want to kiss you.

"Okay." You whispered, hiding your glistening eyes by staring holes into the wall, not even following the show.

The rejection felt like a punch to the gut. You pulled your knees up slowly, moving, so his arm wasn't as surrounded as it was before. You didn't have it in you to think about what not like this meant. All you heard was the clear and loud no. The quick and easy no. Like kissing you was this crazy horrible thing to do.

You suddenly felt uneasy in his hoodie, too warm, too hot, too nauseous.

Maybe you had forced him into this whole fake boyfriend thing. Maybe he just wanted to be a good friend and help you out. This probably meant nothing to him, and you had made it out to be this huge big thing in your head. You felt your stomach turn as the embarrassment set in, humiliation coursing through your veins.

Oh my god, you'd just asked Andrew Cody to kiss you and he'd said no.

You hid your lower face in the hoodie, despite yourself, biting hard on your lip until you felt it bleed. You barely took notice of the way Deran asked Pope questions. You weren't even fully present, sick with humiliation as you missed Pope stuttering the answers out.

It seemed like Deran was happy for you or, so you guessed by the small smile he shot in your direction.

The moment the two boys were out, announcing their goodbye by Craig's loud stomping, followed by his complaints, you stood up quickly, your legs shaky.

"Rains gone. I'm—I'm going home," you mumbled, not looking at the startled man. You walked up the stairs to his room in a hurry, heading for your bag. You just wanted out of the house.

It didn't even take Pope five seconds before he was up from the couch and following you. "Why? It's still wet outside. Your shoes are going to get wet."

He knew you really cared about your ballet flats. He had been surprised to see you come over in them, not realizing you had worn them for him ever since he had timidly complimented them once.

You shook your head, finally spotting your bag. You grabbed it off the hooks and swung it over your shoulder, still not looking at him. "I'll see you around Andrew."

But Pope wasn't one easy to shake off. "I'll drive you."

You didn't reply, already sliding the doors open and stepping onto the wet pavement, flats hitting the concrete hard, almost hurting your sole.

But your escape was cut short, as Pope grabbed your upper arm, gently turning you around to face him. "Why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset." You raised your chin, as if to say here see? I'm fine.

He tilted his head. "Yeah, you are." His thumb lifted to your face, gently grazing the skin below your eye. "Your eyelashes are wet." His brows drew together. "Did Craig make you sad? Do you want to stop lying?"

Wrong damn thing to ask.

You shot him a look, and it was the closest Pope would ever receive to an angry look from you. Yet it was mixed with too much vulnerability and hurt for him to consider the anger. All he saw was the pain.

"I'm going home. Alone."

Of course Pope couldn't stay away from you.

You had left in a hurry, and you had been sad. And he didn't fix it.

So he hurried to take care of the shirt you had left behind, putting it in the laundry and two hours later he was knocking at your door.

You seemed even more sad than before, when you opened the door. Eyes rimmed red as you stared at him. "Andrew," and his name didn't sound as sweet coming from your pretty lips as it usually did.

Pope felt his stomach turn.

"I washed your—your shirt and thought you might need it." He held out the meticulously folded shirt. You stared at it, before taking it out of his hand quickly, as if you wanted to close the door as soon as you could.

"Thank you," You replied quietly, still holding the door like he wasn't allowed to come in yet, and Pope felt his skin crawl as he waited for the typical invitation.

You always invited him in.

"I'll get you your hoodie. Give me a minute." And then you were gone. The door opened half an inch, but no invitation.

Two hours and you had already taken his hoodie off.

Pope pushed the door open, walked in and closed it behind him. Quickly taking off his shoes, setting them down carefully by the door. He marched towards your bathroom, where he heard you mutter curses under your breath over the slow washing machine.

The washing machine still had an hour left.

So you had worn his hoodie at least for a while.

"What did I do?"

"Andrew!" you called out, turning around in panic, the fear quickly evaporating from your face when you realized it was him.

"Did I say something wrong? Did I make you sad? Was it what I said to Deran? If you don't want to do the —the lying thing anymore, that's —that's okay." He was wringing his hands nervously in front of him,

And you realized with a jolt that he was terrified you didn't want him anymore.

You lowered your gaze to his hands, watching the movement, and any other time you would have reached for his hands, stopped him from digging his nails into his skin. But you didn't want to touch him, the earlier rejection still echoing in your head.

You looked away. "Everything's okay, Andrew," you replied quietly, moving past him so you wouldn't have to see his heartbroken expression anymore.

He swiftly turned around, reached for your hand and spun you around, until you were facing him. "Stop saying that. You've been lying to me since—since earlier—just — just tell me what i did wrong, so I can fix it." He was scared, petrified that you were going to leave him. "I'll fix it. Whatever it is, I'll fix it."

And God did you hate seeing his eyes glisten and his expression this grief-stricken. He was biting the insides of his cheeks so hard you worried he was bleeding, but still, he was unable to hide the shaking in his bottom lip.

Maybe pride wasn't as important as you thought.

"You said you didn't want to kiss me and—and that's fine, but you'll have to give me a minute to not be—hurt about it." You blurted out, nibbling on your bottom lip in frustration. You sounded like a petulant thirteen-year-old girl and even worse than that, you felt like one.

Your words hit him like a slap to the face. "I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine really," you managed a feeble smile, though your eyes remained wet. "I know I came off—" You weren't sure how to phrase it. Direct? Clingy? Desperate? You looked away instead, deciding not to continue your weak defense.

Pope watched the shimmer in your eyes, the way you were holding on for dear life to hold back the tears that oh so desperately wanted to roll down your cheeks.

Why not be honest? Why not put everything on the line? As long as you stopped sniffling and your chin stopped trembling from how hard you were trying to stay composed.

"I want to kiss you," he blurted, eyes flickering down to your lips, just begging for your teeth to stop sinking into the soft skin of your already too red lips. "I just—I don't want it to be—not real."

"You want to kiss me?" was all you heard as you blinked up at him with your glistening eyes.

"Yeah," Pope admitted in a low tone, relief flooding his veins when your tongue wet your lips, trying to get rid of the burn you had caused yourself.

So many thoughts swirled around in your head. Any other man and you would've thought he was lying, but Pope didn't lie to you. Ever. Sometimes he was brutally honest, something you and your chaotic kitchen had more than once been made aware of.

"Okay," you replied quietly, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he'd said those words and that you weren't dreaming.

Your vocabulary had run out. You were sure your high school English teacher would be disheartened to know that, as of now, your vocabulary consisted of the same eight words. Andrew Cody said he wanted to kiss me.

"Are you still sad?" he asked nervously, tilting his head to catch your eyes.

You shook your head quickly, stepping closer, finally wringing his hands out of one another, clasping them in yours instead.

"No," you looked down, inspecting where on his palm he'd sunk his nails in and brushing gently over the mark, attempting to get rid of the burning pressure he had left behind. "I wasn't sad earlier, or maybe I was — I don't know. I just— your answer wasn't something I expected."

You didn't mean to admit that. To admit that you had been thinking about the fact that Andrew Cody might just like you, that you've indulged yourself so much in that fantasy that it almost became reality to you.

Pope's ears burned and even in the dark hallway you were able to see it.

You smiled softly, dropping his hands to spare him the humiliation of being put on the spot and having to answer in any way that would be revealing and vulnerable.

But he quickly reached back for you, except this time, his hands drifted upwards, to the sides of your neck. He placed his palms there, his thumbs brushing delicately across your cheekbone. "I'd like to kiss you—when the time is right."

You watched him wordlessly, and he waited, used to how much it took you to absorb information and accept that maybe the good things in your life are real and not a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah," you beamed, and your hands traveled up to hold onto his wrists, brushing tenderly across his racing pulse. "When is the right time?"

You couldn't help but ask, eyes already on his lips, and he loosened his hold around your face, pushing your hair behind your ears. "When Craig isn't bothering you anymore and when—when kissing counts as real."

Your cheek tilted into his palm, letting his hand engulf half of your face. Your eyes dropped to his chest, still recalibrating, trying to adjust to the words you just heard, unaware of Pope stepping closer until he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

You froze, hands dropping from his wrists to his stomach. His lips were soft, and the kiss came so unexpected that you almost had to physically restrain yourself from letting out an incredulous giggle.

When his lips left your forehead, you looked at him, and he was already awaiting your reaction, unease in his eyes as he awaited your judgment.

"Is that a prelude of what's to come?" you whispered.

And his lips quirked up, his hands falling nervously away from your face, while your hands went to rest on his stomach, feeling his heartbeat racing there.

"Yeah," he breathed out, getting progressively more warm under your sweet touch and your even sweeter look. "I mean—if you liked it."

He had no idea if he was a good kisser. He hoped this had been nice enough for you.

"I liked it," you whispered quietly, watching the relief set in his face.

"Then yeah,"

Beach day with the Cody's wasn't something you had ever been invited to, not that you wanted to anyway. You had no interest in surfing and all the Cody brothers did was surf. But now that you were Pope's girlfriend, you forced yourself to go and Pope couldn't be happier.

You were sitting on a towel Pope had set out for you while Deran and Craig stood close to the water, holding their surfboards and discussing the waves.

Pope, meanwhile, was seated on the towel next to you, concerned that it might be too hot for you to wait and that you should just join him.

"No way," you shook your head, watching the waves crash onto the beach. You turned your head, shooting him an apologetic look. "Have fun though."

He frowned, more concerned about leaving you here alone than the fact that you didn't want to surf. "I'm staying here with you."

"No, you're not, Andrew," you smiled softly. "I want you to have fun."

Pope wasn't used to that. Allowed to have fun without having to give a piece of himself away. Smurf always tricked him, giving him an insincere smile, and telling him to do what he wanted. Later on, the punishment would come in the form of a horrible job or some nasty jab at him. He would never know.

He pursed his lips, searching your face for any duplicity. Things like this always reminded him how deep-rooted his mother was, made him wonder if she would ever leave him, or if he would just doubt every good thing for the rest of his life.

"Hey," You leaned in closer, until all he saw was your face and not his brothers quarreling in the background. "I'm waiting to watch you surf." You smiled softly, fingers toying with the fabric of your dress around your knees. "I'm sure you're better than those two."

His hazel eyes, with the sun now shining on him just green, continued to bore into yours, but he seemed to warm up to the idea of having you watch him and admire him. "I am," he mumbled, and your smile widened.

"Go on then." Your eyes sparkled as you watched him stand up, board in hand.

You were sure Pope was the one swimming the waves the fastest, though you couldn't be sure which one of them he actually was. You just hoped your eyes were following the right black bodysuit.

They didn't last long. Or well, Pope didn't. Coming back after at least thirty minutes, he set his board in the sand beside you, still catching his breath.

"You were great!" you smiled at him, and it shone brighter than the sun above you two.

"Thank you," he replied quietly, settling down on the blanket next to you.

You glanced at his wet suit. "Need help with the zipper?"

"No, it's fine," he mumbled, but you were already kneeling behind him, hands on the metal.

"Girlfriend duties," you mumbled.

"No one's here," he mumbled back, eyes glancing forward to where Craig and Deran were riding the waves with cheers.

"They could be watching. You never know." You unzipped the bodysuit, down to his waist. Pope hoped you couldn't see the goosebumps forming alongside the length of your touch.

You settled beside him again, watching him take the suit off until it was bunched up around his hips, bare chest now glistening in the sunshine.

"You didn't surf for long," you spoke again, mostly to have a conversation and not focus on the fact that he was next to you half naked.

"Told them I didn't want to leave my girlfriend alone for too long," he murmured and turned his head to catch your expression.

You lit up, nose and eyes crinkling with joy, though you hid the expression by turning your face away from him, eyes on the beach.

His eyes lingered on your profile, noting the way your teeth were biting into the soft plump flesh of your lips.

"Not putting on sunscreen is dangerous." he said slowly, now slowly noting the way your skin wasn't glistening like his or his brothers.

"I'll be fine. It's not that sunny anyway." You shot him a quick smile, your eyes wandering back to his younger brothers, who were now taking on a big wave, their yelling reaching you and every other person taking a stroll on the beach at 7am.

Pope turned, reaching for your bag, knowing you always came prepared. You had handed the sunscreen to Craig and Deran earlier, and asked Pope if he wanted help, but seemingly hadn't used it for yourself.

He found the small bottle quickly. "Turn around," he instructed, and you looked over your shoulder, confused, until you noticed the white bottle shining in his hands.

"I can apply it myself." you said quietly, even as you turned towards him, facing him.

He didn't reply but instead set the bottle aside, reaching for your wrist, where he pulled your hair tie off. You watched him wordlessly as he carefully reached for your hair, shortening the distance between you until he was able to tie your hair into a loose ponytail.

Your eyes swept over to his curls, watching the water trickle down to his neck. Your gaze lingered on the freckles covering his cheeks, wondering if you would ever get to count them.

Pope was so good at taking care of you that sometimes you felt emotion threatening to overwhelm you almost instantly.

The frown of concentration on his face remained as he set your hair tie in place, trying his best to remain careful as to not hurt you. When he was done, he carefully pushed your ponytail behind your shoulder and leaned back, picking up the sunscreen.

Applying it to his fingers, he finally looked up, meeting your eyes.

And the look in your eyes froze him in his tracks. It was so painfully obvious, even to him, that you were so very fond of him. He could see the sheer adoration in your eyes.

His eyes quickly darted away, focusing on squeezing out the cream onto his fingers. Meanwhile, your fingers were pulling at your necklace, twisting and turning it nervously, as you waited for him to touch your face.

He lifted his hand and finally started applying it, light brushes across your cheeks and forehead, careful to smear it proportionally.

"Thank you." you whispered quietly, your warm exhalation grazing his face.

You've never had anyone do this for you, or at least not since you were a child and eager to run back into the water. Now, you weren't eager to go anywhere.

You leaned in closer, your crossed legs brushing up against his thigh. You just wanted more, more of his big hands on you, more of his warmth engulfing you. You loved the feeling of them on your face, tenderly stroking the apple of your cheeks.

Pope took his time. On purpose.

He didn't want this small intimate moment to end. Even when he was done applying sunscreen to your face, he just moved on to your arms, deciding to drag this out as long as he could.

You giggled when he got to the inside of your elbow, making his lips quirk up. "Didn't know you were ticklish." he commented quietly, moving down to your fingers.

You eyed him with wary eyes. "Why does it matter?"

He shrugged, though there was an amused glint in his eyes that you caught, making you smile. "It doesn't."

The two of you were in your own little bubble taking no notice whatsoever of the two Codys approaching you, not until they were standing next to you and Pope noticed the shadow fallingover you.

He glanced up, a frown immediately forming on his lips, the lightness disappearing off his shoulders replaced with the heaviness of knowing that this moment was over.

"Wow." Craig huffed. "So you weren't even watching?"

You glanced up, startled upon realizing that he was talking to you. "No, I did watch." You defended yourself weakly, not looking at Craig, instead resorting to watching Deran walk away and head towards the car.

Pope looked up and shot his brother a look. One that was fairly obvious in its meaning.

Craig stared at the two of you, watching the way you curled your fingers around Pope's hand, clearly nervous and the way Pope merely continued to apply the cream to your skin gently. You chewed your lips nervously under Craig's stare, growing more uncomfortable by the second and the younger Cody watched his brother take notice of it.

Pope glanced up. "Anything else?" he grunted, visibly irritated and on edge.

"Unbelievable," Craig muttered under his breath, taking a step back, fixing the weight of the board under his arm. "Good luck on however long this little thing will last between you. He's crazy," he pointed at Pope, clearly now directing his words at you. "You won't last long," And then he was walking away, quicker if you dared to say, as if he knew Pope wouldn't let him just say those words and walk off.

But you tightened your fingers around Pope's hand when you felt him loosen his hold. "He's stupid," you mumbled, scooting closer as you tapped a spot on your arm.

He wordlessly spread the cream on the spot, and you couldn't help but feel the heat of anger spread through your body, making you feel warmer than you already were.

Why couldn't anyone just let Pope be? Why did every single thing have to be ruined for him? Every time there was just one moment of peace, it was ripped away from him.

He didn't ask for much. Pope didn't ask for anything. Yet still he couldn't even get that. Even the things he had were taken away from him, torn down to nothing. Like Pope had always, since the day he was born, been undeserving of anything. And seemingly anything good that happened to him was already too much.

It seemed as though Andrew Cody was stripped to nothing, and he was meant to be okay with it. That nothing was all he was ever allowed to have.

Pope sealed the sun cream bottle, carefully making sure it was shut, before setting it back in your bag, listening to the rumbling of his brother's car as they drove off.

Your hands were left to fall into your lap, no warmth from Pope rushing through them anymore, keeping them alive, making you feel alive.

You stared at your spotless hands. Not a single smudge of white was on your skin. He always took care of you so perfectly. You felt your stomach turn as you watched him stare out into the ocean, posture straight, fingers twitching lightly against his swimsuit.

"Andrew," you said quietly, deciding being brave was more important than whatever shyness always crept up on you and ruined every sentence that lingered on your tongue.

He turned his head, giving you his full attention.

"I like you."

Pope's eyes darted away for a second before they snapped back up to yours, not properly registering what had just come out of your mouth.

"I'm waiting for you to kiss me. Not Craig," you added quietly.

Pope knew how terrifying this was for you, to say it so plainly, but he hadn't realized until now how much he had craved to hear those words come from your mouth, to have it finally confirmed.

Yet Pope wanted to tell you that his younger brother was right.

That you won't last long, that no one ever lasted long with him, that he always made a mistake. He always did something that ended up hurting the person that made the mistake of caring about him. He couldn't help but spill the words, just like you'd been vulnerable, he was too. The scorching hot sun above you seemingly burning holes in your hearts, forcing you to spill the words because they had no place in the organ to rest anymore.

"You won't last long," he said quietly. "He's—He's right. I'm not good for you."

You frowned. "You don't get to decide that."

Pope looked up at you, mirroring your troubled expression. "You don't want to be involved with me."

"Yes, I do," you retorted, and it was these clipped answers that were irritating him.

And he was about to open his mouth, about to counter your words, but you were already shaking your head. "Andrew," you said quietly. "We were having fun, before Craig decided to ruin everything."

You looked back to the ocean, thoughts drifting far away. "You were fine." You sounded genuinely hurt and Pope lifted his eyes in surprise, watching the emotion play out on your face. "I like you and that's enough for me."

You didn't turn your eyes back to his, fingers tapping restlessly on your necklace, pulling at it lightly.

He knew what you were asking.

Was you liking him enough for him? Would knowing that you liked him be enough for him to stop spiraling whenever his family decided to open their mouths and ruin whatever good he had going on?

"It's enough for me."

You turned your head, lips in a thin line as you stared at him, looking for the truth he usually held ready for you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, holding your gaze, despite everything in him screaming to back off, that he was ruining you.

Perhaps for once in his life, Pope wanted to be selfish for himself, not selfish for his family, in which he took everything and anything from strangers and handed it to the people that raised him. No, selfish in which he took something and kept it for himself, far away from everyone else.

You were the first selfish thing he would have in his life.

Weeks passed.

Weeks in which you and Pope held up the deal. It took a while to get Craig to fully stop. It took hundreds of arguments between the two brothers, countless fake dates which you actually ended up going on, and even more miserable comments from Craig.

And one day, the long-awaited end of the deal happened. One day, the two of you walked into the house and Craig watched the two of you wordlessly, before taking his car keys and leaving. And that was it.

Nothing happened for a while after that.

It was merely clear that the fake boyfriend-girlfriend ordeal was over. The plan had been a success.

Nothing changed between you and maybe that had been the clearest sign of all, that the two of you were and had always been moving like a couple, that you two had been treating each other with the grace and love a significant other would.

Two days later, the two of you ended up in your apartment, finally. It had been a while, to keep up your act the two of you had been constantly staying at his house, trying to hurry up the process of getting rid of Craig.

Pope let out the biggest sigh of relief as he settled down on your couch, leaning his head against the back of it.

You set down a soda in front of him and plopped down next to him. "Can you hear that?"

Pope stayed silent, listening, but all he heard was the waves crashing against the shore and maybe your neighbors' music if he listened really closely. "No?"

"Exactly." you giggled. "No Craig!"

His lips curved upwards, and finally a real smile formed on his face. Your smile widened when you noticed the lightness in his shoulders, and you took it as a sign to scoot closer, until your shoulder was brushing up against his.

The TV was playing some random nature documentary, one you'd put on before he arrived, mostly to get him settled. It had been a while since he had come over, and you worried that he wouldn't feel as comfortable again. But there seemed to be no need to worry.

You lifted your knees onto the couch and without a word his hand drifted towards your thigh, resting there.

You bit your lip hard, as you stared down at his big hand. God, you craved his touch so badly. You turned your head, resting it against the couch as you watched him, not even bothering to hide your stare.

He seemed distracted, distracted by the peace he was finally getting and the TV. He hadn't had this much peace in so long, and it made him feel both tense and at ease at the same time.

You felt him squeeze your thigh every time a predator animal caught a prey one. You watched the way his lips lightly tugged down, an almost sorrowful expression forming on his face, yet he didn't look away from it.

After a while, you placed your socked feet under his thighs, and you observed the way he drew his lower lip between his teeth. His hand loosened his hold on your thigh, hovering above it as he stared down at your entangled position, but then he lowered his hand again, squeezing your flesh.

You spent so long watching him that, sooner or later, you started counting his freckles. You were on freckle twenty-one on his cheek, when he turned his head and caught your eyes, lightly startled. His head tipped back a bit to create some distance. He could feel his ears burning bright red.

"Will you stay tonight?" you whispered.

Pope nodded wordlessly. The first time the answer has ever come this easy, and relief coursed through your veins as your eyes crinkled happily.

Pope was sure, that despite the many and countless intimate moments you've had, this was by far the most intimate one, and he felt his fingers twitch nervously against his thigh. Your eyes drifted down immediately, as if you had known when and why the bashfulness would creep up on him.

"It's real now, right?" you whispered, as you straightened up, your feet leaving the warmth of his thighs.

He hesitated but then nodded, managing out a breathless "Yeah."

You lifted a finger up to your lips, biting the tip of your nail anxiously, before asking. "Can I sit in your lap?"

He quickly sat upright, and his hands landed beside his thighs on the couch now, still twitching nervously. You slowly set one knee on each side of his thighs, before sitting down, not hovering like last time. No, this time you took what you wanted.

Your hands came to rest on his chest, and you watched him just as nervously as he watched you. His heart was racing, and you wanted to say it was almost as fast as yours, but it appeared worse. You brushed your thumb over it, hoping it would be a comforting gesture.

Still, he was the more courageous one out of the two of you.

He lifted his hand, as he, rather clumsily, pushed away your hair from your face. And you couldn't help the way you leaned into the palm of his hand, squeezing it between your shoulder and cheek.

He was so warm and so nice, and really not many people were those things to you. You wanted to be in this little bubble —in his lap— forever.

You leaned forward just a bit, and his hands fell away immediately, gripping the plush of your couch, as if he was worried he was making you uncomfortable.

You shook your head and took them gently into yours, placing them on your waist. "There, that's good." you whispered.

Pope would've given you a quick twitch of his lips had it not been for the way his mind was racing. He was scared.

You leaned forward and Pope met you halfway through. Your foreheads pressed together, and your fingers curled tight into the fabric of his shirt. You tightened your hold, gripping the fabric, and Pope would've complained in any other situation, but right now all he could think about was you, and nothing else.

Your breath grazed his lips and he shut his eyes, trying to adapt to the fact that this was really happening, that you really wanted this. With him.

Your nose pressed up against his, and Pope opened his eyes, keen on watching you, seeing what you were feeling. Your eyes were closed, and you were pressing your teeth hard into your bottom lip, nibbling on it almost.

Pope raised his hand, dragging your bottom lip away from your teeth, taking a look at the bruised skin, before smoothing over the red spot with his thumb.

And then he closed the gap. He brushed his lips tentatively against yours, and you did the rest of it. You pressed your soft lips against his and let out a hum.

Your hands traveled up to his face, thumb brushing across the apples of his cheeks as you pulled him closer, until your chest was brushing up against his. He squeezed your waist in response, tilting his head to follow your movements. When you pulled back, he was breathing heavily, the rise and fall of his chest visible.

Despite the fact that this had been the most gentle kiss there ever could have been. The gentlest one he had ever received in his entire life.

Your eyes flickered across his face, clearly waiting for some response, some verbal response, but Pope didn't have one.

He lifted his hand to the back of your head, pulling you back down to him and pressed his lips against yours, again. This time, his lips captured yours properly, moving back against yours the way he had craved since the day he met you.

You wanted to smile, but the worry that you would ruin the moment, scare him off, worried you, so you tangled your hands in his curls, pulling him closer.

The grip in his hair, forced him to open his mouth and he felt the brush of your tongue against his before pulling back for air.

His eyes flickered across your face, hands brushing through your hair in disbelief. He held it gently, fingertips running through it as he stared at it. And then he breathed out the words you loved so much but never asked for. "You're so pretty."

He raised his head again and kissed you again.

He couldn't get enough of you. Your lips were so soft, and he hadn't felt soft in a while. His nose pressed up against your cheek, yet he still leaned it even more, his hand still on the back of your head as he pressed you even further down to him. His other hand remained loosely around your waist, careful to keep you in his lap.

Finally, you pulled back, and he followed your movement without a word, wanting more, more gentle kisses from you, more kindness from you.

But it was your turn to be breathing heavily now, and you pressed a hand against his chest. He fell back without a word, his hand dropping to your hips.

There was too much distance.

And so he pulled you forward by your hips, closing the distance between the two of you as much as he could without having your mouth pressed up against his.

He felt so out of it, so dazed as he looked up at you. You looked like an angel, lips soft and kiss bitten and smiling so brightly he wasn't so sure it was night anymore. He glanced down at his hands, palms up as he stared in incredulity.

You were still catching your breath, and you caught his hands the moment you noticed his spaced-out stare.

"This is nice," you whispered, interlocking his hands with yours, placing them into the small space between you.

And he felt himself shudder at how kind you were, how you decided to grace him out of all people with sweetness. Pope nodded sluggishly, and your lips curved into a smile. You looked down and your hair covered half of your face, as you peeked up at him from your eyelashes.

He gave you a small smile, yet the same dazed expression remained in his eyes. You didn't want to ask if he was okay, fearing it might trigger the exact opposite reaction of what you wanted.

So you just leaned in, pecking his lips lightly, smiling at how quickly he responded to the kiss. "Haven't kissed anyone in a while. Was—was that okay?"

By a while you meant the spin a bottle challenge in high school, but your embarrassing admission was worth it as long as you received some information about how he was feeling.

"Was good," he whispered, nose nudging against yours and his lips once again curved into a small smile. "You are good."

He meant the ambiguity of the sentence.

Not only were you the sweetest kisser ever, making him trace his lips with his tongue just so he could taste your vanilla lipstick again, but also good.

You were so incredibly good. Good to him.

He felt the realization of it hit him even more when your lips wandered to his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss there, before letting yourself fall into his arms. Your arms came up around his neck, and you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, your lips grazing the skin where his shoulder met his neck. His arm wrapped around you carefully and he closed his eyes, breathing you in, breathing in your vanilla scent, breathing in the scent of his home.

"So are you," you whispered.

He knew that you needed no conviction to believe that you were good. He knew that there were no great sins that you had committed, that you didn't hurt people.

But he did. He needed conviction to hear it, yet right now, hearing it from the kindest person he knew, the girl that personified goodness for him, hearing that you believed he was good, was seemingly enough for tonight.

Enough for him to believe that there was a chance of him being good.

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