How could you possibly see a homeless person and think anyone could deserve that, how could you possibly advocate for a system that allows and encourages that to happen. It's so fucking evil
im gonna throw up what do you mean jack rested his fucking head against robbys fucking arm to comfort him i feel like my house was just burned down and rebuilt into mansion what the fuck
"I've never met a picky eater of color" very much does feel like a pretty benign example of "people of color are cool, white people we uncool" type of racism because I think every culture has their own version of "chicken strips and fries" it's just that people aren't going to clock "curry and rice" or "miso buttle noodles" as being "safe foods" because their "ethnic". whatever that means.
popeās partner telling pope the 500 things that happened to them at work today and pope pretending that he wasnāt actively following them around making sure nobody was fucking with them >>>
when someone touches/talks to his partner at work and pope is standing around a corner trying to pretend like he isn't trying to explode them with his mind
Shawn Hatosy talks about about the relationship between Pope, Smurf and Julia and what was going through Pope's head during that season 1 stripper scene.
popeās partner telling pope the 500 things that happened to them at work today and pope pretending that he wasnāt actively following them around making sure nobody was fucking with them >>>
i cannot get the thought of pope learning heās going to be a father out of my head.
how he found out on a whim, really, because his partner began avoiding him like the plague the minute they found out. and how pope had to catch them outside of the doctorās office after their first scan.
the way pope would stand next to their car with his arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses on. he's guarded because he's hurt, and they know that he's hurt but fuck are they so nervous for what comes next, what happens after he finds out.
"so is this why you haven't been picking up the phone?" he asked. his tone is meant to be accusatory but it's light. pope is no stranger to rejection; he doesn't consider himself a pretty cody by any means, not like, j, or deran, or even craig. but he thought things were different with them, hopes that things are still different the way that he thinks they are. so he offers them this doubt. and his genuine concern to boot.
"you sick?" he asks.
their gazes meet. pope pushes off of the car at their approach, drops his hands to his sides. and then he notices how pale they are, that they're shaking a little bit, clutching a piece of paper in their hand. he's staring at it now, closing the space between both of them. they hold it out for him to take before they lose their nerve, because their voice is already failing them.
pope takes it, studies it; from their first and last name, date of birth in the corner, to the little blob in the center of the black and white ultrasound picture.
silence settles between the pair of them and his partner is about ready to jump out of their skin, or throw up, or both. it's the anticipation that roots them to that exact spot, gaze low, mouth in a tight line.
"how long?" he asks. and at first his partner's eyes knit together in confusion. how far along is the baby, how long did you know you were pregnant, how long were you planning on keeping this from me? are all of the questions pope's partner knows he's asking. so they try to hit every point one by one.
his partner is still pointedly not looking at them. they side-step andrew easily, amble over to the car near the driver's side, lean against it, eyes trained on the floor the whole while. it's as if the little sedan is keeping them up entirely, kind of is in the way their knees are slightly bent.
"i thought it was the flu. i woke up three days ago, couldn't keep anything down. couldn't keep my eyes open. had to call out two days in a row and they said they need a doctor's note for the third call-out or i'd be fired. i went to urgent care and i was negative for everything, even covid. asked me if there was any way i was late."
their tongue, equally as dry as their lips, darts out in an effort to wet them. "i told them that i had the implant. they told me it's rare but they can... fail..." another pause and a sigh. "they made me pee on a stick. it was positive. i was hysterical. they said false-positives are possible too and a blood test would be more..." definitive. "they took some blood. it was positive. they said a false-positive was... way less rare. they almost had me transferred to the emergency room for a psych consult." a dry laugh. it sounds like it hurts.
"then they booked me an appointment here," his partner gestures to the building, standard beige, sterile on the inside, teeming with screaming babies and people with bulging stomachs. "and... yeah. m'five weeks..." pregnant. that word.
silence. one beat. two. three.
"are you gonna..." he trails off. "are you gonna keep it?"
"you don't have to stay." is all his partner says. pope takes pause at the tone of their voice. light but heavy. firm yet begging. giving him an out but hoping - praying that he doesn't take it. "i know we didn't get a chance to talk about it, but i figured with the way you talk about..." your mother. "there wouldn't be any way in hell you'd want this. but i think i'm gonna do it. i can move back in with my mom, pick up some extra hours at the clinic..." they trail off. "we'd be okay..." without you. "if... if this isn't something that you want."
pope is quick to move in front of them, blocking them from the view of the building, the view of the sun. his partner's gaze lifts; from his sneakers, to his jeans, to his polo shirt, to the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows, to the slope of his jaw. then, finally, meets his gaze.
"i guess i didn't make myself clear these past few months." he steps closer until they're damn near chest to chest, relishing in the way the back of their head is nearly touching the top of their spine to look up at him.
his partner raises their hands. crosses their arms over their chest, squeezes, caging themself in. so prepared for rejection, their demeanor mirroring his only moments ago. it makes his heart break and melt all at once. "i want this."
the breath they let out is shaky. their eyes shut, wet at the edges with tears that are beginning to brim.
"i want you. i will always want you."
his partner is crying now, a bit snotty, definitely blubbering through their sentences. they press their palms to their wet eyes, cracked lips wobbling through the next few words, "even w-when i'm throwing up thirteen times a day and i can't see my feet?"
"even when you're crying your eyes out in the parking lot of a doctor's office, too."
they pause, drop their hands to glare at him through bleary eyes, but lets out another noise, half of a laugh and half of a cry.
"you don't need to move in with your mom and pick up more hours." he says with that signature pope cody smolder, intense gaze. "that's the opposite of what you need. we'll move in together, you'll cut your hours..." he eyes the 2012 toyota camry behind them in disdain. "you'll let me trade this shitbox in for a new SUV..."
"uh, let's not get ahead of ourselves. let's just start with..." pope watches as his partner wipes both eyes on the sleeves of his sweatshirt that they're wearing. they dig in the pocket and hold up a crumpled piece of paper. "picking up this prescription for anti-nausea meds and finding something i can keep down."
"i think we can multi-task, actually."
and in a move that's so not typical for andrew cody, he leans down, pressing a kiss to their forehead and pulling them in for a tight hug. they break away, and, in a move that's so pope cody, maneuvers his partner so that he can guide them to the passenger seat of their car by the small of their back.