Pope has been missing for a few days now. Phone and car abandoned at a train station so Smurf canât even find him. Baz keeps going on about how he was probably caught violating his parole and is back where he belongs. No one else is convinced of this theory.
It was after two weeks of his disappearance, everyone starting to move on, assuming Pope would just be another mystery, just another missing person that never gets found, when he came back.
He didnât return to the compound. The blinking tracker in his car instead traced him as going to somewhere on the outskirts of Oceanside.
J was tasked with bringing him back home with Deran.
He wasnât nowhere. The dot stopped at an old house. A piece of shit to be honest. It was one of those places where houses were sparse and there were acres of land surrounding them. A fuck load of nothing.
What the fuck was Pope doing here?
When there was no answer at the door, Deran tried the door, pushing it open and wandering in carelessly. J hovered outside on the porch - Pope already didnât like him, and if he was as crazy as heâs heard, heâs not gonna risk anything. That was his thought process at the beginning anyway.
He was picking at the peeling white paint on the porch fence when there was a loud bang from the back of the house. J, always too curious for his own good, made his way around, treading as quietly as he could manage through the overgrown plants.
As soon as he rounded the corner, he was met with the barrel of a rifle.
His uncle wasnât the one holding it, and he didnât know whether to be relieved or shit scared of that fact, slowly raising his hands as the blond glared at him. He was short, if it wasnât for the gun J probably could take him, but even from the distance between them, a fierceness was visible in his eyes.
They stood there in silence, J too scared to call out, not willing to risk it around a stranger that could well be trigger happy, and the man stoic and unblinking. Terrifying.
For a brief moment, J wondered if Pope was even still alive.
That thought was quickly dispelled as he emerged from a shed just off to the side of the house, brows furrowing at the sight before him.
For a moment, J wondered if this is the way it ends. If his uncleâs distrust meant he would let his strange friend kill him. If he was just gonna be another victim of his family.
But then he moved to the man, gravelly voice telling him, âitâs okay, itâs my nephew.â The weapon was lowered soon after, and Pope, with a kiss to the strangers forehead, pulled it from his hands easily, lowering it to lean against the house wall.
âDennis, this is J, Juliaâs kid. J, this is Dennis - my husband.â
Pope being scared of spiders while dennis isn't because hes a farm boy. Dennis picks the spider up very gently and proceeds to chase pope with the spider.
Dog hybrid dennis chewing on a plastic water bottle for a while and losing track of time. By the time he gets called for something he is completely soaked his own drool and the ER doesn't stop talking about it for like three months.
Robby and Jack take it as a sign to get him actual chew toys and he has to hide them from Trinity in (the unfounded) fear of her taking them.
His brothers used to take his stuff often without telling him, his possessiveness only got worse after he was homeless. He is okay with sharing with his favorite people but when he feels people are taking things from him is when he freaks out.
Not growling or biting but taking the rest of his remaining items and placing them under his bed with him, guarding them silently until the item gets returned. Or if something is taken from him while he is working, he doesn't say anything instead going to the staff room and shoving himself under the sink in the cabinet in his animal form letting out the most heartbreaking cries until Robby or Jack (the rare occasion he is there) are able to lure him out with the promise of treats and cuddles.
The first few times he went missing made everyone panic something had happened to him, but Langdon was the first to hear him from under the sink. Thinking he was stuck he tried to pull him out, and it only made the puppy start yelping and retreating further into the cabinet. Out of his element he went to get Robby who had to spend thirty minutes on the floor (his back screaming at him the whole time) trying to bribe the resident out. Trinity who borrowed his favorite pen from his locker without telling him gave the pen to Robby who presented it as tribute.
The chain link gate rattled as people came and wentâbut no one anticipated a Cody to come strolling in, dressed in a pair of hot pink swim shorts with a pattern of rubber ducks. Dennis said it would make him, âmore inviting to the public eye, babe.â He was beginning to doubt that.
Mothers lounging on their sun chairs began to hurriedly beckon their children over as teenagers just turned their backs and congregated at the deep end of the pool. Even the lifeguard took to quizzically glancing towards him.
No one would be more confused as to why Pope Cody showed up to a communal pool on a blistering Thursday afternoonâuntil Dennis trotted in behind him.
Holding a noodle that engulfed him twice over, the tension in the air eased just a fraction.
âDrew get your ass over here so I can put sunscreen on youâand don't argue. I don't want you looking like a lobster again.â
Huffing through the whole ordeal, onlookers stared in amazement. Here was Pope Cody, someone who was known to easily control the fate of most people's lives, being subjected to the lovingly smother of sun protection, eyes watering when the aerosol spray attacked his face.
By the time both of them were satisfactorily slicked up by Dennisâ standards, Pope immediately beelined to the water, slipping in while Dennis took his time pulling out a well-cracked paperback and a pair of sunglasses, lazily lounging to his heart's content.
Most realized there was no potential threatâexcept for the eerily silent dips Andrew took off the diving board. He looked up to Dennis for approval, only to receive a thumbs up while flipping a page. It's good enough for him.
As Dennis reaches a stopping point, he glances up to find Andrew face down, floating like a starfish. No one else seems to notice, and really it wouldn't be abnormal for him to do such silly things, but the absence of bubbles that should be appearing at the surface send a chill through him.
The shock of cold water greets him as he paddles over the Drew, laboriously flipping his battered body and being met with blue orbs staring at him in wonderment.
âSo strong,â Andrew gurgles out, as he's pushed under the water.
âStupid mutt,â Dennis hisses. âThought you'd drowned.â
But he knows Pope is too in love with him to ever do such a thing, as the older man eyes the droplets of water rolling down his tanned stomach while making his way back to the lounger.
Half an hour later, Dennis is flipping to lay on his stomach, foregoing his book to doze off to the rhythm of splashing.
The burn doesn't feel half as bad when his boyfriend is generously using up a quarter of the bottle of aloe for unintended purposes.
When Pope started as a janitor at PTMC, a lot of the staff made it very clear just how attractive they found him.
Princess made a point of finding at least one thing per shift she absolutely needed to be tidied by him. Leaning over him to make sure it got clean, bracing herself on his thick bicep, batting her eyes and purring in his ear about how his partner must love how handy he is, and oh! you donât have a partner? I'm sure I could fix that...
He'd thought they would all be put off by his, well⊠everything. But that didn't seem to be the case. No matter how gruff and clipped he was with them, they still sought him out, leaned in too close, eyed him up and down, made it clear he was their eye candy for shift.
It doesnât bother him as much as it probably should. Sure itâs uncomfortable and makes him blush, but no one does more than make vague innuendo; flirting while they lightly grope his arms. Itâs certainly not the worst heâs had to put up with for a job. Not even the worst heâs put up with for far less than that. Even if it reminds him a little too much of how Smurf used to handle him.
He wonders if maybe itâs just the way the ER works. Heâs certainly seen his brother flirt with just about anything that breathes in this place. But he doesnât really understand it, flirting means intention, it means they want something from you, it means the promise of more. So he doesnât flirt back, hating the idea of someone wanting to collect on that promise.Â
But the people around here seem to flirt with each other just to pass the time.Â
Well, most of them. There were some exceptions.
Dr. Whitaker, for one.
Looking at him for the first time, Andrew was reminded so much of the homeless kids back home. The ones who would come half starved to his lot using his half-pipe, needing somewhere to escape to.
Mostly he finds the doctor a little desperate for approval, desperate to show his worth, wide eyed at any sign of praise thrown his way.
The kind of guy Smurf would have chewed up and spit out in a heartbeat.Â
Though heâd learned early on not to be fooled by the kids' appearance.Â
Andrew had been about five seconds away from getting fired when Dennis had saved him.Â
One of the surgeons had been down. The beefy gelled one called some stupid nickname; which the guy actually looked douchey enough to take pride in.
The guyâd nearly run headfirst into Andrew while he was taking out the last of the carnage from trauma two. Tearing into him about getting in the way of the people who actually mattered around here.Â
And Pope's ears had started ringing, vision narrowed down to the curl of the surgeon's lip.Â
Clenching his fists around the waste bin in his hands till it creaked, ready to snap in half. Glaring murder at the man that, in his old life, he could have taken care of in a heartbeat.Â
But he was in Pittsburgh, trying to put his past behind him and be a better man, trying to atone. Trying to make up for each unforgivable thing he's done. Done because the only thing his hands are- were capable of was violence.
So he counted to ten in his head, like Jack had taught him. Tried to breathe through the rage burning in his stomach.
And when he got to six and the man sneered, âChrist, what are you dumb and blind? I know picking up garbage doesnât take a genius, but I thought theyâd at least hire someone who knew how to talk.â Andrew had been about five seconds away from putting his fist straight through the guy's head, and from the subsequent firing that would have led to.
But just as he was about to make that a reality, prying his hand off the bin, fist clenching till his bones creaked.
The dirty blond doctor, a good fifty pounds lighter than either of them, stormed up. Furious as he crossed his arms, glaring up at the muscled surgeon, âDr. Park, I didnât realise you had time in your busy schedule to harass our hard working coworkers. Maybe I should let trauma one know youâre gonna be delayed because you need to get one last insult in?â
All Pope could do was stare in wonder. Barely paying attention as the surgeon stomped off, muttering some threat under his breath that Pope filled away for later. In case he needed to visit the surgeon outside of work hours to make sure this kid never saw the consequences of standing up for Andrew.
His throat locked up as the guy turned to him, rubbing the back of his neck and looking a little embarrassed by the whole outburst, âSorry, I swear itâs just the ortho department thatâs set on hiring assholes, the rest of us arenât that bad.â
Heâd blinked, trying to puzzle the kid out. Trying to figure out what could have been in it for him. Why he would do something like that for Andrew.
But the guy didnât seem put off, smiling up at Andrew while he introduced himself and let Pope know heâd had his own run inâs with Dr. Park, conspiratorially adding, "They may call him shark, but he doesn't bite, donât let him intimidate you.â
And the thought of anyone intimidating Andrew was laughable. But he flushed warm at the idea that Dennis thought he might need defending, that Dennis was ready to jump in to do that for him. For someone heâd barely exchanged more than two words with.
From that moment on Andrew started to keep an eye out for Dr. Whitaker.Â
He told himself it was just because he didn't like feeling indebted to the little blond. That Andrew was just looking for an opportunity to pay him back, to even the score.Â
But there might have been something about the way Dennis treated Pope like a normal human being, that influenced him. Something deep down that liked that Dennis didnât see him as just his body, just his muscles and freckles and looks.
Popewhit where Dennis is thinking about getting a tattoo..
Trinity just got another one, and it was on a rare shared day off so they went together, got brunch, then walked into the tattoo shop. Itâs way more inviting than heâd anticipated, the little stalls are decorated, Trinâs artist has purple hair and purple crocs with Kuromi jibbitz, a smile accentuated by a set of silver snake bite piercings.
Sheâs very friendly and answers the few timid questions Dennis manages to stammer out.
Of course Trin makes fun of him afterwards, his midwestern politeness, his sudden interest in ink. Her voice goes sing-songy when she asks if this has anything to do with impressing his bad boy boyfriend.
Later, over pizza and cheap wine she gets a little more serious, checks in and makes sure Dennis isnât feeling pressured by anyone to do something out of his comfort zone. She cautions him about changing himself for other people, and then punches him hard in the shoulder and calls him a wide eyed turbo loser mega dweeb. It warms his heart nonetheless.
A couple nights later heâs over at Popeâs for dinner and he mentions maybe.. possibly.. thinking about wanting some ink. For a brief moment Pope is completely silent across the small dinner table. Heâs worried that his boyfriend hates the idea, wouldnât approve, thinks it would look bad.
Meanwhile Pope has two dueling thoughts, one is for Dennisâs safety. Pope had grown up around guys doing tats in filthy living rooms, in grimy shops, in prison bathroom stalls. He begins to spiral, thinking about the risk of infection, dirty needles, unsanitised hands. Heâd find Dennis beautiful no matter what, thatâs his baby, his angel, his reason for living. Still, the idea of blown out lines, possible infected work that would mar his boyfriendâs skin, hurt him, make him sad.
The other thing that is lingering in the back of his mind, one he doesnât want to unpack, is a sort of jealousy. Dennis has truly moved mountains when it comes to accepting Pope as he is. His compulsions, his need for order, his lack of healthy coping mechanisms. It always felt like a goddamn miracle that heâd found someone who not only saw him for him, but was enthusiastic about all his little quirks, patient for his meltdowns, who wanted to understand him instead of punish him. Some days he thinks heâs asking too much, heâs too much of a burden rather than a boyfriend, but Dennis assures him every time that Pope is good, heâs allowed to have feelings, to just exist without expectation.
He struggles with putting it into words as he finds his voice again, gripping his glass hard enough to worry his boyfriend. He thinks Dennis would look so beautiful with anything he chooses to put on his body. Itâs the idea of something else plunging needles into his boyâs skin, possibly for hours, maybe just on his arm, but possibly on his thigh, his lower back.. he knows itâs possessive and weird, but itâs making his blood burn and go south. Itâs a different type of trust, of intimacy, he knows that, but nobody else can touch his Den like that, can make him bleed and leave pretty marks on his skin, nobody but Pope.
Itâs something in the way his jaw tenses that makes Dennis get up and round the table. He tilts his head, lightly touches his boyfriendâs shoulder, slides into his lap easily, and Pope feels better for it. Dennisâs fingers combing through his hair, his cheek against the other manâs chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Itâs moments like these that makes Pope wish he could live in his loverâs skin. Be the blood keeping his heart pumping, the ribs that keep it safe, the fascia that blankets it all.
âCome back to me, Andy.â
He likes that Dennis calls him that, sometimes Andrew, it makes him feel like a different man, a better man.
He must have been too in his head, he feels sleepy. Dennis is looking down at him with such warm eyes, he smiles when Pope looks back at him with some lucidity.
âThere he is, welcome back. You okay, baby?â
Pope nods, âSorry, mâoverthinkinâ again, I know.â
Dennis kisses his forehead, murmurs into his curls that itâs okay, and can he explain what made him blink out like that.
Through gritted teeth and mainly avoiding eye contact, Pope explains his disproportionate envy. His hands are anchored on Dennisâs hips, keeping him firmly in his lap, face going red as he confesses this frustration, only vaguely aware of the way heâs pulling the smaller man against his still hard cock, essentially grinding against him in the little sleep shorts heâd put on after his shower while Pope was cooking.
Heâs about to apologize, when he sees the gleam in those pretty blue eyes. A soft and slow kiss almost makes him feel drunk with warmth and want.
âDen..â he barely recognizes his voice, itâs so garbled and faint.
â Keep your hands right where they are Andy, baby..â
It feels like it takes all his energy to keep his eyes open and watch as Dennis shimmies out of his tiny shorts to reveal one of the thongs he likes to leave at Popeâs apartment, the ones Pope loves to pull off with his teeth, the ones heâs bought so many of because he likes to take his pocket knife and cut the skimpy lace waistband and listen to his boyfriend moan at how much the older man wanted him.
His hands squeeze Dennisâs hips, once, twice, three times as the blonde grinds down against his straining jeans.
A brief rustling of fabric sees Dennisâs oversized crop top off and on the floor.
Two fingers tap Popeâs cheek, he opens up without a second thought, groans as they move in and out of his mouth.
âCan I tell you what I was thinking of getting?â
Pope hums something to the affirmative and Dennis leans back against the table, his boyfriendâs hands keeping him safe from falling out of his lap and onto his ass.
He looks gorgeous, posed like a reclining, nearly naked angel. His mouth is left empty as he watches two spit soaked fingers trail teasingly down his boyâs own throat to his left nipple.
âI was thinking about getting your name right over my heart.â
âFuck..â the older man groans, rutting pathetically, trying to get any sort of friction, his fingers are like a vice on his lovers sides.
âBut that wouldnât be enough..â
Those two fingers creep further down, under the panties and into Dennisâs waiting and already wet cunt.
The sounds are obscene, between squelch of his lovers fingers fucking in and out, the little accompanying moans, to Popeâs whimpers and half voiced pleas.
âWhat would be enough, Denny?â
âMmm, take your pants off and maybe Iâll tell you.â
As if he was weightless, Pope lifts Dennis up onto the table, and gets his jeans and briefs quickly off and kicked to the side, and a second later Dennis is fucking his fingers in and out of his partnerâs mouth as big, calloused hands yank him off the table and heâs carried to the bed.
Dennis doesnât even bother taking off his last article of clothing, just moves them to the side while sinking down onto the other manâs cock.
âGoooddamn..â
Pope wishes he could take a picture.. the blondâs head tipped back, his chest flushed, his voice so fucked out already.
âSo wet nâ tight, feels so good sweetheart.â
He feels a clench of approval as Dennis leans forward and Pope squeezes his hands around his hips against, he starts thrusting in and out of the slick and hot cunt as Dennis finds a rhythm.
âJust like that baby, fuck, you fill me up so good Andy, can you give me more, I need more!â
âAnything you want, angel face, anything for you, always.â
Pope was already on the verge of making a mess at the table, but the thing that pushes him over the edge isnât the fevered kiss Dennis leans down to give him, or the way his lovers body spasms around his cock as he fucks Dennis through his orgasm.
No, itâs the syrupy, reverent way his boy says, âI wanna get your fingerprints tattooed, right where they are right now, where you grab my hips when you kiss me.. ând when you fuck me.â
Pope thinks he might pass out when he hears that.. his fingerprints forever worn by Dennis, proof positive that he belongs to Pope. Underneath his clothes always and forever.
After he cleans up his boyfriend by eating him out and wiping him down with a warm washcloth, he kisses the bruises his fingertips left and gets so hard that Dennis blows him before theyâre both thoroughly exhausted.
âIâll pay for it.. the tattoo.â
âYou know you canât touch it until it heals, right.â
Pope sighs.. grumbles out an annoyed âDonât remind me.â Heâd been trying not to think about that pesky little detail.
He gets a kiss on his cheek in return for his woes, followed by a little yawn.
âI donât think weâd both survive if I wanted to get my nipples pierced.â
His cock twitches in a valiant effort to start something off the back of that.
âYouâre gonna kill me, Den.â
The last thing he hears is the man draped across his chest murmuring something about how good Andy would look tied up.
trinity who reasons robby is just like any dirty old man after all and dennis can just exaggerate the innocent/shy act around him to get in his pants
dennis is offended bc dr. robby is better than this (right?), but all the same, during a night out with the pitt crew, heâs a little bit more pouty, looks up at robby with wide eyes, puts a bit of a whine in his voice when he says dr. robby, asks him for help with basically everything
and it works so well. robby is putty in his hands, happy to do anything dennis tells him too. dennis doesnât know if he should be disappointed on turned on
titsay
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
gamechangershow
