i want you to stay
pairing: pope cody x bambi!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: pope wishes he was your favorite cody brother. content warnings: fem!reader, mention of how pope gets mistreated by everyone else in his life, mention of drugs + alcohol, they share a bed, too many mentions of smurf, they're kind of loneliest guy in the world x loneliest girl in the world a/n: hai my lovelies! this is me introducing bambi reader to you!!!! the link leads to a pinterest board, which i'm still working on, but i hope you like her as much as i do. gif credits to @wesandresons !! <3 wc: 4.4k
No one was exactly sure why you were friends with Craig. Not even Craig, but he liked you. And though he tried his best to get you into his bed, it never worked. And god, he tried. Annoyingly so. Your resolve never wavered, standing with not being interested in Craig whatsoever.
At every party he threw, you were the girl hiding in the living room or in the kitchen. Anywhere where strange, drunk and high, people couldn't talk to you. It was almost impossible to find you, yet you also seemed to never go home, instead deciding to remain at the loud party surrounded by people you didn't like.
It was strange for Pope to watch you, know that you feel the same things he did, but do nothing.
You had every right to disappear, leave this haunted house, go back to your own.
Instead, he'd find you in the living room, remote in hand. You'd usually shoot him a sweet, knowing smile, aware that he was feeling just as uneasy as you did. Not fond of any loud noise, or drunk people. And he wished he had the courage to ask you if you wanted to leave the house with him, if you wanted to just drive around, sit at the beach and watch the waves.
But he'd always turn on his heels and go back outside and hate himself for it.
If he asked you to sit with him, you probably wouldn't even bother him, wouldn't try and force him to drink alcohol or get high like everyone else. You probably wouldn't even talk to him, knowing he liked his silence. He always regretted not asking you the moment the smell of beer hit his nose, and the moment water splashed onto his clothes, while people laughed around him. It made him feel lonely and different.
Still, he couldn't figure out why you were always at their house. Smurf wasn't good company, obviously, though she tolerated you just barely. Mostly because you kept to yourself. She knew you wouldn't blab to anyone about the Cody's jobs or that you never intended on going against her.
You were just there.
And no one complained, because you were like a fresh breath of air. You smiled and within two minutes you'd have J smiling too. You stayed around a lot, but never for too many days. If you went over, you were there for a long time, but the moment you disappeared, you were gone.
There seemed to be no specific reason for it. You seemed to be just overly concerned that you were being too much and bothering people. He knew you were a lonely girl, but he was also aware that your fear of being too much overpowered your grave sense of loneliness that you were never able to hide.
It was a bad habit of yours, always apologizing, even for existing seemingly. Craig had shot you numerous perplexed looks, never having heard this many sorry come from one person ever. But Pope knew he liked it, enjoying the fact that someone saw him as important enough to feel bad for him, that he was worthy enough to receive the sweetest girl's ever apologies.
Pope on the other hand, hated it. He hated the word sorry, and he especially hated it coming from you.
Whenever you apologized, whether it was accidentally brushing his arm while you were in the kitchen, or speaking, what you thought was, for too long, Pope would shut you down. And he'd always do it in a cold tone, knowing that was the most effective way to stop you completely from ever uttering that word around him again.
He knew his voice would startle you, not expecting Pope who was always kind to you, to speak to you that way.
His plan worked, and you started biting your lip hard the moment the word slipped out. You'd look up panicked, and that would usually be enough for him. He'd shot you a dry look, bored even. And you'd shake your head and mumble, 'I take that back.' and he'd drop the look immediately, resorting to his normal soft look that he always wore around you.
The word didn't completely disappear from your vocabulary, but now you uttered it almost never when he was around, and it made Pope feel less worried about being in your presence.
Everyone adored you and sometimes he hated it. It worried him that everyone felt the same adoration he did for you, that somehow you'd never pay attention to him. Given his brothers were much better at being affectionate, it made him feel like he was behind. Like it was a competition to be your favorite brother, and he was last, not even having started the run, because he didn't know how to. That the moment Craig brought you into the house and introduced you, a starter pistol went off, and everyone started running.
It didn't stop him from seeking you out all the time. Whenever the question 'Where's Pope? popped up, the answer was the same. With you. Always with you.
Mostly, because you followed him around. When he'd reject your offers to sit with you on the couch at parties, you'd get up and follow him.
There the two of you would stand somewhere and observe the party together, both with the same repulsed expression. For him, it was the dirt and the carelessness, for you it was the loudness of it all.
When you caught Pope in front of a dark TV, staring at himself in the reflection, you'd tap his shoulder softly. Just two taps, never wanting to overwhelm him. "My car's making weird sounds," you'd say softly, and he'd get up and help you.
Sometimes you'd tell him something was broken in your home, and he'd drive to your place without a word. You'd always try to drag out his stay, offering him cookies (because you were absolutely terrible at cooking) or offering sodas.
Sometimes, he'd catch you looking around the room nervously, looking for new problems he could fix. So he'd grumble out a "Sink sounded weird earlier," and you'd smile so wide, it was like the sun came out from behind the clouds.
Things like this made him doubt everything.
Maybe you didn't dislike him as much as he thought, maybe he did have the potential to be your favorite brother.
But then he'd watch you light up when Deran would tell you he finally figured out how to make your favorite mocktail. (Obviously, you never had to pay a cent. If not for Deran shaking his head as you handed him money, then it was Pope who paid for everything you ate and drank.)
Even Craig offered to teach you how to surf. The shy expression you always wore around Pope would disappear and your smile would be so radiant Pope wouldn't be able to look away, never having gotten the privilege to see such an open expression from you.
Things like these made Pope doubt everything, consider that maybe the shy expression was just your uncomfortable one, that when you needed help at home, it was simply because you needed help and nothing else.
He knew Deran and Craig were absolutely terrible at fixing things, and he feared that, just like everyone else, you too viewed him as a tool, something to use and throw away. That he was just waiting for the throw-away part, and that it was coming sooner or later.
But he couldn't help but have all his worries vanish into thin air, whenever you decided to grace him with your big thankful eyes and an even wider, dazzling smile.
The first time he felt like too much for you, so much he wanted to run away, was when you joined him in the garage.
You softly knocked against the doorway. "Andrew?" you always said his name so sweetly, it made him want to record it and listen to it like a lullaby until he fell asleep, which didn't happen much these days.
He looked up at you. "You're awake." He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. It was pitch dark outside, and he figured you were asleep in the living room.
You shook your head. "Couldn't sleep." you smiled softly, your eyes telling him to please drop it. He did, turning his head back to what he was working on.
You stepped closer, and he could smell the perfume that he loved so much. Before he knew it, you were towering over him, lightly brushing up against his shoulder. "What are you working on?" you titled your head, staring down at whatever it was you were looking at.
"Part of the car. Stopped working last night," he replied in a low voice, not raising his head, even though he really really wanted to see your pretty face.
You glanced around, spotted what you needed and sat down. You pulled the chair closer to him, setting your elbows on the table in the process. "Mind if I watch you?"
Pope glanced at you, and his eyes darted all over your face, trying to gauge what exactly the point here was. You seemed sincere, so he hummed.
You laid your cheek in your palm and watched him. Your big eyes stared at his hands with so much interest, they started to tremble a bit.
The silence between you was filled with the sound of an owl and the ticking of a broken clock somewhere in the garage.
Five minutes must've passed by now and Pope had never understood until now how silence could be nice even with someone else in it. It wasn't like he couldn't feel your presence. No. He knew you were here, but he enjoyed it. More than enjoy, he craved it. He wanted to stay in this little room forever, hearing nothing but your soft breaths and the sound of you tapping your foot restlessly on the floor.
He didn't hate the silence like when he did with Smurf, who sat with him in silence at breakfast and watched him eat.
No, he loved the feeling of your soft eyes watching him work, knowing he was good at what he did, and that you were admiring him.
"You're not tired?" you asked after a while, careful not to be too loud, not wanting to disturb his work.
"No." When Pope looked up, he met your eyes immediately, like you'd been watching his face rather than his eyes, and your lips lifted into a flustered smile.
Embarrassed, like you'd been caught. He wasn't sure what it was, but he almost felt the need to gloat about it. Sweetest girl he knew was caught staring at him.
Stupid.
He looked away again, almost in shame, because how dare he think that you were admiring him. You were sleepy and he was awake. That's it. Had Craig been out here, you probably would've joined him too. He was nothing special.
"S'nice watching you," You brushed a hand over your face, rubbing your eyes tired.
Pope looked up, because surely he'd misheard, but you shot him a sweet smile, soft hair falling over your shoulders as you rubbed your eyes, hard, again.
People couldn't even stand to utter his name, and you were telling him that he was nice to watch. Like his presence was worth acknowledging. Like it was something good, like his presence wasn't to be feared, like he didn't hear the rumors in town about how people feared the thought of him.
Horrible, awful Pope who hit and hurt people, who made a mess of people and things, of everything.
A kind girl like you liked to watch him in the middle of the night doing things that his brothers called weird, made them shake their heads as they looked away in disappointment and shame, wishing they'd had a normal brother, one more like them.
He must've stayed quiet for too long, because you froze. "Sorry, didβdid I say something wrong?" nervously, you toyed with your heart necklace.
"NoβNo you didn't." Pope shook his head quickly, eyes darting back down to his car part. His fingers twitched nervously. "You should try to sleep." And he could sense he'd said the wrong thing, because your eyes widened for a second, and worry overtook your face.
"Ohβright, yeah you're right." Stumbling over your words nervously, you stood up, and Pope regretted it.
He hadn't meant this. He was just trying to tell you that he appreciated your kindness, but surely he wasn't that interesting. "I meantβ it's not healthy to stay awake," he managed out, eyes darting back up to your face and back down. "It's not good for you." he managed out nervously.
You looked down at him, and you stood there for a bit, before sitting back down slowly, understanding he didn't want you to go. "Yeahβ I know." You toyed with a bolt on the table, rolling it in between fingers before you looked back at Pope who was still watching you. "Craig keeps yelling in his room about his video game, and Smurfs still awake by the Pool." You dropped the bolt. "It's distracting."
"You can sleep in my room," Pope said, and given your reaction, it wasn't exactly something you expected him to say. But it made sense to him. "You can't hear Craig in there."
You stared at him, your eyes wide, making them bigger than they already were. "You want me to sleep in your room?"
Pope wasn't sure what was so confusing. It wasn't like his room was bad. Sure, it was a bit empty, but he took care of it, it was clean. He pushed the car part away, getting up from his chair. "I'll get you new bed sheets," and then he just walked out of the garage. You stood in the empty garage, mouth open, before you scrambled to follow him.
To your luck, Smurf was fast asleep, bottles of alcohol next to her, and you hurried to follow Pope. Inside, he led you to his room, grabbing clean bed sheets out of one of the closets in the hallway, before walking into his room.
You stood in the doorway watching Pope fix the bed for you. Were you dreaming? Was Pope actually fixing his bed for you?
You looked down and pinched your skin. "Ouch." you muttered to yourself. Not a dream, officially and definitely not a dream.
Pope turned his head to you. "You need pajamas?" he asked, but you shook your head.
You never took, unless you were outright suffering and Pope's eyes slowly darted down to the goosebumps across your skin, which were visible even with just two night lights on.
You were wearing a simple white lace tank top and California nights weren't exactly known for their heat. Even Smurf outside, was sleeping with at least two blankets. He turned, opened a drawer and grabbed a hoodie. When he handed it to you, you didn't take it.
"Is that yours?"
Pope nodded, almost worried. "IβYou can have one of Deran's if you want."
"Nope, IβI'd like yours." you managed, grabbing the hoodie and letting it swallow you whole. It was warm, and it smelled nice, so very nice. You couldn't help the way your head just lowered a tiny bit, letting yourself smell how nice Pope's scent was.
Pope had already looked away the sight too much, and was now awkwardly staring down at the bed, fingers twitching nervously at his sides. "Okay, haveβ have a good night."
In all of your years of living, you'd never been this bold before. You weren't even sure what overcame you. Your hand reached out, and you grabbed Pope's bicep lightly before he walked past you.
You felt him freeze up, eyes locked onto your hand around his bicep, and you had to resist the urge to squeeze, to test how really hard and warm his bicep was. "Willβ" you bit your lip, already regretting starting the sentence. "Don't you wanna sleep?"
"I have to work." His eyes flickered back down to your soft hands around his bicep.
You had pink polish on with brown polka dots. It was sweet. He'd seen you paint them once, you'd even helped Lena with hers. Lena had been so happy, and hadn't stopped talking about you the entire afternoon after you'd gone home. He had been glad to know that someone else felt about you the way he did.
You dropped your hand, disappointment flickering across your face. Pope's eyes darted around your face, noting how close you were but also how you were still trying to find your words. He waited.
"I'd like you to stay," you phrased it so sweetly, the way you always did, but for the first time you told him what you wanted. There was no if it's okay with you, you don't have to, no it's okay.
No, you straight up wanted something from him and God would he be stupid if he said no to you.
His eyes darted back to the bed and his eyes stayed there for a while, thinking. "I have to turn off the lights in the garage."
"I'll wait here!" You looked like you were about to start bouncing up and down from excitement.
Pope watched you for a second before turning and walking down the hallway, wondering what on earth led him to commit to this.
Meanwhile, you were in disbelief, palm to your mouth, as you muttered. "Oh my god. Oh my god." Oh my god, you were going to die. You glanced at the bed, deciding to get in now, before you were stuck in the awkward moment of having to argue with him about what side to take.
You pushed back Popes clean blue covers, slowly settling down in bed, and god was it was warm and soft. And it smelled nice.
You pulled the hoodie sleeves down over your wrists, nervously squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't believe he'd agreed to this.
Pope walked back slowly, boots thudding on the floor until he stood in the doorway looking at the top of your head. Not to seem like a creep, he didn't linger, quickly stepping in. He could feel your pretty eyes watching him as he grabbed a set of fresh boxers, shirt and a towel.
"Gonna take a shower, won't take long," he said, barely looking at you. The sight was too much for him to handle.
"Okay," you said softly, eyes following him until he was in his bathroom.
You passed the time by opening every drawer of his, checking out what he had in there. Barely anything. You sighed, Pope wasn't much of a talker, so you'd hoped you'd find out more about him in his room.
He wasn't joking when he said he wouldn't take long, because just as you were checking out his bottom drawer, he showed up. You shut the drawer with the loudest bang! possible before scrambling back into a horizontal position, embarrassed.
Pope's eyes darted down to the drawer before lifting to your embarrassed expression. He was more endeared by anything. Any other person and he would've gotten suspicious, but you were toying with his sheets nervously, avoiding his eyes, and he knew you'd just been curious.
He'd caught you walking around the house, staring at every picture more than once. He was more than aware of your curious nature.
He brushed a hand through his curls as he walked to his side of the bed, and you lifted the sheets for him.
You somehow managed to still surprise him with your small sweet gestures. He'd lived his whole life in Oceanside, and with his reputation, people had stopped granting him kindness, even as simple as receiving a thank you.
He felt so endlessly grateful that one person on this earth was able to be kind to him, that maybe he wasn't as evil as he thought, that there was a chance for him. That if someone like you looked at someone like him and thought he was worth it, worth spending your time and sweetness on, he might actually have a chance in life.
He slipped under the sheets, and you dropped them, making the warmth hit him all at once. He liked to sleep on his side looking at the wall, but it felt almost insane to miss out on seeing your pretty face all night, so he stayed on his back, view narrowing to the ceiling.
You, on the other hand, turned to your side, palm under your cheek. "Your bed's soft." You whispered, and he turned his head to you, eyes darting away shyly when he noticed your intense stare. He figured his bed was nice enough, almost relieved it was up to your standards. He'd been worried in the shower that you'd make some excuse, and he'd come out, looking like a wet puppy, to an empty bed.
"What?" he asked after he felt you stare for a little more.
"Your curls are nice," you whispered. "Always wanted to tell you that, but was too scared."
"Of me?" It just slipped out of Pope's mouth. He didn't want to know the answer to that question.
"What? No." Confusion was written all over your face, your lips curling into a frown. "I'm justβ it's a weird thing to say. That's all."
Pope stared at you. Not scared of him. You weren't scared of him. βS'not weird." He held your stare for a while until his nervousness overtook his entire body, leading him to glance away again, eyes focusing back on the white canvas above him.
"Thanks for dinner tonight."
Smurf hadn't been up for it for some reason and Deran or Craig didn't care, so Pope had made food just for you. You hadn't even told asked, and maybe that's why he made it, because he knew you never would.
He turned his head, happy you were giving him an excuse to look at you. "D'you like it?"
"Loved it." you smiled softly. "You could be a professional cook."
Pope's mouth almost lifted into a smile at that, but then you scooted closer, and he froze up. His arm, which had been resting on the side of the bed, almost touching your stomach now. You were so close, he could see how pretty your eyes were up close.
They had always been his favorite part about you. When Craig had first introduced you, Pope knew his brother had warned you about him, told you he was crazy and weird. His brothers did that with everyone they brought to the house, and their friends would always eye him weirdly, and he'd never be given the chance to show them that he was capable of kindness. That he could be as normal as they wanted him to be.
But you, you, had smiled, lifted your hand in a wave and looked at him in a way that no one had looked at him in years. Soft, kind, and open-minded.
He stared at you, and you stared back, and then you slowly lifted your hand.
"Can Iβ?" you whispered softly, and he was startled by the fact that you asked, so he nodded.
People never asked before they touched him. The only touches he received were involuntary ones from Smurf, or punches from his brothers and strangers. Never ones from sweet girls that asked before they settled their hand softly at his temple, toying with one of his curls.
The bottom half of your hand touched his cheekbones, and you brushed over his hair, thumb catching in a curl. He watched you, eyes big, before finally turning to his side, deciding that he'd make it easier for you.
He saw the smile you suppressed, absolutely delighted that he was so open to you touching him.
He took a second to absorb and analyze the expression. His hazel eyes darting all over your face, looking for any lie, that this was just a game to you. That maybe you'll look at him in the morning with pity in your eyes. But your eyes were glowing, and even with his insecurities choking him when he was with you, he could tell that no lie was in your eyes.
"They're wet," he provided you with the most unnecessary information, already wanting to smack himself for pointing out such an obvious thing.
You just hummed, too distracted to be touching his hair to focus on his awkwardness. You looped a curl around a finger, thumb brushing right above his eyebrow.
Your eyebrows were furrowed like you were studying his hair, but he knew you weren't as relaxed as you seemed. Your breath was going quicker, he could feel it against his face. He could smell your perfume, something floral and vanilla and felt the need to press his face into your hair and just stay there.
Your eyes traveled back to his face, and you observed him, before your hands went back down to his bicep. "You can relax," you whispered. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."
Pope stared at you, hazel eyes wide, never once leaving your face. "You have to sleep too."
"I will." Your hand already back in his curls. He let the feeling of your warm hands overtake every other feeling. Every sense of fear, insecurity and worry.
As much as he knew you wanted him to, he couldn't sleep. Whether it was because of his nightmares or because of you being here, he wasn't sure. His eyes continued to track your face, and it didn't take you long before you let your hand drift from his hair to his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheekbone one first and last time, before dropping it back in between you.
Your eyelashes fluttered lightly like a good night to him before you closed your eyes. Pope let himself watch you, let himself feel the phantom feeling of your hands. Your perfume continued to linger, and he wished his room would absorb it forever, that every time he walked in, he'd smell your perfume. He knew his bed would smell like you for at least the next couple of days now, and he hoped so desperately that the next time you came over to the house, you'd sleep in his bed.
Maybe next time he'd be the courageous one and ask you to stay.
