Bruised, Not Broken - andrew βpopeβ cody x reader
Pairings: andrew βpopeβ cody x reader
Summary: Baz canβt keep his mouth shut about you or any chance he gets to bully Pope. When things escalate, Pope gets physical & finds you upset.
Warnings: fighting, blood, explicit language, medical inaccuracies, alcohol, its animal kingdom iykyk, toxic family, emotional abuse, hurt/comfort, fluff, happy ending.
Word Count: 2k+
Authorβs Note: Itβs finally here !! Iβm so excited to give you all my first ever Pope fic !! <3
The Drop was loud, louder than it usually was on a Friday night. Some surfing event brought in way more than just the regulars. Youβd offered to help Deran run the bar, cutting up limes, getting new glasses, cleaning off tables. You could use the money.
It finally slowed down closer to midnight, a few regulars straggling behind. Deran had let you off, but with the rest of the Cody brothers around, you decided to stick around too.
Andrew had been eying you all night. It wasnβt anything new. Your boyfriend was protective, tracking your movement and any other guy in the bar that got too close or didnβt pass whatever checklist he had in his head. Heβd sit at the bar or at a table in the cornerβglass of beer pulled up to his lipsβeyes looking out over the rim as they followed you.
βJesus manβ, Craig says beside him, βYouβre eying her like sheβs meat.β
Pope doesnβt answer, just a rough scoff.
βLet him alone, manβ, Deran says, swiping the glass from in front Craig.
J sat next to them, watching their conversation, eyes flicking to you briefly. He had that younger brother protective relationship with you. Heβd stare people down like Pope did, just not as intensely.
βMβjust keeping an eye on herβ, Pope finally says, setting his glass down and adjusting himself to sit up straighter.
Heβs got his legs wide like he always does, one arm thrown over the back cushion of the boothβhis head turned slightly forward as he watched you reach for another glassβthis time for yourself and not a customer.
βWhereβs she gonna go man?β, Baz laughs, signaling to Deran he wants a refill.
βNot with you man, thatβs for sureβ, Craigβs booming laugh echoes next.
That gets the smallest smile from Pope.
βNah, not my typeβ. Baz says, rolling his neck, βShe only likes crazy guys. Ainβt that right, Pope?β Heβs patting him on the chest. Like he thinks itβs a compliment or a win on his part.
Popeβs jaw ticks before tightening, but he doesnβt answer.
βBazβ, Deran cuts in.
But Baz keeps going;
βI mean how fucked in the head do you think she has to be to get with Pope?β
Popeβs seething inside. He doesnβt even care about the comments towards him, no; he was used to that. But the comments towards you? Those had his blood boiling.
βShut upβ, Pope grits, still not looking towards his brother.
He just raises his glass again, taking a longer swig.
βAw whatβs the matter Popey? Canβt take a little criticism?β, Baz is still laughing; βWe all know your headβs not right.β
Popeβs finger taps against the edge of the glass, still watching you move around the bar. Eyes not wavering or blinkingβonly his jaw tightening the longer Baz speaks.
βSeriously man, stop itβ, Deran warns.
Pope can see Craigβs nod of agreement from the corner of his eye. By now J had sensed the tension building and had left, heading towards the courtyard behind the bar.
βSeriously guys? I know that chickβs gotta be freaky as hell. Fucking Pope, must be some kind of messed up with a sick ass kink to-β
The sound of glass shattering echoes through the bar, Popeβs footsteps as he stands following quickly behind.
βI said shut up!β, Pope shouts, fists clenched and chest heaving.
You spin around, eyes wide at the sudden noise.
Your heart clenches as tight as Popeβs fist when you see him. His jaw so tight his teeth might break. Face red and angry.
You donβt hear what Baz says next, but it hits Pope hard. Heβs across the room in two easy strides, gripping Baz by the collar of his shirt and slamming him into a wall behind them with a loud and echoing thud. The thought of the wall cracking flickers through your mind briefly. But itβs gone just as fast as it came when you see Pope raising his fist.
The bar had fallen completely silent other than the scuffle of feet as Pope went at Baz, the sound of his fist connecting with his face. Baz stumbled, but was swinging right back. It didnβt take long for a swing to connect with Popeβs face. You winced at the sound.
Craig and Deranβs shouting echoed around you as they tried to pull the two men off of each other, fists still swinging and words flying that you couldnβt make out. Pope had Baz by the shirt collar now, cheeks already red and starting to bruise.
βAndy! Stop it!β
Your words fell on deaf ears, Pope was too angry to hear anything besides the rage pumping through his body. Baz looked almost afraid for a moment as Pope raised his fist again; lip swollen and bloodyβeyes wide to match. You were sure you saw a sudden realization that his words may have gone too far this time flicker through his eyes. If it were any other situation, you wouldβve been smug about Baz finally getting what he deserved.
But not here in public, not now where everyone could see, where anyone could show up; especially police.
βAndrew!β, Your voice was more stern now, louder, dripping with plea.
Finally his movements stuttered, head whipping around and eyes flickering around until they met yours. You could see him soften immediately.
He saw the look on your face, the tears threatening to spill out of fear, out of anger. You didnβt know which you felt more of in that moment.
βPut him down!β, You said, trying to keep your voice steady.
You didnβt think it worked.
Still, Pope dropped his grip on Bazβs shirt, taking a step back with his eyes still trained on you.
βFucking psychoβ, Baz spit blood, wiping at his mouthβlooking at his hand as he pulled it back.
Popeβs head swung around, but Deran stopped him.
βPope! Cmon man, thatβs enough!β
βNo! He doesnβt get to talk like that! He said-β
βI know what he said!β, Deran says back, dropping his hand from Popeβs chest; βI know what he said man. But fighting isnβt gonna fix it.β
You watch as Pope finally seems to come back down to where he is, fists opening and closing at his sides, jaw crooked and ticking as he thinks. He lets out a huff through his nose before shaking his head, letting his gaze find you again.
But as he steps forward, you take a step back.
For a moment he falters, unsure if itβs anger or fear in your eyes. Fear that he caused you. Fear of him. The sound of his heart shattering was almost audible in the small bar.
βIβm going to pick up Lena to drop her off at her friendβs house, then iβm going homeβ, You say it to the entire room, one hand still up in slight defense in front of you as you bring them both to your chest, throwing down the rag in your hands.
βLet me drive you-β
βNo.β
You move past the bar, only stopping when you hear Craigβs voice.
βPope needs patched up-β
βPope can clearly take care of himself.β
Popeβs entire world shattered. You never called him Pope once the entire time youβve known him. But now here it was, that godforsaken nickname that haunted him, leaving your lips. The last place he ever wanted it to be.
You hadnβt heard from Pope the rest of the night. Half of you expected him to try and call, maybe send a text, but you got nothing. The only mention of him came from Lena as you pulled into a spot outside her friendβs house.
βWhereβs Uncle Pope?β, She asked softly.
Your heart clenched.
βHeβs with Deran and Craig, youβll see him when we pick you up.β
βPromise?β, The little girl holds out her pinky to you.
You feel yourself soften, a small smile tugging at your lips as you offer your pinky in return, closing them around each other; βI promise.β
Satisfied with your response, she reaches for her bag.
βCmon! Letβs go inside!β
Sometime after dropping Lena off you find yourself back at your place, not Bazβs on the water front where you spent most of your time with Pope. Not at Popeβs place either. You texted Deran that Lena wanted Pope to pick her up the next day, letting them know where youβd be. If you didnβt show up at Bazβs, Pope would worry.
Even now mad at him, you couldnβt help but worry.
Across townβPope wasnβt any better. For once he was in his own barely furnished apartment, curled up on the shower floor. The water running way too hot. All he could think of was the look on your face. How scared you seemed. The sound of that name leaving your lips.
Pope.
Cause thatβs all heβd ever be right? The monster that Smurf had so carefully created?
He couldnβt shake it from his mind when he finally stood after what felt like hours, turning off the stream and stepping out of the bathroom. He didnβt bother with clothes, just let the water droplets drip onto the floor as he walked.
He checked his phone, the only thing being from Deran, just passing on the information of where youβd be. Still nothing from you.
Pope ran his hands through his wet hair, pushing it back as he stared out the window at the waves crashing against the shore. Mind too loud. For once, he found himself being pulled toward his bedβletting his body flop against the hardly used mattress. The comforter around him turning slightly damp. He didnβt sleep, no, he was way past a time where heβd be able to do that. Especially without you next to him. He curled back up into a ball, staring blankly ahead, hands under his wet hair as he blinked slowly. Afraid to move and cause damage anywhere else.
In his mind, thatβs what this was; damage. Caused by the monster that didnβt know any better, the monster still somehow run by Smurf, even when heβd distanced himself. He wanted to be better, not just for himself, but for you.
Shit, he really needed you.
His body felt hollow lying alone in the bed, but maybeβif he thought hard enoughβhe could pretend the warmth over his skin was from you being cuddled up next to him, and not the scalding shower heβd just stepped out of.
Somewhere in between spiraling and trying to keep himself sane, Pope fell back into his normal routine of taking Lena to school and picking her up. It became a good distraction for him. Unfortunately for Pope, he found himself unable to hide from her. No, she was one of the few people who could read him just as well as you could.
βWhy are you sad?β, Lena asked him over cereal as they sat at the kitchen counter.
Pope paused mid cereal bite.
βWhat?-Mβnot?β¦Mβnot sadβ, Pope tried.
Lena narrowed her eyes; βYes you are.β
Pope set his spoon back in his bowl, before shaking his head.
βNot sad. Justβ¦thinking.β
Lena resumed eating; βAbout what?β
Pope sighed; βI donβt really know.β
It suddenly dawned on him that he really hadnβt known what he was specifically thinking about over the past few days except you.
βWhereβs Auntie?β
God, that made Popeβs heart clench with a softness and a strain that had become all too familiar lately. You and Lena had become connected at the hip pretty much the moment Pope introduced you.
βI donβt really know that eitherβ, Pope tells her honestly.
It was true, Pope who normally knew where you were through his brothers, the safety app on both your phoneβs, or from a general watchingβhad decided to really give you space. He hadnβt seen you since that night in the bar.
βWhy not?β, Lena kept her questions coming.
βWe had an argument.β
Lena furrowed her brow; ββ¦Is that why youβre sad?β
Pope almost laughed. He rubbed his neck instead.
βYeah, I guess so.β
The little girl shrugged; βSo fix it.β
Pope raised a brow at her bluntness; βI donβt really know how to do that either.β
Lena stared at him seriously; βJust apologize.β
The words left her mouth like it was the most common knowledge on the world; and it was coming from a seven year old.
βYeah?β
βYeahβ, Lena nods, βWorks with me and my
friends.β
As he sat thereβspooning another mouthful of cereal in his mouthβPope decided that maybe it was worth a try.
When Lena was finally asleep that nightβit being a rare occasion when Baz was actually homeβPope found himself sitting outside your house in his Jeep, fingers thrumming against the steering wheel.
His jaw was ticked, tongue in his cheek as he looked at the exterior of your house. The lights inside were on, he could tell it was your living room lamp by the soft yellow glow. Your car was in the driveway, he could see the flicker of the tv through your curtains. Yet he didnβt move.
You were home, he knew that, so why didnβt he move?
He stared at your front door for another hour before he forced himself out of the car with sweaty palms and a racing heart. He thought about just sitting on your doorstep, maybe youβd find him eventually, but he didnβt want to draw any outside attention.
Your welcome mat was familiar under his feet, the pale green of your door under his hovering hand stared back at him. He swallowed hard before finally, finally forcing his knuckles to rap softly against the door.
He could hear you shuffling around inside as he squeezed his eyes shut, your footsteps approaching and for once, he was nervousβno, he was scared out of his mind.
When you finally opened the door his breath hitched at the sight of you; braid down your back that would no doubt lead to the beachy waves he loved when you took it down, a pair of shorts and oh?βone of his t-shirts.
Even now, when you were supposed to be mad at him, you still wore his shirt.
You almost wince at the sight of him; face and nose still purple and bruised around his eye and across his cheek. A few small cuts from Bazβs ring. Mostly healed, but still noticeableβstill something you desperately wished you could take away.
βAndrew?β, You asked softly, not expecting him to be on your front doorstep.
The minute his name left your lips Pope broke, hot tears heβd tried to push back were suddenly on his cheeks, and he found himself unable to stop them.
After a moment of stunned silence you pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him and leading him to the couch. He leaned instinctively into you almost immediatelyβhead resting against your opposite shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him. A choked sigh slipping from his lips when your fingers came up to card through his curls.
βIβm so sorry-β, He choked out between sobs.
You were still shocked, sure youβd seen him cry before, but never as big as this.
βHey, hey. Shhβ, You say softly, βItβs ok, baby.β
But he was already shaking his head.
βItβs not ok!β, He shoves his head into your neck; βI made you upsetβ¦I-scared you.β
You cup both of his cheeks with your handsβpulling his head up so heβs looking at youβthumbs rubbing stray tears away from his red and puffy cheeks.
βWasnβt scared of youβ, You tell him, shaking your head; βI was scared for you.β
Pope furrows his eyebrows.
βAndy, I called your name twice that night before you even looked at meβ¦.I was just, upset.β
His eyes flick down to his lapβwhereβs heβs picking at the skin around his nailsβto behind you, until heβs finally looking at you again.
βMβsorryβ¦β, He whispers; βI just, I was so mad. At the things Baz was saying about us, about you.β
Itβs your turn to furrow your eyebrows.
βWhat did he say?β
Pope looks away from you, but you guide him back.
βAndrew, what did he say?β
Pope inhales deeply, blinking a few times before he answers.
βThat youβre probably messed up in the head to be with someone as fucked up as meβ¦that you probably have some psycho kinkβ¦β
You immediately shake your head.
βBaby, youβre not fucked up, I promise.β
He searches your face, looking for any sign of doubt or dishonesty; he finds none.
βAnd fuck Baz, ok? Heβs the one whoβs fucked up. The stick in his ass is so big it might as well be a treeβ, You huff.
Popeβs lips turn up at that, a small sound of air leaving his noseβalmost a laugh.
βBaby, I promise everything he said is not trueβ, You continue, fingers running through his curls again; βYouβve been through a lot, yeah. But youβre not fucked up.β
You press a kiss to his knuckles, still a little swollen from connecting with Bazβs stupid face.
βBruisedβ¦not broken.β
Thatβs what gets Pope to let himself finally smile, knowing you meant him and not his fist.
βDoes it hurt?β, You ask softly, turning his hand over in your palm; βOr your cheek? Your nose?β
He shakes his head; βNothing I havenβt dealt with before.β
You donβt know whether your heart should soften or hurt inside at that.
βCmereβ, You pull him forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
He sighs immediately, a weight on his shoulders lifting as his body melts into you and the couch. Feeling like he could cry again just from the relief of finally having you back in his arms.
βI love you so much, Andrew.β
Your thumb rubs soothing circles on his cheek, his eyes flicking across your face again like heβs memorizing it all over again.
βI love you too.β
He keeps repeating those three words in his head and out loud against your skin until he falls asleep that night; your hands still in his hair and his body snuggled into you.
