Summary: Pope gets worried when he can’t find you. Very fluff, kinda hurt comfort, slightly suggestive?
Pairing: Andrew “Pope” Cody x male!reader
Note: first like- actual fan fiction so I’m a bit nervous but I think it doesn’t suck monumentally so that’s something. Feedback appreciated <3
You were- not there. Pope noticed it immediately when he didn’t see your shoes by the entrance. The spot under the coat rack where you always put them, lined up neatly, was empty. He looked around the compound, sliding the glass door open to check by the pool. Maybe you had worn flip flops today and just kept them on? It had been unbearably hot today.
When he didn’t find you by the pool, the confusion set in. He had fully expected you to be here. You told him you’d meet him here after your shift at that horrid place some people called a diner. You had agreed on it before he had left you at your house in the morning to run some errands.
Just before he completely spiraled, Craig passed him with a bottle of beer in his hand, heading to one of the too few pool chairs that weren’t almost destroyed or hot from the sun that has been glaring at him the whole day. Pope stopped him. “Have you seen him?”
Craig, of course, immediately knew who Pope was talking about. After all, Pope never got so openly worried about anyone but you. Lovesick fool. “Nah.” Craig shrugs. “Didn’t he have work today or something?” He counters. “That ended hours ago.” Pope deadpans, feeling foolish for even asking Craig of all people about his surroundings. “Don’t know what to tell you man.” Craig shrugs again and continues walking, utterly useless and looking entirely too calm for the situation at hand.
Didn’t he understand that you were gone? So many things could have happened. You were always so reliable, always checking in with him and updating him about your day. He checked his phone, scrolling through his all too few contacts to your name. You were usually quick to respond, so when the call goes to voicemail, his panic level spikes.
Ok, whatever, maybe you were taking a nap, or something came up. That happens. But sleeping in this heat? You already didn’t handle the all too warm weather well. Wouldn’t you wanna be here instead of at your house which did not have air conditioning? (He made a mental note to install one as soon as possible.)
He called you again. Then texted you. No reply. Okay, he could figure this out. He was not going to think about all the horrible ways you could’ve died or gotten injured in the eight ish hours since he last saw you.
Images of the state he found J in after Javi’s crew decided to punish Smurf flash through his head. Okay focus. This is fine. Everything is fine.
He was like a hound following a scent. He drove to your place first, a decently sized house by the beach that you shared with your best friend. When he found neither of you there, he moved on, going down to what you affectionately called your “shitty little park” which was nothing more than a patch of grass and a few trees. He ended up at all of your favourite spots, getting more and more anxious with every spot that he found empty. Okay maybe it’s not 100% fine.
After an hour of frantic searching and murderous thoughts, he finally found you at the spot not too far from the pier where you liked to surf.
You were sitting in the sand, surf board placed in the sand beside you, wetsuit bunched down to your hips, leaving your chest exposed to the sun that was getting milder and milder the longer you sat there.
Your phone had been dead for the past two hours but you hadn’t been bothered enough to go home and charge it. So instead, you just sat there, drinking a beer you had left in the cooler you kept in your car the night before. The sound of the waves crashing was the comforting background noise you had needed after the shitty fucking day you had at work.
The moment your shift ended, you noticed your phone was dead, but you needed to blow some steam off so badly that you just tossed it in the truck and drove off to surf, making only a quick stop at your place for your stuff.
Finally, you were calm, completely unbothered by the world, and decided to have a beer at the beach before heading home.
From behind you, a very familiar voice called your name. Pope appeared by your side, you’d love to say that it was as if out of thin air, but it was more like somebody dropped an anvil by your side.
His hair was mussed, as if he ran his hand through it a thousand times which, in all honestly he probably did. He was sweaty, looked intensely worried, but most of all, he was tense, the kind of tense he pretty much only got around Smurf, which was- concerning, to say the least.
Then, it hit you. Oh fuck. Oh shit. You were supposed to meet him at the Cody compound after work. “Oh my god I’m so sorry” Your hand flies to your mouth. “Fuck I totally forgot. I’m so sorry Andrew”
“I was worried” Pope mutters, his eyes scanning you for any sign of something being wrong. “What’s going on?” His voice is all quiet and so so worried. You just want to wrap him up and make sure he’s okay.
“I’m sorry, I just had such a shitty shift. Daniel decided everything that I did was wrong, threatened to fire me again.” Daniel was your grade A asshole boss. Kinda sleazy and extremely stupid. He had a habit of meaningless threats, the dickhead was a coward, and, as if he could find another person who wants to work at that shit hole.
“I was so pent up. Just had to get out, so I went surfing. I was so in my head that I forgot to text you, and then my phone died.” You explain. He just stares at you for a bit. Exhales, the tension bleeding out of him just a bit. “You should quit” he says very matter-of-factly. “I can’t just be unemployed Andrew. I still need food and stuff.” You give him a look you hope conveys that you agree but you can’t really do anything about it.
“I can pay for that.” He would give you his own kidney if you needed, you know that. “Andy no-“ You start, you can’t just live off of his money. “At least till you find a new job.” He pleads, giving you that look that you find very hard to refuse. “I’ll think about it.” You concede. “But I’m going to start looking for a new job soon.” That answer seems to satisfy him.
He tilts down, leaning his forehead against your bare chest. Your hand comes up to stroke his hair, hoping to remove some of the tension you unwittingly placed in him. Your sweet Andrew.
“I was so worried.” You hear him whisper into you, melting at your touch. “I know love, I’m so sorry.” You really are, it’s crazy you still haven’t bought a power bank. You decide that you will as soon as possible. “ ‘S not your fault.” He murmurs and nuzzles his head into you. “Let’s go home.” He looks up at you. “Okay.” You nod, exhausted after the day you had. The calming sounds of the waves aren’t really helping you not fall asleep.
When the two of you get to your place, you fight the urge to just collapse on the couch, wetsuit and all. Being a (semi) responsible adult, you take a shower instead, kissing Pope on the cheek before washing the salt and sand off you, giving your wetsuit a quick and probably not too helpful wash too. You’ll deal with that tomorrow.
You walk out of the bathroom in a pair of fresh boxers and one of Pope’s old shirts that you have officially claimed as your pyjamas. It hangs, slightly loose over your frame, and it’s soft and smells like him.
You find Pope in the kitchen, making something that smells dangerously good on the stove. He hums as you hug him from behind, pressing the side of your face into the side of his back. “Good shower?” He asks, to which you just hum in agreement. “Good. Made you dinner.” You decide soft domestic Pope might be your favourite. You could just eat him up. Might make him into a house husband and just keep him at home forever.
“You’re my angel.” He huffs a laugh at that. “Sure.” Lifting your head from its oddly comfortable placement on his back, you reply. “You are. Making me food. Godsend even.” Your point stands. “Sure sweetheart.”
You eat in silence, Pope making sure to keep his hand running up and down your thigh through the whole meal. You’ve noticed that Pope has a tendency, or need, you don’t know yet, to keep some sort of physical contact at all times, if possible. It’s adorable really, and you’re not complaining.
You end up in your bed, Pope stripped down to his boxers because that fucker runs hot. Exhausted but happy. His head is, as it curiously often ends up, in the crook of your neck, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath acutely. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” His hand is under your shirt, fingers trailing lazy circles on your hip, just above the waistband of your boxers.
“Of course I’m okay.” It dawns on you that he wasn’t freaked out because he didn’t know where you were. He was worried for your safety. Makes sense. Shit.
He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. “If somebody like Jack decides they’re mad at me…” He trails off. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He kisses your neck again, this time a bit lower. Fuuuuuck that’s hot.
“I know.” Your hand is playing at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m getting a power bank so I can text you if anything.” He nods, continuing his trail of kisses, placing one right below your ear. “Good.” His hand begins stroking your waist.
“I’m getting you an air conditioning unit.” He adds. “Too warm.” You huff out a laugh, of course he’s thinking about practical shit while you’re trying not to lose your mind right then and there.
Instead, you pull him up to kiss you, one of your hand in his hair while the other one runs up and down his back. Pope leans down again, kissing along your jawline back down to your neck, travelling down as low as the neckline of your shirt allows.
The moment you believe is exactly what’s waiting for you in heaven, gets rudely interrupted by a loud yawn escaping your body without your permission. Fuck’s sake.
Pope looks up, pupils dilated. Fuuuuck’s sake. “You’re tired.” He deadpans. “You should go to bed sweetheart.” Nuh uh, you should do exactly the thing that this was leading up to. “No no no.”
You shake your head. “You’ve had a hard day.” True, but irrelevant. “Andrew.” He can’t get you worked up like that and just stop. “You’re gonna be cranky tomorrow if you don’t sleep.” Valid observation, but also irrelevant. “Andrew.” God hates you. “There’s always tomorrow morning.”
“But-“ You have a million reasons why that’s not good enough. He just settles beside you. “I’ll make it up to you.” The frown on your lips shows exactly how unsatisfied you feel. “I promise.”
Just then, you yawn again. Oh the comedic timing of it all. He gives you a look that screams I told you so. You have officially lost. “Okay.” You groan. “But I need you to know that I don’t like this.” You find yourself being pulled into his side. “I know sweetheart.” He kisses the side of your head.
“Goodnight.” He murmurs into your hair. “Goodnight.” You murmur back, not being able to hold on your frustration for too long, not with him holding you like that.
Teehee hoped you liked it! Maybe, if this doesn’t completely bomb and my brain decides to give me some more motivation, more might be on the way, maybe.
Also thank you so so much to @theweirdestandthewildest for giving me the courage to post lol🫡🫡
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