Lan

“I hate when they do this,” he muttered, and you didn’t respond, knowing he wasn’t really talking to you. Just out loud so he could try to regulate himself before he got really angry. 

When he stayed quiet too long, you looked up and found him standing by the island. Face pinched with as close to visible anger as you’d seen in a while.

“Smurf will forgive them soon,” you reassured. His eyes shot up to yours, and you offered a weak smile. “The novelty of raiding their big brother’s house will wear off.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, and you bit back a smile as he walked over to help you with the bags. “I think that couch you ordered will look really nice with the blankets you got,” you told him, cutting off the tags to throw them in the wash. 

“You picked them,” he reminded you, eyes darting up to meet yours before looking away. You hummed to yourself, a proud smile on your face as you realized that your touch would always be a part of what he called home. 

The peaceful bubble you’d surrounded yourself with shattered as his sliding glass door opened. “Oh.” Your shoulders tensed as you recognized the voice. “You’re home.” Cath offered a stilted smile to Andrew as he froze where he was standing. 

You walked out of the laundry room and shot her a grin you hoped passed as friendly and not sick to your stomach. “We went shopping today. I’m trying to make this place look less like a psych ward.”

Cath’s eyes narrowed as you loaded Andrew’s new dishes into the dishwasher. He remained still beside you, fist clenched on the granite counter while he looked anywhere but at Cath. 

“I didn’t realize you moved in,” she offered, something about her tone making you defensive. When you looked up, her brows were raised, a knowing look on her face that needled at your skin. 

“She didn’t,” Andrew interjected before you could. Your jaw snapped shut with a click as Cath scoffed. 

“I figured,” she muttered, cutting you a look that had you clenching your fists so you didn’t hit her. 

The sliding door opened again and Craig lumbered in, brows raising when he saw the stand-off happening. He let out a low whistle, wet feet slapping across the floor as pool water dripped off him.

“What’s going on?” He chuckled, the shithead knowing exactly what was happening. 

He took a drag from the blunt in his hand, grin widening when he saw how Andrew’s jaw clenched at the smoke billowing in his house. “Want some?” He offered, holding it out.

You took it before Andrew could, needing something to calm you down. “You know he’s a dick about this shit,” you snapped, taking a long drag.

It was cruel, you knew that. But nobody ever claimed hanging around the Cody men made someone less emotionally volatile. 

You headed toward the door, stripping off your clothes. You’d learned a while ago that it was better to just keep a bathing suit on underneath if you were hanging out with Andrew that day. You usually ended up at the pool or the beach; there was little in between. 

Craig chuckled behind you as you walked outside. “Yeah, he’s the dick,” he muttered. You forced yourself to ignore the dig and headed down to the pool. You threw yourself onto the chair closest to Deran. He tended to just leave you alone, and his typically miserable demeanor deterred others from approaching, as well. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you clenched your eyes shut and tried to pretend you were just tanning. Of course, Deran decided today was the day to test out being chatty. “How was the little shopping spree with Pope?”

Rolling your eyes, you tilted your head to look over at him. There was a knowing smirk on his face that had you tensing up. “Fine,” you grit out, hoping he might take the hint. 

“You run into Cath?” He taunts, clearly knowing the answer. The Cody family skill seems to be pissing you off. 

Flicking your sunglasses up, you shoot him a glare. “What’re you getting at, Deran?”

He shrugs and relaxes back on his chair. “That my brother’s a fucking idiot,” he shoots back, tone casual. 

“Am I that obvious?”

The snort he lets out is an answer enough. With a small smile, you lean back on the chair and shake your head. “I don’t get it, man,” Deran continues; clearly, he’s taken something that’s loosened his tongue. He’s not typically cold toward you, but the pair of you aren’t exactly close. 

“Get what?” you mutter, trying to relax the tenseness in your muscles. 

“You hang around him all the time. Put up with all his weird shit. You even do fucking shopping trips together.” You peek an eye open and catch him shaking his head in disbelief. “Cath can’t even look him in the eye.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I don’t know what goes on in his head.”

“I don’t think anyone does,” you scoff, biting back the burn rising in your throat. 

“No, but you’ve come the closest.” You don’t think Deran understands just how much it hurts hearing him say all of this. It’s easy enough, lying to yourself and pretending you’re not obvious. That the reason Andrew doesn’t reciprocate is that you haven’t shown him how you feel. 

But when Deran- hell, when even Craig picks up on your hints- you know it has nothing to do with how obvious you are and everything to do with the fact that you are simply not the woman he wants. 

A minute later, a shadow descends over you. Frowning, you look up and see Andrew hovering, mouth pinched as he stares. Your nose wrinkles at the smell of Craig’s weed wafting off him.

“Did you smoke?”

He nods and you frown. “You don’t smoke,” you point out. Andrew takes the conversation as an invitation to perch at the end of your chair. 

“Why not?” He shrugs and it only serves to confuse you further. He holds the blunt out to you. You suck your teeth, but it only takes a second for you to accept. Some ridiculous part of you thinks about how his lips had been wrapped around it only a second before as you take a puff. 

That’s how it happened the first time. You’d been pissy about his infatuation with Cath. He’d probably been hurt by a comment you hadn’t meant. You got high off weed, and you’re sure Craig had laced it with something else. The next morning, your head felt fuzzy, and memories of the day before came back to you slowly. 

It had taken you longer than you’d like to admit to realize there was an arm slung around your waist. Then, Andrew had woken up, both of you frozen as you realized what you’d done the night before. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, sheets pulled up around your naked chest as you stared down at your lap. 

Andrew flexed his hands, eyes not meeting yours as he glared at his comforter. “I don’t remember,” he muttered. 

You shook your head, “I don’t either,” but it was undeniable, considering that was your underwear thrown on his floor. 

“We should try again.” Your head whipped up and you ignored how it made your vision swim. He held your gaze, face deadly serious. Your jaw dropped, lips parting as you struggled for words. 

“What?” You squeaked out.

“We should try again,” he repeated, just as blunt as he was the first time around. “Neither of us remembers anything.” You don’t know why you almost said no. Almost denied what you’d wanted since the day you met him. But something seemed to think this wasn’t right. 

Maybe you wanted it to be more romantic. Or for this to have happened after a date when you were actually sure he really cared about you as more than just a quick lay. But a part of you, deep down, knew that was likely to never happen. So you’d nodded, eyes closing as he dipped his head, lips meeting yours hesitantly. 

It only took a slight tilt of your head, hands dropping the sheets from your chest as you moved toward him, for him to fully give in. His hands gripped your waist, tugging you onto his lap as you slung your arms over his shoulders. That’s how the first time you actually remember happened. 

And then, it kept happening. Your friendship continued as it always had. You’d go out for lunch and dinner. Breakfast sometimes if you stayed the night.

The pair of you might go shopping for his new house or just to get away from his mother. Occasionally, it ended with sex. But that wasn’t always consistent. 

It both hurt and was reassuring. On the one hand, you wished he would want you as much as you wanted him. Not just when he needed a moment of reprieve.

But, at the very least, that meant he didn’t just see you as some sex toy now. He still cared about you the same way he did before. You’re not sure if it made you happy or upset how little the sex changed your relationship with Andrew. 

When it did happen, you’d pretend he wasn’t thinking about another woman. That it was just you in his mind, that he was okay, that it was you in his arms and not Cath. You could lie to yourself that it didn’t bother you. That you were okay with this as long as you had some piece of him. 

It was never enough to stop the hurt from seeping through. 

You remember one time, a few months after this new thing with Andrew started, Smurf invited you out. It was clear enough that Smurf didn’t like you. But she hadn’t minded as much when you were just an occasional presence in her house. 

However, when you and Andrew got more physical, you were at her place a lot more than you had been before. The sex had changed little about your relationship except that you became clingier than you would have liked to be.

You started hanging around with him more, waiting for that little extra bit of attention he occasionally spared you. It was pathetic; you knew that, but you were hopeless when it came to Andrew. You always had been. 

His arm was slung around you while you watched some brutal animal documentary on some beast called a Shoebill. You’d been cringing at the way it was staring down the lens of the camera when Smurf had walked in. 

“Well,” she rasped, a tight smile on her face. “Isn’t this cute?”

Andrew’s arm had tensed around you as he drew you closer, eyes pointedly kept on the screen. Her glare narrowed as she walked down the steps to the living room. “You’ve been around a bit more, hun.”

You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, hand tightening in Andrew’s shirt as you shrugged, offering a half-hearted smile. “I guess so.”

Her head tilted and she kept walking until she was standing just right to block the TV. “Are you two finally dating?”

“No,” Andrew was quick to answer. You bit your lip, swallowing down the hurt as you tried to shift away. He didn’t seem to notice, his arm just as tight around you as he straightened up.

“We’re not dating,” he doubled down, and you resisted the urge to crawl away and hide in some dark corner. 

Smurf hummed, clearly unconvinced. “‘Course not,” she reassured, her voice sickeningly sweet. Her attention drifted back to you.

You grit your teeth, pretending like you weren’t just the slightest bit afraid. Not necessarily of her, but of the hold you knew she had on Andrew. It wouldn’t take much for her to wrench the two of you apart. 

“You have plans this Saturday, sweetie?”

You grew cold as Andrew withdrew his touch. He leaned forward, his glare steady on his mother, and you frowned. “Don't,” he warned, his lips a tense line of irritation. 

Her gaze snapped to his, brows furrowing with consideration before she redirected her attention. “Well?”

“Uh,” you swallowed roughly and spared Andrew a glance before shaking your head. “No, no plans.”

“Perfect,” she hummed. “You can join Pope and me then.”

“Smurf,” he tried again, getting to his feet. You stared up at him in surprise. He didn’t typically butt heads with her like this. 

“That’s enough, baby. Don’t be rude.” Smurf fixed him with a firm look before stalking back out of the room. Your brows furrowed as you waited for him to sit back down. Instead, he glared down at the coffee table, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Andrew,” you tried, getting to your feet. You reached for his arm, but he jerked away. 

“Let’s go,” he demanded, already heading to the front door. You followed after him, but he didn’t give you any more answers. Just drove you to his house. 

He still seemed out of character when he took you to his bed that night. Strangely desperate, more handsy than usual. Like he was afraid you might slip away in the middle of the night, change your mind about the whole deal. 

Like you ever would. The idea was laughable. 

Andrew drove you on Saturday. To where, you couldn’t say. You got lost when paved roads turned to gravel, and it started to look like he was driving you out to some warehouse to be murdered in. 

When he’d stopped on a random cemented piece of land with trucks and bikes scatteringly parked, you almost didn’t get out. But you trusted him. As much as you probably shouldn’t. So, you’d let him open your door, help you out of the car, and followed behind. 

He didn’t speak. He hadn’t the whole morning. Just kept his eyes pointed anywhere but your face. Still, he seemed to linger more than normal. Hand staying wrapped around yours. Walking closer than he typically does. 

The odd behavior, even from an already odd man, had you on edge. Smurf being behind this whole thing didn’t help soothe you at all. No, the closer you got to what sounded like loud, drunken cheering, the more your stomach soured. 

“When are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” 

Andrew paused, head dipping between his shoulders as he sucked in a sharp breath. You waited with bated breath, the prolonged silence making you antsy to just get the hell out of there. “I need you to-”

“There you are!” Smurf walked up, a malicious grin on her face. Her oversized sunglasses hid her eyes, but you still felt the ill intent in her gaze.

“Here I thought you weren’t going to show. I should’ve known better.” She reached forward and squeezed Andrew’s shoulder, drawing him away from you as she draped herself over him. Your nose wrinkled with poorly hidden disgust. “My baby boy doesn’t disappoint.”

You offered a weak chuckle to try to disguise the visceral hatred you felt toward the woman. It only got worse when you saw how Andrew couldn’t meet your eyes, unable to get out from under her touch. 

It didn’t matter if it was a stranger, a friend, even her own daughter; Smurf didn’t play nice with other women. Desperate to be the only one in her boys’ lives. Whatever she had planned for you today was certain to be an attempt at kicking you out of Andrew’s. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you motioned for her to lead the way. You were determined not to let her win this time. 

Andrew needed a win; you weren’t about to be another disappointment. 

Though that conviction of yours weakened the closer you got to the cheering. It was gone by the time you realized what exactly she was having him do today. Inside a metal cage, two men were beating each other bloody, the people watching screaming insults as cash was traded between different hands. 

“God dammit,” you muttered, ripping your gaze away at the sound of a wet crunch as one of the men dropped to the ground. 

“Weak stomach?” Smurf taunted, shoving Pope forward before he could say anything to you. A burly man covered in tattoos jerked him forward by the neck, bending to whisper something in his ear. 

You bit your lip and turned toward Smurf. She had seated herself in a foldable chair. It could have been confused for a throne with how comfortable she looked in it. “No,” you responded, refusing to let her twisted little games beat you out. 

“You’ll have one by the end,” she promised, taking a swig from her flask as she turned her attention toward the cage match. Seeing as she hadn’t deigned to provide you a place to sit, you moved closer to the crowd. You weren’t keen on being so close to her, anyway. You’d rather be in the spray-zone of blood than have to stomach her company much longer. 

Pope walked into the ring, knuckles wrapped and eyes boring only into his opponent. He didn’t look outside the cage, not to you, not to his mother. You supposed it was for the best that neither of you got in his head while he was beating another man to a pulp. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, jumping as a bell rang and the small crowd started cheering. You kept them closed, right up until you heard the first sound of flesh breaking against flesh. With a rough swallow, you forced yourself to look as Andrew was shoved into the metal chain, ducking just before the other man’s fist connected with his face. 

Taking a step back, you tried not to grimace as he spit blood onto the cage floor. You could do this for him. You could handle a little while of blood and violence, if only to make sure Smurf doesn’t get to enjoy the victory of chasing you away. 

Nails biting into your palms, you forced yourself to be still. To not react to the blood and teeth that went flying. Or the way you could already see welts and bruises forming along Andrew’s ribs. You made your way through it, right up until the end of the match, when Andrew was standing over the other man, chest heaving and bare chest covered in marks that made you hurt for him. 

Then, in your peripheral, you saw Smurf walking up to the man running the match. Her gaze met yours as she whispered something to him. Your heart dropped as you realized she wasn’t going to let this stop until you or Andrew tapped out. 

Head whipping back to him, you felt yourself go light-headed as an even bigger man than the last walked in. He hardly waited for the bell to ring before he was swinging at Andrew. You watched as he dropped to the ground, shaking the ringing from his ears as he ducked away from another punch. 

You didn’t want to give Smurf the satisfaction of seeing you run scared. But you also weren’t going to be the reason Andrew was beaten bloody just so she could prove a point. With the best terrified expression you could muster, you went running, ignoring the barb of fury as Smurf smirked, completely victorious. You didn’t stop until you reached Andrew’s truck. 

Guilt twisted your stomach into knots. He might not have been looking at you, but it wouldn’t take long to realize you were gone. You knew him, knew that he would be quick to assume the worst. But that was better than having to watch him lie bloody in the cage. 

With a sharp breath, you leaned against his truck, head tipped back as you waited for this to be over. It took about another half hour before you saw him approaching. His head was down, pace furious as he undid the wrap around his knuckles. 

You jolted up, lips pinched as your stomach twisted. He stopped short when he finally saw you waiting, and you offered a tentative smile that probably read more like a grimace. His brows furrowed as he closed the distance between you. Hands flexing at his sides, you felt like he wanted to reach out; maybe you were projecting, but you took the leap anyway. 

“How bad does it hurt?” You asked, taking his hand in yours and frowning at the split skin of his knuckles. 

“I thought you left,” he muttered, stepping even closer. 

You already knew he would expect the worst, but the lack of faith still hurt. “Smurf clearly wanted me gone. I figured she’d be done with it if she thought I ran scared.” 

“But you didn’t.” He stared at you, eyes narrowed like he didn’t quite believe you. 

“I didn’t,” you smiled softly. “Now, keys, I don’t trust that you don’t have a concussion.” He didn’t argue as he placed them in your palm, leaning into you when you reached up to press a kiss to the unmarred spot on his cheek. “Let's get you home,” you murmured, rounding the front of his truck. 

The ride, like that morning, was quiet. You didn’t push, letting him stew until you pulled up his driveway. “Come on,” you motioned him inside, guiding him toward his bathroom so you could clean him up a bit. 

He took a seat on the rim of his tub, eyes intent on tracking you as you dug around under the sink for the first-aid supplies. You spent so much time at his house that it was practically more familiar to you than your own place. 

It was when you were kneeling down in front of him that he finally spoke. “I didn’t want you to see that,” he admitted, eyes glaring down at his bathmat. Your hand hovered over his cheek. 

You dipped your head to meet his gaze and grinned. “Why? Because that second guy knocked you on your ass?” He let out a little huff and you figured that’s the closest to a laugh you’d get today. “I’m not scared of you, Andrew,” you promised, putting the alcohol swab to the side for a moment. 

When he still wouldn’t meet your eye, you lifted your hand, careful of his cuts as you cupped his cheek. Gently, you tilted his face toward yours, imploring him to just listen to you, for once. His eyes darted between yours, expression tightening before it slowly softened. He nodded, letting his weight rest in your hand. 

You stayed the night, slept beside him, his arms tight around you while you held him back. You didn’t have sex, but you think that was better than if you had. Andrew needed something gentle in his life. A relationship that gave without anything expected in return. You never had any problems being that for him. 

“So,” you glanced around the restaurant, feeling more than a little out of place. “Why the change of plans?” You turned your attention back to Andrew, hoping you didn’t look as uncomfortable as you felt. 

Tonight, you were supposed to have dinner at his place. Possibly convince him to watch the new horror movie that just came out so you wouldn’t have to suffer through it alone. Instead, he’d told you to wear something nice and dragged you to a restaurant so fancy there was a chandelier over your table. 

It should be telling you don’t belong here if you think a chandelier is the epitome of class. 

Nails drumming along the table, your eyes dart between the nicely dressed couples and waiters with better posture than your own. The Codys had money, sure, but that didn’t mean class. And you’d known Andrew before they’d made a name for themselves. This wasn’t your sort of place, and you knew it wasn’t Andrew’s. 

“I thought you might like it,” Andrew answered, his voice low as he stared down at the menu. Your brows furrowed, but you decided not to push. He was clearly trying to make an effort. You didn’t want him to feel bad because the judgmental glares of the staff made you want to crawl out of your skin. 

“Well,” you hummed, struggling for a kind word. “It’s nice,” you settled on lamely.  

His brows rose and you let out a stiff chuckle. “You don’t like it.” You must have an even worse poker face than you thought. 

Shrugging, you lean back in your seat. “It just doesn’t seem like your sort of place.”

Andrew frowns and you worry you might have offended him. “I thought you’d be sick of my sort of place.”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Why would you think that?”

He lets out a hefty sigh, hand scrubbing along his jaw. “It’s just something Baz told me.” Well, his first mistake was ever taking advice from Baz. “When he and Cath started dating, he said she didn’t like just hanging out at the house all the time.”

Jaw tightening, you suck your teeth, forcing your face to remain kind. “I’m not Cath,” you remind him, though you’re sure you’re both bitter about that fact. 

His eyes shoot up to meet yours, his frown deepening at the expression on your face. “I know that-”

“Then don’t try to treat me like her,” you cut in, your tone far more venomous than you’d meant. Andrew draws back, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I want to leave,” you tell him, tossing your napkin on the table and finding it difficult to meet his eyes. You don’t wait for him, getting to your feet and collecting your bag before you’d even had a chance to order. 

Andrew hurries to follow behind you as you storm out of the restaurant. You know you’re too sensitive about these things. But one night with him- where you might even be able to pretend you’re on a date like a proper couple. Is that so much to ask for? Just a night without the reminder you’re barely even a second choice. 

Deciding you need to calm down, you walk off the sidewalk of the restaurant and head down toward the beach. Andrew catches up to you quickly, hovering at your side, unsure what to say. You grab hold of his arm, leaning against him while you undo the straps of your heels. 

“Let’s walk,” you mutter, caught off guard when he reaches over to take your shoes from you. Lifting the hem of your dress, you trudge through the sand. Andrew doesn’t shake off your hold, just lets you use him for balance. 

It’s not uncommon that he allows you to be touchier with him than most people. But he’s not usually this tolerant. He already doesn’t like the feel of sand, the way it pools in his shoes and inevitably ends up trailing through his home.

Normally, he’d have gone stiff, trying to silently tell you to back off. But he’s leaning into you know, hand drifting along your waist as you listen to the soft crash of waves in the distance. 

“I’m sorry.” He finally breaks the silence. 

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have just left like that. It was nice,” you reluctantly admit. He frowns down at you. With a huff, you clarify, “The restaurant idea was nice. It just wasn’t for me.” It was for the woman you actually want to be with. 

Andrew just nods, gaze pensive as he stares off into the dark waters. “I wasn’t…”

“Hm?”

He shakes his head, hand tightening around your waist as he leads you back toward his home. “Never mind,” he mutters, brows furrowed as he stares down at the sand. You frown but decide it’s better not to push. You’ve already gotten your feelings hurt once tonight; no need to risk any more. 

When you make it to his home, you almost debate asking for a ride home. You’re not hungry anymore; you don’t want to watch a stupid movie with him. He’s made it more than clear that all you are is a placeholder until he gets what he really wants. Now, all you want is to just be left alone. 

“Come on,” he mutters, already opening the door before you muster the backbone to leave. You hover at the threshold and he pauses, turning back with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

You almost back up, almost leave. Instead, you shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. I’m just tired,” you whisper, following after him. The door closes and his hand finds its way to your back. 

He turns you to face him, calloused hand drifting up to push back a strand of hair. You’ve been conditioned to lean in just as he starts to. To push closer as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you toward him. 

You wrap your arm around his shoulders, head tilting as his lips brush softly against yours. Once, twice, you wait for the third pass, when he lets go of his reservations. Grips you tighter and pushes you toward his bedroom, hungry for something only you can give him. 

But it never comes. He stays soft, hands drifting up and down your sides as he holds you by the door. You’re not complaining, enjoying the tender intimacy of the moment. He never changes pace, just takes his time, savors the moment. And you. 

You could get used to feeling so desired by him as he slowly begins leading you back to his bedroom. It’s not that he’s never like this. Occasionally, you get moments of softness with him. But this is different, somehow. Like he really means it, and isn’t just giving you gentleness as a courtesy. 

His hand works on the zipper of your dress, fingers dragging along your spine as you slip your arms from the sleeves. It falls down your body, and he lifts you, picking you up before it trips you. You tighten your legs around him, smiling when he drops you on his bed. 

It’s different that night, the way he is with you. You could almost pretend he loves you just the same as you love him. Pretend that this wasn’t his own desperate need for connection with someone else. Allowing the illusion, just once, couldn’t hurt. 

That was the last night you were together. You didn’t know- he didn’t tell you- about the bank job he and his family had planned for the next day. You couldn’t have known how badly it would’ve gone, that Andrew would end up taking the fall for Baz. 

Because Baz has a family, Deran had explained afterward. Pope doesn’t have anyone. 

He had you. Clearly, though, you didn’t count for anything in their eyes. You almost wonder if Baz had messed up on purpose. If he’d done this to get Andrew out of the way so he could take over. It wouldn’t surprise you, given how quick he was to take Andrew’s place as the eldest son. 

What shocked you the most, though, was that Smurf just let him. Baz wasn’t even hers and she still let him slip into Andrew’s place. Like he’d never been there at all. 

You weren’t allowed at the trial; you’re not even sure if you’d want to be there. But Smurf had made it abundantly clear that with Andrew gone, your place in her home would soon become nonexistent. 

You still hung around, mainly with Deran. Purely for updates on Andrew. Try as you might, each attempt at reaching out seemed to go ignored or just not work out. You sent letters. A lot of letters. At least twice a month. 

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe yourself. Andrew had been sentenced to six years. What? Were you just going to wait around for him that long? How much more pathetic could you possibly get?

A lot more, you thought to yourself, penning another letter for the third time that month. 

Andrew,

I really don’t know if you’re getting any of these. I hope you are. Smurf had me taken off the visitors list, so I can’t come and see you now. I swear, I would if she didn’t hate me so much. 

I’m sorry. Sorry I can’t see you. And sorry about how your family’s acting. They sold your house. I was going to try to buy it with the money you gave me, but Smurf figured out it was me and stopped the deal. 

There’s no guarantee when they’ll let you go. But whenever you’re free, wherever I am, there’ll be a place for you. I’ll leave my key in the plant hanging by my door if you get there before me. 

You continue on, talking about your life, struggling to decide whether or not you should ask about his. He’s in prison; you doubt there’s anything particularly exciting he’d like to share. If there was, surely he would have responded by now. 

But he never did. For two years, you kept up your letters. Kept up hope that, despite the fact he wasn’t responding, some part of him still cares for you. Deran had told you no one else was getting any letters either. But you didn’t think they were sending any or reaching out, either. 

It shouldn’t have been, but it was astounding just how little his brothers seemed to care about his absence. If anything, they seemed more at ease. Big brother wasn’t there to keep them in check anymore. Baz let them just run free, just as eager to be careless as they were. 

For two years, you loved Andrew when everyone else seemed so content with forgetting him. And two years is exactly how long Smurf’s patience lasted before she finally grew sick of you. You weren’t a threat, not anymore, but that didn’t mean she liked you any more than she did before. 

You were lounging at the pool with Deran, prattling on about your new boss while he smoked. She walked up with a cruel smirk on her lips. Which should have been your first sign to cut loose and run. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her jeans and you leapt up. Water dripped from your legs as you climbed the stairs of the pool. “I think this might be for you.”

You hastily dried your hands off on your towel, taking the letter from her with trembling hands. Two years, and he was finally letting you hear from him again. Smurf let out a little laugh, crossing her arms as you eagerly ripped open the envelope. Your second sign that you should have just ignored her. 

It was a letter, but not to you. He didn’t say her name at first. But you caught on quick enough. Mainly, when he started telling her how jealous he was of Baz. How Baz wasn’t good enough for her. She could do so much better. He could treat her so much better. He wouldn’t play around with her; he would take care of her like she deserved. 

Your throat tightened to the point it felt like you were being strangled the longer you read. Tears burned against your lashes, but you refused to let Smurf see them fall. You could barely stomach half of the letter- drawing the line at him declaring his love for Cath- before you were folding it back up. 

“It’s not for me,” you whispered, your voice breaking around the words as Deran finally lifted his head. He frowned at the look on your face while Smurf stepped closer. She took the letter from your hands, cupping your shoulder as she leaned toward your ear. 

“He didn't want anything except what’s between your legs. I don’t want you, and my family doesn’t. Leave, or I’m going to have to make you, honey.”

And you did, just like she ordered. But you didn’t just leave her house; that wasn’t enough for you. You had to leave every reminder of the Codys behind completely. 

Deran helped you, just a little, by giving you some of the money Andrew had stashed away before he was arrested. You didn’t want to take it. How could you start fresh if he was funding your future? 

But you didn’t have a choice. You were working a dead-end job and barely making minimum wage. So, reluctantly, you took the cash and moved a few hours out of Oceanside. A cute place, right by the beach. 

It was a relatively small town, quaint and filled with retirees. The type of quiet you were desperate for. Smurf bought up your old place without you knowing. You’d just made a blind deal, desperate for more money and a quick way out. 

Which meant she got the one letter Andrew ever bothered to send. 

They’re letting me out on good behavior. I want to see you. She’d scoffed as she’d tossed it in her fireplace, smiling as she thought about getting her boy back. Without any distractions in the way. You’d been dealt with. Cath wouldn’t be so hard to get rid of. 

Pope didn’t expect his family to be waiting outside the prison for him. He’d only told one person he was getting out. And he’d been hoping to see you, but he wasn’t surprised when you weren’t there. Just a little disappointed. He was sure there was a reason for it, it’s not like you’d miss something so big on purpose. 

But you hadn’t been waiting for him at Smurf’s either. You’d already warned him they’d sold his home. But you didn’t tell him they’d given his room away to his twin sister’s kid. No one had even bothered to tell him Julia had died. 

He sat in the living room, feeling more out of place than he ever had before. Cath couldn’t look at him. Baz seemed angry that he had even made it out. The kid, J, was just pissing him off more, a painful reminder of the sister he’d lost. Smurf seemed on edge, with tight smiles and cloying words, while she tried to keep him placated. 

There was one person very clearly missing. Someone they were pointedly not bringing up. You were never a huge part of the Cody family, but you were important to him and they knew that. But you weren’t here. And your letters had stopped a year ago. He had never figured out why, but he’d held out hope for a long time that a guard would bring him one again. 

He had never written back. There was never anything more to be said. He couldn’t talk about being shoved in solitary. Or the way the guards used to beat and humiliate him. That was never something he wanted you to know. It wasn't the way he wanted you to think of him.

So he had just greedily accepted your letters, your stories. But he never thought his silence would be enough to finally push you away. 

Pope broke the tense silence of the living room. “Where is she?” He stared down at his hands, knees jumping beneath his arms as he tried to keep himself calm. 

Smurf shook her head and he shot her a glare. She knew exactly who he was talking about. “Oh.” Smurf rolled her eyes, reaching over to stroke his hair. He tried not to grimace, hating the way it felt. The only person he wanted that from right now was you. 

“Forget about her, baby. She ran out a while ago. Took some of our money with her,” her voice tightens, gaze cutting to Deran, who wouldn’t look his way. His eyes narrow at that, his shoulders tensing at the discomfort on his brother's face.

“Just another skank looking for a quick fix,” Smurf callously dismissed. As if you hadn’t been there since they’d rebranded him Pope. Like you weren’t the only constant in his life, the only person he could actually rely on. 

He knew you. You weren’t an addict. You weren’t like Ren, hooked on Craig because they’d both shot each other up one too many times. You’d never cared about the money he might’ve given you. You've only ever dealt with his shit and his family for him. 

Pope refused to believe that you’d just left. That you wouldn’t have sent a letter explaining your absence. Or at least have waited until he got out to say goodbye 

But Pope gave Smurf what she wanted. He nodded, pretending you were just some chick he liked to fuck sometimes. He let her believe the lie until he finally got a minute alone. 

He tried to check all your socials, but you’d deleted them. He went through friends of yours and checked their posts to see if you’d ever popped up in any of them. He paced his room and spoke softly to himself while he tried to figure out where the hell you could have gone. Why would you have left? 

Smurf had a hand in it; he was sure of that. But you’d survived her for years. Why would you suddenly give up, now?

He checked all of the letters you’d sent him. But the return address remained the same right until the last one. Pope racked his mind for any places you mentioned wanting to visit, but none of them seemed feasible for you to simply disappear to. 

When all other options had been exhausted, he went another route.

Deran

He cornered him by the pool, eyes narrowing at the way Deran refused to meet his stare. “Where is she?”

“What the fuck are you talking-“

Pope shoved him back and Deran let out a low hiss as his spine slammed against the corner of the bar. “Don’t play dumb, Deran. You know exactly who I’m fucking talking about.”

Deran shot Pope a harsh glare, rubbing his bruising back. “Look, man, I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Pope tilted his head with a frown. “Even me?”

Deran scoffed and sneered. “You're kidding me? Especially you.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“Do you really want to do this?” Pope snapped, hands balling into fists at his side. He had a lot to work out. The majority of it was anger, most of that directed at his family. He wouldn’t mind making his little brother bleed if it got him what he wanted. 

Deran seemed to realize that, too, disappointingly. “Fucks sake,” he huffed. It’s not like you and Deran were ever very close. Pope's not sure why you thought he would be a good choice to keep your secrets. Or why you were trying to keep secrets from him. But he could figure all that out when he saw you. 

Because he would, now, as Deran wrote down your address and pressed the slip of paper into his palm. 

You’d moved a few hours outside of Oceanside. Clearly desperate to get away. But that hadn’t been something Deran had been able to give a reason for. You kept a few things from him, it seemed. 

The town was small, decent, and safe enough. It seemed to be full of retirees rather than anyone close to your age. He parked downtown, fiddling with the GPS on his phone while he tried to work out the best way to get to your place. 

As luck would have it, he’d parked in front of the store you seem to frequent for groceries. Pope looked up just as you walked out of the store. His hand tightened around the steering wheel until the leather was creaking. 

He’d imagined seeing you again a lot in prison. But the memory of you had begun to fade the longer he went without. 

You seemed surreal as he watched you. Like something he dreamed up as you loaded your car with your bags. His hand dropped to the handle of his door. He wanted to jump out, hound you for an answer on why you left. Kiss you and take you right in the middle of the parking lot. He didn’t give a shit who saw; he just wanted you. 

But he stopped himself. Kept himself locked in his car while he watched you. His chest was tight as you closed your trunk, hopping into your car and pulling out of your parking spot. Andrew started his truck back up, carefully, as he pulled up behind you. 

He forced himself to stay back, to keep enough distance that you didn’t grow suspicious. He watched as you ran your errands. A stop by the general store where you picked up some tools. A few minutes in a boutique before you were walking out with empty hands. He watched it all, growing increasingly more frustrated that you seemed completely unaware someone was following you. 

By the time you made it home, his patience was gone. He watched you head inside. Watched the lights flick on behind your curtains. How your silhouette moved through the house before you turned off the living room lights. You moved through the house, a light flicking off the closer you got to your bedroom. Andrew’s leg bounced as he watched the last one go off. 

Then, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He jumped from his truck, storming up the steps of your porch. He pulled his pick from his pocket, using his body to block anyone’s view as he pushed it into your lock. 

His hands paused, though, when he remembered one of the first letters you’d sent him. A promise of a place always waiting for him with you. His eyes darted around the porch, chest tightening when he saw a hanging plant in the corner.

He walked over, glancing over his shoulder as his hand dug through the dirt. He’d almost given up hope when he felt the smooth metal of a key beneath his fingers. 

He couldn’t decide whether to be upset or relieved. It was stupid of you to grant such easy access to your home. At the very least, though, this meant you still had to feel something for him. 

He slipped through your door quietly. Toeing off his boots, he took care not to step on any creaking wood as he made his way through the house. 

The interior was what you would expect from a beach bungalow, nice enough. Even with the limited light streaming through the curtains, he still spotted touches of you. Little pieces of color that he had missed while he’d been gone. 

He’s aware this is probably the wrong way to go about the reunion. But he can’t trust that you won’t just avoid him if he tries to approach you naturally. It’s not like you to just disappear without a warning. He couldn’t stand seeing your face as you told him to stay out of your life. He’d rather deal with that rejection in the dark, when he doesn’t have to see the hatred in your eyes. 

At the end of the hall is your bedroom. The door is cracked open slightly. Pope carefully pushes through, taking care to make sure the whining hinges don’t preemptively announce him. 

You don’t move, sprawled across your bed as a sound machine blasts at top volume, and half your face is obscured by an eye mask. He crosses his arms with a scoff. You have made it incredibly easy to break in. 

Pope shakes his head and steps further inside until he’s hovering over you. His brow furrows, his expression softening as he relearns the slopes of your face. There’s a smile growing on his face when you suddenly shoot up in bed. 

He jolts back as your head swivels wildly. Suddenly, you’re ripping off your mask. He grimaces at the shrill scream you let out, slipping across your bed until your body is thudding against the wood. 

He tries to say your name, but you’re jumping back up, a metal bat now in your hands. At least you’re marginally prepared. 

“It’s me,” he calls out. 

“What?” You snap, reaching for your lamp. He squints against the sudden light as you shove your hair out of your eyes. “Andrew?” You gasp, the bat slipping from your fingers. 

“Hey,” he offers. He waits for you to hug him, to yell at him, or maybe to scream at him to get the hell out of your life. But you don’t; you just stand there, jaw dropped. He whispers your name, and you jolt back to life, shaking your head. 

“What- how are you-" You press a hand to your temple and stutter out nonsense. He rounds the bed, slowly taking your hands in his as he leads you to sit back down.

You suck in a sharp breath, hands tensing in his hold, but you don’t jerk away. You also won’t meet his eyes. “Why are you here, Andrew?” He hates that there’s no familiar warmth when you say his name. 

“What do you mean?” Where else would he be?

“I mean,” you snap, finally meeting his eye. But it’s cold, the way you look at him. “Why are you here? In my house,” you grit out, eyes wide as you gesture toward your bedroom. 

Pope rubs the back of his neck. This is a slightly better reaction than what he’d been preparing for. But he can’t tell if catching you off guard was the right call. 

“I told you I was coming back.”

You narrow your eyes and shake your head. “When?” You huff. 

Andrew frowns. “In my letter,” he’s sure he must’ve seen it before you moved. Or, at the very least, one of his family would’ve given it to you. 

“Oh,” you scoff and jump to your feet. “No, I never got a letter from you, Andrew. Just one person did.” You smile as Andrew frowns, shaking his head helplessly. “Cath,” you elaborate, patience running thin. 

“I never sent her a letter,” he insists, not having a goddamn idea what you’re talking about. He just wants you to sit down again. The way you’re eyeing that bat is disconcerting. 

“Are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?” You demand, pacing in front of him. 

He snaps your name and you freeze, forcing yourself to look at him. Pope stands, but you take a step back. It's hard to ignore how much that hurts.

“I never sent anyone any letters, alright? I- I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk about what was happening, so I never sent anything. But I told you I was coming back.”

A part of you softens. You’re still not happy, but you seem more inclined to believe him. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I never got anything. When did you send it?”

“A few months ago.”

“No,” you bite your lip, glaring down at the floor. “I’d already moved. Smurf would’ve-“

You cut yourself off with a low hiss as you slump back into your bed. Pope hovers in front of you, unsure what to do now. “God, that fucking bitch. Goddamn control freak,” you snap. 

Your eyes shoot up to his, “Did you ever, in your life, write Cath a letter?”

Pope grimaced, thinking about it. “Yeah, when we were kids.” You let out a bitter laugh, head falling into your hands. Hesitatingly, he took a seat beside you. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Your head shoots up and you stare at him for a long time. Long enough for him to grow uncomfortable. “No,” you finally whisper and something inside of him finally relaxes. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

He reaches out, eager to finally hold you again, but you hold up your hand, jerking away. “But I can’t do this again. I’m so glad you’re out, I really am. But I can’t go back to being what we were.”

Pope shakes his head, drawing back into himself. “What we were?”

“You can’t just come back and expect me to be your fuck buddy again, Andrew.”

“That’s not what we were,” he snaps. How could you debase it like that? Just like Smurf had.

“You never called to anything else,” you scoff, brows drawing together with irritation. Were you always so volatile? 

“I never called it anything.”

“Exactly,” you snap. “Andrew, I don’t know how else to make it clear. I wrote to you for two years, without ever getting anything back. I’ve been in love with you for so long. But you don’t get to come back into my life and offer nothing but sex. It’s not fair.”

His chest aches as you cut yourself off, your voice trembling. Is that what you’ve thought? All this time, you just thought that the way he treats you is how he’d ever treat anyone else?

“It was never just sex.” He pauses, completely unsure if he even has the words to properly convey how he feels about you. “I love you,” he admits, and your breath hitches painfully. “I thought you knew that. How could you not know?” It's embarrassing, the way his voice breaks.

“How would I?” You scoff, watery eyes lifting to meet his. “It’s not like we talk about our emotions a lot.”

Pope swallows roughly. This isn’t how he works. He can’t just spew off romantic words of undying love. He just isn’t good at that. Always better at showing others how he feels. Though clearly that isn’t working either. 

“I love you,” he promises. “I’ve waited three years to see you. And when you weren’t at the house today, I thought…” he can’t finish. He’d had a hundred thoughts of the worst possible explanations for your absence. And each one had hurt worse than the last. 

You let out a rough sigh, and Andrew waits for you to tell him to get out. He jolts when he feels your arm around him. You pull him closer and he seeks your warmth immediately, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he winds his arm around you. 

You let out a small laugh, stroking his back as he sinks his weight against you. “I never stopped loving you,” you whisper. “I was pissed off for a while. But, infuriatingly, you’ve always stayed with me.” He pulls back and you nod. “Always,” you swear, frowning at the look in his eyes. 

“Please,” he whispers, hardly even caring he’s this close to getting on his knees and begging. “Can I stay here tonight?” 

You frown and shake your head. “Of course,” you lean down, lips soft as they press against his temple. “As long as you want.” He’s sure you have no idea just how long you're signing up for. 

Or, maybe you were. You seem to have been waiting for this as long as he has. He’s not planning on giving you up anytime soon. Not again. 

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦

𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳                 ♥︎

⇄              ◁◁  I I  ▷▷          ↻

⁰² ⁰⁸ ━━━━━━━━━●━ ⁰⁰ ²⁵

💿 Can't call it love then call it quits 💿

"You kept me up all night." you teased. "Not complaining, but I need at least another hour."

Andrew leaned to the side of the bed, checking the clock on the bedside table to confirm the time. "It's 6. We got til 7 til we gotta get up and get Lena to school. I think Baz and Lucy just left her here last night."

"Assholes." you said, referring to Baz and his girlfriend. "But he gets a pass for getting my Andrew back home to me."

He twitched at that. Your Andrew. Those weren't words he'd ever heard paired together. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them either, knowing he'd probably say something stupid or mess up and make it so you never said them again. And he wanted you to say it again, wanted it to be a fact of life. Because he was your Andrew. The events of the past few days only confirmed it.

"I'll get up." you groaned, earning a matching groan from him when you left his arms, beginning the trek to get up.

When you stood up from the bed, stretching, making noises that confused Andrew's body, he looked to you, taking in the sight of your nude body as you got up to pick up his clothes that he'd given you off the bedroom floor. Meanwhile, he admired you, shifting on his side to get a better view of you, feeling a little perverted, but encouraged to keep staring when you smiled teasingly at him, making a show of walking around to purposely rile him up.

"Gonna shower before we go drop Lena off at school. I'll take some clothes from your closet til I can go back to Deran's to change."

He sat up, hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and nodding.

"Yeah, okay. I'll, uh, I'll go make us some breakfast."

But you walked back to him, rerouting from your path to the restroom and pulling at his arm as he sat against the bedframe.

"Or," you dragged the consonant. "you could take a shower with me. Saves water and all."

You took a few steps back, his hand still on yours, lightly pulling him closer to getting up.

"That's ... that could be dangerous."

"I live life on the edge." you joked, forcing a small chuckle out of him, you giggling along.

In the end, he could never say no to you. Specially not as he saw you standing there, naked, looking to him with a teasing glint in your eyes, lower lip trapped by your frontal teeth. And so he stood up, sheets falling off his body and leaving him just as nude as you.

As he warmed up the water for you, you brushed your teeth, shameless as you eyed his backside through the mirror and winking at him when he caught your eyes on him. He looked down, blinking hard a few times before joining you in brushing your teeth.

Finished, you made your way to the shower, opening and closing the clear glass door as you allowed the steamy water to dampen your skin, arching your back as it rained down all over you and giving Andrew what felt like a life-ruining view from the mirror.

He spit out his toothpaste, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and marching to the shower, harshly opening the door and slamming it shut before cornering you against the shower wall, welcomed immediately by your arms and by your tongue, which wrapped around his within half a second of his mouth being on yours.

Greedy hands rubbed at your skin, antsy and frustrated first thing in the morning. One hand wrapped around your thigh, wrapping it around his waist while the other held onto your hip, making sure you had a good foundation and wouldn't slip on the wet floor.

This was the fourth time within the past 48 hours in which Andrew had had you naked and at his mercy, hard dick weeping at a chance to find a home inside you. But he'd quickly learned that he just couldn't help himself around you. Just one look from you, one tilt of your head or one bite of your lip and his fingers burned to be on you, to mead the skin of your hips, grip your thighs and fold you in whichever way necessary to make space for himself inside you.

He continued kissing you, hips rolling against your own, killing his own sanity as he ground into you, hardness pressing onto your weeping cunt, creating a friction that had you gasping his name into his lips. The stream of water made it so he could enjoy your sounds without worrying that J and Nicky would hear you from the other room attached to the bathroom.

"Please, Andrew." you licked his lips, nibbling at the bottom one, dragging a grunt out of him. "Want you to fuck me. Please?"

"I will." he promised, tongue trailing down your jaw, moving onto the water droplets on your neck. "Just give me a second."

You let him have his fun, let him suck hickeys all over your chest, bite you to the point he almost drew blood. You let him scratch at your skin, leaving red marks on your legs and hips as his hips began losing control during the torturous grind he'd set. You let him have anything he wanted, rewarding him with sighs of his name, with hands playing with his hair, with your hips matching his rhythm.

"Turn around." he said after he'd had his fill, strong hands already working you to face away from him before you could do it yourself. "I want you like this."

A whine left you, as if him wanting you was something you just couldn't handle. He still couldn't understand that reaction, couldn't understand why you wanted him as much as he did you (and he still wasn't convinced that was really possible). But he pushed those thoughts aside, grabbing onto his dick and pressing into your opening, sighing your name when you arched your back, pushing your hips back, showing him how much you wanted him.

"Oh, god, Andrew ..." you cried, and Andrew wished he could see the look on your face now, could see your eyes rolling back in the way he'd gotten to witness a few times already just mere hours ago.

"I know." he grunted, forehead digging through your hair and landing on your shoulder, heavy breath landing against your skin.

He began hammering into you then, groaning as you'd push back against him.

Without meaning to, he lost himself in it, pushing you harder against the glass, making your hands fall off the glass and lay to your sides, your breasts now pressed up against it and his thrusts making it vibrate with the intensity in which he fucked into you. His grunts and your whines filled up the room, overpowering the stream of the shower hitting the floor.

Cries of his name left your lips, growing louder by the second. His eyes rolled back at the sound, at the feel of you squeezing around him, begging he keep going, begging he fill you up and mark you as his again and again.

"Is it good? Huh? Tell me." he huffed out.

"S-so good, Andrew." you moaned. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't stop. I need- need you to- Oh, oh fuck, Andrew."

He groaned one last time, letting go, releasing in you for the nth time since you'd first let him get his hands on you. A broken cry left him, head burying in your shoulder and biting there again.

Desperately, his hand rounded your body, index and middle fingers reaching between your legs and finding your clit, circling it harshly in eight's so he could get you there with him.

And when you came, you cried his name again, fogging the glass in front of you, smearing it with drool and purring when he gasped at the way in which you squeezed him as you came.

It took a few moments for the two of you to catch your breaths, but Andrew immediately turned you back around, chest still contracting and relaxing deeply as he leaned into you and kissed your forehead, mumbling soft words to you.

"Wasted a lot of water there, huh?"

"Yeah." he chuckled. "Bad for the environment."

"But good for me." you rebutted, reaching behind him to grab his shampoo. "Can I use this? Wanna smell like you."

You said it so casually, making him swallow before he nodded. He stepped aside, giving you some space to rummage through his things in the shower, which you did freely. Grabbing the things you were going to use, you turned back to him with a grin.

"C'mon, turn around. I'm gonna wash your hair first."

"You don't have to do that-"

You shook your head, petulant. "I've been itching to get my hands on those curls. Please?" you dragged the 'e', batting your lashes at him and giggling when he nodded reluctantly.

The two of you spent about half an hour in there, washing each other's hair, gathering suds of soap on each others bodies and sharing a few kisses in between.

Your fingers on his hair had him in heaven. The occasional kiss landed on his back, on his shoulders, making his eyes flutter shut due to the softness behind your every touch. He almost felt himself falling asleep as he stood there, taking your every affectionate caress and purring when you started humming some tune, filling up the otherwise silent bathroom.

By 7:08, the two of you were ready to start the day, with you heading over to wake Lena while Andrew made a quick breakfast for the two of you, being talked into making some extra for his brother when you walked in and kissed his cheek, taking pity on a hungover Deran lounging nearby.

➽──────────────────❥

As it usually went in Andrew's life, things couldn't stay as serene as they'd been that morning for long.

He had a true first taste of what a domestic life would feel like. He'd woken up with the love of his life in his arms, being kissed and touched as you practically begged him to fuck you. He'd made breakfast for his family, having you jokingly feed him a pastry and kissing the smeared jelly off his lip. He'd driven Lena to school, with you on the passenger seat while he listened to the two of you talk, giggling with each other.

And then he'd arrived home, opening your door and leading you off the car reluctantly as he spotted the police officers waiting for the two of you there.

At first he'd believed it was some benign issue. Maybe last night's party had gotten too loud. Maybe a neighbor had complained.

But it wasn't that.

Baz was dead.

His voice shook as he asked for confirmation, his body trembling and only finding fortitude when your hand reached out to him, holding onto his arm as the officers spoke to you, offering some silent support as you also took in the news.

Andrew wanted to break down, wanted to scream, break something, take his anger out on the messengers, to make matters even worse by losing his mind. But you provided an anchor for him, worried eyes and frowny lips showing him your concern, but not voicing it, giving him space to feel everything he needed to feel without attempting to deter his emotions.

With you, he rushed to wake Nicky up, being perhaps meaner than he needed to be as he dragged her along with the two of you into his truck and went to look for J, asking you to call Deran and Craig as he drove J back to the house for a family meeting.

"How?" Deran asked, distraught.

You all gathered together in the living room, with the exception of Craig, who had run off to Mexico with Renn sometime the previous night.

"Cops only said he'd been ... he'd been shot."

"By who?"

"They didn't say."

"You didn't ask?" Deran raised his voice, though you knew it was out of sadness rather than frustration.

"Of course I asked!" Andrew yelled.

"Baz is dead?" Nicky whispered, shocked, sad.

"Where's Craig?" Andrew had been kept out of the loop.

"He took off last night with some money and the Scout."

"You try calling him?" Andrew paced around the room, not knowing where to look, where to stop.

"Yeah. He's on his way to Mexico. Probably doesn't have any service."

J interrupted. "Did he leave around the same time Baz got shot?"

This caused both Andrew and Deran to halt, avert their eyes and look to J with disdain in them.

"What's that supposed to mean, J?" you could hear the grit in Deran's voice.

"He didn't mean it like that." you finally interjected, getting up from the couch and stepping towards Andrew, holding his hand wordlessly.

"Yeah, well."

"You need to find Craig. They could be looking for him too." Andrew warned, hand squeezing yours.

"Who's coming for Craig?" Nicky's tone was worried, exasperated.

"Smurf is in jail for killing Javi, sweetie. You don't think his crew's gonna have something to say about that?"

The room fell silent at Andrew's cold intonation, everyone growing more worried by the second. The silence was sharp, bitter, making your heart race and the feeling of dread gnaw at you.

"What about Lucy?" Deran wondered out loud.

Andrew ignored him, looking down on him from his spot sitting on the couch. "Find Craig now."

Later in the day, all the brothers were called down to the police's station, the requirement of individual interviews coming up due to the nature of Baz's death. You remained quiet through it all, not knowing how to comfort Andrew, feeling inadequate at Deran's icy glare.

It was a strange feeling, feeling so out of place as the two men mourned their brother, as J shared your inadequacy, never having been too close to Baz. They discussed theories of Baz's death in front of you, clashing with each other about what to do with Smurf, how to get revenge from whoever killed Baz, who'd take care of Lena.

But looking at Andrew, you knew that in the end all these burdens would likely fall on him. You knew that no matter how much you cared for your friend Deran, how much you'd grown to respect J, that Andrew carried a big weight as the eldest brother. In your eyes you could see his worries, sharing his dread for what was to come next in Lena's life.

You gave him space, not wanting to be too much for him at that moment. While Andrew planned his next move, you went to Deran, hugging him, kissing his cheek, caressing his hair and silently crying at your friend's sadness. He'd told you to do the same for Pope. That he'd need it once he fully processed what happened.

When Andrew asked you to stay home with Nicky while he and his brothers went to give their statements, as he went to tail J as he visited Smurf, you agreed, not many words exchanged between you.

He was acting cold, detached. It made you feel out of place, gave you whiplash from how affectionate he'd been just a few hours prior. But you understood. You held your ground, kissing his cheek, hugging him and telling him you were sorry for his loss, that you were there for whatever he needed.

And when it came to be the afternoon and Andrew came home from picking up Lena, you found yourself agreeing at his request that you move in with him to Baz's apartment. Something about Lena wanting to stay there, liking her home and him wanting to give her that stability now that both her parents were gone.

He'd been shy about it, easy to read in how he was beating himself up about it, likely thinking himself an inconvenience.

"I ... I know it's soon." he started. "I know we've only been together for- not for long." but then he corrected himself. "I don't even know if we're together-"

You interrupted, grabbing his hand. "Hey." he looked to you then. "We're together. And I'll go. I'll tell Deran I'm moving out and I'll go stay with you and Lena."

Andrew swallowed, looking down.

"Are you sure? If it's too much, I understand."

Shaking your head, you smiled at him again, light, small. "It's not too much. We'll do this together, okay?"

He kissed you then, for the first time since you'd left the bathroom together that morning. He sighed against your lips, letting himself get a little more carried away than he'd hoped before forcing himself to pull away.

"I love you." was the last thing he said before grabbing your hand and leading you to his car.

➽──────────────────❥

Six months passed since Baz's death.

Six months since you and Andrew took up the responsibility of raising Lena yourselves.

Six months since you'd been holed up in Baz's old apartment, playing the domestic game of a family together as you tried to keep Lena afloat.

Six months since Andrew had been dealing with his grief, trying and failing to find out who'd killed his brother.

The two of you struggled to keep Lena from wallowing in her grief, something she was still too young to really understand. Getting bullied at school over her family's reputation, she stayed up all night, didn't eat, refused to go to school. And you took on the responsibility of being there for her, becoming the closest thing to a maternal figure and as much of a friend to her as you could be.

After getting her into a private school, Andrew would begin disappearing during the days, spending a few hours parked outside as he waited for her day to finish, the rest being used up in investigating Baz's murder.

The domestic bliss was dystopian at times, not what you'd pictured, and Andrew could tell. Yet he couldn't help himself in becoming obsessive with every issue that began to arise. Smurf still didn't know about you, which was the only silver lining in his life.

Things began to look up after Lena settled into her private school, somewhere around the same time Craig came back from Mexico and J started lining up new jobs for them. Things were still muddled, with too many issues left to fix for Andrew to count, but as he came back home with well-earned money in his pocket, finding you with his shirt on and cooking dinner for him, he couldn't help but see the good in life.

In the past six months of living together, Andrew became a little better at physical affection. He was still a little awkward, not knowing when it was acceptable for him to touch you (always) or how it was acceptable to touch you (in any way), but you'd always smile at him, eyes wrinkling in amusement at how he'd fumble even after all this time.

He approached you from behind, mumbling a low 'hey' as he pondered whether or not to do that things couples did where the guy would come up behind the girl as she cooked, wrap his arms around her and press up against her. It seemed domestic, like the type of thing he'd be expected to do (and the type of thing he craved to do), but he faltered halfway, instead reclining against the counter.

But you weren't like him.

Instead of taking a simple 'hey' and welcoming him home with one in return, you turned down the heat of the burners, turning around and meeting him where he stood, placing your arms on his shoulders before sneaking them back to the back of his head, finding the curls there and tugging at them softly. You leaned up for a kiss, humming when he tried to pull away and licking his lip for an entrance.

"Missed you today." you mumbled between kisses, sighing when he finally let his guard down and laid his hands on your waist, light hold as if he was already pushing it.

Your hands moved his own down to your ass, chuckling when he grunted at it, mumbling that he'd missed you too, but barely able to get the words out between kisses.

"Job go well?"

He nodded. "Yeah. J came up with a good one today."

"That's good. You look like you're in a good mood."

"I wasn't, actually. The guys are still fighting. But I feel better now."

You smiled, biting your lip. "What, cause you came home to me?"

"Yeah."

You kissed him again, a little harder now, purposely moaning into his mouth just to get a reaction out of him and succeeding when his fingers flexed, squeezing at the meat of your ass. Pulling him closer, you arched into him, licking his mouth and murmuring his name when his tongue sucked on yours, creating a squelching sound that had your legs pressing together.

"Let me ... let me take you to our room." he interrupted, mumbling a couple of words in between kisses, unable to fully separate from you.

"What if I want it here?"

You were teasing. You knew of Andrew's aversion to disorder, well aware that fucking in the kitchen was something he just could not bring himself to do. It was something that'd be deeply uncomfortable for him, but he knew you were teasing, knew you liked to rile him up a little, to get things going by making him fight with himself before he could truly have you.

"It's dirty. Sex shouldn't be had in the kitchen."

One last kiss was delivered to his lips, with one following in tandem on his nose, and one on his chin.

"Then take me to bed, handsome."

With minimal effort, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he took a few steps towards the stove and turned off the burner before dragging you along to your shared bedroom. There, he laid you down at the edge of the bed, not hovering over you as per usual, but instead kneeling on the floor, looking up at you with hooded eyes, with his chest heaving as he struggled to control himself.

It never took long for you to break him down into this state, into a mindless mess that sought out your body like a lifeline. One look, one touch, was all he needed to lose himself and seek pleasure from your body like his life depended on it. And everything about you gave him pleasure. He could bury himself between your legs for hours, meet his completion inside his boxers as he rocked his hips into the mattress while you cried his name. He could hammer into you with endless need, reach his end as you dragged your nails down his back. Or sometimes he could lay back, falling victim to your seduction, to the breathy whispers against his ear begging that he let you take him in your mouth, arguing against all his refusals (refusals born out of low self esteem, out of feeling like he didn't deserve that sort of self-serving pleasure) and whimper your name as you toyed at him for hours on end, only letting him cum after tears dampened his cheeks.

Even as he'd grown used to the carnal bliss you gave him time and time again, Andrew could never handle how you made him feel. Even now as he knelt before you, hard and bursting through his pants while he stared up at your bare thighs, — your shirt having already been thrown off as he reminisced of every time you'd filled these walls with cries of each other's names — he groaned as he lowered his lips down to your foot, one hand holding onto your foot and holding your ankle up to his mouth.

You were sitting up, looking down at him with a lustful heaviness in your eyes. You inhaled deeply when he began kissing up the length of your legs, sucking hickeys all throughout it, not caring about the atypical spots in which he was leaving marks (next to your ankle, your calves, your thighs). He got off in knowing he could have you losing your breath with kisses in non-erogenous zones, losing his own at every sigh that left your lips, silently begging for more.

"You've been so patient with me." he whispered between kisses to your thighs. "You've put up with too much." every few words were punctured with a kiss, a suck, a lick.

His hands gripped your legs, sitting up on his knees and lips reaching your panties while your eyes fluttered.

"You're everything to me." he kissed your cunt then, tongue sneaking out and licking at your clit through the lace of your panties.

"You're everything." you whined, brain already empty as you corrected him.

Andrew groaned, burying his head in your cunt, licking harshly at you despite the fabric and rubbing his nose against your clit. It took him a while to grow desperate enough to lick you raw, ripping off your underwear carelessly, breathing you in deeply when he finally had your cunt right in front of him.

His hands reached up, grabbing your hips and scooting you over closer, looking up at you as he licked, eyes begging silently, hoping you understood what he wanted.

And you did. You needed no words to understand Andrew, just as you always had.

Your grip on his hair tightened as your hips gyrated against his face, practically riding his tongue. This provided Andrew with the prettiest view, with your mouth agape and your eyes rolled back, a hand on his hair and the other rubbing at your nipple. Andrew whimpered against you, cried your name despite knowing it'd get muffled by your cunt.

"Oh, f-fuck, Andrew ... That's it, that's so- Oh ..."

Cries of his name filled up the room, and then he lost his mind. He gripped at your hips again, sitting up straighter and pushing you to lie back on the bed, head now hovering over your cunt as he tongued at it with a complete lack of finesse. He shook his head back and forth, licked in patterns, out of patterns, rubbed your clit, lined your entrance, he did everything that his lust-filled heart wished to at that moment, stealing an orgasm from you without bothering to stop.

"Andrew, baby, that's- that's enough. I can't-"

"Please." he mumbled, almost inaudible.

And he was taking advantage, really.

He knew by now that you had a hard time saying no to him. It was rare for him to use this privilege, to even ask for something from you, but he couldn't help himself in this moment.

You'd been the first light in his life ever since Julia had been taken away from him, ever since Cath's rejection really dawned on him and he'd been made to get rid of her. You were the only person he'd ever loved like this, the only thing he needed to exist. He'd grown to a point where he knew that he could take anything coming his way as long as he had you, the one and only person who looked forward to seeing him, who kissed him goodnight and couldn't fall asleep unless he laid beside you.

At some point during his internal monologue, he'd began humping the bed, aggressively pressing his hardness against it as his hands gripped you with a bruising capacity. He was groaning into your cunt, creating a mess of your juices and his saliva while you screamed his name above him.

You couldn't speak anymore. No words left you, making Andrew lightheaded at realizing that his name was the one and only thing you remembered while in complete delirium.

When you came a second time, he followed right behind you, almost biting at you at the sudden burst of pleasure, the liquid squirting inside his pants and making him grunt at the feeling. But it was really the last thing on his mind. It wasn't something he could concern himself with at the moment because, see, Andrew could be pretty one-track minded sometimes, and right now you were the only thing on his mind.

He crawled up to you, well aware by now of how touchy you'd get after orgasming, finding you already stretching your arms towards him and making grabby hands while you attempted to catch your breath.

"C'mere, Andrew. Wanna taste."

He landed on you, mouth first and tongue ready to be received by yours. Even with his aversion to germs, he couldn't find it in himself to mind the mixture of fluids being exchanged by you at that moment. Instead of feeling antsy, his eyes rolled back as you suckled shamelessly at his tongue, moan vibrating against him when you caught a taste of yourself.

"Go change your pants, handsome. I know you're probably itching at the feeling."

"Sorry." he gave you a light smile. "I wanted to do it with you, just-"

"Don't apologize. It was hot." you bit his lip one last time before getting up with him, guiding him to the bathroom with a silent promise to help him wash up.

➽──────────────────❥

The following day hadn't gone as well for Andrew.

He'd had his usual routine, one that you'd grown used to sharing with him, tending to it every morning with little variation in between.

Andrew knew he had some issues, that he was unlike others when it came to order. He knew he could be hard to deal with, just a little too intense when it came to the simpler things.

But you'd never once expressed any dislike towards any of his habits. You'd never questioned him for anything other than clarification, wondering why he liked his sandwiches made a specific way and copying his method next time around, joining him when he folded his clothes and asking him to teach you his method, allowing him to make the bed every morning to his liking, giving him a kiss on the cheek accompanied by a 'thank you' for taking on the task every time.

And today, he'd done the same thing, receiving his kiss and heading out with you and Lena, dropping her off at school before leaving you at Deran's bar and heading his own way for some other job orchestrated by J.

The job went as well as most others, with very minimal issues and a large sum of money acquired by the end. And as per usual, they'd all decided to head back to the house for a celebratory meal, one which you'd offered to cook since Smurf was now gone from the house.

But before Andrew could walk inside, bask in the fact that he had a girl that was crazy about him waiting for him and his brothers with food on the table, he was met with an unknown car parked in the driveway.

The person that stepped out of it was Billy.

Billy, as in Deran's deadbeat dad.

Immediately, Andrew grew angry, yelling at him to get the hell out of his property, practically threatening his life in the process.

None of his brothers had any idea who he was, having been too young to recognize his face from the incredibly short amount of time he'd been around. This meant that Andrew was the only person present who was aware of Billy's heinous behavior while he was just a kid. He was the only one who knew of the endless times in which Smurf had to kick him out, of the shady men he brought around that caused trouble for Julia, of the time in which he'd locked him in a closet for three days.

But even with his anger and insistence he be kicked to the curve, his brothers were reluctant, Deran too curious about his dad and Craig just bored and nosy. J was indifferent, and you were angry along with Andrew as soon as you'd caught wind of the way he'd treated your boyfriend when he was a kid.

Sadly, it was three votes against two, meaning Billy did stick around for longer than Andrew would've liked. Him, and his companion Frankie, who Craig had gained interest on upon laying eyes on her.

Things only got worse for Andrew as DCFS started to snoop around Lena's life, questioning her, raiding your shared home, making thinly-veiled threats of taking her away. All while Deran made plans for a job with Billy, a job that required an extra man, meaning that Deran was eyeing you for the task, creating even more tension in Andrew's life.

That's how you found yourself driving a truck of cargo for them a few days later, agreeing to participate as long as you didn't have to do anything overtly illegal. Andrew was still bothered by it all, but your presence helped him despite the general worry of things going wrong and implicating you with their crimes.

You were driving contraband — as in hollow basinets in which Deran and J would hide, waiting for you to deliver them onto a cargo plane that would then take them to their final destination. After you finished your part, Andrew picked you up on his truck, driving Billy and Craig along as you all headed towards the final meeting point in the middle of the desert.

You sat in the back, diagonal to Andrew as he drove, next to Billy and behind Craig.

"You do any funny shit and I'll kill you." Andrew had warned Billy as soon as he saw him eyeing you, bothered you'd be sitting in the back with him, but knowing Craig was more needed at the front, more experienced.

"Damn, Pope. This your girl? Didn't think you had it in you."

All you could do was ignore him, look out the window and try not to laugh when Billy had reached to the front to turn on some music, only to have his hand slapped away by Andrew, being threatened with getting thrown off the car if he tried again.

At some point you parked, getting out of the car with Andrew as you waited, attempting to calm him as he argued with Billy about benign things, some of which grew more serious as they both irritated one another further.

"Remember the time you lit a fire in the RV?" Billy chuckled, wiping his sunglasses as he paced around in boredom.

"Oh, I remember a lot of things, man. A lot of things."

Billy groaned, as if already fed up of Andrew. "Jesus Christ, like what?"

"Like the time you locked me in a closet and you went to score and you forgot about me for three days?"

You interrupted, scoffing at Billy. "What the fuck? Why would you do that to a kid?"

Andrew shook his head in disbelief, annoyed to relive it.

"Okay, first of all, that never happened." Billy started. "It was a day and a half. But I was a kid, what'd you want me to do?" he continued to pace around while you and Andrew leaned back against the car, Craig napping inside it.

"I was the kid. You were ... You were an adult. You were ... You were 25." Andrew grew exasperated, likely the outcome Billy wanted.

"Yeah, well, technically, the male brain doesn't mature until age 26, okay? So we were both kids."

"I guess you haven't gotten there yet, have you Billy?" you interjected, rolling your eyes at him.

Before he could respond, you grabbed Andrew's hand, taking him away from what was clearly an stressor for him and guiding him to the car with you. Billy continued complaining outside, only getting back into the car to ask Craig if he had some oxy or some blow to kill the time.

Your wait lasted longer than expected, with J calling you guys up and telling you their side of the plan had a detour, that they'd landed at the wrong spot and needed you guys to drive all the way over there, round the mountain past over 60 miles and pick them up from there.

Annoyed at having to share the car with Billy for longer than expected, you bit your tongue, hoping Billy would do the same and leave Andrew alone.

But his silence lasted mere seconds, with him insisting he needed a stop, that he needed to score, or maybe make a pit stop so he could have a few minutes with a hooker to take the edge off. Through the whole ordeal, he and Andrew argued, with Craig annoyingly taking Billy's side in wanting to stop for a piss, or to join Billy in scoring some drugs.

"Yeah, right, he doesn't mind if you piss your pants." Billy started once again when Andrew refused to pull over. "Cause he was in diapers till he was 6." he cackled, enjoying the humiliation he was dawning on Andrew. "God, I remember that like it was yesterday. The doctor said he was regressing."

You could see Andrew's form still from the rearview mirror, posture erect and eyes looking down, likely avoiding meeting anyone's through the reflection. And then Billy continued.

"Personally ... I think it was cause he liked the feeling of Smurf's hands between his legs."

That's when you tensed. You side-eyed Billy, not daring look to him directly, but still eyeing him with anger from your peripheral vision. You felt bile forming in your liver traveling all the way your esophagus and burning at you to burst, felt yourself start to fume at Billy's insistence in humiliating Andrew. Beneath you, your fingers graced at the knife Deran had given you before you'd departed from home, telling you he didn't want you carrying a firearm just yet, but insistent you keep at least one concealed weapon just in case.

You didn't feel anything as you considered your options, anger taking over while you looked to Andrew, taking note of the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. Craig laughing along didn't help matters.

It was when Andrew's embarrassed eyes found yours in the rearview mirror that you really felt like you were about to blow up. He looked away immediately, the car's path wavering slightly, a clear indication that what Billy was saying was getting to his head.

Billy nudged your shoulder with his, urging you to join in on the laughter. "I'm serious. I can't tell you how many times I was banging their mom and we'd feel like somebody was watching us. We'd look up and there'd be Pope. Little Pope just staring at us without even blink- Argh, fuck!"

You couldn't really explain what came over you as you did it, but before you could even consider it, you'd already pulled out the knife from it's hidden spot under the leg of your jeans, bringing it up swiftly and cutting a straight, vertical line down Billy's thigh, deep enough to cut his pants and draw blood out of it — Hell, deep enough it was likely to require stitches.

At that same moment, Andrew swerved the car, coming to an abrupt halt as you all held onto yourselves to not slam your heads against the car seats due to the rapid and sudden movement.

"What the fuck was that, you crazy bitch?" Billy hissed, hands coming to his thigh and pressing on the blood there.

You didn't respond, ripping off your seatbelt and stepping out of the car, your door slamming in the process. Andrew did the same, though instead of rounding the car as you had, he went straight to Billy's seat, pulling the door open and fisting at his shirt, dragging him out before slamming him against the side of the truck. You were standing beside him within seconds, knife still in hand.

"Woah woah, everybody calm down!" Craig said from his seat, peeking back to look at the commotion but not getting off the car.

"Talk to her like that again. I dare you." Andrew huffed, almost nose to nose with Billy.

"You control your bitch. Do you see what she did to me? What, am I not supposed to defend myself when your psycho bitch goes after me like- God, Fuck!"

A punch landed straight to Billy's abdomen, interrupting the spit-filled sermon he'd been delivering. He keeled over, but was immediately slammed back against the car by Andrew.

"Do it. Beat my ass, Billy." you dared him. "Deran will kill you. He'd run you over like roadkill before he let you touch a hair on my head." you looked to him with disdain. "That's if Andrew doesn't do it first."

"You cunt-"

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that if I were you." could be heard from Craig from his spot inside the car.

No more words were exchanged as Andrew's fingers tightened back up around the bunched fabric of Billy's collar, dragging him and pushing him with enough strength he tripped and fell on the sandy field of the desert. Quickly, he led you back to your seat, pushing Billy down once more when he tried to get up and proceeding to get back to the driver's seat, driving away as he ignored the expletives yelled out by Billy as he created distance between you.

When you arrived to the meeting spot, you found J and Deran being dropped off by some unknown woman, questioning her presence until being told to shut up by the latter and letting the two boys into the car.

"Where's Billy?" Deran asked as soon as he settled in beside you, with J to the other side of you.

"He was being an asshole so Pope threw him out." Craig explained.

"Are you kidding me?" Deran looked to you. "We can't do that, man."

You shrugged. "He called me a cunt. I'd say he got off easy."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, after you stabbed him." Craig chuckled.

Deran's eyebrows furrowed, "You what?"

"I didn't stab him, I cut him-"

"We have to go!"

"This is bullshit, we gotta go back for him. This is his job!"

You all spoke over each other, with Andrew interrupting in a low tone, "I told you the cops were onto us. Are you out of your mind?"

"Alright." J gave the final word. "It's fine, let's just go."

Deran sat back, clearly angry at the situation, eyes throwing daggers at the back of Andrew's head until you punched his leg, huffing at him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to act the way you had, and you knew that. But Billy was bad news. Not only was he bad news to Andrew, bringing back painful memories and unnecessarily going out of his way to put him down, but you also knew that on the long run, he'd be bad news to Deran too. He was just too blind to see that, with his mother now in jail and an unspoken want to get to know his father.

Getting back home, you made a stop at a storage unit, unbagging all the cargo from today, the near $1 million dollars the guys had scored on the job. The mood quickly lifted as the guys unloaded stack upon stack of cash from the bags.

"That's a good haul." Andrew praised, receiving a squeeze of his arm from you in silent congratulations.

"Hell yeah, that's a good haul."

"It's almost a million dollars!"

"It's almost 158 grand each." J calculated.

"No, it's 130 each. We're six, remember?" Andrew corrected, gesturing over to you.

You could see both J and Craig faltered at that, looking to each other with a hesitant look.

"Uhm, nah, it's 158 each. I'm not taking anything." you corrected, drawing all four pairs of eyes on you.

"What are you talking about? You helped, you deserve your share." Deran interjected.

You shook your head, eyeing the large stack of money, but not caring much for it otherwise.

"I only did this for Andrew. And, well, for you. I don't want any money."

They stayed silent for a second, looking to each other silently before J nodded, prompting the same response from Craig and Deran. Andrew remained pensive, a sort of frustrated look on his face.

"Listen, this will take a while to clean, so, how about we start with 9 grand cash each?" J suggested. "Here, at least take the 9 grand." he handed everyone a small stack, including you.

Taking it, you weighed it on your hand. It looked very small, comprised of 100 dollar bills, appearing to be less than what you'd expect that amount of cash to be.

You shook your head again, throwing it back onto the larger stack in the middle. "Give my 9k to Lena. I'm sure you guys must have some trust fund for her or something." you knew Andrew did, but you didn't want to be obvious in case the guys weren't aware. "Her parents are gone, you should put this aside for her."

Andrew cleared his throat, taking a quiet step closer to your side, hand silent as it reached yours, thumb running over the back of your palm. It was subtle, unnoticed by the guys as they each put away their money.

"She's right. She's family." Andrew reminded them.

They all looked uncomfortable by the implication, knowing this would create a pattern of cutting an extra share for Lena, but none of them said anything. You made a mental note to talk to Deran about it later.

-

After dropping you and Deran off at the bar, Andrew kissed you goodbye, heading back to the Cody house with the other boys. You didn't really like staying there, considering it enemy territory, still unwilling to be associated with Smurf in any way even during her absence. Andrew understood.

You hung around the bar for a while, until you spotted Deran walking to the back with Billy, who had somehow made it back to civilization after you'd left him stranded back at the desert.

As you walked into the kitchen of the bar, you heard their conversation, not caring to eavesdrop and instead just walking in.

"—a little piece of, you know, fatherly advice. You guys shouldn't do any more stuff with Pope, dude. He's- he's crazier than he's ever been, dude. He's gonna get you guys killed."

You rolled your eyes, making your steps louder so he'd hear you coming.

"How's the leg, Billy?"

He groaned to Deran when he saw you walk in.

"Or this psycho. Did she tell you what she did to me? This crazy bitch and her boyfriend?"

Deran sighed, frustrated, not really caring about the gash on Billy's thigh he'd spotted when he walked into the bar. There was some dry blood on it, but Deran could tell it was a superficial cut, nothing serious.

"Don't talk about her like that, man. From what I'm hearing you deserved it." it was his subtle way of defending you against his dad. He didn't like to take sides, on anything really, but he made sure you knew he wasn't against what you'd done.

"Also." he turned to you. "Smurf's back from jail. I'd steer clear of the house for a while. She'll lose her shit when she finds out Pope's dating someone."

Your eyes widened. The name alone making you groan internally, already looking into the future and all the dumb shit that was about to unfold due to her return. You'd never met her, and you'd never wanted to. Being friends with Deran didn't give you any reason to get to know her, seeing as they all had friends they kept out of her reach. Even being close to him hadn't made your paths cross.

But you were now best friends with her youngest while dating her eldest. There was now a ticking time bomb until you were forced to be in her vicinity.

Things only got worse for Andrew upon Smurf's return. He pulled away from you once the DSFC dropped in on you a day after your return from the job, deciding it was in Lena's best interest if she were placed with a foster family. This on its own destroyed a fundamental part of what your lives had been for the past six months. It made Andrew spiral, with him out of the house at most times, arriving home after you were in bed and only mumbling something about how he'd been looking for Lena all day when he'd return.

You gave it a week before giving up on giving him space. You were worried about him, about Lena. And you really seemed like the only person who shared these concerns. From your understanding, not even Smurf was up to date (nor interested) with what was happening to Andrew.

And so you went to look for him at Smurf's.

Deran had begged you not to, saying that as soon as you met Smurf, your relationship with Andrew would never know peace again. He'd made sure Smurf never knew of Adrian, never allowed her close enough to poison the relationship.

When you got there, having the door opened to you by Frankie, you walked into the pool area. There was some commotion.

There was Andrew right on top of Billy, beating him to a pulp. You saw Andrew shove Billy's head into the pool water, saw Billy pull out a blade and saw Andrew smack it right out of his hand. Everyone gathered to watch, silent and in shock.

J spotted you, and so did Frankie and Craig, but you could only pay attention to Smurf, who had a smile on her lips as she watched her son beat her ex boyfriend to near death.

And just when Andrew was about to land a punch straight at Billy's nose, you spoke up, uttering his name and immediately halting his actions.

"Andrew."

Everyone looked to you then, even Smurf, whose smile dropped and eyes narrowed in your direction.

Andrew got up, landing one last kick at Billy before walking your way only to be received by your open arms.

"Go on boys. Get the groceries from the car." Smurf broke the silence, eyes still on you as you joined the guys in unloading the trunk.

➽──────────────────❥

Smurf hadn't quite acknowledged you just yet, but things were slowly falling right back into place for her.

She'd taken Andrew for a drive, making a few calls and finding out where Lena's foster home was, getting Andrew right back under her thumb with just that bit of information. The same had happened with Deran, whose father had robbed him of his safe at the bar, causing a distressed Deran to come back home for the time being.

You joined Deran and Andrew, staying at their house, steering clear of Smurf under their request, but still having to deal with the looks of annoyance she'd throw your way. She didn't bother much with the facade of niceties she usually pulled, having figured you out as Andrew's girlfriend from the moment your call of his name had been enough to get him to calm down — a skill only ever before being possessed by Julia and Smurf.

"How long you staying here for, sweetie?" she'd asked one day, flipping a pancake.

"For as long as Andrew's here, if that's okay with you." you decided to be civil despite how much you already hated her from mere word of mouth.

"Any of Andrew's friends are our friends." she'd said with a saccharine tone that made you sick.

The reality was that she had bigger fish to fry at that moment. You were a temporary problem she'd be dealing with after she dealt with Lucy and her crew.

She'd been pushing at her sons and grandson to work on Lucy and her guys, trying to convince them that they'd killed Baz and that they'd stolen the money Baz had stolen from her. Somehow she'd been able to make them believe that she'd kept that money as insurance for them, and that Baz had stolen it and hidden it with plans to run away with Lucy to Mexico. You knew it was a partial truth, but were still grateful the guys were at least apprehensive of her words, that they wouldn't fall blind victims to her lies.

But even then, Smurf was able to get them involved in her schemes without much effort.

She'd hired Pete's guys to track down Lucy's brother, Marcos, kidnapping him and using him as leverage to get her to give back the 1.4 million dollars she'd stolen in exchange for his safety.

And just like that, they'd agreed on a time and place to meet. The guys were reluctant, equipping themselves with bulletproof vests and hidden weapons just in case. The job was a simple yet deadly one, which led to your insistence in going.

"The hell you are." Andrew scoffed when you'd suggested it.

"Andrew, I'm not waiting at home to get a call that my boyfriend got killed in a shoot out. I'm going."

You were in the living room of the house while all the guys packed up the truck with weapons. You'd pulled Andrew aside, telling him of your demands.

"Are you crazy? I don't even wanna go. I'm not putting you in harm's way. These guys are dangerous." he huffed, angry at the mere suggestion.

"I'll wait in the car, outside, a block away, I don't care. I'm going. I already spoke about it with Deran."

That was coincidentally when the rest of his family made it back into the living room, eyeing you curiously at your defiant stance. Smurf had an amused look in her eyes.

"What's up?" asked Deran, patting your shoulder absentmindedly as he passed by you on his way to the coffee table.

"The hell do you think you're doing telling her she can come?" Andrew growled at Deran.

Deran shrugged. "She can just wait in the car. We need someone manning the truck in case we need to run fast anyway."

"He's right, baby. Let her come. She wants to help, isn't that right?" Smurf interrupted, making Andrew narrow his eyes at her.

"Mind your own business, Smurf."

"Guys, this is just wasting time. Let's just go. She'll drive the getaway car if things get to that, okay? She did fine with the truck for Billy's job, it's fine." J surprisingly interjected.

You said nothing more, at least glad you could be there for Andrew, already making a promise with yourself that you'd be more present in his life, no matter how dangerous the things he got up to were.

Andrew continued to sulk, complaining and angry everyone would go against him like this, but in the end he had to force a nod, agree and move on.

-

Once there, Craig parked the truck inside the warehouse in which you'd all agreed to meet. You moved onto the driver's seat when they all got off, getting one last kiss from Andrew as he walked away from the car.

"If shit goes south, you just drive, okay? Leave me behind if you have to."

You shook your head. "Anything that happens to you happens to me."

He sighed, but understood you wouldn't change your mind and kissed your lips, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before joining his family as they waited for Lucy's men to arrive.

From your spot in the car, you couldn't really see much. They were all behind you, standing at a few feet away from Lucy and her men. You could, however, make out some of the words they exchanged. Your hands remained on the wheel, ready to go as soon as they got back into the car. It was unlikely you'd have to actually drive them away, as they were supposed to be able to collect their money and load it in the trunk calmly, but Deran and Craig had insisted you be prepared just in case.

They exchanged Marcos for the suitcases full of expensive jewelry, seemingly not having the entirety of the money owed to Smurf. You could see Andrew and Craig load them up into the trunk of the car as you waited for them to be done, but then there was a voice that suddenly broke out.

"You think this shit is over?" Marcos growled when one of their men took off his mouth gag. "I'm gonna blast all you punk asses tomorrow, watch!"

"Shut up, Marco!" Lucy yelled.

"You sicko bitch. You're done. All of you!"

Andrew was on his way to deliver the last bag into the trunk when Marco suddenly yelled again, pulling a gun out of the man's belt and shooting in Andrew's direction, causing him to fall.

You had no time to react before everyone started shooting, ducking while in the car as they began shooting at it, shooting at Smurf and J who'd jumped behind it to hide.

Craig and Deran pulled out guns, hiding behind anything they could find and shooting in Marcos' and Lucy's directions. Glass shattered from their bullets hitting the car, making you lay sideways across the front seats of the car to avoid getting hit.

Before anyone could process anything, Lucy's guys had already dragged Marcos, who'd been shot on the stomach by Craig after he'd shot Andrew, into their car. They drove away as Deran and Craig continued to shoot after them, and only when the guns seized were you able to get out of the driver's seat, rushing as you'd believed to have seen Andrew become collateral damage.

They all went to check in on each other, asking if everyone was okay, if anyone'd gotten hurt. Meanwhile, you looked around frantically, not even taking note of the various shards of glass that had cut your arms, some even your face. Your chest heaved as you began to hyperventilate, unable to spot Andrew anywhere.

"Where's Andrew?" you cried out, calling everyone's attention.

Deran knelt down, defeated while everyone else's eyes widened, gazes scouting the area but not spotting him anywhere.

"Where- where is he?" you asked again, hand clutching at your chest.

Deran went to you, holding onto you when he realized how heavily you were breathing, trying but failing at soothing you.

➽──────────────────❥

You all made it back home soon after that.

The driving had been left to Craig, as you were in no position to do so at the moment. Deran's passenger seat had been given to Smurf as he sat in the back with you, holding you while you muffled your cries for Andrew.

It had been hard for Deran to convince you to go back home. You'd been adamant, nearly hysterical in you screams to go get him back, to at least try and tail the car that had taken him. But they all saw reason better than you did at that moment. They'd done this before, knew that it was not only impossible to follow them, but also a waste of time. They knew that now you'd just have to wait.

You made it back to the Cody house, everyone quiet with remorse at what had happened. Some surely believing about the chance that Andrew might've been dead by now, having been shot and not treated, or perhaps that he'd been taken and tortured as revenge for Marcos.

They all argued with each other as soon as they sat in the living room. Craig immediately lost his cool, screaming about how they needed to go after him, that they needed to head to Mexico, to act now and get him back before they could begin hacking away at his limbs. Deran seemed more defeated, sitting you next to him as you practically dissociated, head lowered and tears still rolling down your cheeks. You said nothing while they yelled at each other, sat there completely defeated as anger brewed inside you when Craig brought up the reason they were in that situation in the first place.

Smurf.

"Stop. We're gonna get him back, but we need to keep our heads and think it through." she said to Craig.

You scoffed.

"Oh, think it through? Is that what you did when you went behind our backs and took Marco in the first place?" Craig argued back.

"I did that for the family and you know it."

"Oh, yeah, I bet you did." Craig was fuming, something you completely understood.

"Bullshit. This was about you." you interjected, looking to her with the most hatred your eyes could muster. She looked back in a similar fashion.

"You did this shit for you." Deran added, huffing.

"If we had let Lucy steal from us, we would be finished!"

"Finished?" you sneered back. "None of them wanted to do this in the first place! Not Craig, not Deran, not Andrew!"

"You watch your mouth." she warned.

"No, she's right, Smurf." Deran growled, getting up and walking towards her seat. "If Pope is dead. this is on you. This is on you!"

They continued yelling at each other, with Craig accusing J of knowing Lucy's guys while Smurf screamed at them to calm down. Deran kept quiet, but you could still see the anger in him. Eventually you all dispersed around the house, attempting to catch your cools in order to formulate a plan to get Andrew back.

It took hours until Smurf walked into the living room, finding you all sitting around, still fucked up by all that'd happened within the last few hours.

"I'm going to meet Lucy now. Alone." she spoke up. She looked completely destroyed, a look you were sure was brand new for her sons to see.

"Is Pope alive?" Deran asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm coming with you." Craig interjected, only to get shut down by Smurf.

"That's bullshit-"

"You can't go alone, Smurf. It's too dangerous." J reasoned.

But it all ended the same. No rebuttals from any of you could change her mind about going alone. And she was right to do so. There was no way Lucy or her men would ever let a third party interfere, so you all reluctantly agreed. Despite your heart beating right out of your chest, you stayed down, quietly sitting next to Deran as you watched Smurf leave.

It took hours for them to get back. You sat there for hours, rejecting every offer for a drink to ease your nerves coming from Craig and matching every pensive look J had adorning his face. The hours passed as you sat there, immovable, slowly trying to make peace with the fact that maybe Andrew would never come back, that the last words you'd spoken had been a lie.

'Anything that happens to you happens to me.'

Yet you'd remained inside the car, hidden, not even seeing when or where he'd gotten shot, having no idea he'd been taken until after the fact. You hated yourself for it. It was unrealistic to think you could've made any difference, but knowing that Andrew had been taken without a single person putting up a fight to prevent it made you sick to your stomach.

You ran to the bathroom to throw up, with Deran running after you and patting your back to offer you some comfort at what he knew was the worst moment of your life.

Once the sun had set, you finally heard a car pull up in the driveway. You'd stayed stationary in the living room all day, waiting and refusing to go to sleep when the guys had insisted, telling you they'd go get you when they came back. If you missed the moment he came back, you'd only beat yourself up about it even more than you'd already been doing. You couldn't even muster it within yourself to consider the possibility of Smurf returning alone.

The three of you stood by the entrance as the car parked, unable to make out if there was someone on the passenger's seat due to the headlights blaring in front of you.

But then the passenger door opened, and out came your Andrew.

His two brothers stood there as they watched him walk over, but you couldn't hold yourself back from running to him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck and bringing his head down to your shoulder, that space in the crook of your neck he always loved to nuzzle when you held him. His arms wrapped around you within seconds, engulfing you in his large frame while he breathed you in deeply.

"Andrew ..." you cried.

"It's okay. I'm okay, I'm sorry."

You shook your head, fingers running through his hair to soothe him.

"Don't apologize. None of this is your fault, Andrew. Just ... Fuck, just stay like this for a minute."

The guys let you have your moment, with Smurf walking past the two of you hugging and stepping into the house without a word. If she looked angry, you couldn't tell, because your mind was entirely occupied by Andrew as you held him.

When you finally let go, the guys had their turns giving him a hug, eyes teary as they expressed their gratitude for his return, their sorrows for letting him get taken.

"Come on, help me pack some stuff. We're not staying here tonight." Andrew said after you'd made it to his room.

"No? Where are we-"

"Deran's. I already told him. I don't want you staying here with Smurf, it's not safe anymore."

You didn't question him. He was already decided, not even giving himself a minute of rest before he shoved a few things in a duffel bag and grabbed your hand, letting you kiss Deran goodbye and hug Craig and J before leaving. The brothers found your affection strange, but returned it nonetheless.

The drive was a short one, making it to Deran's bar and upstairs to the small apartment within less than fifteen minutes. It was silent, but not tense. Andrew held onto your hand the entire drive, bringing it up for kiss its back at a stop sign when he noticed some tears still in your eyes.

By the time you arrived, you were both exhausted, letting the day get the best of you and practically dragging your feet upstairs. The silence did not help matters, making him feel unnerved about everything when you'd entered the apartment and simply stood in the middle of it while looking down at your hands.

"Andrew ..." you called his attention, sniffling.

He took a few steps towards you, letting the duffel bag fall off his shoulder in the process. He spoke first.

"If this ... If this is too much for you, I understand." he began, exhaling, "You shouldn't have to put up with this- this bullshit. You shouldn't be putting yourself in dangerous situations, waiting for me to get back, or, fuck, joining us when shit goes south."

You shook your head as he spoke, not even entertaining the motion of what he was implying.

"Stop- stop saying that. I don't care, Andrew. No matter what happens, I don't care. I'm staying."

He sighed, looking down and finding your hand reaching for his. He couldn't deny you, not even as he tried to convince you to break up with him, to run and not look back.

"You can't say that. You cant ... You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not worth it. I can't let you do it."

"Hey." your hands lifted, dropping his and cupping his cheeks instead. "I love you. Anything I have to do to be with you is worth it. Do you understand?"

Your voice was stern, a tone Andrew had never heard from you. In other circumstances he'd feel scolded, duck his tail between his legs and avoid your eyes. But despite your tone, despite how serious and furious you sounded, your eyes were still full of compassion for him.

Without a response, he nodded, letting you pull him down for a kiss and wrapping his limp arms around your waist, holding you to him as he'd done when he first arrived back at the house. The kiss ended after a bit, but your embrace continued for a while longer. Andrew felt you shudder in his arms, frowning at the realization that he'd made you cry again.

Andrew led you to the shower, undressing you and himself, holding you under the water for a few minutes before even bothering to move to get yourselves clean. But your nails dug into the skin of his forearms, and he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. He laid kisses on the wet top of your head, chin eventually finding its home on your shoulder and lips turning every so often to kiss your skin.

When he went to grab some shampoo, your hand reached out to his wrist, stopping him before he could continue, and looking into his eyes with a look that made his heart break. It was the most vulnerable he'd ever seen you, a girl he'd always known for her outspoken confidence, her lack of trouble when holding his gaze in a way not many others were able to.

"Please ..." you pleaded. "I want- I want to feel you. Please, Andrew? I need to ... I need to know you're here."

Your voice destroyed him inside out. It was so meek and broken, lacking any confidence — as if you were scared he wasn't real, that he'd get taken away again if you made your needs known. It was either that or a belief that he'd ever reject you, that he'd ever be offered a way in which to take care of you and decline it.

"Okay." he nodded, leaning down and kissing your lips again.

You cried against his lips, needy hands reaching to his hair and pulling him closer. His own lips opened, seeking you out, taking control and letting himself have you.

It was easy to let go while he had you in his arms. The short time he'd been away, you'd been the only thing on his mind, the one regret he had leaving behind. And he kissed you like so, like he couldn't breathe without you, like he needed to prove just how much he regretted ever being taken away from you. Because this was the only place in which he belonged. He'd come to learn that that feeling was mutual, and he couldn't handle the thought of taking this away from you, of having it be taken away from him.

One of his hands slid down your body, already familiar with the song and dance to get you into position, get your leg lifted, wrapped around his waist so he could slide inside you, neither of you caring that it was too soon or that you needed more prep.

Your shared groans of relief landed in each other's lips, your noises of pleasure making it almost impossible to kiss, but still fighting the battle to try.

Andrew almost lost his balance at the pleasure of being sheathed inside you, one palm slamming against the glass door behind you to recover his balance. He pounded into you, not aggressively, but with every pent up feeling inside him. He let himself loose, liberally groaning and whining your name in between expletives, declaring himself to you.

"Please. Please don't leave." he cried. "I need you here."

It only made you cry louder, nodding your head aggressively and attempting a few syllables in between moans but failing. All you could do in between the crying and the noises of bliss were blabbers.

"Can't fucking do this shit without you. D- don't make me stop."

Your ankle dug harder into his back, pushing him even deeper inside you in a silent plea for him to never stop.

"Don't, oh fuck, please don't stop." you sighed out, head falling back.

Licking at the exposed skin there, he grunted into your neck, sucking on an old hickey he'd left there earlier in the week. He couldn't let it fade. Needed it to be there as a reminder for the two of you.

A chorus of his name hit his ear when you came, pulling him into heaven right with you. But even as you finished, now filled with his essence, he stayed inside you for a while. He kissed and loved on you, something you usually did to him instead. He wasn't sure what'd changed when he'd been abducted, but he just couldn't help himself. It grounded him.

The shower was slow, the warm water somehow lasting all throughout the near two hours you were in there taking care of each other.

He washed you while you washed him, hands soft and slow in their movements. Not many words were exchanged, but those that snuck in between the silence were vows of affection that couldn't help but leave your lips.

When the two of you finally made it to bed, Andrew laid back, positioning himself the same way he always did to engulf you in his arms. But you stopped him, finger gesturing at him to turn around.

"I wanna hold you tonight. I need to make sure you're still here."

And he couldn't disobey that request.

It felt better than he'd ever imagined.

He'd never been held like this by anyone who wasn't Smurf or Julia.

His back was too wide for you to lay down while nuzzling into the crook of his neck like he did to you, so you opted to kiss at his back, mumbling something about wanting to give him a kiss for every freckle adorning it.

"It was her." Andrew whispered after a while of being doted on by you.

"Who?"

"Smurf." he clarified. "The person who killed Baz."

"Did Lucy tell you that?"

You believed him. You just wanted to give him space to keep talking, get it all out of his chest.

"Yeah. A few weeks ago, when she called me down to Mexico. Said Smurf hired some girl to kill him."

"I'm sorry, Andrew."

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But you could tell it was. You could tell that if you prodded too much, he'd break.

"I think I need to take care of her." he said after some silence.

"What do you mean?"

He gave you a pensive hum before responding. "I can't tell you. I don't wanna implicate you."

You nodded to yourself, kissing his back one last time in affirmation.

"Okay."

The two of you fell asleep quickly after that. And when you woke up, you chose to spend the next few days holed up in Deran's apartment. It was a way for Andrew to heal from everything he'd been through the past few days, The only worry on his mind was Lena, but you assured him that she was probably fine with her foster family, that you'd help him with whatever he needed after he took rest for a couple of days.

➽──────────────────❥

Things continued to spiral.

Andrew was happy with his alone time with you, away from Smurf and all her pretenses for care for her family.

But when he went back home to discuss Lena with her, he'd found some unprecedented news.

Lena was coming home, but she was coming home to Smurf, with her becoming her primary guardian due to Andrew's record.

She'd used this to rope Andrew into moving back home with her, which he reluctantly accepted after your reassurance that you'd join him if he asked you to — which, despite his shame, he did.

Immediately upon Lena's arrival back home, it was obvious to you and Andrew she did not want to be there. She'd had a taste of a good foster family, one with a daughter her age, looking to adopt a girl just like Lena, and she'd finally found some of the stability that'd been robbed from her when her mother died.

It took everything in Andrew to make this decision, but he ultimately gave in, deciding he'd do everything he could to get Lena back into her foster house, even if it meant dealing with Smurf.

You accompanied him to the foster house, sat back while he talked to Lena as they sat on the swings, apologetic as he shared his struggles when he was her age. He told her about how he was always angry, how kids would push him around, that he'd defend himself and the teachers would get mad, never once punishing the other kids like they did him. He told her about how they all thought he was terrible, even Smurf. He admitted to how awful he thought himself to be, but at least he had someone who was nice to him — his sister, with Baz being the second, and Cath the third. He told her how he promised them he'd take care of her. He cried, knowing this was the final goodbye and shared one last hug with her before getting up and walking back to you.

Your heart broke when you heard him share the intimate details of his childhood with Lena. It made bile fill your stomach, made you shut your eyes close to prevent the tears from trailing down. And when the two of you walked out of the house, you held him, letting him cry in your arms at the sacrifice he'd made.

Back home, Andrew made a deal with Smurf.

He'd give Lena away to her foster parents and keep Smurf's secret about what she'd done to Baz. She argued back, claiming he was in his head, that everyone was worried about his behavior and that she needed him to stay home with him where she could take care of him.

With hesitance, he agreed, knowing that if he didn't, Smurf would go after Lena and the cycle would repeat. He couldn't let that happen to Lena.

"What about Lena?" he'd asked.

"I'll forget she ever existed."

"And ... and what about her?" he asked, referring to you.

Smurf smiled at him. "She's not staying anywhere near my house." she got up, patting his arm lovingly. "Now, you pull yourself together and come join the party."

-

Andrew spent the next three weeks in almost complete isolation in Smurf's home.

It was never explicitly stated, but it was heavily implied that Andrew was not to leave the house, that he was not to step out of line, or else Lena would pay the consequences.

Andrew hadn't seen you in those three weeks. He'd heard from you through Deran, living in turmoil at the thought of being away from you for so long. He hoped you understood, tried to believe you when you said you did, but he was still terrified that you'd one day have enough and run off.

Within those three weeks, Andrew had once opened the door to some woman, a hooker Smurf had sent for him. She'd told him he seemed stressed lately, that he needed something to take the edge off. This only angered him further, making him panic at the thought of this getting back to you.

After sending the woman away, Andrew couldn't help himself, getting in his car and rushing to Deran's bar, no shirt or shoes on due to his rush.

When he finally arrived there, he knocked on your door, tears welling in his eyes and lips quivering. You opened the door within a few seconds, taking him in and immediately rushing to him and cradling him in your arms. The two of you crumbled to the floor as he cried. His hands gripped you harshly, terrified of letting you go and having you disappear forever.

"I'm here, Andrew. I'm here." you comforted him.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I miss you so much. I miss Lena. I miss- I can't do this."

And you cried with him, telling him you missed him too, that you'd be waiting for him until things with Smurf calmed down and enough time passed to make it harder for her to take Lena away from her foster parents. You told him that as soon as she was officially adopted, you'd drag him out of that house yourself, keep him all to yourself and never let him go.

➽──────────────────❥

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You sat in a stairwell with your brother in the East wing of your family’s estate. The steps between you meant his eyes could catch the comings and goings of any of the upper floor levels and your ears with the lower levels, despite how quiet this wing was. A hiding spot for secret conversations that you two could always meet at since being children. Whether to cry over your mother’s death or childish schemes for more sweets. 

You sat with your legs criss crossed as you thought. You didn’t know how to tell him what was breaking your heart. You’re sure that he had a feeling from the way you were avoiding his eyes and fidgeting with your fingers, hyperfixated on the ringless one that would taunt you. 

“Mike.” You rubbed your temple as if applying enough pressure might relieve the ache and fix everything. Your brother nodded, having immediately known this was to do with your partner, now ex. “We were meant to go away next week and he was making a big deal of it and then…There was a ring in the dresser.” You say sadly as you look down at your hands, nervously twisting and squeezing your own fingers to try and distract from the pain thrumming in your chest cavity. 

That same finger was still teasing you as your composure was slipping with each quickening breath. You both knew what the weight of a marriage meant in your world, how easily a fairytale can become a satanic slasher. A part of you had hoped you could dance around ever having to be in a position where this would become your reality. Ignorance was bliss. Any spouse could easily land up as the prey of a fatal hunt, it didn’t happen to everyone but it was a risk you could not take. You could not put another soul in this position, especially one you were in love with. 

“I can’t just say ‘hey! I can’t marry you because actually, my family’s wealth and empire is part of this Satanic cult and if we get married, we might have to hunt you!’” Hot tears started to prickle your waterline and burn your cheeks. His face fell as he watched you, he looked up at the stairs and then down back at you. “I pretended I hadn’t seen it and broke up with him on Tuesday. It was devastating, his face… He knew I was lying, that there was something.” You let the tears fall and don’t bother hiding them from the one other person in your life who understands this mindfuck of a world. 

“I’m so sorry…” Your brother says your name gently as he watches you with a thoughtful but kind gaze. “It’s fucked.”

“I know and I’m only the spare.” You sigh and rub your face, your breathing is evening out a little more and you try to inject some humour into this shitshow of a world. 

“Yeah, well unfortunately, I don’t think you’d like to trade.” Your brother replied as he looked down, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. A habit he kept hidden except for on his lonesome or when with his sister. He was a fidgeter, a habit that the father you shared would always pointedly sigh over. Despite the tease that the words should hold, his words were earnest. 

He was the heir and you were the spare. Those descriptions were accurate and more beneficial for your father anyway, since it would be assumed that you’d potentially “marry out”. But it meant there was a different kind of pressure on both of you, another thing that you were expected to carry with little say in the matter. 

You paused, rubbing your temples and trying to apply pressure. “No, you’re right.  I’d rather just have a whole new solution instead." 

“There is one.” Your brother said with a sigh, rubbing his face. He hated himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth. “If you marry into another family in the Council, there’s no hunt. No hunt for either of you.” 

As those words settle into your ears, you still as it feels like the very air in your lungs right then and there disappears.

~ One Year Later ~

The Danforth estate was as sprawling as you’d expect for a name that had centuries of wealth and luck carrying it through generations. There was a meeting of the Council, your father would be present as your family’s representative, you and your brother’s presence there was mainly just to be a glorified guest in the country air and perfectly polished rooms. You’d been to this estate multiple times throughout your life, not enough to know it like the back of your hand but well enough to remember where at least a few of the rooms were. 

Mainly the quiet ones. And that was all you were in the mood for. As soon as you’d be graced with the chance to escape for a few moments. You hated the Wilkinsons, they had a sliminess that made your skin crawl and wore putrid colognes that were an abrasive assault to your senses. There was no way in hell you were dealing with them and the rest of the energy that clung to these gatherings. You’d find your way into one eventually, once the bare minimum pleasantries were over. 

As you stepped out of the car, you looked from your brother to the Danforths that were standing at the bottom of the steps waiting for all of the families to arrive. Chester wasn’t there, it was just his twins in their sunglasses and fake smiles. The look on Titus’s face became less bored as he looked at you, you stood next to your brother, a slight step behind your father. Your presence surprised both the twins but Titus almost smiled to himself at seeing you. 

It had become a very not so subtle habit of yours to avoid any social interactions in the Le Bail organisation, filling your time with the more legal and conventional side of your family’s empire and an interest in music. One that had been nursed since you were young, and you would make a hobby of conveniently being away at the right time or slipping out of rooms. Titus viewed you as a spectre, a woman you could get a quick glimpse of in the corner of your eyes, appearing from nowhere in the least expected moments and then disappearing, floating out. An absence that weighed on you. 

He couldn’t help but wonder why you were here, you looked decadent and his boredom was disappearing with each millisecond. He didn’t speak as Ursula and your father politely greeted each other, his gaze was thankfully camouflaged by his sunglasses as he watched you. 

Ursula cleared her throat, speaking your name with her perfectly composed, chirpy smile that lacked any genuineness. “How nice to see you, it’s been awhile. Still playing with knives?” 

Her tone came across as friendly enough. Referencing the fact that in the few hunts that you’d joined, being more than competent, a thought you never wanted to dwell on, you carried throwing knives. Small blades were always your weapons of choice and where most of the weapons training of your education had been devoted. The lack of space they took up spoke to Ursula as a representation of your lack of interest in the hunts and the duties given to those blessed in your circles. 

You blinked, tilting your head to look at her with a tired but soft smile. It was all childish. “Why? Do you need to borrow one?” You adjusted your dress and pulled out a small sheathed throwing knife, holding it flat out in your hand as you offered it to her. Ursula was stunned at your reaction, she awkwardly took the knife as she watched you smooth your dress for a second and then link your arm with your brother’s and walk off, up the stairs to the estate. “They’re so fucking odd.” Ursula mutters under her breath as your family walks off into the doors, she places the knife in one of the many carefully concealed pockets of her overpriced blazer. But behind his tinted lenses, Titus’s eye softened as his mouth quickly turned up into a smug smirk at the boldest display he’d ever seen from you. A charmed and thoroughly pleased chuckle left his lips as he glanced at you over his shoulder for a second before smirking at his sister, struggling to piece her composure back together. 

Not only a handsome brute, Titus Danforth was more observant than he was often given credit for. When the Danforth twins were taking their first steps, they were also being primed to become skilled hunters, observation was a key and necessary skill for that. Titus had a reputation but he was overlooked, his sister seen as the calmer, less impulsive half of the package that they were and the fact that the Council’s arrogance was too loud to really appreciate observation. 

The Council was made up of several, loud families. Arrogance was key to having a seat at the fucked up table. It was part of why it was always so interesting seeing your family whenever there were gatherings. Like Chester, your father was a widower with two children, you weren’t a twin like he was though. Your brother was the more vocal one of you two, but you both were reserved. He’d felt a hum of amusement and curiosity when you’d all been younger and he’d seen the way your brother and you shared a look and a whisper for nobody else’s ears, you had a secret language just like him and Ursula. But you two were still different, he’d never seen you raise a hand to your brother like Ursula had to him and you didn’t tear each other down with words like his and Ursula’s competitive rapport, at least not publicly. 

When there were cocktails being served in the evening before dinner, you’d stood off against a bookshelf silently, you and your brother a quiet observant pair like usual. He’d noticed something different though, your brother was standing with more tension winding his shoulders and jaw up more than usual. His own eyes locked in on those standing in the room. He didn’t bother hiding the way his eyes rolled at the Wilkinsons and exchanging a glance with you, your eyes looked wider than usual as you stood in the room. The choice of your dress made sense, the long black dress allowed you to slink in the shadows easier, but no matter what you wore, his eyes would find you in any silent room or pit of darkness. It was impressive that someone with such an adverse reaction to attention always captured him. 

Titus watched your brother have a short conversation with Viran, one that you silently watched, your face twisted slightly to look like you might be biting the inside of your cheek as you watched. Your brother didn’t humour a conversation with the younger Rajan brother, Titus also found him annoying but he felt that way about most people. You only gave a polite nod and a small smile that never met your pretty eyes. 

The only person your brother seemed less tense with was Daniel Le Domas, a man that Titus had no respect for, Titus thought that little of Daniel that he didn’t even despise him. His stomach twisted slightly as he watched you lean forward slightly and you whispered something to your brother and Daniel, your brother smiled wistfully and Daniel sipped from his glass that was never empty. He didn’t like the sight of you talking to Daniel, you seemed more comfortable around him than anyone else in the room that wasn’t your brother. Daniel was married, clearly unhappily, he made no efforts to hide that but Titus was confident that you weren’t the type to try a married man. He’d bet on it, it was his house and the house always wins. 

Your brother was doing the bulk of the conversating, but they were all short conversations anyway. He had less patience than he usually did. Daniel Le Domas was disenchanted by all that had happened and was married, it was easier for you both to be around him. He wasn’t a candidate you’d have to judge and worry about for marriage. It was one of the unmarried men in this room that was the source of your curse and solution. You weren’t pleased with the choices and your brother was a fisherman desperately looking for the right catch. 

You stood by your brother, carefully holding a glass that your lips had barely touched. “Alex?” You whispered after Daniel had stepped away for a bathroom break. Your mind was working quickly on any of the potential options. 

Your brother quickly shook his head. “No.” 

“He’s not really MIA,” you offer. Alex had left his family, taken a road rarely travelled by those with blood on their hands. You weren’t attracted to him but he’d always seemed nice enough and the fact he’d gone no contact with his family seemed like a green flag in this situation. Especially when you stood in the same room as his family, you couldn't imagine a soul on Earth enjoying the company of Helene Le Domas. 

“No. He’s spineless, not kind. There’s a difference. You can’t trust someone like that.” You sighed and nodded at that, biting your lip. The pool of options for a marriage that didn’t ruin someone’s life was getting far too slim. 

Something that you and your brother were in agreement over was that the Wilkinsons weren’t worth touching with a ten-metre long pole. The Le Domas family was officially ruled out, the only eligible bachelors left were Viraj Rajan and Titus Danforth. While whatever arrangement might happen would be a marriage of convenience, you tilted your head and pondered the thought, you struggled to see yourself married to either of them, even if it was a sham. 

There was the possibility of marriage to another family associated with the organisation, but outside of the Council their status was significantly lower and would put yourself in a position to be used as a convenient ladder for some soulless sucker. Your brother had already laid out that a marriage was best with someone of a more equal footing, anyone else with a noticeable imbalance was too big of a risk and one you couldn’t trust. 

“Viraj is intense and Madhu is unbearable, I couldn’t have that as a brother-in-law.” You whisper and your brother’s eyes travel around the room again. 

“And the Danforths… In this situation, marrying Titus would either be the best or worst thing, no inbetween.” Your brother replied, he watched you for a moment as your forehead furrowed. 

“I’m not Danforth material.” You answered honestly and he sipped his drink, a slight hum of agreement coming out as you both thought of the intense Danforths. 

The Danforth twins had been summoned to their father’s study; it wasn’t a rare occurrence because of their status. But despite the smug smirks both Ursula and Titus were wearing, neither were clued in on what exactly it was that their father wanted to discuss this afternoon. Probably something to do with the next upcoming Council meeting, or to go over their plans for their next political deal. 

Chester looked at his children carefully, he’d done everything he could to raise them to the highest of possibly achievable standards, he knew his children were better than the other families but he still saw a mass of flaws when he looked at them both. 

“There’s still no heir, from either of you.” Chester spoke matter of factly, his calm, all knowing voice was starting to become a bit airier with age. 

Ursula’s eyes widened slowly as she looked from her father to her brother and back. This was a conversation that always weighed heavily on the back of her mind, occasionally being ripped to the front and suffocating her in a way that none of the men in her family could understand. She almost wanted to flee whenever this happened, but she kept her calm composure, allowing herself a single blink to blink it away before the stone front was covering her. 

The silent tells of Ursula’s discomfort and guilt were clear as day to Titus as he glanced at her, seeing her deer in headlights eyes before she could smother it away. This was something Titus knew would become a greater focus for the remainder of Chester’s life, a pressure to plague him for years. His eyes glanced at his sister’s again, the stone composure didn’t hide all from him, he knew this was the one thing she would abdicate without argument and it was to be demanded of him. 

“Yes, we’re aware, father.” Titus said quietly as he watched him, he held his hands together calmly, not betraying a single emotion as he looked at the man that he’d idolised his whole life but had also a quiet resentment festering for the manipulation that had moulded him from the start to the man he now was. 

Chester looked at Titus and frowned. “It’s taken generations for this power, the High seat is an intergenerational effort, it takes so much to build but the smallest of missteps to crumble. A single generation - or lack of - will ruin it all. That is something we cannot accept, I won’t be let down.” 

“The High Seat won’t leave the family.” Ursula says as she steps closer. Titus frowns, it’s so Ursula to speak as if she is the one carrying the burden, finding the solution when she’s volunteering him up for the work she doesn’t want to do, the burden she quite literally will not carry. 

Titus clenches his jaw as he watches his family silently. Does Ursula - controlling Ursula - know just how much power would be handed to Titus simply for this? And of course he’d have to do this the right way. He’d have to marry to satisfy his father’s need for the pristine reputation and Mr Le Bail’s requirements. He’s sure that his father already has a list typed up of candidates, his father had tried to raise marriage prospects with him in the past but Titus had done well for shrugging this off for awhile, he was bored easily and the faces he’d met on his father’s lists were never interesting to him. 

“I’ll find someone.” Titus said as he watched his father, emphasising that he wanted this to be his choice. Not his father’s and certainly not Ursula’s. Maybe he’d humour their thoughts for a moment before shooting them down with a laugh. But if he was to have a wife he wanted one that was at least somewhat interesting. 

It was muscle memory that led to you walking to a study that you remembered having entered a few times over the years. If this was another’s home, you like to think you wouldn’t be so bold, but the Danforth estate was so large and had countless studies, if it was even noticed in the first place, nobody would mind in the grand scheme of things. 

The study had the same perfect bay window you remembered, there were only a few glimpses of sunlight left but it was still the spot you knew would be the most comforting. You sat down carefully, gently fixing the skirt of your dress that’s length reached your mid-calves. It was elegant and black, more simple than loud but that was your taste when it came to family business. 

You looked at a few piles of books that sat near the bay window, touching them carefully as the spines were clearly aged, dust coating them and now your fingertips. One of them could surely entertain you well enough for a while as part of your plan to pass time. It was then that you heard the click of the doorknob turning as the door opened into the room, revealing Titus Danforth stepping in. 

Titus had seen you walk into here, the first thing he notices when he steps in is your eyes that immediately look up to see him. You're surprised but you don’t look like a deer in headlights, nor a fox with its paw caught in a trap. There’s no fear or disgust on your face, just genuine surprise to have someone else step into this slice of a moment in time. 

A Danforth walking into a study on the Danforth estate shouldn’t surprise you but it still does. “I’m sorry to have imposed, did you need the room?” You clear your throat after a moment and then ask politely. 

“No.” Titus watched you, his smile growing slightly, he walked closer and then sat on the desk near the window and faced you. You bit your lip for a second to hold your tongue back from saying something, sitting on desks and tables was a habit you’d always hated. Titus noticed the bite but he didn’t know the reasoning, he still found it interesting. He wanted to learn every reaction and expression you were capable of, what would trigger them and what noise was elicited by what word or look. 

His hazel eyes flicked down to the book next to your side, you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as you looked down at the books you’d  moved closer to peruse. You put them down, tidily moving them to the side, trying to wipe some of the dust off, more for the sake of a distraction than anything else. 

“You’re on your own…” Titus said as his eyes moved from the dusty books to your eyes. They were mesmerising, the shape was what caught him and then the colour of your irises was the most enchanting hue he’d ever seen. 

“Yes, I didn’t mean to snoop. I just like the quiet.” You look down, you find the quiet more comforting than the tense body language and pissing contests that took place whenever the families of the Council gathered. Cautious not to provoke, hyper aware that making yourself at home and sitting next to some dusty tomes in a study in these circles could be interpreted as something much less innocent. 

After a quiet moment your gaze lifted and met him again, he was just watching you quietly, thoughtfully. It wasn’t something you’d expected to see before, his eyes were hard to decipher but you hadn’t noticed the wide, almost softness they also had. They were a pretty hazel colour, you give him a small smile. 

“I know.” He said and then he took something out from his pocket, Titus took your hand at the same time, placing a small familiar blade into your hand that he’s holding now with both of his big hands. You look down, shock and embarrassment floods you at the unexpected gesture. The hilt catches your eyes, it’s one you’re more than familiar with, weighed and carved to perfection for throwing. 

“Oh, thank you!” You chuckled quietly and then looked up at him. “Ursula didn’t need it after all? I’m surprised she didn’t return it herself.” 

“She doesn’t know.” He shrugs with a slight smile that grows, his dark eyes twinkling. It was hard not to immediately light up at your reaction and your soft chuckle, it had a melodic ring to it that he could get used to. 

Your eyes and mouth widen at the same time, you chuckled as the words land and are then absorbed. “Titus Danforth! You little pick pocket!” You laugh more, genuinely quite surprised at him doing something like that and then telling you, all over a small knife you didn’t really have any issue parting with. He felt a flutter in his stomach and a warmth flood through his pale freckled skin at the sight of glee on your face, a laugh he’d earnestly drawn out. 

Titus looked down at your hand and nodded with a smile, then back at your eyes, committing the way your eyelashes fanned out to memory. He’d considered not returning the knife after he’d pocketed it from a clueless Ursula, he’d considered it seriously, keeping it for himself. The etchings and patterns on the sheath and hilt distinctly declared this as a knife belonging to your family, it would be a humourous memento that was undeniably yours. He’d wondered if you’d thrown this particular knife before, he assumed so, whether as part of training or in an actual hunt, he didn’t know. But he decided it was best to return it to you, especially with the fact that it would give him an easy opening to talk to you. 

You were always so reserved at these things, you and your brother always sidestepping social interactions and ducking out of conversations as soon as you could. He’d noticed that your brother tended to speak more than you but that wasn’t saying much, and Titus knew in his gut that this dynamic wasn’t a guard dog watching over a delicate flower of a sister, but because you liked to observe and absorb. Titus knew you were better than the others, more interesting and that you wouldn’t say it to him right now, but you knew it too, in your own way. What Titus wouldn’t give to be able to see into your head and know what exactly it was that you thought. 

Titus looked at you, he looked at your hands slightly for a moment. Hands that were soft except for where some calluses had likely formed from your musical gifts. “Do you still play?” Titus asked as he shifted a little closer, still holding your hands with the most gentle touch. 

“Not as often.” You answered vaguely but truthfully. 

“Hm.” He nodded, still holding your hand in his own, thinking it would be nice to keep his hand with yours for as long as possible. His touch surprised you but you wouldn’t allow yourself to say anything. “You look divine.” He says simply as his eyes go to your dress. Your eyes flick up to his face, the irises are such a pretty green, you know they’re technically hazel but there’s just so much green in them in this light. 

“Thanks…” You whisper quietly and give him a small smile, tilting your head down to try and avoid the way you can feel your cheeks heat up, even if he can’t tell. It feels weird to be complimented when in these social circles but especially when it’s just the two of you. It makes it feel more real and less like the superficial compliments exchanged over drinks and handshakes with an audience.  

He nods after a moment, still looking at your hand before looking back at you, his eyes looking less green for a moment as they soften and seem to grow. “I last saw you play two years ago, back in Berlin.”

It takes a moment for his words to really land and then your eyes widen quickly. Your cheeks heating up more as surprise swirls from your stomach to your head, straightening your back up the more you try to meet his eyes. “Really? I didn’t know…” 

Titus shrugs as if it’s nothing. “I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you… play.” There’s a silence that hums between you both, his thumb rubs a soft, light circle over your knuckles. It’s a surprisingly soft touch but you also can’t help the unease at the feeling, you feel a sense of embarrassment crawling up you at this oddly intimate moment. You never would’ve imagined Titus holding your hand as you two sat alone in a study, maybe it was an accident and Titus didn’t even realise he was still holding your hand. 

When in reality, that was what was consuming him. 

“I had piano lessons when I was younger, I didn’t really have the patience for it… To excel in a way like you do. Can you play that too?” He asks and you nod for a moment before speaking. 

“Yes, it’s a good foundation.” You watch his eyes, Titus always has been someone with intense eye contact but his gaze seems more interested in your hand then meeting your eyes. It’s odd. It feels unnerving. Maybe it’s from admitting he didn’t immediately excel at something. You can imagine that easily being a sore topic for someone in the Danforth line and with what knowledge you know of his and Ursula’s upbringing. 

“I’d like to hear you play again.” Titus spoke gently, repeating your name in a tone you’d never heard from his lips before, his thumb brushing over your hand again before he carefully let it go, his eyes looked over his shoulder and it almost pained him to not get to see your face, your hair, your lips for another second. He moved his hand away delicately and slowly, as if it was paper he was trying to keep dry in a rainstorm. Titus was not a quiet man but you watched his hand squeeze yours one last time before fully letting go, detaching completely and silently leaving you alone in the study.