Longlostx11

You sigh and lean back into him as you continue the job at hand. “It was nice…” your’e trying not to get too distracted as you continue folding one of his hoodies. 

“Mmm….” He hums against your neck, his hand slowly rubbing over your waist and hips. “You smell good…” his lips move along your shoulder and neck, nipping gently where they meet. 

You bite your lip as he reaches down to the hem of your summer dress. You and Sammy had an agreement. You both found it hot when he would just fuck you whenever he wanted. It was something you’d both previously consented to during a long talk about it and always had a safe word. Knowing exactly where this was going you continue to fold the laundry. 

His hands slowly push your dress up to your waist as he continues to kiss and nip at your neck. The way you were trying to focus on the laundry only made him more determined, his large hands spread over your stomach pulling you back into his hardening length. You hear the click of his duty belt undoing before he places it a safe distance away from you both. 

“I had a bath…” you tell him conversationally. “I went for a little walk…” 

“Mhmm… that sounds nice baby.” He says gruffly, his hands sliding up to grab your tits over your dress. He squeezed gently, thumbs flicking over your hardening nipples making your knees weak but he was steady behind you. “You smell like fucking heaven…” you heard his zip and then felt his hard dick against your plump ass. Your breathy moan is music to his ears, he loves how much he affects you, nothing cold or fake like he’d had in the past. When it was a manipulation tactic to distract him from all the fucked up shit going on. 

No. This was mutual… this was worship on both parts. He pushes your panties down letting them fall and when he peaks down seeing them pooling around your bare feet he groans deep before pulling out his heavy cock. “Good girl…” He praises, instantly recognising the relaxed way you submit to him. 

You try to concentrate on folding the t shirt in your hands as he rubs his heavy leaking cock between your bare cheeks, tapping his thick head against your pussy… you really do. 

“So fucking wet…” he breaths as his hand slides between your legs, two fingers plunging inside you. You gasp and lean heavily on the counter, the t shirt in your hands being crushed as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles. “You okay there?” He mutters pulling his fingers from your already swollen pussy. You nod shakily as your finish folding the t shirt and set it aside before grabbing a sweater with shaky hands. 

His thick cock pushes into your tight pulsing hole in one slow deliberate stroke, his hips grinding once he’s fully inside you. He moans loud in your ear, hands gripping your hips tightly. “That’s my girl… such a good girl for me.” He murmurs as he starts to fuck you steadily, not rushing, his tired body moving with a loving dominance. The shirt you were folding gets scrunched up in your fists at one particularly powerful thrust of his hips and he chuckles from behind you at your pathetic attempt. He continued driving into you deeply. 

“Aww baby, look at the mess you’re making.” He coos as he molds himself around you and nips at your earlobe. His fingers strumming against your clit combined with his rough yet soft voice, filled with exhaustion and pleasure is all too much for you. 

You have no idea if the mess you’re making is the fully forgotten laundry or the one on his dick but you fully do.

not.

care.

You begin to push back, meeting his thrusts. He pants as you do, your pussy gripping his cock and he has to squeeze your hips to set the pace himself otherwise he would come on the spot. He breaths your name against your neck as his thrusts get faster. “Fucking perfect…”

You whimper and moan as he pushes you gently to bend over the counter whilst fucking into you. A glance over your shoulder shows you that his attention is completely focused on you. Still in his uniform, his strong arms bulging as he moves. He sees you looking and gives you that crooked half smirk that has you tightening around him. 

“There she is…” He moans pressing his uniform covered chest against your back.

“Sammy.” You whimper. 

His voice drops to a low gravelly whisper as one hand moves to spread possessively over your stomach and the other keeps moving against your clit. “Right here baby?”

“Yes…”

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He praises, voice thick with obsession. He’s watching your face reflected in the window above the counter, obsessed with how you look and how completely wrecked you are just for him. He’s disappointed when you bury your face in the pile of unfolded laundry in front of you but the scream you let out makes up for it, the fabric only slightly muffling you. The tight clench of you makes his eyes roll back. “God damn, baby…” 

He’s close too, his jaw tightening and his arms corded from restraint as he fucks you through it slowing slightly as your orgasm ebbs but your pussy still flutters around him. Still bent over the counter you look back at him adoringly. Completely blissed out and he counts his lucky stars he has you. You make him feel truly wanted, needed, desired and loved. Nothing like the transactional sex he’d been used to for so long. Here he was worshipped. “So fucking beautiful…” he leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “My girl…”

“All yours Sammy…” you gasp as he speeds up again his strong hands gripping your waist.

“Fuck yes. All mine.” He growls low in his throat, restraint snapping with shout. The sound of your sincere reassurance destroys him. His hips snap forward, losing his rhythm. His ragged moans and the way you feel his cum releasing deep inside you as his body trembles around you has you moaning along with him. 

His grip on your hips is tight before his forehead drops heavily against your shoulder. “Fuck…” He breaths grinding his hips slowly with the aftershocks of both your intense orgasms, completely overwhelmed. 

You sigh happily reaching back to pull his face into yours, nuzzling against him. He stays that way for a while, enjoying how you handle him like he’s something worth having. He kisses you deeply, both of you groaning and sensitive as he’s still inside you. He pulls out of you with a broken laugh, kissing your nose lightly. 

Straight away he pulls your panties back to for you. Tugging them back into place gently before fixing his own pants, leaving the top button open so that when you turn around you can see the skin just above his boxers and can’t help but reach out to stroke him. Hand rubbing his tummy under his shirt making him grin stupidly. You can almost see the shift from hell he’s just had melting off of his shoulders. 

Despite how tired he clearly is he helps you finish folding the laundry as close to you as physically possible. 

You tell him you made his favourite dinner and that it should still be warm in the oven waiting for him and that mischievous smile that lights up his eyes spreads across his face. 

“You serious?” He stops mid fold with a towel in his hands, looking at you like you hung the moon. He drops the towel and wraps his arms around you. “Baby… you actually are an angel.” 

He asks you to come sit with him while he eats and you do. You talk and laugh and by the heat that fills his eyes every now and again you now he’s loving the fact that you’re still full of him. He’s content as he finishes his meal, watching you talk, the way your eyes sparkle when he says something you like… which he guesses must be everything. He leans back in the chair arms crossed behind his head. 

He’s home. He’s finally home. “I love you baby.”

“I love you more.” You tell him as you stand and grab his plate, kissing his head. He grabs your wrist before you can pull away looking up at you with a soft expression that always makes your heart skip. 

“Nah, I love you more.” 

You just smile down at him with a shake of your head and leave him sitting there grinning like an idiot as he watches you walk over to the sink. He’s completely exhausted but too happy to care as he drags a hand over his tired eyes contemplating having a coffee so he can make love to you until you’re writhing beneath him. 

Then you walk past him letting your fingers tickle the back of his neck gently and your perfume lingers as you walk out of the room. 

He didn’t bounce his leg. Yet he would always steady yours. He didn’t bite his nails. But would grimace when you did it and pull your hand away from your mouth telling you how even the cleanest people have germs under their nails. The problem, you had learned, was that when the storm finally broke through it could easily shatter his mind. 

You’d been watching for it since you’d walked into the yard that night and seen Smurf laid on the workbench. It took you a second to realise she was gone but one look at Andrew confirmed it. He looked away from you instantly and you knew it was so that he didn’t fall apart now that you were there.

The one person he needed in that moment.

The boys were stood around the table and without even thinking about it you closed the space between you both, pressing your chest against his arm so that you were angled straight to him. Your hand on his back. He leaned into you slightly. 

You had zoned in on the blood on his white shirt and ear instantly but otherwise he looked okay. You glanced around at the boys. They all just looked in shock. Andrew looked broken. 

J didn’t look affected. Something you took note of. 

“We need to call the doctor you use. What’s his name?”

“Why?” Craig asks.

“We can’t take her to the mortuary like this, they’ll call the cops. She needs to have died in her bed from the cancer.” J was right but you wished for Andrews sake this could have been easier. You didn’t know what happened yet but you knew the selfish bitch would have made it as hard on them all as possible. Especially Andrew. 

You keep your hand where it is on his back, knowing there is absolutely nothing you can do to help but be there. And even that wouldn’t stop the repercussions of Smurfs actions, you worried. 

“And we need a doctor to sign the death certificate that says so.” J continued. 

“I’ll call him.” Deran says calmly before leaving. You grab his hand giving it a squeeze as he walks past you. He just squeezes back. 

“Where’s your truck?” J asks Andrew and when you look up at him you can feel your chest shatter. He looks lost, he looks like a little boy, the one you know is always somewhere inside the scary shell he hides behind.

He’s not really there. You can tell by the dazed look in his eyes.

“Pope.” J says abruptly to get his attention, making the man jolt slightly against you.

“What?” He says to J. 

“Where’s your truck did you leave it out there?” 

“I was in a gun fight.” Andrew snaps back. “I barely got out of there.” He lowers his voice, as though not wanting you to hear even though you were right beside him. Your stomach drops but you know it needs to be filed away for another time. Like so many things these days just to get through. You feel him dipping and guide him to walk backwards and sit on the stool just behind him. 

When he’s sat he looks up at you so helpless that you can’t hold back any longer and pull him into you. He wraps his arms around your waist like a vice, burying his face into the space just below your chest. You hold him close, almost hiding him from the others with one hand and the other arm wrapped around his shoulders.

When you look over at Craig he sniffs and you can tell he’s holding back the tears. You offer him a look that you hope shows how sorry you are. Despite who she was, she was their Mom. And you just knew something fucked up will have happened today. You’ve known it. Had a bad feeling hanging over you from the second he told you Smurf had a job and that she would be joining. 

You glanced at J who just looked at you and Andrew with an unreadable expression. The pair eventually left. To go home or to sort out the next moves with Smurf. 

When they’d gone you shush Andrew the way you often had over the years when things got too much for him. “Andrew…” You whisper and he pulls back to look up at you, tears streaming down his cheeks. You hold his face, clearing them with your thumbs, your own falling now. Not because of that woman. 

Never. But because you knew how hard this was going to be on Andrew out of them all. 

“Im so sorry.” You tell him tearily as you bend down to leave a lingering kiss on his forehead. 

“She’s just… gone.” He says it like he can’t believe it, yet you knew that he more than most knew what that sudden sickening finality felt like when it came to death. You just nod. 

“Yeah… yeah she is.” You confirm. “And you’re going to be okay.” You look him in the eye because you need him to know it. To believe it. “I promise.” You whisper it with so much certainty he almost believes you. 

The thing was you knew him so well. 

You knew what Smurf was to him. How deep that bond went. Traumatic or not and this would undoubtedly break him. 

You knelt in front of him without a word. His shoulders sagged the moment you did.

Slowly, he folded into you until you, foreheads touched. His face turned, brushing against yours in a quiet, absent movement, like instinct had taken over before he'd even realised he'd done it.

You closed your eyes. One hand came up to cradle his jaw, your thumb stroking across his cheek. He leaned into it immediately.

Eventually you feel like you should give him time alone with her. You tell him you’re right inside if he needs you and he nods looking at you gratefully. Grateful that you always know when to give him the space he needs. With one last kiss on his forehead you leave him.

Andrew told you everything later that night as you lay facing each other in his bed, only an inch or so between you. About meeting his Uncle and Cousins. Learning about his Father. How there’d been a shoot out that Smurf had no intention of getting out of. How he’ had to drag her out of there and left his truck behind. That you were going to have to go to your parents house until they figured out what they were going to do about the fact his new found ‘family’ were out for blood. 

But it was Deran who told you, as you gave Andrew time to say goodbye to Smurf, the part about her shooting Andrew. How badly it could have all gone wrong. How she had wanted to drag him down with her. Couldn’t stand the thought of him living without her iron grip. 

“It was so bad.” Deran had whispered into your hair shakily as you held each other, terrified at the fact there could have been two bodies in the garage. 

After Deran had left and Andrew walked into the house, dazed and covered in blood you had told him to go get a shower. You knew he needed some direction right now or he would just sit. You would look after him. You always would but there was something you wanted to do first. 

J was sat by the pool when you walked out. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You ask and he looks over his shoulder at you. He reminds you so much of Andrew in that moment, calm faced but the shiver down your spine told you there was more underneath. And you weren’t sure you wanted to experience it. 

“You’re kidding, right?” He scoffed before looking back towards the pool and takin a swig of his beer. “Pope would murder me if I got you involved in this.” 

He was right, you knew that but recently you were getting the feeling that no matter how hard he tried you were getting more and more tangled into the Cody family web. 

“Just trying to help.” You say aggravated. You’d just heard how close Andrew came to dying tonight. 

“I know. Thanks.” You heard J say to your retreating back but you didn’t acknowledge it. 

When you walk into the garage you just stare at her for a few moments. Waiting to feel something. Not sure what you should be feeling. The only thing you can think is that the damage she caused throughout her life was very much still here, even is she was not. 

When you were stood right beside her you kept expecting her to jump up. Another fucked up Smurf event. But she didn’t.

You’d leaned down, close enough to her ear as though she would hear you better before speaking. 

“May you always get what you deserve.” 

Then with one last look you turn and walk away leaving her alone and cold. Exactly as she deserved. 

“I’m not going.” You told him the next morning. He hadn’t slept, you could tell. Every time you’d woken in the night he’d still been awake, he would kiss your face gently and shush you telling you to go back to sleep. Every single time you tried to stay awake but he would run his hands through your hair. Whispering ‘please sleep for me’ like it was all he wanted as he kissed your eyelids. 

He’d held you all night replaying everything that had happened and what he needed to do next to keep you and his brothers safe. 

“You’re going.” He replies in a voice that left no room for argument but you found some anyway. 

“I am not leaving you right now.” You’re sat on his bed, legs and arms crossed and he sighs as though he’s looking at a petulant child. 

He doesn’t say anything just puts your shoes on the floor in front of you, points at them and says “put them on.” 

“Do I get breakfast first?” You want to create more time to give him all the reasons you absolutely have to stay with him.

“Of course.” He says in a soft voice that breaks your heart. You don’t want to be giving him a hard time right now but leaving him would be the worst thing for him even if it was the best thing for you safety. You didn’t care. 

You move to the edge of the bed and start to put on your shoes but he kneels down, gently moving your hands away before resuming the task. He gets worse when he’s stressed so you don’t argue it, knowing that it helps him. That something in his brain will have told him he had to put your shoes on for you, that he wanted to look after you. 

Once he’s tied them perfectly you grab his face in your hands and he looks up at you with those sad eyes.  

“Will this be easier on you if I’m at my parents, handsome?” You ask him softly and he melts into you as he nods, head dipping. His arms flexing as he leans against the edge of the bed before buying his head in your lap and wrapping his arms around your hips. 

Biting your lip and squeezing your eyes closed to stop yourself from crying, you take a deep breath as your fingers card through his hair and rub his large shoulder. 

“Okay.” You say when you think your voice is finally steady enough. He doesn’t say anything just squeezes you one more time before getting up, kissing you gently and walking out the bedroom door like he’s ready to kill anyone in his path. Like he wasn’t just curled in your lap like a puppy. 

You finish your breakfast and walk to the door leading out to where the brothers were sat just in time to hear Andrew saying something to J. 

“Lose the glasses you’re not John Gotti.” 

To which you reply, “who’s John Gotti?” As you follow him into the kitchen. 

He lets out a tired huff that’s almost a laugh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Christ, sweetheart.”

The goodbye is painful for you both. He promises to get everything fixed as quickly as possible. You also make him promise to call if he needs you. You also send Deran a text to make sure he calls you if Andrew needs you. 

He doesn’t reply but you don’t think too much into it. 

It’s only two days later when he calls to tell you to come home. The butterflies in your stomach don’t leave you the whole drive but you feel like your stomach falls out as you walk up to the door. 

Andrew had let you in the gate and meets you at your car, opening your door for you. You step out and straight into his arms where he keeps you pulled into him with no intention of letting you go. You manage to pull back just enough to look at him. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

“We took care of it.” 

Pulling him closer the pit in your stomach doesn’t go anywhere like his presence usually makes it. You had a terrible feeling and you were right to. 

The next few days were hell. You could barely get in touch with him and when you did he was vague. When you did see him he wasn’t there. Not really. 

It was bad, just like you knew it would be but when he started avoiding you that’s when you got really worried. You’d gone to Deran’s bar to talk about it but he just put it down to him ‘being Pope’ and insisted this was normal. 

He came to you one night after they’d done a job, walking in like he just didn’t know what to do or where to go. 

“I can’t be there.” You know what he means. That house. You simply grab his hand and take him to bed. No questions, no lectures. That was the last thing he needed. 

He curls up on your bed in the dark and you climb in behind him, kiss his cheek and start talking. About anything and everything. Insignificant things that had happened in the last few days as you stroke through his curls and he falls asleep instantly. You know he probably hadn’t really slept in days. 

He’d done it for you first. Whenever anything bad happened, whenever you couldnt sleep for the pain sneaking around your chest. It became something neither of you ever had to ask for, just did. 

When you wake up he’s not there. It’s 4am. You walk into your hallway and see him stood there facing your front door, like a guard. 

“Andrew?” You whisper softly knowing there was a chance he was sleepwalking again. 

He moves so slowly, just a shadow as he turns his head. “Julia?” He asks and you freeze. No idea what to do. You’d seen him sleepwalk before, you’d woken him up before but this felt different. Like his shattered mind had finally stopped him being able to tell what was real and what wasn’t.

“Andrew…” You say his name hoping to wake him, or bring him back, you weren’t sure. 

“Julia…” This time it isn’t a question and a second later he gasps as if waking you from a bad dream. He freezes and won’t turn around. You say his name but he just apologies as he rushes out. Still making sure to lock it on the way out. 

“Fuck…” You curse before getting rest and grabbing your keys. The sun is is just starting to rise when you get to The Cosy house after driving around for in obvious places looking for him with no luck. 

You look in every room but he isn’t there. J is fast asleep with some girl and when you kick the mattress, he jumps, sitting right up. He’s clearly got the fear all the Cody family have when he grabs a gun from the side of his mattress. Once he see’s it’s you he lowers it with an annoyed sigh. The girl he’s with looks terrified and usually you’d feel bad but you’re in no mood. 

“Have you seen Andrew?” 

“What? No…” 

“Useless.” You growl before walking back out slamming his door shut behind you. 

Deran wasn’t answering. 

Craig was as dismissive as ever making some joke about how you are allowed to be apart for more than 8 hours. 

You were sat in your car in their driveway deciding where to look for him next when you got a call from an unknown number.

It was the hospital. They don’t even finish explaining anything past having Andrew there and you were already back on the road getting there in record time, driving in a way Andrew would definitely be mad at you for if he witnessed it. 

He’s not hurt. 

He’s not physically hurt. 

You can fix this. 

He’s not hurt. 

Was the mantra going round and round in your mind as you walked into the hospital. 

“Andrew Cody?” You ask at the desk, flustered. “You called me. I’m his next of kin.” 

“Right through there.” She directs you. “Third bed.” 

You rush down and when you finally see him all you want to do is dive on him but you hold back. 

“Andrew…” You say thinking back to the last time you’d seen him hours earlier, calling for Julia. When he looks up at you, finally notices you, he says your name and the sigh of release makes you physically sag. Then you do go to him, pull him into a hug which he leans heavily into. “I was so worried.” 

“I… I’m sorry.” He says and the vulnerability in his voice destroys you. 

You pull back to look at him.

“Hey… no.” You shake your head as you look him in the eyes. “We’re not doing that okay? Don’t apologise for something you can’t help.” All the things you’d tried to drill into him over the years, all the behaviours you tried to gently unlearn from him came back at their worst when he was like this. 

His mouth turns downward and he looked utterly miserable. 

“Can I take you home?” You ask gently. He nods and stands, grabbing your hand letting you lead him out. 

In the car he opens up to you, apparently the shrink he had spoken to in the hospital had said he needed to. He complained that she was pushing his buttons. 

“She was trying to help, handsome.” You tell him. “I think it’s good.” 

“What happened… I remember falling asleep with you.” You look over at him, he’s studying you carefully. 

“You…  you were stood in the hallway. You kept saying Julia.” You look over at him as you stop at a junction. The way his fists are clenched on his thighs. His lips pinched together like he’s angry, at himself of course and he’s no longer looking at you. Ashamed. 

BEEP! 

You gasp as the sound rips you from your distraction but before you gather your bearings Andrew has opened the passenger side door and started to get out, face like thunder. 

“Andrew!” You yell, in the nicest possible way. “No! Get back in here!” You reach over just in time to hook a few fingers into one of the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him back in. You don’t succeed of course but he feels the pull and it makes him turn to look at you, a dangerous look in his eyes. 

“He’s being an inpatient little fucker!” He spat as he looked over at the car behind, who has suddenly gone quiet. 

“Andrew…” You plead. 

“He made you jump.” He said, this time to you with a soft voice. 

“I’m okay. I am begging you to get back into the car.” You say it and he hears the weariness in your voice. With one last look at the car behind you, hopefully not to memorise his license plate he gets back in. 

Once it’s safe you turn. 

“It was my fault.” You said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No it wasn’t.” He said before you’d even finished your sentence and despite yourself and the situation you laugh tiredly. It was sweet, in his own way, he knew how much you hated stuff like that but it also showed how short his fuse was at the moment. And that is what scared you. 

When you get back to The Cody house you can tell by the cars that J and Deran are there. You lead over to kiss him gently, he kisses you back following when you pull back. 

“Do you trust me?” You ask him, 

He looks at you like you’re crazy. 

“With everything.” 

“Will you let me take care of you?” 

“You always take care of me.” He says in a small voice that nobody would believe was him. 

You nod. “Can you go pack a bag for me?” 

He stares at you and you know a million thoughts a minute are going through his mind. But he nods. 

“I’ll be back in less than an hour okay?” You tell him. He nods and gets out of the car before walking around to your side, you roll the window down. 

“Drive safe.” He says like every time you’re about to drive away and puts his head into the car to kiss you one more time. 

When you pull back into his drive he’s already stood there waiting arms hanging at his side with his duffle in one hand. He looks like a caged animal, eager to escape. He walks over and taps on your window. 

“We’re taking the truck.” He tells you as you roll your window down. He grabs your bags out of the trunk before you park up and get out. 

He doesn’t say a word as he drives you both away but the further he gets away from Oceanside the more irritated he seems to get. He barely engages with your questions or small talk. Not that he was a huge talker anyway, but still. 

After a couple of hours you’re on the long empty roads in the desert. Ones you know he’s driven many times but his twitchiness still had you on edge. And then he started speaking what seemed like a stream of consciousness to you. 

“She showed me where my Dad was buried.” He told you, a sharp edge to his voice. “Didn’t even know I had a Dad.” 

You shake your head. “What happened to him?” You’re walking a fine line and you know it between angering him and helping him. You just want to get him away from the subject of Smurf.

He didn’t answer, his knuckles grip the steering, you weren’t even sure he was listening. When he sped up you stiffen but deep down you know he won’t put you in danger. You dread to think how he would have been alone. 

“Andrew…” You say warningly. 

“Wanted me dead.” He says speeding up again but this time there’s a car coming on the other side of the road.

“Andrew!” You cry, voice full fear despite trying your best to hide it. This seems to snap him out off it and his foot comes off the accelerator just as the cars passing you. He hits the break and you stop with a skid in the road. He lets out an angry cry hitting the steering wheel so hard you’re sure he will have hurt himself. You think that might have been the point. 

You take a moment, eyes closed to push away the tears but before you can open them you hear his car door slam. You follow. He’s stood in front of a huge sign someone has painted. 

WHO ARE YOU?

————————

FIND THE TRUTH

He hears your feet crunching on the gravel behind him. 

“I’m sorry.” He says but it’s tired. He’s tired of apologising. He’s tired of feeling like he’s losing his mind. He’s tired of everything being so goddamned hard. 

“Don’t.” You say simply and you thread your fingers through his, staring at the sign too. 

A truck drives behind you up to a chain link fence where more signs hang. “What is this?” He asks and as you walk a little further down with him you see a sign. 

“Kinship of light & truth.” 

“Some hippy cult shit by the looks of it.” You shrug and try to pull him away slightly. “Come on. I’m hungry.” 

He smirks slightly. It doesn’t reach his eyes but the fondness for you never leaves, never has. Even throughout all of his episodes over the years.

“Food.” He agrees before leading you back to the truck. 

“Maybe I should drive?” You say with a teasing tone, trying to lighten the mood. It was very hit and miss but sometimes he would play along. 

“Shut up.” He scoffed as he opened the passenger side for you. 

“Your hair looks really good today.” You smile up at him as you pass to climb in. You always tried to compliment him on things, even trivial. Anything to get this mans confidence to where it should be. 

His lips upturn at one side and you take it as a victory. 

After you’d found a small town close by and eaten you were back on the road. Andrew had been driving for the last three hours, still on the long straight dessert roads. He had let you drive for an hour or so, only because you begged to but the second you yawned he made you stop and swap. 

You had both decided there was no plan. You would just drive and be together. And for the first time since you can remember he wanted this. 

He needed this.

To get away from the death, the destruction, the pressure and memories of it all. 

For once Andrew Cody was thinking of himself. 

Now you were relaxed in the passenger seat happily watching him drive along, golden freckled skin wrapped around the muscles of his arms in the setting sun. You hadn’t seen another sole for a long time and he had almost a peaceful look on his face. You smile over at him. This is all you ever wanted. 

He caught you smiling at him, eyes never staying on the road long, softening in that way they only ever had or would for you. The man who handled violence and all the dirty work for his family was gone for a moment, just leaving behind your Andrew. His hand slid across the console, fingers threading through your before resting both in your lap.

“We should stop soon. Is there anywhere to stay close by?” You ask.

“You tired, sweetheart?” 

“No. But you’ve been driving all day. Pretty much.” 

“I’m fine.” He grins dismissively, like he has some secret knowledge that you don’t. Like he isn’t worthy of being worried about. Cared for. Adored.

You decide to remind him. 

“You’re a good driver right?” You ask with a slight grin. He narrows his eyes at you, noticing your tone immediately. 

“The best.” He said. He found it so easy to be confident about things that he could do and not who he was. “Better than you anyway.” He teases back. 

“Well yeah..” You scoff. “Wanna test that out?” You ask as you let your hand reach over to stroke the bulge in his jeans. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, a sharp exhale escaping him. The man who never hesitated, never faltered in high pressure situations was struggling to maintain composure and it was addictive. 

“Yeah.” He says in a clipped tone. 

You undo his pants and he lifts his hips just enough for you to move them and pull out his already hardening dick. “Thank you.” You whisper as you look up at him, his dick in your hand. You wait to make sure he is okay with it.

He let out a breath as he gave the slightest nod and takes the hand closest to you off the steering wheel to open his arm to you as you lean into his lap. You suck on the tip first before slowly inching down as far as you can take him. He pants as one hand squeezes the steering wheel and the other strokes gently up and down your back. The truck stayed perfectly steady on the empty road, his control absolute because as good as it felt he couldn’t afford to lose it. Not with you in the car. 

You speed up slightly, letting the spit drip down his cock to help the hand that joined your efforts twist around the base. His hips lifted off the seat instinctively as he moaned your name. You moaning right back. 

“Sweetheart…” He tries to speak. “I gotta…” But you choose that moment to take him right to the back of your throat creating a vacuum around his cock with your mouth. He was fucking your mouth, slowly and carefully. “That’s…” 

You know he’s struggling but you trust him completely so you keep going but he grips the back of your neck with enough strength to pull you off him. “You’re gonna make me…” 

He starts to say as looks down you’re looking up at him, lips swollen and wet, pupils blown and so obviously enjoying yourself. It makes his cock twitch and leak pre cum, which you happily lick up. 

The pleasure shot up his spine and for the first time the car jerked to the wrong side of the road before he quickly corrected himself. He was fighting a losing battle. “I can’t come right now.” He ordered, voice rough with need but he wound’t risk it. “But you can.” 

The hand he had a grip on the back of your neck with slid around to your front, pushing you gently back into your seat. You don’t have much time to think before he’s flipped your dress up and impatiently ripped your lace panties clean off you. “Sit back, sweetheart.” He commands and although his eyes remain on the road he doesn’t wast a second before dipping into your wet pussy and finding your clit. Rubbing slow, tight circles. “I want you to come.”

You spread your legs for him, his fingers easily sliding over you, he couldn’t believe you were so wet from sucking his dick. 

“Put the seat back a little.” He tells you and so you do, gasping when he uses the space to turn his hand, two thick fingers entering you, his muscled arm across your torso whilst his hand his buried between your legs. 

You moan as his fingers slide in and out of you, his palm bumping and rubbing against your clit.

“You’re so good for me.” He says, barely a whisper as he glances at you beside him as much as he can safely do so, jaw locked tight in concentration. 

You gasp when his palm stays grinding into you at a certain angle, fingers curling inside you. “So good..” Your hands cling to the arm pressed into your chest. You look over at him, the other arm tensed as he keeps control of the vehicle and something about it makes you crazy. 

“Yeah?” He asked, in a satisfied rasp, fingers curling deeper making you arch your back in the seat. “Look at you…” He says admiringly as you’re all spread out for him. 

You know it wasn’t an order but something about the way he says it makes you look down where you could see his strong hand pushing into you, your swollen clit rubbing against his palm. He groans your name when he notices your face when you’re watching. “You like watching?” 

“Mmhmm.” Is all you can get out before your head falls back against the headrest, hips beginning to rock into his hand. He barely had to do anything.

“Good girl.” His voice an encouraging deep lull. “Take what you need, sweetheart.” He repeated the words you’d used to him and it made you clench around him and cry out. 

He stops all movement suddenly.

“Pull your dress back down.” He says in a calm but serious voice and you’re confused until you see the headlights of what seems to be a large truck heading towards you. You cursed loudly but does as he says and close your legs around his hand which he leaves exactly where it is. He would never pull out, not when you were this close. 

And you were so close, but he codlin’t risk anyone seeing you that way. You understood but it didn’t make it any easier as you rocked your hips and whimper. 

“Shh, angel.” He soothes, moving his hand ever so slightly so that his thumb could reach your clit, stroking it so, so slowly you banged your head back against the headrest in frustration.

Once the lorry passed you looked over at him. “Please…” you whine. 

“Not yet, let it get a little further away.” You almost suspect this is partly for his own enjoyment by the way his cock throbbed painfully in the place he had haphazardly pushed it back into his jeans. 

You can’t help but let your legs fall open again, one hand sliding down to grip his wrist as your body twitches involuntarily. 

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He murmured sympathetically but his fingers never moved. He waited until the tailgates of the lorry were tiny red dots before he moved again, hand maintaining the exact steady rhythm he knew you needed. “That’s it.” He murmurs as he feels you clench around his fingers straightaway. 

You cry out his name as you come apart. He usually waits, working you through the aftershocks, letting you ride it out but he pulls out his fingers the second he knows you’re finished, turning the truck harshly off the road. 

The truck hit the asphalt abruptly, bumping into the dirt shoulder sending gravel and dirt shooting up against the car, all the while he’s sucking his fingers clean. When the truck came to a stop in a cloud of dust he unbuckles himself before grabbing you by the hips. “Backseat. Now.” He guides and lifts you over the console into the back seat. 

Then he’s out and walking to back to join you, jeans pushed down to his knees as he sat down in the back seat. His cock is hard and swollen, wet with so much pre cum. He was massive, balls tight with need and it made your pussy ache, especially knowing he had just made you come with absolute patience. 

He had clearly lost that now as he grabs you by your hips and hauls you into his lap operating purely on instinct. Dress shoved up to you waist exposing you completely whilst he grabbed the base of his cock, lined himself up and pulled you down onto him. 

The second you start to sink down on him he lets out the most pathetic sound and it only makes you weaker. You brace yourself on his shoulders pressing close into him as you start to move up and down. 

“Fuck… I can’t… ugh…” He codlin’t even form sentences as his hips were already bucking up into you. You keep riding him pulling him in for a deep kiss, tongues sliding over each other as he grabs your ass, helping you lift and slam back down. His fingers clumsily pull down the front of your dress to expose your breasts, mouth wrapping around one nipple, the other caressed by his hand. 

“Need you…” He pants. 

“You’ve got me… you’ve to me…” You whimper breathlessly, comfortingly. His cock throbs inside of you making your pussy clench, you both moan. "You wanna see?” You whisper against his lips but you don’t wait for an answer. You lean back against the seat behind you giving him a perfect view of where you are joined. Hoping it would effect him just as much as seeing his hand between your legs did you earlier. 

His eyes lock onto where you’re connected, watching himself disappear inside you as you stretch to accommodate his size. You start rocking back and forth whilst he’s completely inside you and you feel him twitch and expand inside you but he sees it.

His head falls back against the seat, his hands gripping your thighs as he says your name in a broken whimper. It’s your undoing and he can tell from your gasp you’re about to come. He rocked up against you, keeping himself deep, watching as your walls flutter around him, your eyes wide and back arched.

“Yes, yes, yes…” He breaths. 

The way his eyes flick greedily between your face and the way your pussy is wrapped around him turns you on even more and you come so hard, wetting his cock even more. 

The visual alone is enough to tear a ragged moan from him as he hols your legs open and starts snapping his hips upward. You moan his name and meet his thrusts as he continues to not know where to look. He was trembling as one deep thrust has him tensing up underneath you, something that sounded like a sob tearing from him. 

Emptying himself in you with broken, helpless noises and his eyes rolling back you feel the thick come coating your walls and moan his name. You look down and his come is already leaking out of you but his cock was still pulsing and he was still writhing under you. After what felt like minutes he finally seemed to calm down.

“Fuck…” He didn’t know what to say. He was a mess. You both were. You’re both shaking when you all forwards onto his chest weakly, his arms wrapping around you immediately. 

“I think we made a mess…” You whisper apologetically after a few minutes as you feel more of him leaking out of you. 

A weak breathless laughter makes his chest vibrate against yours. He was still twitching inside you, his heart only just stopped hammering against your ribs. 

“Yeah.” He rasped, voice almost gone. “Worth it.” 

You knew he was too exhausted, too sated and utterly destroyed to do anything right now. You knew because you were exactly the same. But by some miracle all he cared about in that moment was the weight of you on top of him and the evidence of the moment, the memory you’d just made. He would clean it up but not right now. 

You’d found a motel, not the nicest but you didn’t care as long as you could shower and sleep with Andrew beside you. 

Then you were back on the road. 

“Can I ask about your Dad?” You say a couple hours into the drive the next day. 

He just nods once. 

“So he died?” You asked. 

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff and full of emotion he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have. He had resented his Father for so much of his life having been told nothing from Smurf. Understandably he had assumed that like Deran and Craig’s Dad’s that his and Julias had just left. 

“I’m sorry.” You say as you reach over to grab his hand. Since the night before he had been ever so slightly less tense. 

“Me too.” He says with a slightly shrug of his shoulder. 

“Did you find out anything else about him?”

“Billy said he was the only one my Mom actually loved.” 

You actually smile at the thought of Smurf actually in love. Toy with the idea that if Colin had lived then maybe she wouldn’t have been such a bitch. 

“That must be where all the good in you came from.” 

He doesn’t acknowledge it and you’re not surprised. 

“Stop!” You shout point at a sign for a town. “Turn. Please.” And of course he does. “Can we get day drunk?” 

He looks over at you, amusement in his eyes. “It’s one fifteen.” 

“It’s five o clock somewhere, that’s the saying right?” You look over at him hopefully.

“It sure is, sweetheart.” He sighs with a lightness you haven’t seen in him in weeks. 

That’s how you end up drunk at 4pm in the afternoon. 

The only way to describe Andrew "Pope" Cody drunk was that he'd go one of two ways. There was never an in-between.

And you knew that tonight was a gamble.

But if it went the way you hoped it would… It'd be worth it.

And it was. 

“Do you remember…” he lets out a small laugh. “That time we were swimming in the ocean and you thought something had bitten you?” 

“It hurt!” You laugh along. You love him like this. It’s far and in between but he is almost care free, he is right there in the moment with you.

“It was seaweed.” He said his head tilted forward looking up at you, a tight smile on his face. 

“It moved!” You argue. 

“The tide moved.” He deadpanned as he slid closer to you on the booth you were both sitting on. You happily leaned into him, his arm resting on the top of the seat around you. “Remember when you used to count my freckles?” He said in a low, rough voice. Your stomach flutters at the memories of how many times you’d started and never been able to finish. 

The ways you both got distracted. 

“Yeah… I’ve still never finished that.” You look up at him with lust filled eyes, a look he knew so well by now. 

He dips his head letting his lips meet yours in an intense kiss, his large hand cupping your face, surrounding you in the back booth of a dive bar. You feel the soft growl in his chest rather than hear it and you pull back to remind yourselves where you are. 

Time goes on and you never want to leave, in that bar you could both be anyone. Just a normal couple reminiscing and unable to keep their hands off each other. But you were quickly learning life was just always waiting to throw something at Andrew Cody. 

You were going to get your last drink under his watchful eye of course as he could see the bar from your booth. Instantly you knew what was going to happen when a man came over, correction… the drunkest man in the bar came over slamming his glass down next to you. His drink spilling out over your arm and the already sticky bar. 

You gasped on instinct the mans blurry eyes finding you and in the back of your mind you knew Andrew would already be standing up. 

Shit.

“Shut up bitch.” He slurs. “You were in my wa…” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Andrew grips the back of the mans neck, not unlike he had done to you last night just without the tenderness, of course. 

Before the obliterated man even has time to know what’s going on he’s yanked back and smashed face first into the bar top so harshly you hear something crack. 

Silence follows but you react quickly. 

"Fuck..." you whisper, grabbing Andrew's arm. "Come on.”

You tug, but he doesn't move.

He's a statue.

Every muscle in his body locked, his eyes fixed on the man crumpled over the bar.

You know that look. And you know he won't leave until he's decided it’s done.

You don't let yourself think about what that might mean.

“Andrew please, look at me.” You plead with him as the chaos starts, someone shouts to call the police, the drunk guy slides down onto the floor, other men approaching warily. Like they want to fight him but recognise something in him. 

His eyes shoot to yours the second you ask him to and he finally lets you pull him out of the bar. He’d parked the car around the back where there had been no cameras, such an Andrew thing to do but you were glad of it now. 

“You shouldn’t drive.” You say. 

He snorts still obviously slightly under the influence of it, or his version of that anyway.  “I think we’re a little past traffic offences.” 

“That’s not funny!” You shout back but laug despite yourself. 

“Get in the truck.” He demands with a smirk you would commit your own crimes to see more often. 

He speeds away and once you’re back on the freeway you’re just laughing, Andrew joining in a little. He’s looking over at you with a light in his eyes you wish you could bottle and give to him in his bad times. You ask him to stop eventually, it was getting dark and you hadn’t found any other towns close by.

You’d packed sleeping bags and blankets just in case and so you set up in the bed of his truck for the night, under the stars. You were lay beside each other holding hands, looking at the sky, but not really.

You were stealing looks at him and he was just unashamedly staring at you. 

“You still love me.” It’s a statement and you smile wide as you turn your head to look at him. You’d heard him question it far too many times. “After everything…” He swallows and looks up at the stars again. “After everything I’ve done.” 

“Always.” You tell him. 

“If you love me…” He says, his voice becoming unsteady as a tear runs down the side of his face. “I can’t be… completely bad.” He says it like he’s studying it, trying to make sense of it. 

You sit up just enough to hover over him and wipe his tears, even though they keep coming. 

“Why have you never been scared of me?”  He looks completely broken by everything, but not in the way he did a couple of days ago. The distance was definitely helping. 

“Because I know you.”  

“I’m not sure I do.” He says shakily, clearly unsettled by the blackouts he’s had recently. 

“Then let me, handsome.” You tell him softly as you stroke his hair back from his forehead.

He looks up at you like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “But you know what I’ve done.” He cries.

“I also know why.” 

He stares at you looking for anything that might hint you don’t mean it. But as ever you’re resolute in your love for him.

You know he’s done when he straightens his face, he’s not going to argue it, not right now at least. He pulls you down onto his chest, holding you tight, his hand grabbing your before securing in on his chest under his own. 

“I love you.” He whispers. 

“I love you.” You reply. 

You’d been gone a week when you started to head back. You knew it wouldn’t be permanent, this was Andrew. This was his brothers. You were just so glad he was coming back in what seemed to be a stronger frame of mind. 

You’d had more sex than you could count, talked him through anything he was willing to open up about and you were sure this trip would stay sacred to you for a long time despite the way it came about. 

Not far from Oceanside you had asked if you could stop by your parents. He was wary at first. Although he saw them from time to time and they were always nice to him, knowing he was a constant in your life, they had been scared of him. The thing was, and they had told him so, he would always have a place in their home and a soft spot in their hearts. They knew his history. 

“We always knew he snuck in. We thought it was sweet.” Your Mom says as she puts a drink in front of you both. 

You grimace knowing how unsweet they would think it was if they knew what you actually got up to. The mortified look in Andrews eyes as he stared at the table almost made you lose your composure. You rub his thigh reassuringly under the table. 

“You had a nice trip then?” Your Dad asked, looking at Andrew. 

“Yeah. We did. Thank you.” He replies with a nod. Most people would have gone into details but you supposed it wasn’t exactly the vacation most people would expect. And Andrew wasn’t one for small talk.

The conversation goes a lot like that before Andrew excuses himself. You were all used to this. Used to Andrew. So it didn’t matter. 

“Is he doing okay?” Your Dad asked, you’d told them about Smurf passing from cancer. 

“He’s…” You nod. “He’s getting there.” 

“Awful woman.” Your Mom says from in the kitchen. 

“Mom!” You scold with a smirk.

“Well she is.” You all laugh. Your parents had more right than anyone to hate Smurf, after all they’d seen the social services report and probably saw things they would never repeat. Even to you. 

After a while you follow him outside and see him staring up at the treehouse. 

“This is where we met.” He rasps, nodding his head up once as you approach. 

Once you’re stood beside him you adopt the same stance, looking up at the place it had all started.

“Yep.” Your voice is full of fondness and he looks at you, eyes rimmed red like he cannot believe that him coming into your life could ever be a fond memory. 

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” He holds back his tears but his voice is wrecked. 

“What?” You say surprised, having thought you were discussing a nice memory. 

He swipes his hand over his eyes once. “I love you.” 

He says it slowly. Almost like he’s only just realising it but you know that’s not the case. 

You stand in front of him about to say it back and ask what he means but he speaks before you can. 

“I kept waiting.” 

“For what, Andrew?” You ask so confused. 

“To be good enough.” He says it simply, like he’s not just torn your heart from your chest at his admission. You always knew he held himself back that little bit, you always knew he didn’t feel worthy but hearing him say it… killed you. 

“Oh, Andrew.” You cry and pull him into you.

He pulls back only enough to take your face in his hand, study your face, bit by bit. 

“Come home with me.” He says, voice rough with emotion. You scrunch up your brow in confusion before you realise what he’s saying. 

Make a home with me. 

Make a life with me. 

“Your home?” 

“Our home.” He clarifies with a small smile. “I know it’s not… I’ll still have to…”

“Shh…” You tell him as you pull him down to kiss you. “Our home.” 

You smile up at him and he lifts you by your thighs, wrapping you around him properly. 

“Was that our first home?” You ask teasingly as you look up at the treehouse and he laughs swatting your ass lightly. 

This time he wasn’t going anywhere. 

You hoped. 

“Andrew…” Your quiet voice got his attention. You didn’t know what he was glaring at of course but Andrew just glared a lot of the time. It didn’t phase you anymore. You’d never suspect it was that. 

“N…nothing.” He says, just as quietly as he turned to face you. His gaze raging like the storm outside.

He had come. Like he always did as soon as the storm started, climbed up the side of your house and through your bedroom window. This time though he didn’t get into bed with you. Just sat on edge of the bed by your legs. 

You wished for storms so you could be huddled under the covers in his arms, your favourite place. 

It was always innocent. You needed him and he was there. 

Seventeen and still slightly nervous around this suddenly very adult version of Andrew you assumed it was just a new boundary he was putting in place. All you could do was try not to stare at the way his wet t shirt stuck to him or his damp curls on the back of his neck. Not think about how much you wanted to touch them. 

You would usually. Making some kind of an excuse or reason to touch each other was already a well rehearsed dance between the two of you at this point. 

His rough voice cracked as he asked you a question.

“Who was he?”

“What?” Your hands are playing with the blanket that’s over your lap. The oversized band t shirt you’d ‘stolen’ from him hanging off one shoulder where you’d gone at it with scissors wanting to look like Julia. 

“At the beach today.” He was still glaring at the wall and if you didn’t know his face so well you might not have caught the slight pout he adorned. Clearly unhappy. 

You couldn’t help the jolt of satisfaction that ran through you. Whether he cared because he was protective or because he was jealous you still couldn’t help it. The ideal would obviously be both. 

“Why?” 

“Because I need to know who I need to beat the shit out of if he does anything to you.” His eyes meet yours but only briefly before turning back away. He looks mad but there’s something else there that doesn’t make sense to you.

It took away the satisfaction slightly. But not all of it. 

At seventeen you’d never been kissed. Never done anything more than hug a guy that wasn’t Andrew. That was the only reason you’d gone to the beach with this guy in the first place. You wanted to experience what everyone else your age seemed so crazy about. 

“He’s not gonna do anything to me.” 

“He’s a guy.” He says, his voice flat. That new rasp you loved so much really coming out. “He’s eventually gonna want something.” His face darkens as he looks at you again, his face tilted down slightly. “You think too highly of people.” 

“Well he’s not gonna get anything.” You tell him, looking him dead in the eye. “He tried to kiss me…” 

Andrew unconsciously leans forward. He smells like rain and thunder. “And…” 

Your stomach flips. 

“An…and I dodged it.” You tell him quietly. A slow almost predatory smile spreads on his lips, you can tell it’s just a natural response. Everything he did was. He was the most honestly himself of anyone you knew. He did nothing unless he meant it. That’s one of the things you love about him. “Then he called me weird and left.” 

You scoff and the smile drops off his face as he sees the look on yours. You can’t help but be a little embarrassed. Andrew was older. He had also had sex before. You had cried yourself to sleep the night you heard about it at a party. 

Courtesy of Baz announcing Pope had finally ‘had sex with an actual girl.’ 

Because of course it was Baz who made sure you knew. 

Sobbing in bed with your window locked you were confused as to why it had made you feel like something inside you had cracked and wouldn’t repair. Why you felt physically sick. 

Julia had come to you the next day having seen your abrupt exit and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as she told you the truth. That Smurf had paid some random girl to do it to get back at Julia and probably you in some way.

Two birds with one stone. You’d both agreed to keep it to yourself and not tell Andrew. He found out anyway and admitted it when you were both older. You’d added it to the long list of reasons you hated Smurf. She really couldn’t let him have anything. 

Julia had said that even though he was our Andrew he was still just a boy and it won’t have meant anything to him. It’s just what they did. Couldn’t resist.

It still didn’t make sense to you then. It had eased off over the last couple of years but you’d been right. For some reason whatever cracked hadn’t repaired but that piece of advice from Julia had helped you in the future, when things got more complicated. 

“Name?” He pulled you from the memory of it but it still sat uncomfortably on your chest. 

“It’s just a new kid.” You say it dismissively, annoyed and Andrew knows not to push. He can easily find out who he was. Pretty sure his brothers had probably already asked around for him. 

“You didn’t want to kiss him?” 

“I dunno.” You say with a shrug and hate the way his face drops. “No. I just feel stupid that I’ve never…” A blush spreads over your face as you stare at your hands. 

He turns to face you now, lifting one leg onto the bed so it’s touching your own crossed legs. “Hey… look at me. You’re not stupid. You’re not stupid at all. You’re amazing.” His voice is soft and you do look up at him. 

The look in his eyes is one your recognise. The one that makes you feel adored and safe. “You will say that. You’ve been kissed.” 

His runs a hand through his hair as he looks away and when he looks back there’s a serious look on his face. “It wasn’t… I felt gross afterwards.” He says not meeting your gaze. He would never tell anyone else that. “I wouldn’t count it. That was just… lips touching.” 

You wish it made the pit in your stomach go away but it doesn’t, you just sigh heavily and shake your head trying to get the thought of it out of there. 

“Still more than me. It’s getting tragic.” 

The storm is raging louder outside and the dangerous look in his eyes grows. He swallow like he’s fighting something. 

“You want to be kissed?” His voice rougher than he intended and your heart rate picks up as you nod slowly, not trusting your voice. 

His gaze drops to your lips. He’s trying to play it cool but you see the slight shake of his hands before he clenches his fists. “I can kiss you.”

You literally go dizzy. He says it so casually, so Andrew that you couldn’t tell that he wanted to kiss you more than he’s ever wanted anything his whole life. 

He watches you closely. 

“I don’t want you to kiss me cos you feel bad for me.” You say trying to keep the sadness out of your voice but failing. 

“I don’t.”

It shouldn't reassure you as much as it does.

But Andrew has always had a way of saying things like they're facts rather than opinions, leaving no room for you to not believe him. Like he sensed that there was this part of you that needed a little more and matched it without hesitation. 

“Okay.” You say and he immediately leans in. 

“Are you sure?” He asks because what could he have possibly done to deserve this? He shouldn’t have offered. Should have told you the right guy would come along but he couldn’t. The need to kiss you overwhelmed any guilt. 

“Yes…” You whisper, your voice shaking with nerves. You remind yourself that this is Andrew. You’d known him almost a decade, he held you, looked after you. Your bond transcending anything people talk about or recognise. 

He can tell you’re nervous and he instinctively cups your jaw, just as he’d done countless times before because he needed you to be okay. He tilts your head up, thumb brushing you cheek bone  as he looks you in the eyes waiting for any sign you don’t want this. That you’ve remembered who he is. 

He’s giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Then his lips are on yours. Soft, warm and tentative like he’s cherishing you. Which he is. He wants to remember this. Sure it will be his only shot. You let out a soft moan before you feel like you lose the ability to breathe all together. The sound goes straight to his head, and cock. He still makes sure to pace himself. He doesn’t use tongue, just kisses you slowly, lips pressing and sliding against yours again and again like he’s learning the shape of you. 

Your hands go to his neck as you uncross your legs, pull him towards you. The branches from the tree outside your bedroom crash against your window and his groan is covered but the thunder and rain lashing onto the house. 

He’s still cradling your face as his other hand goes to your hip, keeping you upright. Not sure how he would handle you pulling him down on top of you. His kisses become more confident and your tongue slides against his lips experimentally. His own meets yours and you learn together. 

When his hand leaves your face moving down to slip under your t shirt you whimper. His hands on your lower stomach, stroking and sliding up until his big hand holds your waist. Fingers grazing your ribcage. You break the kiss as your mouth falls open with a desperate moan. His eyes are wide as he pulls back. He had not been expecting that. 

You were enjoying it. Just as much as he was. 

“You okay?” He asked breathlessly. He doesn’t pull back, lips brushing yours as he speaks as though he thinks it’s somewhere he can’t return to once he’s left. “I can stop if you…”

“Please don’t.” You practically beg and it switches something in him. There’s a confident look in his eyes you only usually ever see when he’s fighting someone or stealing something. 

“I won’t.” He whispers against your mouth, his tongue tracing your bottom lip. “I’ve got you.” As if to prove the point his other hand goes under your shirt to your waist, hands spread wide and he pulls you closer to him before kissing you again. Deeper. He’s pulling you into him, his hands stroking over you, to you back as he pulls you flush against his chest. 

He thinks the fact that you’re braless may actually kill him but when feels your hard nipples against his chest he realises he can’t die yet. He can’t because he wants to rip every scrap of clothing off you. 

He’s trying his best to hold back but it’s getting harder and harder. He pushes you gently onto your back, never breaking the kiss. You’re both moaning now, thankful that the storm was so loud. And for the chair that Andrew always propped under your door handle to stop your parents getting in. 

He freezes when you grab one of his hands, guiding it to your breast. 

“Andrew…” Your voice is needy and your hips rock up to him unconsciously. 

He reacts the only way he knows how who when it’s you. 

“What do you need?” His breath is ragged as he pulls back and looks at you. A picture he promises himself he will remember forever. Your hair splayed on the pillow, flushed cheeks and lips swollen. “Just tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.” 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” You whine. You’re not an idiot. You know you need him to touch you and you know where. You’d touched yourself there many times but your inexperience stopped you from being able to ask. 

When he shifts slightly to rest on his forearms he notices the way your hips lift off the bed, he realises you’re just going off feeling, instinct. He knows exactly what you need. His hand cups your breast and he lets and a shaky breath as his thumb brushes your nipple. 

“Does this feel good?” He says in a soft yet wrecked voice you’d never heard before but you decided was your new favourite. 

You can only nod. 

“Yeah?” He grinds his hips against you and your back arches, a small smile of relief on your lips as the ache changes to a more pleasurable one. 

“Oh…” You moan.

“Like that?” 

“Mmmm.” You’re writhing under him and he starts to wonder if this is a dream. When you pull off your t shirt leaving yourself completely bare except your for your little sleep shorts he’s sure of it. But no matter what it is he’s going to make the most of it. 

He mesmerised by you, flushed and breathing hard from his touch. The most beautiful version of you he thinks he may have ever seen. He lifts his arms for you, in a daze when you pull his shirt off and your hands stroke over his chest, shoulders and arms. You’re looking at him like he’s attractive. Not weird. Not scary. 

He says your name, voice rough and you bite your lip a little shy all of a sudden. Nobody had ever seen you like this. And of course he understands. That you’re giving him something you’ve never given anyone and it hits him so hard he swears he leaves his own body for a moment. You’re trusting him with this. He is worthy. You think he is worthy. 

“You’re beautiful…” He murmurs and he lowers himself back on top of you. “So beautiful. You’re everything.” 

You struggle to differentiate between the memory and a dream as you’re woken by the same strong hands sliding over your waist and hips. His large body pressed into your back and the arm you’d fallen asleep on reaching to stroke your hair. His face is pressed into you beck as he pants. His hard cock, big and heavy as he ruts into your ass. 

“Please…” 

You moan sleepily and push back into him. You had both gotten in bed after the reunion. He wouldn’t leave your side. Wouldn’t even let you pee alone and you’d eventually fallen asleep together with him spooning you. Whispering apologies into your hair. 

He takes your movement as a yes and pulls your sleep shorts down over your ass, just enough so that he can sink into you. 

And when he does he sighs with a heavy relief, his hand cradling and squeezing your ass. He doesn’t even move. Just positions himself back to lay down behind you, sliding his muscular arm under your head again and you place a kiss there. Your hand finding his to lace your fingers together. So happy to be completely wrapped up by him again. 

When he starts to rock into you, you moan his name and he pushes the covers off you both. He grabs your leg, lifting it slightly to get deeper.

“You’re mine. No matter what.” He growls in your ear as the arm you’re lying on slips down to bend and lock around your throat forcing your head up due to the size of him. 

“Yours.” Your choke out and you feel every inch of him sliding in and out of your exposed hole as he spreads you open, still holding your leg up by your thigh.

“I’m so sorry…” He says his voice cracking. He had already apologised so many times but the thing he seemed to not be able to get over is the way he took you at Deran’s bar and then left. You know that’s what he’s apologising for in that moment. 

“It’s o… okay.” You reassure as your pussy clenches around him. 

“Gonna make it up to you, sweetheart.” He says as he hits the spot he knows makes your eyes roll back into your head. “Everyday. Every.” He speeds up and grits out the words with each thrust. “Fucking. Day.”

“I know… yeah…” Your gripping at his large forearm. “Im so close, handsome.” 

“That’s my girl…” His praise does exactly what he means it to and you come with a shout. Not caring who hears in the house. Hoping they do, if anything. 

When you come down from your orgasm he’s kissing your back and shoulder as he pulls out of you slowly to lay you down before crawling on top of you. 

It’s late at night. Like he’s woken up with you in his arms and had to wake you. The moonlight means you can make out his broad shoulders as he settles between your legs like he’s making a home there. 

And he does. 

You loose count of how many times he makes you come. All you know is that at some point you notice the sun starting to come up. 

He’s laid flat on his front with one of your legs over his shoulder, his head leant against the soft part of your thigh as he licks and sucks at you leisurely. He’s apologising. He’s showing you how he thinks you should always be treated. How he would always treat you from now on. 

You have to grab his head and pull him up to you to get him to stop and when you look down, thanks to the morning light you see his thick cock, painfully hard and dripping. It’s obvious he hadn’t been allowing himself any kind of relief. 

“Come here…” You coo as he finally hovers over you. You kiss every bruise and mark on his face as he ruts against your wet, swollen pussy. Not allowing himself entry. He’s panting pathetically in your ear and despite how many times you’ve come you need him inside you. Need to make him come.

Reaching down you grab his ass and tilt your hips just right making him whimper as the tip enters. You gasp as he sinks into you, sliding in easily due to how wet you are but your swollen walls convulse around him. Sucking him in. 

He moans your name almost sounding in pain. “So tight… fuck.” 

“Andrew…” You whine, so sensitive and just like always he knows. Senses you’re on the aching edge of overwhelmed. 

“You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.” For a second his grip on you tightens, his face burying itself against your neck as a rough sound leaves him.

Not pleasure.

Relief.

Like something he'd been holding together for months has finally cracked as he rocks into you. 

You feel him press a kiss beneath your ear, then another against your jaw.

"Sweetheart..." he breathes. The word is shaky around the edges.

When he lifts his head, he doesn't look away. Just stares at you for a moment, like he's trying to memorise the fact that you're here.

That you're real.

That he found his way back to you.

He comes deep inside of you with whispered apologies. You shush him as your legs wrap around his waist. Cradling him between your thighs as you both moan and sigh at the aftershocks. 

“I love you.” Is the last thing he whispers as he turns you both onto your sides, facing each other this time, still inside of you with your leg hooked over his hip. His grip on your thigh doesn’t loosen even as he falls asleep. 

The days after he barely left your side. Even when you were at work he would drop you off and pick you up when he could. 

There was a job coming up you could tell. All you really knew was that J was the one to bring it to the table. 

J who had come to you the day after Angela had finally left. Something he had apparently been trying to make happen the whole time. He knew her true colours better than anyone. Even you. 

“Thank you.” He said simply as he walked into the kitchen. You hadn’t had much interaction with him over the last year or so. He seemed to have his own things going on and other than a quick chat it was clear that he still saw you as one of the people who abandoned his Mom. “For getting rid of Angela.” 

You just shook your head with an awkward smile as you wait for your toast to cook. “I just… made him see what was obvious to everyone else. 

“My Mom. When she was… herself. The rare times she wasn’t completely out of it. She used to say you were the only other person who understood him.” You didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “I see that.”

Julia and you had always had an understanding. That one of you would always be there for him, always make sure he wasn’t consumed by Smurf. You’d always thought she’d come back. That you would’t ever actually have to do it alone. A heavy wave of grief hits you as they often do, out of nowhere. 

“Everything I ever learn about who Andrew is… your Mom already knew.” You smile sadly. “I try.” You shrug not wanting to start talking about his Mom. Not feeling worthy of it. You jump slightly as the toast pops up and clear your throat. “Want a piece?” 

“Sure.” He nods, a softer look in his eyes than you’d seen aimed at you before. 

“You want diagonal or horizontal?” You ask as you pick up the knife. You only hear him scoff and when you look at him he’s trying not to laugh. 

“What?” You ask confused. 

“Whatever. You choose.” Is all he says. 

You furrow your brow at him before buttering the toast and cutting it diagonally. He nods in thanks, smirking as he takes it before walking away. 

As confused as the interaction leaves you it’s also the lightest you and he had ever had. You’d take it. 

You walk out bare foot, eating your own piece as you walk towards the sound of Andrew’s grunts and the thuds of his gloves against the punch bag. He turns as soon as he hears the gate open. 

“Watch your feet.” He says seriously, zoning in on them straight away as you walk over to him. Like he’s not covered in cuts and bruises. 

The concrete is hot but you know he means because you’re out front near the garage and cars. It had been drilled into you by the endless times he’s lectured you about the risk that nails and tools and ‘god knows what else’ could be on the ground out here. 

“You look good.” Grinning as you say it, before taking another bite. “Real good,” He just scoffs and dips his head before striking the bag once, his torso twisting with it. You forget about your toast. He hits hard like he’s getting out a wave of aggression but you know it’s not that. 

The look in his eyes tells you everything. It’s the one that makes you flutter from top to bottom. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you since he first held up last night and you had no complaints. 

“What times the fight?” The disapproving tone in your voice makes him turn his attention fully back to the bag. 

It was one last fight. That was the compromise you’d both come to. Your argument that he got hurt enough as it was with the job he did went completely over his head but the slight pout and those eyes you make at him didn’t. 

You didn’t use them often. But they were very effective.

Slowly but surely his edges were beginning to soften around you again. His confidence slowly following. 

“Soon.” Is all he says in a grunt. 

Smurf walks out the gate behind you. She’s wearing her sunglasses so you can’t gauge her mood as easily as usual but when she simply says your name you nod back as you finish eating. Glad your mouth is full. 

“Morning baby.” She says to Andrew as she walks past. He doesn’t say anything back. 

You walk to his side instinctually as she gets in her car and drives away. He needs you. Especially since you had by some weird turn of events ended up the only other person who knew Smurf had cancer. 

You’d discussed it that first night back in his arms. 

It was tearing him up, you could tell. He had wished death upon her more than he’d ever admit recently but you knew he couldn’t help but love her in some messed up way. A bond forged in trauma, blood and manipulation. So very different to the one he shared with you but even more part of him than himself. Not something he could ever escape. 

Even in death.

“You good?” You ask, placing one hand flat on his chest and the other on his arm. He steps into you, taking steadying breaths. His glove covered hand resting above your head on the punch bag. 

He crowds you, surrounds you, just walks until there’s nowhere else to go and his body, damp from his training sticks to you. His mouth finds yours but it’s more like he’s borrowing some of your steadiness than a kiss. You give it of course. 

As much as he needs. 

Smurf, in what you decided was the most Smurf move of all time said fuck chemo. Because if she could find a way to make this anymore traumatic for Andrew and the boys then of course she would. 

The thought of Smurf with a death wish terrified you. 

The day of the J job came around quick and you could barely sit still in work. In a way you preferred it when you didn’t know the jobs were happening. 

You went straight to Smurfs after work pacing, cleaning… wondering where Smurf was. Trying not to let that make you more nervous. The second Andrew walks in, staggering slightly and holding his side you rush over to him. His other arm is covered in cuts and blood and his face has yet more bruises and cuts on top of healing ones. 

“Why are you always covered in fucking blood?” You curse as you rush over to him but it’s not through anger. Just frustration and worry. 

“Bathroom.” Is all he rasps out and you wrap your arm around his waist knowing it’s not really helping much as he leans heavily on the wall too. 

You can tell he’s in a lot of pain by the way he is breathing heavily as he lowers himself onto side of the bath. He lifts his shirt and you both look at the deep cuts in his side. 

“I think there’s some broken glass.” He say’s it like it’s just another day at the office because for him it is. 

“God damn it.” You go to the counter where you know they keep the medical supplies. Not your first rodeo after being around the Cody’s so long but your hands are still shaking. It’s never easy to see any of the boys hurt but when it’s Andrew you can’t bare it. 

You sit beside him and you really don’t like the way he sways, your stomach twists as your shaking hands clutch the tweezers.

His ruff, pained voice saying your name stops you. His free hand steadying yours but the blood makes it slippy. 

“…the job went bad.” 

“No shit.” You say seriously but your eyes are reassuring. “Is everyone okay?” It’s a stupid question because you know he wouldn’t be here letting you care for him if anyone wasn’t. But it was a way to distract him from the pain you were about to cause him. 

It works and he seems to become more aware letting out deep breaths as the tweezers grip the first piece of glass. 

“Nothing serious.” He grits. 

“I’m sorry…” you whisper gritting your own teeth. 

“It’s okay sweetheart… I’m okay.” His hand stayed over yours for a second longer than necessary.

Not restraining you. Just steadying you. Still putting you first even like this. 

You swallowed hard and carefully pulled the first shard free. Andrew hissed through his teeth, his shoulders tightening, but he didn't pull away. You knew if it were you, you’d be half way passed out by now. 

”There," you murmured. "Got it.”

A bead of fresh blood welled up immediately.

"Just eight more to go," he said stiffly.

Despite yourself, you laughed.

His mouth twitched and he leant down to kiss your forehead.

The tension in your chest loosened slightly. Not enough. It never would until he was patched up and sleeping beside you.

Once he was patched up you grab a beer for each of you before walking over to him where he sat on the couch. Putting them down on the table you sit beside him, his eyes following you as they always do. 

You saw it then. The exhaustion. Not the physical kind.

The kind that Andrew carried all his life. As the eldest. The one everyone counted on to fix everything. When he looked at you with those sad eyes you wanted more than anything in the world to be able to fix everything. 

He looked at you like he believed you could. 

Like you were the answer somehow. 

“Andrew." You sigh, voice thick with tears you won’t dare let fall. 

You brush a curl from his forehead. Your fingers stroking against his temple and tracing around his injuries gently. He leans into your touch. 

"You don't have to pretend with me. You know that.”

Something in his expression cracked.

Not completely. Just enough. Enough for you to see the fear he'd been carrying since he walked through the door. The fear he didn’t understand since he’d found out Smurf was dying. 

You lean against his good side so gently he truly believes you’re some kind of angel as you take his face in your hands. 

"Everyone got home.” You tell him softly. 

For the first time since he'd arrived, some of the tension bled from his shoulders.

“Yeah." His voice was rough.

You pressed your forehead against his.

"Because of you.” Your lips brush against his cheek as you speak and Andrew let out a shaky breath.

“No."

“Yes."

For once, he didn't argue. You kissed him gently.

Not passionate or desperate as a lot of them had been since you reunited.

Just there.

A reminder. A promise.

When you pulled back, his forehead stays resting against yours until he pulls away and pushes you to lay down gently. You know exactly what he wants and so you lay back against the pillows opening your arms to him. He crawls to you wincing ever so sightly before settling down on your chest, his strong arm banding around your middle. 

He nuzzles into your chest as you stroke his head and back, fingers running through his thick hair. 

And for a moment, the weight he carried didn't seem quite so heavy whilst he was leaning into you. 

Part Ten

After hearing about a break in two neighbourhoods over, he barely slept for days until he’d checked every lock in your apartment himself. He also sat in his parked car outside your apartment until sunrise because he couldn’t make himself leave.

He started carrying Narcan in his glove compartment after hearing too many stories about women getting drugged downtown. And would always be free the nights you went out to any bars. 

He still checked the expiration dates on everything in your apartment automatically medicine, fire extinguisher even the fucking milk.

Your building superintendent suddenly started responding to maintenance requests immediately after Andrew cornered him one evening and made it very clear someone was paying attention.

He kept hair ties, clips and a hairbrush in his car for you just in case. It had only happened once that you needed one before he went out and bought some. He left them there. Liked the fact your hair was wrapped around it. It had spread to him buying painkillers, gum, tissues, granola bars. The glove compartment of his car is just things you might need. Just in case. 

He watched you struggle carrying groceries in alone and had to physically grip the steering wheel to stop himself from running over to help.

He still sat in that chair in your bedroom. Just watching you sleep. It was the only time he was ever calm. Part of him wanting you to wake but you only ever slept when you were exhausted anymore so you never did. 

Sometimes he stood outside your apartment building just listening for signs of life… your television, your music, your footsteps overhead.

One time he was in your apartment and you’d left a cardigan on your sofa. He literally fell to his knees rubbing his face against it for the best part of an hour. 

When it became more obvious he changes your bedsheets too because he remembers that fresh sheets always make you sleep better and that you hate doing it. 

When he’s not with you he keeps his phone on him because he knows if something bad happens you will still call him. 

A man in the mall tells you to “watch where you’re going” in a harsh tone when you distractedly get in his way by accident. Andrew follows him for 6 blocks because you looked so sad and nobody got to speak to you that way. He cornered him in an alleyway and beat the shit out of him. It made him feel better. 

He gets a notification about a power outage in your apartment block and he makes Deran go to you before it gets dark. He just passes him a grocery store bag with more candles than anyone needs and flashlights. As well as all your favourite snacks. 

He noticed you'd stopped jogging with both earbuds in and felt so proud of you for being more careful.

He replaced your outdoor doormat because he'd seen you trip on the curled corner twice.

He knew exactly which tree branch would hit your bedroom window during storms and eventually cut it down.

He knew you hated making phone calls, so problems that required phone calls somehow tended to solve themselves.

The fact that he’s unable to touch you kills him. He has to look away sometimes when you’re only doing simple things. 

The rage he has during his fights in the ring and out of it is all from missing you. 

One of the hardest parts he misses is the casual intimacy. Andrew isn’t tactile with anyone but you. He’s touch starved. He misses the way your hand stroked his head/face, feeling you stroke his shoulder or arm as you pass by, the feel of your lips on his cheek.

He missed handing you a drink without asking what you wanted, brushing past you in the kitchen,feeling your feet tucked under his leg on the sofa. The way he would put them there himself sometimes when they were cold. 

How he'd automatically move you to the inside of the pavement, away from traffic.

How he pulled you closer in his sleep.

The way he rested his hand on the small of your back in crowded rooms.

How he would brush your hair off your shoulder when it got caught under your coat.

How he'd handed you his drink because he knew you'd like it better than your own.

How he would always reach for your coat before you even realised you were cold.

How he'd touch your knee during conversations just to remind himself you were there.

How he'd automatically slowed his pace to match yours.

How he'd put his arm out when he braked too hard.

How he'd known which nights to pull you against him and which nights to give you space. Which were very rare.

How he'd remembered every tiny preference until they felt like his own.

He thinks about how you’d hate all the injuries he was getting but he deserved them. 

He would sometimes take punches in his fights even though he could easily dodge and over power his opponent. 

The missing was one thing.

He could survive missing you. If it meant you were safe.

It was the remembering that ruined him.