The second Pope walks into the room, something shifts. Her shoulders tense like she’s been caught red-handed, and her arm moves just a little too quick—yep. Hiding something

He narrows his eyes, suspicious in the most obvious, unthreatening way possible “What are you doing?” he asks slowly, stepping closer like she’s about to bolt “What are you hiding?”

She tries to pass it off like nothing, but Pope already caught the motion. He zeroes in on the sketchpad in her lap and raises a brow, stopping just in front of her with his arms crossed “Uh-huh. Real smooth.”

He drops to his knees in front of her, resting one hand on her knee for balance as he tries to peek over the edge of the pad “C’mon, let me see,” he says, voice low and teasing. She shields it with her whole body like it’s a top-secret classified document, and Pope huffs a quiet laugh “You’re being ridiculous.”

His fingers gently tug at the corner of the page, trying to coax it free. No rush, no pressure. Just that soft, familiar grin threatening to break through as he finally wins the battle and pries it from her hold

And then—he sees it

A doodle. A goofy, messy little sketch of the two of them standing side-by-side. He’s got his signature scowl, but someone’s drawn little hearts floating around his head. Her version is smiling wide, obviously mid-laugh. They’re holding hands, and above them is a speech bubble that just says: “He pretends to be mean, but he’s the softest.”

Pope stares at it

And then something flickers across his face—just a moment of stunned silence, like his heart forgot how to beat. His eyes soften immediately, lips twitching like he’s fighting back a grin and losing

He clears his throat, still staring at it “Okay, first of all,” he says, finally glancing up at her “my hair does not look like that.”

But he doesn’t hand the page back

Instead, he folds it in half neatly and tucks it into his back pocket without asking, like it belongs to him now. Like he’s keeping it

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, but he leans in to kiss the side of her head—quick and warm. Like it’s instinct. Like he can’t help it

And he’s already smiling when he adds under his breath “...I’m keeping it forever, though. Just so we’re clear.”