It started with her teasing him over something stupid—something about the way he cut an apple wrong or folded his shirt inside out again. Pope shot her a deadpan look like he wasn’t even mildly amused, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking “You love finding reasons to pick on me,” he muttered, flopping back against the couch with all the dramatic exhaustion of a man under attack

But then she said something that tipped the balance—snarky and so her—and suddenly she was laughing, really laughing. That kind of laugh that took over her whole body, head thrown back, eyes shut tight, until—

There it was

The snort

Pope’s head snapped toward her like he’d just witnessed a miracle. His whole face lit up instantly, that dumb, dopey grin spreading before he could even pretend to fight it "There it is," he said, pointing at her like she’d just revealed a hidden treasure “That laugh. The stupid one. I live for that.”

She tried to hide her face, probably all flustered, and that only made it worse. Pope leaned in, still grinning like she’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, the words too soft to hold any weight, and then—

He kissed her. Quick, warm, and full of that giddy kind of affection he never showed anyone else. One hand cupped her cheek as he leaned in, thumb brushing over her skin like he couldn’t help it. His voice was low when he pulled back, still smiling like a fool “You snort one more time, I’m not gonna survive it.”

He swore he could still hear it echoing in his head

That laugh. His favorite sound