Chapter Text
"Vance Hopper?" Jim repeated into the phone, in disbelief "Are you sure?"
"Please, Jim." his sister-in-law cried in desperation, on the other side of the line “Please, please Jim. Anything, please!”
Martha was a proud woman, one who walked with her head raised high. Arrogant. She had endured years of a dead-end marriage with his brother, without as much as a peep. Simply because of pride.
It almost gave Jim whiplash, hearing such an arrogant woman pleading.
And she sounded damn well willing to beg, if needed be. Anything for her son. Which only made her request harder to deny.
“Martha, please”. He was interrupted by her sobbing. Jim had no hope to decipher what the rest of it meant, other than desperation. “Calm down.”.
Hunching over herself, Martha left a shaky breath of Marlboro out. She hated going back to smoking so long after quitting, but desperate times called for desperate addictions.
"Jim, please. I'm begging you. Vance has just been…” Martha paused again, twisting the telephone cord.
That, at least, gave him time to organize his thoughts.
Vance Hopper was Jim's nephew, the one he never met. Son of a brother long estranged.
He had no lost love for his siblings, but never meeting Vance, thanks to their relationship, left a bitter taste in Hopper’s mouth.
Yet, here was his brother's wife. All but begging to send Vance his way.
“You’re a police officer, right? Vance has been getting in trouble with the law a lot, and I-" she stopped herself, gulping down tears. “Oh Jim, I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
Hopper sighed, and rubbed his nose bridge. This was an absolute mess from all sides..
"We already thought he was a troublesome boy, but now it's even worse! I'm so scared for his future, Jim.” She wailed, dragging a pale hand down her face. “He's gonna end up like his father… I- We need him away from Denver."
Martha stopped to breathe. She was crying hard. Loud, choked whimpers. Jim could hear her sniffling over the phone.
He sighed once again. Looking up into the ceiling, tapping his foot. What a mess.
"So, you want me to discipline him, or something?" Hopper finally asked.
"No. Just… do something with him. We don't know at this point. And he can't stay in Denver…" she took another drag from her cigarette, all but a stub now. “He can’t, Jim. Not anymore.”
Hopper just couldn't bring himself to say yes.
He already had Eleven, after all.
If Vance was to stay there, how would he react to El? How would they interact? Jim wasn't willing to bet his daughter safety over the whims of a spoiled brat
Martha must've picked up on this reluctance over the phone, because she continued to ramble.
"Jim, you would have no idea how much this would mean to us.” her voice trailed away, in a squeaky whisper. “Vance just needs somewhere new to be for a while, and you'll be meeting your nephew for the first time. Please, Hopper…"
Jim paced around the room, wondering what to do. He couldn't believe that he was actually considering it. It was a dumb idea. Totally maddening.
He must really be losing it, to even cogitate giving this stupid scheme the time of day.
"Let me talk about it. With my daughter." Jim curtly said.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, Jim!" She squealed with happiness. “Oh my god! Thank you!”
"Hey, hey. There's no guarantee yet." he warned her.
"Of course, of course.” and still, Martha could not hide the grin from her voice “Please, let me know when you make a decision."
That would be a tough decision to make.
It was not that Hopper especially disliked the boy, he thought, as the phone was hung again.
Hell, he hadn't even met the kid - and even if he was as troubled as Martha said, that normally wouldn't be a huge problem. He wouldn't be the first kid Hopper knew who had issues.
But Eleven did make the equation a particularly problematic one.
He loved her, he really did. From the bottom of his heart. But she was unpredictable, and there was no way they could compromise without her agreeing to it. It was a recipe for disaster.
Well, better talking to her directly than hiding until someone is at their doorstep.
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By the next morning, Jim toasted some Eggo's for Eleven. He sat by the table, steaming coffee in hands, watching her scarf it down, and wondering how to bring up the issue. The sounds of the fork scraping the plate were a silence Jim did not want to disturb, but had to.
"So, uh-" Jim cleared his throat, and El looked up from her waffles. Whipped cream smudged on her mouth. Her brown eyes met his, expecting news from the tone of his voice. "Eleven. My brother's wife wants to send her son up here. My nephew."
El croked her head in confusion, and cleaned her mouth with the inside of her sleeve. "Why?"
"He's a troubled kid, Eleven,” Jim explained. He drummed his finger on the table and patiently waited for her reaction. “His mother said he's been getting into trouble lately, and thinks the change of scenery may help him."
"Can you?" Her doe eyes looked hopefully at Jim, as he took a sip of his coffee.
Jim stilled, bringing his cup down.
Could he? Jim thought he probably could, if he was required to. Or, on the other side, he could just make Vance hate the police more than he already did.
"That doesn't matter, either way. He needs help, and his mother put her trust in me." Jim leaned back in the wooden chair, waiting for El to say something. She looked deep in thought, her eyebrows knitted together, as if deciphering an especially hard puzzle. "I just want to make sure that, if I say he can come, that you would be okay with it."
She hummed, looking back at her waffles, before ultimating foregoing the last bite. "You should help him."
Hopper simply grunted in acknowledgement, before the both of them returned to their respective breakfasts, ignoring that the awkward conversation that ever happened.
Well, that was it then. El decided the ultimatum of his dilemma.
Vance Hopper would come to Hawkings.
He decided to call Martha at dawn, after his shift. It would give El ample time to collect anything needed, before their new resident would arrive.
When Jim broke the news to Martha, he could barely hear the news that she would be sending Vance right away, over the relieved sobbing.
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Somewhat, he should not be surprised that only three days later, Jim was in the airport waiting to pick up Vance. Martha did seem awfully eager to send the boy his way. Or get rid of him. Either would work.
The only thing his sister-in-law told him about Vance was "curly blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'8, and a temper", and that was barely enough to identify someone in an airport packed to the brim. He would be luckier picking a teenager at random, and calling him nephew.
Jim tapped his foot on the ground, and wished for a hot drink. While he wasn't wearing his uniform that day, maybe he should have, since being a police officer was probably the only thing Vance knew about his uncle.
Spotting a few people with curly blonde hair and blue eyes only made him fume. What was it about that airport and its absurd number of people with - what had El called it? Perms? On the dozens, but none of them was a teenage boy, looking like he didn't wanna be there.
After what felt like an eternity, the last one came out, and Jim instantly spotted him. A pretty boy through and through: Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, an overstuffed backpack, and a scowl on his face. Vance surely would become the new Hawkings heartthrob in the blink of an eye, if his personality didn’t get in the way of it.
Jim walked up to him, deciding not to waste any time. He would play good cop first, see how Vance would react.
"Vance Hopper?" He asked the young teen, who looked up at him, as if sizing him up.
"Yeah" he certainly did not look impressed. Looking a little snobbish, if anything. Still a little green from the flight.
"Jim. Jim Hopper." He held out his hand for a shake, but Vance didn't seem to notice. Or, on another note, care. He could add ‘your uncle’ to good measure, but the boy didn’t seem stupid enough to need it.
"Listen here fuckface, I know my parents sent me here for reformation or whatever. But I'm not taking any shit from you." Vance spat, as Jim forced a fake smile and stared at Vance. He knew he was supposed to be patient with kids like him, but he struggled not to snap back. "How about we go to your house, before we get locked inside the airport?"
The car ride home was awkward, to say the least. The silence was tense, and every attempt from Hopper to make small talk was swiftly rebuked by Vance, who had taken on kicking the passenger seat from the back. It would, apparently, be just Jim talking. Explaining all the household rules for Vance to follow.
“Look, kid.” Well, if looks could kill, Jim would be six feet under from just a word. Good Job. “Vance. Look Vance, I honestly don’t care if you like me right now. My duty is to house, feed, protect, and rai- and to get you to be a better person.”
He barely stopped himself from saying raise. Damn El and the parenting instinct she brought in him.
“That doesn’t require us to braid each other's hair. That, however, does require you to follow the rules of my house, space cadet.” whitch, also, earned him a glare. But if a nickname was what was needed to make Vance stop kicking the seat and focus on conversation, so be it “Number one, I want you back in the house by 10 pm. Sharp. No excuses, no exceptions.”
“Sure, old man”, Vance sneered. The frown, if it ever left, was back. But at least he was amenable. Good.
“Rule two, no skipping school”, that one would get an earful from a teenager whose voice barely cracked, Jim was sure. Vance was already raising himself, ready to rage. Hopper's hand, gesturing for him to be quiet, stopped him. “Rule three, be respectful. All I ask, and you have free reign. If you don’t get in any trouble, that is.”
There should be more stubbornness, Hopper was sure. Vance should have thrown an outright temper tantrum at the rules. He expected screaming and kicking, the whole shebang. But apparently, the flight still left him a bit green in the face, and the car voyage didn’t seem to be helping his case. At least, it was enough to keep the teenage rebellion to a minimum. For now.
Small mercies.
He still sure as hell wouldn't let him stay in the cabin with Eleven, though.
"Those three. That's all I'm asking for. You’ll be nice to me, I'll be nice to you."
"Whatever" Vance mumbled. Jim stared long and hard at the boy. He sure was a piece of work, but he did promise Martha that he would try his best. And Jim Hopper was not a man to go back on his word.
He would not, however, operate any miracles. The boy would have to cooperate.
That night, Vance slept on the couch. He would get a room to himself soon enough, but for now the couch should do. When Jim was confident enough he was sleeping, he snuck over to the cabin, and did his special knock.
Eleven was a sight for sore eyes, for sure.
"How did it go?" She asked. They were both sitting snugly in front of the telly, watching whatever nonsense there was, or at least, using it as background noise.
"Well, his parents weren't lying," Jim muttered. "But I'll whip him into shape soon enough."
“Will I get to meet him?" Eleven looked up at Jim intensely, still curled up at the floor.
"At some point you'll run into each other. I guarantee it" that he did. Jim couldn’t just keep the boy locked up in his house like a circus animal, until he was polite enough. Like it or not, Vance would get liberty around town. "I just don't want it to be now."
Eleven nodded, turning back to the TV until the lights dimmed out, and she nodded off to sleep. Signaling, of course, that soon it would be time to go back to the trailer, and the teenager inside it.
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The next morning, Vance woke up early. He, also, woke the whole house alongside him.
Unlike El, who had long gotten used to where everything was, and had since managed a semblance of silence in the morning, Vance did not seem to care for such. So, Vance was up, and so was Jim.
"Well, this place fucking sucks." he said aloud to himself, stepping outside the trailer. He had no friends there. No games, no fun- just him and his stupid uncle there "I said this place fucking sucks!"
Vance shouted not really to anyone, maybe Jim Hopper, if he had managed to wake the stupid fart earlier. Maybe he had already left, if there was any mercy in the word. He kicked at the ground, and fallen leaves flew in the air, landing slowly on the pavement like paper. He huffed and sat down, pulling at his hair.
He wished he could listen to some music right now. Or go home. Both actually. Anything other than being there.
But Denver wasn't home anymore, was it?
Vance huffed.
What's stopping him from leaving right now, anyway? This place was boring as hell. Vance counted his change in his pocket. $3.58.
Well, that was enough for him. His uncle did give him free range, if he did not murder anyone, or something. So, he couldn’t stop Vance from putting on his denim jacket, and walking out of there. No clue where he was going, but the goal of an arcade.
Vance eventually found the town by following signs of well, life. He spotted kids walking to school with their colorful backpacks. That's right, today’s a school day. Vance smirked to himself, if he could find an arcade, there would basically be no one in it.
All to himself.
Before he could continue walking, he saw a police car. If he got lucky, that could be the car of any cop in that god-forsaken town. One that did not know his face, much less cared to.
He did not get lucky.
It drove right up to him, and inside was Jim Hopper. A shit beginning to a shit day. How nice. Jim had a neutral expression, with a tight, strained smile. Vance glared at him, crossing his arms in defiance, and refusing to move “Vance. Get in the car. Now.”
“Didn’t you hear what I fucking said? Are you deaf along with being ugly?” Vance gave him the finger and continued to walk on “I’m not taking shit from you.”
“Vance,” Jim hissed, following him in the car, and fighting the urge to honk the horn and shout at him. He had already broken a rule, it wasn’t even twenty-four hours. “So you just gonna walk around town? Is that it?”
Vance ignored him. His hands in tight fists in his pockets, and jaw clenched hard. He didn’t need some guy he just met hounding him. Still, Jim continued to follow him, and this time he didn’t even try to force a smile. He had a stern expression on him, his lips tight and frowning. “Listen here brat, you either you get in this car now, or-”
“Or what!?” Vance snapped, as he stepped towards the car, and stared Jim down through the passenger window.
“Or you get to sleep outside! How does that sound, huh?” Jim tightened his grip on the steering wheel, fingers white and stretched taut over bone from the force, and gave Vance an equally intense glare.
“Fine by me! Just leave me alone” that one was nearly a scream, as Vance spat loudly in Jim's direction. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch Jim especially, for being an obnoxious old man.
Vance pulled away from the car, turning his back to Jim and walking.
Hopper pounded his fists on the steering wheel, leaving a long honk from the police car, before taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Fine” he finally said, quietly to himself, and drove off to Melvands General Store.
As for Vance, he eventually found the “Palace Arcade”.
His eyes did not shine, but it was a near damn thing.
It was small, but Vance didn’t mind. As long as it had good games, everything was free reign. It was dark inside, only illuminated by the neon lights - quite different from what he was used to in Denver, with his lone pinball machine, before the arcade.
The neon patterns on the black carpet seemed to glow too, but it was pretty empty. Only a few other people, mostly young adults, and only one person working that day, at the counter. There were some younger folks too, skipping class he bet, likely what he would be doing in a few days.
Vance walked down the aisle of arcade games, looking specifically for a lonely pinball machine.
He found one at the corner of the arcade, alone in one corner. No one to disturb him. Vance licked his lips in anticipation, and took out a coin to slip in. The machine lit up like fireworks, the neon lights flashed, and the inside of the pinball turned on.
Maybe the day wouldn’t be so shitty, after all.