Upside Down August Writing Challenge (Stranger Things)

by mysweetgirl2

Summary:

the tags will be updated with every chapter posted!!

Welcome to my attempt at the Upside Down August Challenge! I will be trying to post a new one shot everyday, and am planning to do just Hopper. We will see if I add variety... but, if you've read off my page before you know that will probably not be the case.

Trying this out as a little encouragement for myself to start writing again. Hope those who read enjoy!

Notes:

Day One: Cup

obviously, with Hopper being my favorite character, I was taking this in the direction of using his mornings of Coffee and Contemplation as inspo for this prompt :) it's not too long and sweet, DEFINITELY messy as I didn't do any editing- AND it's two days late! Oops-

enjoy some morning flirtation with the man that is Jim Hopper.

Chapter 1: Day 1 - Cup (Hopper)

You hadn’t entirely grown accustomed to the colder Indiana mornings in the winter. The seasons were transitioning through the end of fall where gray clouds littered the sky at dawn and only dissipated by early afternoon. Sluggish and cold, much like the rest of Hawkins. A small town where, you quickly were beginning to realize, nothing ever happens.

Stepping out of the driver’s seat of your small Honda, you sharply inhale against the oncoming-winter air as though drinking in all the morning had to offer. There were sluggish bodies hanging around the outside of the building you parked in front of, all men wearing blue uniforms and gold badges. A slow yet busy morning at the station for Hawkins.

It had only been a month since you had moved into town, finding yourself a small rental on the outskirts of the county for a decent price. It wasn’t extravagant, by any means, but you’d be surprised if anyone were to ever associate the word extravagant with Hawkins. The town itself was far from it, and you thought simple was maybe the best description it could have overall.  

But simple wasn’t bad, and honestly sounded like a relief after the chaotic experience college turned out to be. It wasn’t long after the big move-in day that you found a newspaper ad reading “Help Wanted” along with the address and phone number to the Police Station located in the Downtown of Hawkins. The ad read: “In search of back-up secretary” and the answer seemed obvious from there.

Your real giveaway for this particular town's 'small-town mentality' was showcased when you arrived for the interview and were, essentially, hired on the spot. You had met with the station’s main secretary, Flo, and the rest was essentially history.

Flo was an older woman with large, square glasses and a shortly curled, brunette bob. In your eyes, she looked like the stereotypical grandma, always wearing her color-coordinated blouses and skirts, encouraging a healthy set of behavioral skills around the workplace, and having an acute knowledge of just about every cop and his family life from the station. Then again, you also realized from that first encounter, Flo knew just about everything when it came to any resident in Hawkins. She wanted to; it was like it came with her job title.

You were no different, and Flo didn’t tiptoe around anything personal. It was like she wanted your entire life story while giving you the quick tour that same morning of meeting- and fifteen minutes wasn’t nearly enough time for you to feel comfortable gushing.

Nevertheless, she had her job for a reason, and while you maybe found the questions too subjective for the first-time meeting, she did get her main message across. The job was straight forward, you would help her with managing calls and dispatching officers, picking up doughnuts for the morning patrollers, brewing coffee, lazy work in a lazy setting.

For eight dollars an hour, and no real punishment for late days, you couldn’t have asked for a better career. Bundled up in one of your thicker sweaters, you approach the entrance with an easy smile to some of the officers hanging outside, one’s trying to enjoy the quiet while it lasted.

Immediately unzipping your coat upon entering the building, you look up to meet Flo’s morning expression. Dull eyes and a tired smile, not extremely pleased with your delayed arrival, but you both knew it could be worse. One man in particular from this office set the bar at its definite lowest.

“Morning to you too,” Flo spoke up after another beat where you didn’t greet her. You gave an exasperated sigh, walking around the corner of her desk to hang your sweater on the coat rack conveniently in her walkway.

“Good morning, my love.” You smile while setting your bag down next to the chair at your desk, a stack of paperwork awaiting you on the desk. “What’s all this?”

“Reports. I need help sorting through these,” She snaps her stack of paper on her desk, turning over her shoulder with a slight smirk, “it’s good work for mornings like these.”

You gaze dulled, “So, it’s punishment work?”

“I can say no if it makes you feel better.”

Flo chuckles lightly to herself as you roll your eyes to the front of your desk, another laugh sounding from the entrance of the “office space”.

“Damn, Flo’s really working you to the bone, aye?”

“Callahan.” You greet in turn.

The lanky cop comes trudging forward with a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand, your eyes looking up as he walks in front of you and gives you a small salute with his two fingers. His usual morning, afternoon, and evening greeting whenever you crossed paths.

“Your morning sounds like a good time.”

“Yeah, as good of a time as you are for your wife.”

The silence was all consuming, you the only individual making noise as you snickered loudly with Callahan absolutely stunned. Powell’s low chuckle following then as he too joined the room.

“Mature, kid.” Flo spoke up finally, snapping Callahan from his gob smacked expression. A fitting glare now pulling at his brow as you averted eye contact.

Powell came up and gave your left shoulder a soft pat, in greeting most definitely but his smirk also read pride. You grinned in return, happy that Callahan’s love life could always be an enjoyable laugh.

“Well, obviously people think it’s funny.”

“Sure. Yeah, real hilarious.” You see Callahan almost rip the chair out from under his desk in the corner of your eye, not pleased with the joke. “Just because you’re stealing the chief’s joke doesn’t make it better, you know? It's not very original.”

“I wouldn’t call it STEALING his jokes, more-so modifying it.” You place the papers back on the flat surface of your desk, pulling than at its sides in leaning forward towards the officer’s direction. “Arguably, my jokes are more accurate.”

Callahan sneered in a mocking manner, rolling his eyes before sipping at the edge of his coffee cup. Powell too grabbed his own cup, also having snagged a doughnut on the way to his seat, carefully dunking the fried pastry into the surface of his drink. Soggy dough dripped with caffeine, and you had to shudder at the sight.

“You really think that tastes good?”

“I find it to be a solid flavor enhancer,” he doesn’t look up as he smooths out his own paperwork for the day, “a boost for these kind of mornings.”

You raise your brow with a slow nod of agreement, resonating with Powell that it was always the little things which would be the ultimate factor in pushing you through these long hours.

Callahan and Powell were both familiar faces at this point—technically it was a given at this point considering the three of you were desk mates. That first day show-around had introduced you to the duo, and the dynamic was obviously not subject to change.

Powell had been polite in his greeting, giving a welcoming smile with a wave; while Callahan gave the same shit-eating smirk that seemed to be a forever expression of his. And though you now could tell, usually, why one would receive such a smirk; you were never sure why it was given to you on that day.

It was easy conversations from then on, shooting the shit and whatnot while the two would come and go from their desk throughout the day. All in mind of a simple work relationship to depend upon, Cal Powell was the sensible officer while you and Phil Callahan were always found to be biting at the other’s heels. No misstep or slipup going unaddressed. It was always something with you two.

“Maybe enhance her sense of humor.”

“Enhance your comeback game, Phil, and then we can talk about my comicality.”

“Point for the new kid.” Powell snickers, drawing an invisible tally in the air to your chockful of earns since day one.

You grin at the announcement from the more favorable desk mate, taking another report and stacking it on the other before abruptly standing from your desk chair entirely. Callahan jumps in surprise at your suddenness, Powell raising a brow.

“The hell are you going?”

Flo’s chair creaks as she swiveled around to get eyes on you, your glare hardening in Callahan’s direction for the call of attention.

“Just because you have a badge doesn’t mean I don’t deserve my own ‘cup of joe’ too.” You scoffed, pushing your chair back in to keep the walkway clear. “I’ll be back before you know it, calm down.”

“Don’t know if that’s of any relief, but sure.”

You don’t even turn to shoot Phil another unamused look, stepping back out into the hallway—turning left and continuing down towards the break room’s coffee machine.

The sound of a phone ringing soon muffled as you stepped into the small side room, your beacon of hope quietly awaiting its usage on the counter a couple feet away. You sigh almost blissfully at the rich scent of coffee pods that fill the air around you, and the warmth you felt from moments. Peacefully alone, in a place you were learning to love.

“Ah, I should’ve known our new star secretary was just in here.”

Turning suddenly over your shoulder, you smile sheepishly at the addressing voice and find a tired grin immediately in return. The man taking a step forward, adorned with his signature hat and tan uniform, reaches up to the cupboard over the machine and grabs two, all-too familiar coffee mugs.

This was maybe what you always looked forward to in the mornings, and maybe it’s what gave you that boost for the rest of the day. You didn’t know what your draw was to Chief Jim Hopper—but when he stood so strikingly tall beside you, it was hard to ignore the butterflies that sprang to life.

It was another one of those first day meets when you and the Chief already began falling into a pattern without even realizing it. That morning, you had made sure to bring a coffee mug for the machine in the office that you figured you’d hide in case it was against the rules. But it was pointless in the end, Hopper having caught you rearranging the coffee filters in order to mask the mugs appearance.

Besides it being your first time meeting one another, the mug turned out to be a great icebreaker in getting a solid read on your boss. He didn’t question the hiding spot, and definitely held no objection in regards to you hiding the ceramic piece in the first place.

In that moment, he had reached in to grab some more coffee filters and stack them around the edge of your mug, shooting you a wink before turning and waltzing into his big-man office. A fitting first meet for what your two’s interactions would inevitably come to be.

“So… you were looking for me?”

“Woah, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, it's only ten.” He sighed, lazily reaching your signature cup in your direction, your fingers delicately wrapping around the handle to bring it towards your person.

“Why do you say that?” You snort, placing the mug against the linoleum counter and taking the coffee pot from its holster. “Sounded concerned, like I had run away….”

“Right, well a young woman like yourself shouldn’t be expected to waste her day away in a place like this. I was wondering if maybe you had finally gotten the right idea, is all…”

You shake your head while watching the piping hot liquid pou into your mug, you tipping the pot back to its upright position before turning to the chief with a small smile. He grinned down, your hand then reaching to place itself on your hip—a real selling point.

“Now, riddle me this. How can this paradise of a station be a wrong idea?” Hopper delicately takes the pot from your hand and repositions himself to successfully pour his own cup of coffee this morning. “I love working here.”

“Hah! Either you really didn’t sleep well, or you’re tryna’ make a fool outta me, sweetheart.” The chief looked up from below the rim of his hat, “But, you don’t gotta act nice to keep from hurting my feelings. This dump is barely used for phone calls nowadays. Nothing special.”

You wanted to argue, raise a complaint that you had all the entertainment you could ask for from your desk mates—maybe even comment that he too added to the excitement of coming into work every day. But you held your tongue, finding the later part of your commentary to be too forward.

“I guess we have very different definitions of entertainment.”

“Hah. Apparently.” He put the coffee pot back on the machine, you looking up with his motions and noting there was not enough coffee left to even fill half a cup.

“Not only are you forever going to be on Flo’s shitlist for your repeated tardiness, but I regret to inform you…” You reach up to the cabin and take out a new coffee filter, “also failing to refill the pot is maybe a worse offense.”

Hopper watched as you popped the lid to the machine, beginning to replace and pour new coffee grounds into the top. He scoffed a laugh before turning back to finish up doctoring his own cup o’ joe. You knew it by heart and would be surprised if the rest of the office didn’t as well.

He was a one yellow-packet kinda man, some days not even bothering to stir the sugar in with the rest of the liquid. That’s also when you saw the office very obviously keeping clear of their collective boss. Not you or Flo, though. You thought maybe some of her confidence had rubbed off when it came to the Chief, as intimidating as you knew he could be.

“You’re not wrong. But, I will say it’s disappointing to know you’re now gonna be on my ass about it too…”

“Hey, I’m her partner in crime. It was only a matter of time.” You turn up with a sweet smile, Hopper dumping his yellow packet off to the side of the counter. Without making more of a complaint, you reach under his arm and proceed to throw the trash away for him. “You’re also just… so easy to correct.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He put a hand up, lightly waving you off, “I see that was an easy fix… but, I mean, c’mon.”

“C’mon?” You snort, clicking the coffee machine lid closed and pressing the button to start a new brew, “What? You saying you deserve slack in not throwing away your sweetener?”

“I mean, my work days get long, you know that.”

“Hopper, you came into the office not even five minutes ago. You can throw away your trash.”

You begin grabbing two yellow sweeteners for your own cup, along with the half n’ half always kept off to the side. You would have to remember to put it back in the fridge before twelve.

“Mmm…” Hopper readjusts so that he is now leaning his back up against the coffee counter, pulling his steaming coffee up towards his face and gently inhaling, “But can I? I mean, really.”

You sigh, taking out a stirring stick and gently circling it in your caffeinated drink, “At this point? I’m unsure.”

He laughs, dipping his cup back against his lips and taking a hearty sip at its contents. He gives a satisfied sigh with his drink, clearing his throat as he begins again.

“How’s your morning been?”

It’s mundane, too mundane of a question coming from a man such as the chief. He wasn’t one to care about how other people were necessarily doing. You smile to yourself at that, angling a brow in his direction.

“What favor is it this time?”

The stunned expression that befalls his features is laughable, you snicker when it seemed you caught him in his act.

“F-Favor? Sweetheart, why on earth—”

“When have you ever wondered about my morning?”

“All the time, what do you mean?” He smirks now, “You think I’m tryna mess with you?”

“Well, it wouldn’t shock me.”

You straighten your posture in front of the cup, lightly tapping the wooden stick against the rim of your coffee mug.

“It can be a first time for everything…” The sound of your stick hitting the plastic trash bag came from Hopper’s right, “Can’t give me the benefit of the doubt?”

“You have yet to prove to me why I should.” You wink at him while retracting from throwing away the stick.

On top of getting to know everyone around the station, you weren’t one to forgo the stories told on Hopper. You had met his as Hawkins Chief of Police, and later learned that his reputation went far beyond that.

Maybe to your dismay, or more accurately disappointment, he was quite a ladies’ man. Callahan making endless comments whenever Hopper left the room, commonly after he would tease the younger man about his wife. It was clearly no secret that Hopper loved to sleep around, that much you were sure of.

Which is another reason why you found conversing together to be a different gamble all together. You didn’t need him to perceive you as being an easy target in the first month of getting to know one another.

“Newbies always give benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, the newbie title is clearly wearing off.” You counter, finally lifting your cup to take a sip of coffee and smiling to yourself at its sweetness. “My morning is going fine…”

“Hah,” He steps out from the counter, pacing to stand across from you while you now turn to replace him against the hard plastic ledge, “See? Was that so hard?”

“How’s yours?”

“Mine’s great now that you’ve told me about how yours’s going.” He cheers his mug in the air, shit-eating smirk and all, “Means I’m helping make a difference.”

“God, you’re the worst.”

“I mean, I’m known for my humility. What can I say?”

There’s a warm string of laughter that floats between the both of you, both your hands clasping around the warmth of your mug. It was like that warmth seeped through your veins, up your arms, and throughout your chest. It felt nice, every moment like this with him was nice. You hated admitting that to yourself.

You caught yourself in that singular moment, suddenly shaking your head while finding the clock on the wall behind Hopper. The time reading nine-thirty-four.

“I should get back to my desk…” You began stepping out from your spot on the counter, “Flo has me on reports already this morning… can’t keep her waiting forever, you know?”

Hopper had evidently been caught in the moment as well, appearing dazed when you spoke up from the shared moment. Like he wasn’t ready for it to be over. And as soon as you began to convince yourself that it was you being a wishful thinker, he reached an arm in your direction.

“Hang on, I—” He stepped forward, the action stopping you in your tracks, “I actually was wanting to ask you about…”

You patiently waited as he gave thought to what he was trying to ask. It wasn’t like people found him to be all that expressive.

A history of popping pills and drinking on duty would give that lasting impression. Though, you hadn’t seen the orange pill bottle recently, and when he was caught up with what to say, he suddenly became one of the most expressive individuals you knew.

Hopper’s tongue gently ran along his lower lip as he stood in front of you, your neck craning forward as the silence overwhelmed you both.

“About…?”

“Are you free? I mean, after… four?”

You froze, straightening in utter surprise at the question.

“Uhm…” You began, not knowing where the sentence would end but knowing you had to speak, or you might as well implode. Tense and awkward, you felt like a kid being asked to the middle school dance.

Hopper’s brow furrowed at your stutter, and he quickly unraveled in his growing panic. “It’s fine if not, I just—”

“I can do five.” You interrupted, the surprise of such a sounding response riddling the both of you into silence. The two of you were mirroring the same surprise, and while Hopper stared through the shock, you were were internally shaming yourself for not expecting the response which left your mouth.

It was a giveaway from you more than anything, and your heart was racing at the reveal of maybe just how wanting you were of his time and attention. It was something you always tried to tell yourself not to fixate so much on a singular crush, forget about it before you get yourself hurt. Again, the messages were clear, it was better to not involve yourself with someone like Hopper.

But he was here, and he was wanting to make something happen. Seemingly genuine in his question, you tried studying his features for any giveaway that this was a grand setup, and he would leave you high and dry like so many claimed he did.

All that you found staring back was hope, maybe even concern for overstepping so soon into knowing someone. Like it was going too fast for him, and he couldn’t catch himself before he fell. Risking more than just a night out.

You let out a steady sigh, a tight smile forming on your features as you muscle up the courage to find your words. “Yeah, I… why not the Hideaway, tonight. At five.”

Hopper arched a brow at your plan, a nervous chuckle breathing out from his tightened chest.

“The Hideaway…?”

“Yeah.” You frown, “Something wrong with that plan?”

“Well, no. Not if you’re wanting to go to the bar.” His shoulders shrugged up to his jaw, an easier smile forming against his lips, “I was just thinking maybe something like Benny’s… somewhere quiet.”

The suggestion stunned you more than any of this whole conversation already had, and your jaw slackened with disbelief. Hopper had the audacity to respond with a light laugh, his shoulders falling back into place as he let himself be amused with your stunned response.

“What? Don’t like the sound of burgers?”

“No, I just…” You quickly collected yourself at his question, one hand falling from your coffee to press against the fold of your skirt, “I wasn’t expecting an invitation to dinner—”

“Is that a no then?”

Hopper seemed to cringe inwardly at thinking that would be your answer, a nervous laugh escaping you now that you were realizing neither of you knew the other’s boundaries. At this rate, you weren’t sure there were many, considering how far this conversation had carried with awkwardly dancing around the topic of a date. God forbid a date.

“Haha, I would love to get Benny’s together after work.”

Smiles now erupted back into the conversation from both of your faces, Hopper beaming so widely you never thought you’d see him look so… excited. Cranky, late-to-work, sarcastic Hopper. It was a look you could grow used to, you immediately thought.

“So, uh… I’ll—”

“I can wait for you to be done with work and we can just leave from here?”

“Great, yeah, totally what I was thinking. Too. Amazing.” He directed a finger gun down in your direction, awkwardly smiling as he began backing out of the room entirely. “Glad our, uh, great minds can think alike on this.”

You laugh again, cheerful and excited. None of which you thought you’d find yourself feeling on this very morning, but appreciated, nonetheless.

“Right? We are brilliant together.”

Hopper smiles at your words, and though you might’ve found it a little too forward if you gave your phrasing too much thought, the expression on the chief’s features made it clear your words were appreciated.

“Right…” He reaches up and tips the edge of his hat in your direction, “Well. Duty calls, but… see you in?”

“Hop, you act like you won’t be in and out of the main office area.”

“I could be tied down to my desk today, who knows!” He retorted, finally turning in to his office as you begin trailing out towards the hallway as well.

You pause as he does one final turn back to you, both bodies pausing in the doorways and watching the other. A couple beats of flustered smiles and anxious laughter solidified the energy, your hand lifting in a small wave to finally dismiss the interaction.

“See you later, Hop.”

“See you then, sweetheart.”

Hopper pushed his door shut and you wait till it clicks in place before taking a second to yourself.

You were going on a date with the infamous Jim Hopper. Not just a fun night at the bar, not a late-night invitation to meet him at his place later, a planned dinner. Granted, a burger joint far out from town lines, but definitely more formal than anything a bar could bring the both of you.

That was indication enough for you to know it was something you could look forward to, that the invitation had been made with you more specifically in mind.

Biting at the top of your lower lip, you grin one final time to yourself before stepping back down the hallway—out into the main “hub” of the quaint, smaller station.

“Sure as hell took you awhile to pour some coffee.” Callahan couldn’t help but comment, looking up from the thick rim of his glasses with a slight sneer. You easily glare in return, the unamused frown wiping any sense of happiness from your expression.

“Can it, Phil. You have patrol in, like, fifteen.”

“Weird that you know my schedule like that—”

“We gotta get going,” Powell interrupts, knowing nothing good ever came of the both of you actually bickering. He grabbed the keys to his car and started for the entrance. “Phil, come on.”

“Yeah, jeezus, I’m coming.” Callahan groans, reluctant to go anywhere at this point, but not wanting to lose his job. He shoots you a strained stare, giving Flo an allured smile, and finally exiting the building.

You glared further in confusion at the look Phil had sent Flo, stepping over to stand beside Flo. “The hell was that for?”

“What?” She doesn’t even look up.

“Callahan’s smirk.”

“Nothing? You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’m—woah.” You take a step out into the entryway, stepping in front of Flo’s desk and forcing your way into her line of sight. “You’re never avoidant, what was it about?”

“Nothing bad, sweetie.” She chuckles, you noticing she too was smirking. “Just… hope you have fun at Benny’s.”

Your confusion fell and was replaced by astonishment, suddenly tripping over yourself to find words.

“I—I? Oh… thanks?”

Flo’s smirk dissipates into a kinder gleam, her reaching over her desk and grabbing hold of her coffee mug, lifting it to cheers yours.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You pause, cautious of her mug before letting out a compliant sigh. Reaching your own mug out and cheer-sing in return. The celebration for a step in the right direction.

Chapter 2: Day 2 - Picture (Hopper)

Summary:

you go back to clean up a mess he made years before--completely unaware of what you were bound to find.

Notes:

again, this has little to no editing over it and might be a bit messy. also some angst, so hope that goes well with the Sunday afternoon this is posted on ;).

The air was stale in his old trailer of a home, a space that had sat abandoned for far too long, far too out of the way.

It was all after El had reappeared that he abandoned the space completely, not all of it entirely fixed nor mended from his rampage on that morning. The morning where everything changed, the morning where you all started believing. The morning he was absent to a fake funeral for a fake boy being buried in the very real ground.

Little did you all know it was a setup, and only when you had found Hopper later that afternoon did you fully realize the danger it all meant.

His place then looked like it had been ransacked, and you had questioned if a bear had barreled through the lot. All his lamps were smashed, couch cushions ripped to shreds, lightbulbs scattered in both wholes and pieces across his floors— anything he had deemed tampered with or suspicious was gone. Lost to the rampage that was him.

It had now been sitting as an abandoned abomination for almost two years.

You couldn’t bring yourself to do it, take care of the job that needed to be done a long time ago. He never gave it a second thought when he was still here, and now it all felt wrong. Like you were trespassing into a stranger’s home, when the stranger was someone you thought you couldn’t have gotten to know better.

His… disappearance… was unexpected. On too many ends, you knew the outcome was destined to be bleak. No one just survives these kinds of things. He hadn’t even wanted you following him, Murray sure, a little less lenient with Joyce, but wanting you safe above all and on the run with the kids. With El.

A Russian base under the new mall hadn’t even seemed plausible three days earlier. Three days earlier, in fact, you had missed a date to Enzo’s. The thought of missing the date then would make you roll your eyes and sneer.

Now it was a choking guilt. One that welled you up with tears and made it hard to breathe, choking on sobs and cries over a hole in your heart he could no longer fill. What you wouldn’t give to make it to that date now.

Noticeably, most if not every surface was covered in a considerable layer of dust. You had to keep breathing in that stale air, taking steady breaths to distract yourself from how overwhelming this all was.

You look over the trash, all the empty beer cans on both tables and floor, pill bottles with well past expired contents, dirty clothes that he hadn’t thought to pack when running away.

The reason for coming here in the first place felt stupid, Joyce had called you when they stopped in Utah before making the trek the rest of the way to California. Besides the usual check-in with Eleven, and wishing her boys a hello as well, she tried talking you through what clean up back in Hawkins was gonna look like.

Your plan for coping was an odd one, you would admit, but it was all you could think of as distracting enough to keep from wallowing away in your own home. The cabin had been destroyed, and when you saw the damage after the events on the 4th, it looked downright hopeless to ever be the same again.

Joyce encouraged it, as she usually did, knowing that this would be better than any therapy session, bring you some peace for whatever the hell happened. But, her encouragement also came with the suggestion of going back. Back to the beginning, back to that trailer on the god damn side of the river.

‘You might find something meaningful.’ And she meant it, this wasn’t a tease of his past—it was a statement that there were belongings there that could never be replaced.

You crept further in that dingy space, over towards the back door where you slowly leaned down and picked up a half filled trashcan; a quick look inside to confirm nothing had molded or was left to rot in the trash bag.

It wasn’t long before you had filled the bin with miscellaneous cans, bottles, paper napkins, and those items along the sort. Being especially careful when picking up glass the previous owner had missed before moving into his granddad’s cabin.

Walking by the coffee table, a small slip of paper a little too clean catches your eye—you pausing to pick it up and read whatever was written.

The paper was a list—a grocery list to be more exact. A quick glance over its contents and you recognized its significance. It was a list you had made for him to gather the right items in order to properly take care of a growing child. His second chance, he had told you. That paired with your yet-to-admit adoration for the duo was all you needed to help him figure his way back into fatherhood.

That shopping trip was a success in many ways, obviously the first being him actually shopping for another mouth to feed. But the others were you watching him walk down every aisle to make sure he got everything on the list. Checking, and then double checking to make sure he grabbed all the items—that every box was checked on the list.

It was endearing, you couldn’t stop smiling when watching him work his way around the supermarket. The jokes made about certain sauce names and branding tactics were thrown every this way and that. It was easy after so much bad, and arguably just what the both of you needed.

You grip the paper a little tighter, a squeeze at most as not to crinkle the now-precious document. Now having found it, there was no way in hell you would ever risk losing it.

“Oh, Hop…” you whispered, so quiet it might as well have been a breath of air. It was rare to say his name, it made it feel all too real. The most you could usually get out were the nicknames. “Hop”, “Hopper”, “Scruff”. The last was unique to you, El always found it weird.

The familiar burn in your nose quietly made itself known the longer you stared at the document. Biting at your lip, you give the list a small smile, beginning to tuck it away into your pocket.

It was then when it caught your eye, the gleam of silver laying under that same piece of paper. Sudden and definitely unexpected, it shone dully in the sunlight—and if you weren’t so acutely aware of your surroundings then and there, it would’ve been missed.

But it grabbed you, held your every attention with no sign of letting go. It needed to be seen, you thought, it had been sitting for years as it was. Being found would be anyone’s dream, at that point.

You leaned in towards the coffee table for a closer inspection, the object becoming clearer as soon as you had moved out of the sun’s glare. Before you was a tiny locket without its chain, another beat and it clicked that you were staring at YOUR locket from when you first moved to Hawkins. A piece of you that you had near forgotten about when you had met Jim those couple years ago.

The piece of jewelry had broke when he was giving you a ride home from the station—having been there late with him over Eleven as it usually was the case. You were mindlessly playing with the flimsy chain when it simply fell into your hand. Like it had been broken since the day you had received the small accessory.

Hopper had clearly been concerned that it meant a great deal more to you than it actually did, and you swore he was pouting for you at one point. But a quick explanation that it had been a gift from your aunt who simply didn’t know what else to get you. And though meaningful at the time, it didn’t hold a whole lot of value in your eyes and, therefore, wasn’t a huge deal. Don’t sweat the small stuff, you had told the chief.

He had to be chief for a reason and didn’t heed your words. Then again, he never did, but this was maybe the first case in which you saw it. Instead of letting it go, he asked to repair the locket for you—put it on a new chain and make it something of value was the joke.

You thought he said he had lost it not even a week later, but really life had just picked up with finding the girl. It was here all this time, that year and a half just sitting on maybe the last piece of standing furniture in this space. Harbored for whenever the occasion of gift giving was necessary, maybe. Or, simply misplaced with intent of finding it again? You couldn’t be sure—you doubted you’d ever be sure. It wasn’t like he could clarify… not anymore.

Tears were carefully shedding down your face now, silently they dripped to slide along your jawline and finally fall at the end of your chin. You steadily sniffled, daintily picking up the locket in your fingers and letting it carefully fall into the center of your hand. It held a much heavier weight than how it felt in your hand, your fingers gently clasping around the piece of silver and squeezing it tightly.

At this rate, you didn’t care that the couch was unusable with how destroyed it had sat, your legs were weak, and you crashed into the shredded cushions left on the sofa. You opened your hand back up to simply stare at the jewelry, seeing it as the same as you remembered—just a little dusty and unclasped.

Closing your fingers back around the heart, another squeeze and then you bring it to your chest—holding it to your heart in hopes that it would help with the numbness of it all. It might’ve, for a split second, but it wouldn’t last and only reminded you on how lonely you were in the end.

You instinctively reached back for the list you first tucked away in your pocket, thinking that the locket folded in the middle might hold more significance. Only glancing at the folded paper, you take a deep breath before beginning to unfold the list, suddenly the locket slipping from your palm and clanging to the floor.

“Shit.” You stiffened, flying to the floor and reaching to take up the heart in your hand once again. Frantic in not wanting to lose the precious item. Hop would’ve loved the irony in that action, you thought.

It fell under the coffee table, you placing your head towards the floor and trying not to sneer at the smell of unclean carpets. Like beer had spilled out of a half empty can in the rampage and, obviously, was never cleaned. It was pure perseverance at that point, reaching out far enough and bringing the locket back in your possession.

What you saw bringing it back out shocked you to your core, the tears falling faster at the sight before you. The locket had opened on impact, and what you thought to be empty actually had a small photo cut out and sitting in the middle of the charm.

That Christmas was one you knew you would remember, tagging along with Hopper around town, commenting on the public’s effort in Christmas decorations, a daily candy cane on his desk during your break—trying to give him a jollier holiday than what he had been experiencing for the past several years. There was a Christmas Office Party being hosted at the station on Christmas Eve, and Hopper said his secretary had half-about died when he told her he hadn’t passed the invitation your way.

 No way you were going to pass this up, arriving even earlier than Hopper at the station in your own ugly Christmas sweater. Much to Flo’s appreciation, and Hopper’s dismay, you were the talk of the night with all his officer’s teasing him on why he couldn’t match with the ugly fireplace knit you had displayed on your sweater.

Someone had brought a polaroid and insisted every officer take a picture with their plus one. It was tradition, according to Cal Powell—a close friend of Hoppers, one who wouldn’t stop smiling and nodding whenever the both of you made eye contact.

Regardless of Powell’s odder behavior, you were excited to get a picture with Hop on that night. For many reasons, your main one being that you could actually document your first Christmas knowing one another. You made him take two photos, one for you and one you forced upon Hopper.

The picture you got was a nice one of you and Hopper with a hand around the other’s waist, Hopper’s picture was one where you had grabbed his face and pressed it against your own. Cheeks smushed against the other’s, you’re grinning so widely while you remember his nervous laughter. But he too in the photo is smiling, arms hesitantly wrapped around your upper-body too, all-in-all turning out to be a sweet picture in the end.

What you found now was that same picture, perfectly cut in the shape of your locket and simply sitting in the damn thing, looking back at you. Like it wasn’t a big deal that it had been there this whole time.

You wanted to ask how it got there, question when it would have ever been placed in the little heart trinket. Sometime around then, you could only assume. It would’ve been the only chance for him to complete such a gesture, under your nose and possibly saving it for a bigger occasion.

The both of you had celebrated Christmas together, and you can remember he had given you a coffee mug along with a card. It was simple and touching, the card holding maybe all the things he wished to say without really having to say them. How thankful he was for your help this last year, that he had gotten to know you in such a short amount of time. Above all, he wrote a surprising amount of gratefulness for the trust you continued to put in him, and the vulnerability you both shared in those cozy car rides he continued giving you those first few months.

A whimper escaped your throat as you continued staring at the heart encapsulating your two faces, those cherished early car rides so much easier compared to now. In reality, you knew that if Hopper were still around all of it would feel as easy as breathing. No more Russian threats, no more Mind Flayer… maybe a real date night at Enzo’s. The one he had tried so hard to make a reality just days before it all went south.

It was a fixation on the bad at this point, but how could you not only think about how alone you felt when all of it was gone in every way possible. You were out of your job at Melvald’s thanks to Starcourt’s brief existence, damage around town irreversible, Eleven was now living with Joyce as her guardian, and… well, hadn’t you seen Hopper died in front of you? Right before your eyes, only a few feet away, the explosion had turned him to ash—it had to have. He was gone.

That was all you could tell yourself those following weeks, hope in his survival slim to none… and, painfully, still there. There was no body, not even a sign left that he once stood before you. How desperately you wanted to take a look around, to search the area and in case a miracle beyond comprehension had saved the man.

You remember the door having locked, Joyce and Murray rushing over to the control room you were stuck in to let you out just in time. The U.S. Military had yet to arrive, you were still very much in the belly of the beast that was this Russian invasion. And you escaped—losing one of the most important people you had found yourself loving in a long, long time.

Falling back into the back rest of the couch, you propped your legs up on the piece of furniture to lean in and hide your face in your knees. Holding the picture against your slow beating heart, crying because there was simply nothing else you could do to make it go away. The dull guilt you continued to feel day-in and day-out. He was gone, and you could’ve done more in saving him, but that was it… and he wasn’t coming back.

All you had left was this, this trailer tainted with a smell indescribable, and a broken cabin that only collected more dust the longer you took with getting the project started. On top of it all, that kind secretary Flo who had put that fateful Christmas party in motion, then spoke to the town’s board and managed to give you a job offering down at the station—next to Police Chief Powell, an irony you had yet to reflect on till now.

And so, this was probably it, not much more to be done than to move on you had to know. Harping was always going to grow tired, and sadly life would just keep moving on whether that was to be with you or without. People would come and go, some sooner than others with everything Hawkins had turned out to be, and at some rate you would eventually have to come to just accept it.

You could carry on the memory of your Police Chief, use his drive and memory of his pure integrity to drive you in the right direction, to do the right thing. If he was watching now, he would want you to move on. He would ask you to look past the bad of what had happened and keep going. For him, you would do it, it was always for him in the end.

Turning back to the table, you give it once more glance over, sadly smiling past the tears that were still continuing to cascade down your cheeks and sink into the fabric of your clothes and finally sighing. “…I’ll finish this another time.” You whispered to yourself, using what strength was left and pushing yourself to stand.

It would be a longer time again before you’d imagine yourself back here, but there was so much else to be done that it could wait. Eventually, you would be at peace. All was to be okay.

You snapped the locket back shut in your palm, keeping it to your chest as you slowly walked towards the door of the trailer. This was finally the beginning of your repair, and you smiled as one of Hopper’s promises came true. Finally this locket held meaning to you.

Notes:

day 2 finally done!... days after it was supposed to be. Here's to the eventual completion of day 3. at some point, I will be trying to complete multiple chapters in a day, when that will be I'm not sure... but it'll happen. I hope 0-0"

Chapter 3: Day 3 - Grey (Hopper)

Summary:

shitty argument you and Hopper go back and forth on after Eleven was seen in public.

Notes:

this story is not read over, but hope it reads well regardless!! I almost wanted to rewrite this argument entirely because it almost feels baseless? but, uh... the challenge must go on at some point haha. so, take my angry writing when it comes to the Fat Rambo <3

The spiteful cold nipped relentlessly at whatever skin you accidentally left uncovered, a dreary morning after what you knew was a long night.

You had gotten home from a later shift than usual and were met with the silent treatment. On top of all the windows being blasted in, the bookshelf in the corner being thrown over, and El’s door might as well have been bolted shut.

Confused was one way to put how you felt walking in on the aftermath of that scene, an angry cop sitting in the middle of the mess created by a runaway science experiment he decided to shelter almost a year ago.

When you tried asking, you were met with a contained fury you could hear deep in his voice. He was dismissive, waving you off and merely grumbling with every question fired his way. You weren’t trying to be confrontational, but the way he acted like you were a part of the problem sure made you feel like you had to be. So, the conclusion of postponing the conversation till the following morning was agreed upon.

You stood out on his porch with a hot coffee in hand, waking up earlier than the police chief as usual. Irritable and frustratingly anxious over whatever was bound to become of the conversation on the horizon. With everything that had happened, it wasn’t looking pretty.

There was a door slam from inside, a muffled voice talking through the wall—and definitely not at you. You assumed it was one of the two hotheads trying to make amends, shifting uncomfortably when the tone of the voice darkened, and loud footsteps stormed for the front door.

Hopper emerged from the tense environment of inside his cabin, his gaze immediately falling on you with the same anger from the night before. It froze you in place, tense and confused was all you could give in return.

The police chief heaved a deep sigh, a forced mockery of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched your expression. “…So you really have nothing to say for yourself?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just… ‘I’m sorry for not giving you the heads up that I’d be home late, last night looked like it was a tough time.’”

“Hop, what are you on about?”

He scoffed, stepping out into the cold and letting the screen door swing shut behind him—the mere sound of it making you all the more defensive against his onslaught of negativity. So thick, it simply polluted the air around him.

“Last night, you were supposed to be home… you said you would be home,” he reached in his back pocket, pulling out his tattered pack of remaining cigarettes, “Why weren’t you home?!”

“I was working late, how many times do I have to tell you this? You want me to apologize for making a little extra cash on my own time?”

“Yeah, well, while you were out doing that, Eleven decided yesterday was the perfect time for a field trip.”

That was maybe the last thing you were expecting to hear about from Jim on a morning like this. Things had been so tense around here these past few days, you weren’t as surprised with Eleven’s actions as you would’ve been a year ago. Being holed up in the middle of the woods was not a fate you wished upon just anyone—especially not Eleven.

Of course, she would begin sneaking out and running away when things got tough around the one place she was allowed to be. That, on top of so desperately wanting to see Mike seemed like enough reason to flee. The day before it was a spilled ‘Eggo Waffle Extravaganza’ along with a kicked-in table, that seemed bad enough. This… this was as if the cabin had been hit by its own personal storm—arguably, it had.

“So, because she took herself out… you decided to break all the windows in?”

“I—What?” The man scoffed, putting a hand on his hip, “Why the hell would I break all the windows in? That was her doing.”

“Okay, but how did it get to that?”

“If you were there, you would know—”

“Would you drop the ‘if’, Hopper?!” You suddenly lashed out, angered that he was putting any of the blame on you when all you had been doing was trying to help. “If we’re arguing over if’s, maybe if you had been paying more attention to her yesterday? This wouldn’t be happening!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault she’s acting like a brat?”

“A little, yeah!” The look on his face deepens, and he’s so angry he’s laughing a little to himself.

You immediately find it irksome, like he was trying to wind you up so he really did have something he could hold over your head. But you were speaking nothing but the truth, she was at a constant disadvantage when it came to the world, the least you both could do was show a little compassion.

Hopper had a harder time with that, and any other time you would understand why. He had gotten involved enough with the government the year before, he didn’t need to go through that again when he was trying to do something like watch over a runaway science experiment. You would understand why he was so strict with house rules when it came to all three of you, window shades closed, no opening the door unless it was the right knock, morse code over the radio was safer than speaking words so learn it. Hopper just taking the extra step to make sure no one would find you guys.

All of the regulations made were made with the intent of keeping Eleven safe… and, in some ways to give her an easier childhood. You wanted that for her, regardless of her past, to try and give her the life of a normal kid; one who falls in love, and has fun, and enjoys making friends, and hangs out with them at the movies, and goes out for dinner on weekends—all the things she had yet to experience thanks to Hawkins Lab.

 This was not a great start to that want for her. Though you understood Hopper’s anger in putting you all in danger, you knew it wasn’t fair to blame Eleven for the circumstances the three of you faced.

“Every day, I go out there and talk to the people at Hawkins Lab. Every. Day… I make sure the town is safe from any alternate-dimension-being that might soon decide to pop up out of nowhere and start taking people again.” He menacingly steps forward, and you grip at your mug a little tighter. “Every day, I put my best foot forward for the kid, for you. This? Isn’t my fault.”

You follow his gesture towards the rest of the blown-in house, glare only deepening as you looked on and now could see the house was destined to feel lonelier than ever.

“What did you say to her?”

“Psh, wouldn’t you like to know…”

“I would, actually?” You step forward, scoffing angrily, “Just because I wasn’t here doesn’t mean I don’t care about her.”

“She still wasn’t home when I got here, we got a call from a house a mile or so from here saying they talked to a little girl in the woods.” He turned away—out towards the dreary woods off his porch, arms coming up to lean him over the side. “So, I told her the blunt truth of how her selfishness put us in danger and grounded her.”

He wasn’t wrong in his decision making—and you for sure weren’t admitting that out loud. There would always be consequences to disobedience like that, but there had to be more to the story if all he did was ground her.

“Grounded her as in…?”

“Took away Eggos, and T.V., that was it.”

“…You took away the T.V.?!” You walked up beside him, craning your neck so you could be in his line of sight. “Hopper, what the hell?!”

“Oh, what? Like you have any better ideas?!”

“The Eggos was fine, I—but the T.V.? Hopper.” He faced his body towards you as you spoke, upset and clearly sympathizing for El, “All she can do right now is watch T.V. to entertain herself.”

“Well, there’s no point as it’s broken.” He threw his hands up and let them fall back with a loud clap against his side. “Nothing to be done about it anyway.”

“Broken? Like, she smashed it?”

“No, I…” His lips pressed into a hard, straight line against his face, head falling so he no longer faced you with what he was saying. “I ripped the cord out.”

Jaw dropping, you turned away with nothing more to say. One might call your behavior unnecessary, but when the 40-year-old was acting at the same maturity level as the 12-year-old who didn’t know any better than to act out? It felt like you putting your foot down against him was only fair.

“God, you’re ridiculous…”

“At least have the courage to say it to my face, you weren’t even there.”

“For fuck’s sake, I was working!” You spun on your heel, stepping towards him once again, “I’m not fucking apologizing for your overreaction in an instance where I wasn’t there to keep your attitudes in check!”

“Screw our attitudes, you’re supposed to be here to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen!” Hopper steps forward too, both of you closing in on the other. “This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed home like you were supposed to!”

“I have a life outside of you and the kid, Hopper. I have a reputation to uphold just as much as you.”

“So, work’s a reputation now?” He sneered.

“Apparently if you can’t get out of your own ass being the chief of police.”

“I never said—”

“You don’t need to say it, Hop.” You set your mug down on the railing of his porch and begin walking off to its steps, “I know you think your job is more important.”

“In many cases, it is.”

“Okay?!” You reach your arm out and wrap it around the post of the overhang, “But that doesn’t mean you can order me around to watch this kid! I’m not getting paid to be here.”

Hopper seemed taken aback, facing you with a confused frown, “Where the hell are you going?”

You’d hoped he wouldn’t ask why you stepped to the steps, wanting your exit to be maybe something he already expected. But the sudden hurt in his eyes seeing you step away was too hard to ignore. And what made it worse was the oncoming guilt you could feel for the decision you were making.

“Home.” You turned away, taking a step down, “I’m going home.”

“This is—”

“No.” You let the post go, another step before the last one, “It’s clearly not. Not with your lack of respect towards me and my time. This is not my home, and it honestly doesn’t feel like it could be anyway.”

The wood creaked under his feet as he suddenly stormed over to where you were going, your wrist being taken up by an ironclad grip, forcing you to finally look back and face the enraged man. You didn’t so much as flinch, giving him a bored, and frankly disinterested stare.

“I respect you and your time.” He stated then, staring into you so deeply it almost stirred in the depths of your heart. But the conversation had proven all you wanted to know of how he valued you. And whatever he was trying to say would fall on deaf ears.

“Don’t lie to me, Jim. You only respect it when it involves you.” You tried pulling your wrist from his fingers, frowning further when it did nothing against him—his fingers didn’t even shift against your wrist. He wasn’t planning on letting go, and you didn’t like it one bit. “I don’t know why you’re trying to say otherwise.”

He spoke your name, his tone of voice pained, evidently trying to get over his sense of pride he must’ve felt entitled to. It was a step for him, a step you knew was a big one for him to take. With that in mind, you waited for him to continue.

There was only breathing from him, confusion etched into his features and hurt clear in his stare. But there was nothing more. No words, no move to maybe pull you in for a hug, not even a shift in his body to see that he was relenting. It ticked you off more than you could fathom, and a hug honestly would’ve fixed a lot more than you would’ve liked to admit.

You shook your head, feeling his grip loosen and taking that as an indication to finally pull yourself from him entirely. It was too much, his irrational anger and arguments that already bordered on absurd being all too overwhelming.

“You’re unbelievable…” you muttered under a gentle breath, taking the final step off the porch and out into the leaves. “Until you can get yourself sorted out, and whatever the hell happened here… I’m taking a break.”

“You- hah,” You turned over your shoulder as he stood out on the edge of the porch’s step, “You sound like you’re breaking up with me.”

You roll your eyes, “As if you couldn’t get to be anymore ridiculous—”

“You’re the one who has to be dramatic.” He corrected, taking a step down. The floor creaking under the force of his boot, “It doesn’t even have to be a big deal, all I was trying to say was that we can’t just leave El here—”

“Okay, sure. But it’s not my job to be here twenty-four-seven for the kid. Make sure she’s following all of your benign rules…” You waved him off then, shaking your head in disappointment, maybe. “I’m just not gonna stand here while you treat like I’m some kid who doesn’t know how to handle herself.”

Taking a final turn away from the cabin, you put a foot in front of the other and leave him on his porch. You hear him try to say your name again, it’s quieter than before. And he’s losing you with every passing second.

“See you around, Hop.” You manage to respond, not managing a second as you stormed off to your car in the woods. Thoroughly done with the conversation at hand, and not needing to put up with Hopper’s attitude from here on.

With that initial thought in mind, you let it push you into the rest of the greyest of Hawkins mornings. All of it feeling right for the heated anger blinding your thoughts and coursing through you in every way possible.

It wouldn’t be forever with how you knew you and Hopper worked—but all you could do now was give him the space you both needed. It was for the best you told yourself, not to let him guilt you into holding you captive alongside Eleven because he wants to fix what he too broke. All in due time, you reminded yourself… and that was all you needed to put your best foot forward.

Notes:

Day 4 is more domestic... yes, it will be Hopper again. I promise to switch it up at some point, but I adore this old man so much. so... sue me, ig.

Chapter 4: Light - Hopper

Summary:

there's probably an easier way to get his attention, but you're stuck at the carnival alone for the time-being.

The fair lights always hold a sense of childlike wonder. You stand there, limply holding a caramel apple while watching the Zipper make its many flips with the kids inside. The Fourth of July is always a weird holiday in your eyes. A time to celebrate with friends and family over America’s independence. Spend the day barbequing out by a pool, and go out at night with your lawn chairs for a firework show. 

You’d once loved the festivities that came with the early July celebration, but that joy has lessened with the passing years. For instance, when you once felt carefree and excited on the holiday fairgrounds, now overwhelms you in every way possible. From screaming kids, to loud carnival fanfare, and litter everywhere the eye could reach. It bothers you now. Before, there was never a worry outside of what ride you could get on next.

Sighing, you turn away from the Zipper and continue towards the rest of the fairgrounds. Bringing your caramel apple to your mouth, you try and take a bite to the best of your ability. Eating more caramel, less apple. Perfect.

It’s like divine intervention when the sound of your name somehow clearly shouts from behind you. Turning, you find a slightly out of breath Karen Wheeler taking long strides to reach you. Her perfectly red lips pulling into a tight grin, she laughs when she’s in better earshot of you. “Hey! I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here tonight.”

“Oh…” You try to think of a conversation with Karen earlier, and don’t really know whether to be offended or not. Friends of your mom’s past were hard to read like that. “No, yeah. I think a summer carnival is something to look forward to.”

“Hah, well definitely when you’re not needing to keep track of two kids…” Karen tries to laugh, but it’s just a little too stiff. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have seen Mike, have you?”

You suppress a very real urge to roll your eyes at the question. Like you’d willingly follow that little shit around without a paycheck at the end of the night. “Can’t say I’ve caught sight of him yet. Are the Sinclairs around?”

“Geez, I dunno.” Karen gestures to the crowd with a slight wave of her hand. “I mean, could I ever be able to tell with the crowd tonight? There’s so many faces to say hi to!”

“Right.” You nod once. “Well… I’ll try and keep an eye out for him.”

Karen’s smile falters as she studies your face. Something akin to motherly concern filling her expression. She calls you by a nickname from way-back-when, “Is everything okay?”

Catching yourself, you don’t know how to respond. Is your disappointment from this evening something you’re wanting to share with her? Maybe.

“Oh, no, yes! I’m fine. Totally fine…” You feel your grip tighten around the candy apple. “Just… Sorta got stood up tonight–”

“What?!” She shouts, her mom-mode kicking into gear. “Who?! Who are they? They better be from out of town, or– actually no. That almost makes it worse.” Karen scoffs, but reaches a tentative hand and places it on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry… I’m here with Ted and Holly. I know, aha, that’s probably an odd grouping of us, but if it would help?”

Now you feel bad for being stand-offish at first. Your mood is terrible, but you should never forget that Karen would seriously do everything in her power to make you happy. Even if it’s never supposed to be her responsibility. 

“Oh! No, please. You should enjoy the time with your family. It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up.” You painfully try to laugh off. “Don’t worry about me! I’m an adult. You should be enjoying this time with your family, Karen. I’ll take care of myself.”

Karen’s pseudo-happiness leaves her face to show how truly sad she is to learn about these circumstances. It makes you feel more depressed than before, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” Her hand drops gently from your shoulder, and towards your free hand. “Ted can handle Holly. I’m happy to go off and celebrate some good ol’ Independence Day fun! I don’t want to–”

“–I can take it from here, Mrs. Wheeler.”

A sudden and all too familiar voice speaks up, closer to my ear than I would’ve liked. Karen’s eyes lift, widening for a split second before immediately narrowing in what looks to be an angry glare. You’re not sure… you never see Karen angry.

You slowly turn to regard the individual behind you, and can’t help the wide-eyed stare that’s stuck on your face.

Jim Hopper doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. He warmly smiles towards you instead. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You squeak.

“Jim.” Karen takes a large, and ‘threatening’ step towards the towering chief of police. “Don’t tell me you’re late.”

“Late?” Hopper frowns at Karen. “Late for what? I think I’m the one installing any curfews on this joint if there were any.”

“Oh, aha! Okay, big guy.” Now Karen’s on her toes in a feeble attempt to get in the man’s face. “Play dumb all you want, but let’s see who’s the real dummy for standing up this lovely–”

“–Standing up? What the hell,” Hopper turns to look back at you, and it quickly dawns on him. “Who stood you up? Do I need to talk to this guy?”

“No, oh my god?!” Your face lights on fire, and it’s your turn to glare at Karen who’s also flushing a shade somehow deeper than her blush. “She– It– Karen. I’ll call you later… okay?”

Karen opens her mouth to retort, but quickly shuts it when she remembers the company. Taking a glance to Hopper, back to you, and then to Hopper again; she laughs before sending you one last look. “Oh… yeah, you better be calling me.” She winks. “I’ll be waiting by the phone tomorrow morning.”

Karen takes a healthy step away from Hopper, dusting the non-existent dirt from her festive Fourth of July dress with a quick sigh. “Lovely running into you both this evening. Enjoy your nights!”

A flick of her wrist, and she’s weaving through people back to her respective family. You shake your head in the direction of her disappearing person, and face back to whatever conversation clean-up you’re going to have to pull with this man. “Hah… classic Karen Wheeler. Am I right…?”

Hopper looks back to you with an anticipated scowl. “Who was it?”

“Wow. Hey, Hop. How’s your night? How’s your kid? Did you set her up nicely for the fireworks show?”

“Shh,” Hopper taps your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Quit it. Don’t be talking about that so openly in a place like this.”

You want to retort, but can’t deny he’s anything but wrong in this circumstance. The ears around you belong to unknown townsfolk. Anyone can be listening.

“Agh… okay, fair.” You cross your arms over your chest in waiting for him to take the conversation in another direction. He gives you the same unamused stare… and you begrudgingly sigh. “...It was Phil.”

“Callahan?!” Hopper’s brow raises tight wrinkles into his forehead. “You’re joking.”

“I– nope. Not in the slightest.” You press your lips into a flatline with the admittance.

Hopper reaches his hand to press tightly against his brow. Trying to smooth out the tension that only grows the more he realizes the situation you’ve tried getting yourself into. “Oh… Jesus Christ… what the hell were you thinking?”

“I–” There’s an array of reasons that run through your mind. They all start and end with him. You don’t want him to know that in the slightest. “... I thought we had some spark, I dunno.”

“Hah! Sure, a spark to light the wildfire of arguments you guys only seem to share.” Hopper grins at your flimsy argument. “Hell, I should try taking out Flo if that’s the credentials for asking someone out nowadays.”

You try waving him off as he starts heartily laughing, and when that doesn’t work you start driving an elbow into his arm that’s closest to you. He pushes back, chuckling all the more and your heart is skipping all those beats you wish it stayed intact with. Oh, how this idiot of a man made you feel.

Hopper’s laughter is always contagious in your world, and you can’t help but grin with the man’s joy. You stare for too long, because his laughter dies down and he’s staring back at you with a genuine grin. It disappears too when you both hold eye contact for that moment, and it’s like the rest of the busy fairgrounds have cleared out. It’s just you two under the carnival lights.

He must study your face better than you’re trying to figure out his. Hopper suddenly smiles. “Now… this might be forward. But, there was never going to be a world where you and Phil-frickn’ Callahan were going to be an item, was there?”

The question is genuine, and you take your time to answer. Is it too much of an admission if you confirm or deny. On the one hand, yes. He can read you like a picture book.

On the other hand, what’s the worst that can come of it? He never speaks to you again? That’s always the fear in confessions. The person can never reciprocate the feeling, and you’re left feeling both disappointed and anxious that the person no longer wants to be a main player in your life.

You pull your caramel apple back towards your mouth. Not saying a word, you stare back at Hopper as he silently watches you take another bite of your apple. There’s one lasting chuckle that resonates from the man in front of you as you struggle to clean remnants of sugary candy from your mouth.

After a second, you finally shrug. Like it’s some grand admission, and everything leading up after the both of you met hadn’t been working towards this the entire time.

“...No. Not that I could’ve seen working out long term.” You tilt your head to the side with a very knowing smile.

Hopper sighs, and nods to the caramel apple. “Working to get someone else’s attention?”

“Perhaps.” You lean the treat against the opposite side of your hand. “You think they’ll notice.”

Hopper laughs through his nose, looking out to the fairground. The colorful lights shining across the profile of his face in a small bunching of red, blue, and pink fluorescents. You grow still with the sight, and can’t help but feel mesmerized by him. The night having gone better than you imagined. 

“Sweetheart,” Without looking, Hopper gently wraps an arm around your waist. You fall easily into his side, turning out to the lights and trying to focus on this feeling that you’ve been dying for. “I think he’s been watching for a while. No need for a stunt like that.”

You laugh against Hopper’s side, reaching the caramel apple up in his direction which he doesn’t hesitate to take. A loud crunch sounds above you, and you smile at the carnival. Enjoying the lights, finally.

“...You have to admit, Callahan is an all-time low.”

“Alright. Watch it, James." 

Notes:

LMAOOOOO LOOK WHO'S BACK!!! Freshly graduating college and feeling a lot more creative now that I'm not writing 24/7 for classes I don't necessarily want to expend all my energy on... so, let's get back to this writing. Right? RIGHT?! Anyway.... I've decided to come back to this after three years (wtf) and have also just made the executive decision that I'm writing all of these about Hopper. I'm sorry if anyone wanted a different character from me, but this is who just scratches that romantic fan itch. This is unedited and finished at a prime 1 AM timestamp, so it's probably a little messy. i'm just trying to prove to myself that i can still write entertaining words with starting this challenge back up. anyway, hope you enjoy!! this might be a stretch for the prompt, but... god. if only you people knew what prompts i am working with haha. thank you @the_technorats for being my forever ST fan and fanfic writer :) so excited to start this back up with you!

Chapter 5: Seashell - Max

Summary:

You found seashells by the sea shore, and share that memory with one kid in particular.

Notes:

YEAH SO I KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT ONLY HOPPER CHAPTERS. I lied. This one is mostly about Max, with a lot of Joyce, and a teeny bit of Hopper mixed into the end. It's also a lot sadder than I anticipated, and maybe even a boring read. But, this is what I wrote and I don't hate it HAHA. So, if you read, enjoy!! But I don't blame you for probably skipping for the next prompt. (I am trying to promise the next chapter won't be so droning and actually will be a sweet interaction between you and Hopper for those of you (us) who are looking for that kind of thing).

Collectibles line up on your shelves around the house. It was always a tradition in your family to bring a little piece of memorabilia from any trip back home, and place it for visitors to see. It was a cute tradition to follow you into the now.

Growing up in California was a wonderful experience. The weather was always pleasant, or not far from it. Life was easy and laid back, but maybe that was your child-mind convincing you that living in California meant being able to exist without a care in the world. You didn’t know the pressure of keeping a job that pays the bills when you lived there.

Now, living in Hawkins, you know that the cost of living is a lot easier here than it ever will be in The Golden State. But, what Hawkins won’t ever have are the beaches you found in California. The sun mixed with the sand, that you never liked when you had it but now can’t help to miss it.

The snow in Hawkins is something you think you’re still learning to get used to. It wasn’t your plan to uproot your life and move all the way out here, in a little town where nothing ever happens.

Until recently, of course. Two years of things going down in the belly of Hawkins is a crazy wakeup call.

“The shell,” You turn and find sweet Joyce Byers pointing to one of the bigger shells on your display. The mother smiles, “I think this one is so beautiful.”

 A conch you can’t say you grabbed from the beach all those years ago, but a shell shop is a great alternative for finding the specific shell you want. “Hah, yeah. Not exactly my find, but definitely one I couldn’t pass up.”

Joyce smiles warily, and doesn’t take her eyes off the pointy object. You clasp your hands around a mug of tea you brewed for the adults showing tonight, shrugging gently. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Has Max seen it?” Joyce turns to you, and you perk in realization.

“I don’t think so?” You turn towards the rest of your living room to see the grouping of kids laying amongst one another, eyes glued to the lit T.V. screen. “Max?”

The red-head sits up from her spot on your coach, quickly distancing herself from Lucas who’s also leaning away from the girl with an alarmed expression. You laugh quickly with their reaction before motioning with your hand. “C’mere for a sec, I think you might be into this.”

Max looks reluctant, but stands from her spot on the couch and walks over to you and Joyce. She crosses her arms softly, giving you a weird look. “What?”

“Hah, just thought you might be interested in some shells from home.” You gesture to the numerous shells on your mantel piece. 

Max’s eyes shift from uninterested to curious, and she has to stand on her toes in order to even see what you’re talking about. She breathes evenly and doesn’t say anything, but takes careful time to look at each and every shell in front of her. You and Joyce share a quick look, and then you lean over to Max’s eye level. Giving each shell a once over yourself.

“You like them?” You ask quietly. Max only nods, staring at a particular sand dollar off to the side. It doesn’t need to be said, but you know the feeling. California is a long way away. You turn back to the shells and mutter, “Me too…”

There’s another moment of quiet between you both before she speaks up. “Where’d you get these?”

“Most of them are bits and pieces of shells from Pismo. I would go there a lot with my grandparents growing up. Otherwise, these,” you point to the more complete shells of your collection. “All of these are from a shell shop just off of Morro Bay. My grandma would always take me here growing up. She’d give me a basket, and let me pick out whatever shell I wanted.”

“Nice…” Max starts to smile. An extremely rare expression for her around you, you believe.

You turn back to the shells, “Yeah… Do you want one?”

“What?” Max sharply turns to you. “Seriously? You want to give me one?”

“Why not? Here,” You pick up the sand dollar from the shelf and hold it out in her direction. “A little piece of home from me to you.”

Max looks at the shell almost in fear. Like if she even reaches out to touch the thing it will shatter into a million pieces. It takes her a second, but she carefully grabs the shell and slowly examines it between her fingers. Flipping it back and forth like it’s something from a dream.

Your heart falters in your chest, and you have to bite at the tip of your tongue to keep from tears welling up in your eyes. She misses home. You could barely handle that feeling in your late teens, so seeing it now on a kid hurt a lot more than you ever expected.

Max hums your name along with a thank you, “I… I seriously appreciate this.”

“Yeah.” You nod once. “Not a problem, kid.”

She reaches the sea’s currency back in your direction, “But, do you mind putting it somewhere for the time being? I don’t want to accidentally sit on it, or have one of those idiots over there break it while we’re watching the movie.”

“Oh, psh,” You pick the sand dollar back from her fingers and hold it up. “Of course. Definitely wouldn’t want that to happen.” You smirk, and point to your kitchen counter. “It’ll be sitting over there when your mom comes to grab you. And, no worries if you forget. I’ll drop it off at your house tomorrow, or whenever.”

Max grins with your offer, quickly nodding, “Sounds great! Thank you, again.”

She takes a step back before turning to the living room of friends in trying to maneuver her way back to her spot on the couch. You can’t help but notice the look on Lucas’ face with her return.

“Well, look at you and Max Mayfield.” Joyce steps up beside you again. “Two peas in a pod, huh?”

“Hah, well moving halfway across the country on two different timelines is something that not everyone understands.” You look down to the sand dollar in your hand, humming softly and reminding yourself that change like that is inevitable. The change incoming… is inevitable in its own way too. “... I don’t want you guys to leave.”

You don’t look at Joyce, but the shift in energy is undeniable. She quietly reaches a hand over to your opposite shoulder and brings you closer. Her smaller person is hugging you quietly. “...You know you can come and visit us whenever you want.”

“I just… It's been hard, you know?” You turn to Joyce, and the watering in your eyes starts to spill. “With… with Hop being gone, and knowing you have to take El… I just–”

“I know.” Joyce cuts you off for your own good. “I… I’m sorry.”

You know in your heart, this isn’t her fault. She has her own reasons for leaving Hawkins, and a one-way ticket to California funded by the government is not something someone smart would pass up. After her son’s trauma in Hawkins, and Bob… distance is the best solution for someone like her.

Unfortunately, the fund doesn’t apply to you. Your involvement with everything supernatural here was purely caused by your inability to keep your nose out of things. You’re stuck here until you can get a better job. Stuck with the absence of… truly, the love of your life, and his adopted daughter. 

But, it’s the right decision. You know you can only do so much for El. Looking back to Joyce, she tries to smile but is also clearly fighting tears that fight to get out from behind her eyes. You lean in, and Joyce accepts you with open arms. Hugging to one another tightly, the embrace makes that hole feel so incredibly deep. And simultaneously tells you that you can get through this like she will too.

The grief is neverending, but so is the love. That won’t change even after everything.

“I’m glad we could put together this movie night.” You hum to Joyce, before pulling away. Trying to change the subject to something lighter. “Are we still trying to do that picnic on the hill?”

“Definitely,” Joyce nods along. “I know my kid’s excited for it. Anything with his friends.”

“Right,” You turn back to the gaggle of teens who thankfully didn’t notice what was happening just beyond them. Vacation was a good choice on Mike’s part. “Good times.”

“Always,” Joyce picks up your hand for one last reassuring squeeze. “Always with our crowd.”

You smile, and can’t help yourself but to think how Hopper would feel right now if he were here. It’s a fleeting thought, and it needs to be. You can’t be found ruminating on his absence in front of everyone. But, you watch Eleven carefully, and manage to smile. Grateful that she’s here and safe just like he wanted.

Eleven’s eyes breakaway from the screen to find yours, and instead of glaring she smiles like she knows what is going on. You don’t question it. Eleven is good with things like that. But you hold one another’s smiles for those seconds, and you’re grateful for the moment you’re in now.

Seashells line your shelf. Each one telling of one memory, or another. At the end is a cork from a wine bottle. A Chianti that you and Joyce shared earlier this evening. Maybe serving as a painful reminder, but a memory all the same.

You don’t know what the next chapter of this life is going to look like. But, after everything, you know you’ll be strong when it comes your way. Memories hopefully waiting to be made in the meantime.

Notes:

Yep, sad. I promise I wasn't trying to go into this chapter thinking the end product was going to turn out like that. But, here we are!! AHHHHH! I don't want to be too TMI here, but this honestly was healing for me in a personal sense with memories of seashells? Shoutout to all the people who know Pismo Beach and Morro Bay. I just hope those who read enjoyed. Thank you for your interest <3 I'll see you guys tomorrow! WE ARE TRYING TO POST DAILY THIS MONTH!!! Fingers crossed I can keep up with it. Hah. Who's heard that before :D.

Chapter 6: Run - Hopper

Summary:

Escaping a bi-pedal Demogorgon, or two, is a lot easier than escaping a more-than-less complicated conversation. You have to ask yourself two questions during this time: "Is it really the time for something like this? And, why am I swooning right now?"

You aren’t meant to be in the basement of Hawkins Lab. Hell, you’re not meant to be here whatsoever in the first place. This isn’t some Sherlock Holmes story you ever wanted to get yourself caught up in. If there was a heads up that things were going to turn out like they are in this very moment, you never would’ve looked in the direction of Chief Jim Hopper and his investigation a whole-ass year ago.

But, actions have consequences so the saying goes. You bolt up the stairs, trying to take three at a time in staying ahead of the two men behind you. It’s not a race, per say; you all just needed to get out of there.

Everyone is heavily panting by the time you get up to the floor you need to be at. Adrenaline makes several flights of stairs feel like nothing, and then the weight of said exercise catches up with you. You’re panting hard, almost doubled-over at the top of the stairs as both the cop and doctor step up on the same level.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Hopper pats your arm while simultaneously fighting his own breathing. It’s hard to focus with the blaring alarms overhead, but the message rings loud and clear. “We gotta keep moving.”

With a heavy breath, you let your head fall forward in a limp nod before now trailing behind Hopper. You run down the hall, trying to ignore the screaming staff and security guards, and the bi-pedal demogorgons creating carnage in every sense of the word. You try to not to focus on any of it; eyes forward and sprinting towards where you last left the Byer’s.

Hopper bursts through the door first, you and Sam Owens almost tripping over one another as you swarm the room. You look up for a brief moment, finding a frantic Joyce, Bob, and Mike standing around Will. Joyce holds a syringe in one hand, and your heart drops.

There is no time for questions. You don’t even remember the doors for the hall closing, but there’s the sound of cracking wood and you turn to see the monsters starting to break away at the barrier. If it can even be called that in the first place. 

“We gotta go…” You look to Hopper and find his worried stare fully on you. He quickly turns back to Joyce, though. “We gotta go.”

He rushes over to the limp person of Will, picking him up in his arms and holding him close against his person. You turn to Bob for any answers, but he’s frantically watching after Joyce. He never seems to stop looking out for her. Cute.

Joyce knocks something over, and you find her taking another syringe and a vial from the hospital side table. A hand grabs your arm, and you find Mike who quickly starts pulling you in the direction of the door. Right. Time to get out of the room.

Instead of going the way we came, the group takes a left and down a different hallway. Power in numbers, you’re trampling down the hall as fast as everyone possibly can– freezing suddenly when a guard fell straight to the ground with a creature clawing away at his face. There are multiple frantic faces in lab coats fleeing the scene, but you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.

An open door stands at Hopper’s left, and he doesn’t think twice about diving inside. The rest of you all follow, you closing the door firmly without trying to make more sound than necessary. And you don’t hesitate to snap the door’s lock into place.

Turning, you find the room full of camera screens monitoring everything you were trying to escape. Good for you all who should be keeping a tab on everything outside of this room… not so great for the one kid you’re stuck with for the moment.

“If your mom asks about any of this,” You hum towards Mike, placing a small hand on his shoulder. “Please… try and come up with a reasonable excuse…” Mike barely reacts, slightly nodding. You don’t blame him. It’s hard to take your eyes off the screens too, as blurry as they appear.

Needless to point out, the place is successfully swarming with these nightmarish creatures. Your head turns to Will, eyes thinning in frustration. What could’ve happened to this poor kid that led to this extent of chaos is beyond you with what you know for now. Just that he gave false information, and now the majority of the hospital and its staff are dead.

It feels like the whole building shutters, lights overhead flickering before everything cuts out. T.V. screens snap and fizzle to black, and the building falls silent. The power goes out in a snap, and the group’s circumstances suddenly feel a lot more bleak.

Joyce starts to panic, to which Bob falls to her side like the man he is. Mike is next to Will, and Dr. Owens falls to the computer, clicking away at any buttons like it would make any difference. For a government official, he seems to know jackshit with his own building.

Before you get the chance to say anything, a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you quickly head towards the corner. You barely have time to react, instead turning with a defiant, “Hey–!” 

“Shh,” Hopper shushes you quickly before you get too loud. “Calm it down… it’s just me.”

“Yeah, but you could– oh, I don’t know… get my attention like a normal human being?” You whisper yell. “The power just went out! I don’t think swiping at me like that is going to be a great idea.”

“Are you really giving me flack for checking up on you?” Hopper sounds more annoyed than he seems. Then again, you can’t clearly make out his features in the sudden darkness. “Look, I’m– I’m sorry. Just…” 

You can feel his arm lift at your side, and his hand softly falls to your face. Gently pushing at the side of your jaw.

Wow. Okay.

Your hands reach up to try and wrap around his wrists, but he pulls away with your face still pressing into his hands. “No scrapes, no bruises? Did anything hit you on the way up the stairs?”

“Uh, did anything hit you? I don’t think there was an opportunity for that to happen.”

“I don’t know.” Hopper snorts lightly in your face, his thumb brushing under your eyebrow and lightly pulling at the skin. “It’s just my check-in, sweetheart.”

You sigh, and ignore the fire in your cheeks that’s most definitely there. Beating red into your skin. Thanking whatever higher power there may be that he can’t see. “Weird check-in you got… would you check-in with everyone here like this?”

“Hah, what?” Hopper continues feeling on your face. You can now make out the cabinets behind you both, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “I mean, sure?”

“Even Bob?”

“Uh, no.” He quickly answers. “Not Owens, either.”

“Is right now the time to be canoodling, you two?” Owens pipes up quietly from his keyboard.

Hopper’s hand falls from your face, and you full-on scoff before shooting a nasty glare in the direction of Owens.

“Is right now the time to be ridiculing us when your building can’t even work? We’re under attack, and the building has to panic power off? Hah. Yeah. Thank god for our fucking government.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you see Owens swipe his hand back to you as if to wave you off. You let your rage bubble up, and quickly die away. Knowing it’s not worth blowing your hiding spot to fight with the asshole. 

Sighing, you feel like crumbling to the ground as the weight of this certain predicament weighs heavy on your shoulders. Bob and Joyce make quiet noises in the corner, and it’s clear everyone is trying to keep it together at this point.

“How are we going to get out of here?” You whisper.

Hopper sighs gently, his hand successfully finding and grabbing at your waist. He pulls you in so your head presses into his side. “I don’t know… but, we’re going to figure it out.”

You want to ask how he can be so sure. You’re such a big group, with so many moving pieces. One of you isn’t even conscious, and is also the whole reason this attack began in the first place.

It feels so helpless. You can’t help but bury your face further against Hopper’s chest, taking this opportunity to selfishly indulge in the person you can’t admit brings you the utmost feeling of safety.

“...When we get out, I want to apologize.” You look back towards Hopper, now being able to make out the outline of his face in the darkened room. He heaves his own sigh, head falling. “These past few days have been… hard. I don’t think you deserved me treating you the way I did.”

You shake your head. “Hopper. Now isn’t really the time–”

“–I know it’s not the time.” He cuts you off. “I’m saying… I need to get out of here with you to begin making it up to you. I was an asshole, and a huge dick… and you don’t deserve that from me.”

He looks at you, giving your waist a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do for now. But… will you let me make it up to you once we’re out of here?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to write off this look of his as the lack of light playing with your vision. But, you can’t write off the tone of his voice. He really means this.

“Yeah…” you look away because the eye contact is truly too intense. “We’ll figure it out… Let’s just take it step-by-step.” You appreciate Hopper’s warmth for a split second longer, and turn towards the cabinets behind you. “Like, maybe a flashlight. Right?”

“Right.” Hopper turns too. “Definitely that first.”

You let the moment leave, but can’t ignore the warm hope it gives you. Even though the time limit of hiding is uncertain, at least you weren’t running anymore. Life is going to continue outside of Hawkins Lab. You were going to make sure of that.

Notes:

There we gooooo HOPPER back in business, baby!!! This literally was the only thing I could think of. I don't know. A Hawkins Chief in scrubs really does something for the brain. Sorry not sorry. Go watch the beginning of episode eight back, and pay CAREFUL attention to Hopper running up those stairs with Owens. You can thank me later ;) LMAO Okay, sorry. Back to trying to be normal. Honestly, the energy with this chapter is like all over the place. But, I've wanted to write about this moment in the show for awhile, and, again, this prompt felt like the only right opportunity to do so. It should be clear by now that I really suck and clearly don't ever proofread. I'd rather get it out there and find it later, feel mortified that I didn't dot all my i's and cross all my t's, AND THEN rewrite the piece to where it resonates... I digress. These end chapter notes are all over the place.

Enjoy some Hopper on your September 6th! Be ready for tomorrow :)

Chapter 7: Radio - Hopper

Summary:

You offer to drive Will home after the Snow Ball, and didn't realize the situation it would ultimately put you in. The radio isn't distracting enough for you to ignore the elephant in the room. Or, the Chief driving his car in this case...

The Chevy Blazer rolls to a stop in the Byers’ driveway. Not the first time, and certainly not the last time either. Joyce gathers her things in the front seat, and tries to hide the heavy sigh that passes her lips.

“Joyce, you don’t have to be alone.” You speak up from the back seat, shifting forward so that you can lean into her line of sight. “We’d love to grab a drink with you while waiting for the dance to be over.”

“No, no… I’m tired, guys.” Joyce gives you the warmest smile she can, and then turns to the vehicle’s driver. “Thank you for hanging out in the parking lot with me for a bit, though.”

“Of course.” Hopper doesn’t hesitate. “What good are friends for?”

Joyce laughs lightly through her nose, takes another second to sit in the comfortable silence between you three, before finally turning and grabbing for the car door’s handle. Opening the vehicle on her side, she whispers a gentle goodbye before closing the door and scurrying over to her front door.

There’s a pause in the car, both you and Hopper silently watching Joyce enter inside her home. Waiting another second or so to see her turn the lamp on in her living room. A few more seconds, and more lights illuminate the interior of her home, which make you feel only the tiniest bit better about leaving her here.

It's been getting colder for a while, not enough for snow to start building on the ground. But to a point you were bundled in your winter coat, angry that it only feels like winter and wishing it would start looking like it. Not to mention, it would make the time feel like it’s going by faster. Something you and the rest of your rag-tag, Upside-Down-fighting crowd were starting to feel more desperate for. Anything to get this month over with.

“So…” You turn up and look through the rearview mirror of Hop’s car to find his eyes already staring back. “Am I going to have to ask the question, or are you coming up to the front seat?”

There is this detail to work out as well. What the hell is going on between you and Hopper.

“Uh, I don’t– Is that?” You clear your throat. “Subtle hint.”

“Yeah. I know.” Hopper nods through the mirror towards the passenger side. “Get on up here.”

Not saying another word, you look to the center console and clumsily make your way over the thing. Falling less than gracefully into the empty seat. You turn to Hopper and can tell he’s trying not to frown at what you just did.

“Sorry.” You peep out before facing forward as stiffly as possible. “I… I didn’t need to climb over the center.”

“No. But,” You can feel him still staring, and maybe see him shrug out of the corner of your eye. “Y’know, it’s your way of getting up here.”

Hopper softly laughs, and you awkwardly chuckle along. And silence settles over you both all over again.

It feels like time ticks by in an hour glass before Hopper reaches over to the gearshift. You reach over your shoulder for the seatbelt and click the strap into place as he begins to back out of the Byers’ driveway.

Starting down the road, you hate when silence consumes a conversation like this. It used to be so easy to talk to Hopper, and you looked forward to it. Now, with everything that’s happened, it can feel like pulling hairs to pick up any words between you both.

“Do you, uh, have any interest in listening to the radio?” Hopper readjusts in his seat. “I also have a C.D. in the car. If that interests you.”

“Oh,” You stuff your hands beneath your legs. “Sure.”

Neither of you immediately move, because what on earth kind of answer was that? 

Hopper takes a guess at what you mean, and presses play next to the disk insert on his car. You wait a second before an all too familiar tune plays over the car’s speakers. It played about an hour ago from the school’s gym, when you were sitting through another stiff moment with the Chief. The only thing saving you both was Joyce smoking a cigarette with Hopper. 

Now, with it just being the two of you, there’s no escaping the irony of Cyndi Lauper. Your brow furrows towards the radio before your head quickly snaps up in Hopper’s direction. “You seriously just have this in your car?”

“Uh… yeah. Cyndi Lauper. A total classic.” His answer is all too stiff, and you snicker with the thought.

“You listen to this a lot?” You continue to tease.

“All the time.” He chuckles. “I thought it was obvious? I’m a huge fan.”

“Seriously?”

“No.” He grins widely. “But wouldn’t that be convenient?”

You lean over and push at Hopper’s shoulder, and all he does is laugh happily at the reaction. Happy to have convinced you even for the briefest of seconds.

“Doesn’t explain why the C.D. is in the car, though.” You look at him suspiciously. “What’s that about, Chief?”

“Hah…” Hopper keeps staring at the road as he weighs his options here. “Honestly? I thought about it this morning. What tonight was for my kid, where people were going to be, if I was going to see…”

You feel awkward all over again. Fingers clenching into clammy palms under your thigh, you lean away from the center console; the proximity too close all over again.

Hopper knows it, and stiffly sighs. He says your name as gently as possible, and you hate how your heart skips in your chest. “We’ve needed to talk for a minute now.”

“I know…” You hum quietly. “I just… I don't want things to change between us.”

Cyndi fills what would be quiet with words on being lost and finding one another. Love. It makes your throat feel like it’s closing up, and the heat in your face spreads down your spine. It’s suffocating, and overwhelming, and you can’t remember why you left your house tonight but you did and you’re here and isn’t this what you ultimately want?

“Nothing has to change.” Hopper finally says. “I clearly care about you, sweetheart. That won’t ever change.”

The Chevy rolls to a stop at the light, and you simultaneously turn with Hopper to face one another. His brow is stiff, eyes brimming with worry. Like he’s losing you in real time.

And you think back to the loud words being thrown at one another at the cabin just weeks before. Where you were trying to be understanding, and were only met with anger and frustration. For something that felt out of your control, and had to do completely with him and his hideaway kid.

“I feel terrible about last month.” His hand reaches out to lay against the console. Not a demand, just for consideration. “I never wanted to make you feel that way. I never wanted to fight. I was selfish, and stressed. For your safety, for her’s… I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I’m sorry.”

You turn up from Hopper’s hand, softly sighing before reaching your hand out from under your thigh and laying it gently against his knuckles. You swear his stiffens with your touch, but you drag your finger gently across him and shrug.

“I accept your apology, Hop.” You squeeze his hand when the light overhead turns green. His head turns back to the road as you continue. “I… I believe this is special. What we have. I just need to know it’s something I can depend on, too. Something stable, and comforting. Last month was daunting for so many reasons. I just–”

“–You don’t want me blowing up again.” He finishes for you.

“Right.”

“Done, sweetheart.” Hopper seamlessly pulls back into the parking lot of Hawkins Middle. He parks his car in a spot close to the building, and shifts his body so he’s fully facing you. “A thousand times over, it’s done. I miss this… I’ve been missing you. I like us.”

You try to bite on your cheeks to keep from smiling, but it’s a poor effort. He smiles back, turning his hand over so that your palms now press together in the middle. “I like you depending on me. It… It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” You readjust your hand against his, interlacing your fingers delicately. “That’s… also nice to hear.”

Cyndi Lauper sings the rest of her song before it leads into silence. Hopper quietly reaches up and pauses the music before it can go to the next track. The music from the gym still plays over the parking lot. You hold one another’s stare, Hopper now being the one to squeeze against your hand.

“Can we try to make this work?”

You quickly nod, wanting to trust this and whatever it will lead to. “Please.”

The easiness of tonight has definitely fluctuated, but you’re just happy you’ve gotten here after everything. His palm is rough, but a warmth you didn’t realize you wanted so badly. You missed this feeling. It’s nice that it’s here now.

Notes:

Tried going for MUSHY VIBES AGAIN and I can't say I'm convinced that it's hitting. You tell me?? But, this chapter is very meh. Crazy that I'm finishing at night, whoops. If you like it, let me know!! I can definitely do more comfort vibes versus... whatever else I've been writing xD I know they've been a little all over the place. They will probably continue to do so. Regardless, thank you AGAIN for reading!!

See you tomorrow!

Chapter 8: Drive - Hopper

Summary:

A night at Enzo's can lead to a lot of things. But, in a car? Crazy.

Summer is that three or four month period you have a love-hate relationship with. It’s not like you get to look forward to a break from the daily toll of life anymore ever since you graduated. You still have to go to Melvald’s and clock-in; make sure those obnoxious Hawkins High kids aren’t ruining the aisles, or that you’re giving the right amount of change back to the customer. The now normal day to day of life.

What you didn’t know to expect was Hopper earlier that day coming to Melvald’s during your’s and Joyce’s shift. Becoming the dad you knew and complaining about his kid’s circumstances with one Mike Wheeler. It was sweet in a way, if not one where you and Joyce are continuously trying to keep him from making a grave mistake against the Wheeler kid.

And then, today he pops a question that you couldn’t say you saw coming. Enzo’s. Dinner tonight. Whatever time works best for you. Please.

You said yes, because who are you kidding? The idea of dates floats between you both often, it’s just a bait and hook. You were always hoping he would bite first, as he should.

So, that night, he picks you up and takes you to the small, Italian joint downtown. The dinner had a great, beautiful atmosphere, and a handful of funny moments for the two of you to look back on. Hopper put on maybe the most ridiculous outfit you’ve ever seen him in, but it proves he is trying. It’s cute.

Now, in the passenger seat of his Chevy, you lean back with a full stomach and slight flush to your face. It’s not often you drink wine like tonight. The ride is easy, and you’re not really paying attention, but you swear Hopper’s weaving through more streets than necessary to get you back home. Like he’s trying to take his sweet time while he still has you.

“So, what’s your rating for Enzo’s?” Hopper asks. “Out of ten?”

“A solid eight-and-a-half.” You sit up, feeling the slight wooze in your head when readjusting. “The food was great, wine was awesome, the atmosphere: incredible. I just… did not care for our waiter.”

“Oh, that guy was a total dick.” Hopper scoffs.

“A TOTAL dick!” You throw your hands up dramatically with a quick laugh. “Like? I’m sorry we’re having a good time? It’s not like you’re giving your other customers the same treatment.”

“Right, right…” Hopper smirks to himself. “...You did spill your glass of wine on the table.”

“Listen.” You give him a look, but can’t help and grin. “I apologized, they have washers in the back. I know I’m not the first adult to spill their drink. Give me a break.”

Hopper laughs, and the sound is better than whatever violin was playing at Enzo’s. It resonates in your chest, and draws out your own laughter in a way nothing else ever has. It makes you feel giddy, and excited. Happy that you can make him laugh so carefreely like that.

“I mean, don’t make me bring up the drink itself.” You wiggle your brow at Hopper. He warily peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Chee-aun-tee?”

“Oh my god,” Hopper rolls his eyes back to the road. “Don’t even get me started on that. How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know.” You sigh while dripping in sarcasm. “Sounds like you’re just not that experienced of a drinker.”

“Please, sweetheart. Out of the two of us?” Hopper presses gently on the brake, reaching a large hand over and patting against your thigh. “That’s not even a competition. Nor should you want it to be.”

He doesn’t move his hand after he speaks.

The touch slowly registers in your tipsy state, and you catch yourself struggling to swallow your own saliva. Eyes now drilling into the large hand of the Chief’s, and how it covers so much of your leg.

“Don’t want to be on my radar more than you already are. Right, sweetheart?”

You can’t tell if the question is serious, or just him trying to rile you up. You’re definitely there, contemplating what might happen if you were to jump over the stupid console and straddle his lap. Your cheeks begin burning that much more with the mere thought, and Hopper must notice because you swear his grip tightens slightly below your knee.

The loss of words is prominent, and you try to breathe evenly to keep from losing your head at this moment. There had been points in the night where Hopper made a more forward comment than what you’d expect, or trying to brush his fingers across your knuckles. Like an invite to hold hands from across the table.

This feels heavy. Much heavier than just innocently holding one another’s hand at dinner, or complimenting each other on our outfits. You slowly turn to Hopper and give him a once over. His eyes are still on the road, but the smirk is there. It only grows as you stare at him, watching his chest move with his slow breath. Noting that the first few buttons on his shirt had been unbuttoned since he picked you up.

“Is that what you’d want?” He asks. “You like knowing that I think about you?”

“I don’t–” You force yourself to swallow. “Is that what that is?”

“I can’t get you out of my head.” He suddenly pulls his hand from your leg, and parks his car at the curb. “It drives me insane, if I’m being honest.”

You quickly look over your right shoulder and see your house standing against the dark night. Not expecting it to be there, not realizing he made it back to yours. “Is that so…?”

Hopper speaks your name, his tone rugged and full of desire. You slowly turn back to him. He’s leaning lightly back against the car’s door. “I don’t want to keep questioning what this is. I like you. A lot. Clearly. I don’t want to keep this guessing game going, so I’m just going to say it. I want you. I want you in the mornings, I want you on nights like these, I want you back in my office with your cheery voice and boxes of doughnuts for the guys. I need that.”

You regard him carefully, and know this feels right. Hopper isn’t one to focus solely on romance, and he’s done that more than enough over the past six months more than ever. You can’t deny it, you want to see what lies in wait if you pursue this together.

“Please, sweetheart.” He sits up a little more. “Give me a chance to make you happy.”

“Hop,” You roll your eyes with a snort, clumsily unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing yourself off the seat. “You already have.”

Starting to crawl over the console, Hopper meets you halfway with outstretching arms. He takes you from under your arms and pulls you into him. Your lips crash into his without a second thought, your arms wrapping securely around the back of his neck.

Hopper kisses you back almost desperately, and it’s relieving in a sense. You’re glad you’re not the only one who has been wanting this for far too long. It’s passionate, it’s a yearning kiss, and it confirms everything since the both of you met. This is the right choice.

You just didn’t expect something like this to firstly happen in the driver’s seat of his car.

Notes:

Lol, I need to start feeling normal about just one off stories. Like, these one-shots keep trying to build off one another but it's not something that should be a thorough line with this challenge? Trust me, I'll get more comfortable writing you and Hopper in something established versus something like... I don't know, but the guessing game of "do we like each other, or is this what love should feel like?" Anyway, I did have more fun with Hopper being passionate or whatever... I hope when I sit down to write my longer fics again, I can feel this kind of determination to get this done.

Anyway, see you tomorrow!!

Chapter 9: Messy - Eleven

Summary:

You and El have a great idea for breakfast one morning. You both wake up before your third family member, and try to recreate a morning from a few years before. Long story short, whipped cream was not the problem you ever saw coming.

Notes:

THIS IS PLATONIC WITH ELEVEN WITH A LITTLE BIT OF HOPPER. Just want everyone to know :) Toodles!

The beep of a toaster starts to ring out from your kitchen. You and Eleven look over your shoulders in somewhat horror with the loud and obnoxious noise.

“God– I never remember!” You whisper to no one in particular. “I know that thing is annoying, but I never remember to pick up a new one!”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Eleven sighs, and you can’t help but let it catch you off guard. It hasn’t been all that long since she moved out of Hawkins, and started high school. “Don’t worry. I don’t think that would wake him up so easily.”

It’s going to take you a minute to get used to the Eleven who can speak eloquent sentences. The memory of a little girl with curls speaking more or less broken English at the forefront of your mind. Instead of letting yourself be overwhelmed by these thoughts, you refocus on the toaster before you both. Slowly picking up the toasted waffles that sit on either side.

Eleven is maybe too excited as she slides serving plates next to you. Her eyes centered solely on the toasty treats for breakfast. Her favorite food still rings true after all these years. You place the first two waffles on one plate, reaching back into the Eggo’s box to toast another two.

“This is going to be the best breakfast since… ever.” Eleven grins, leaning her hip into yours lightly. You smile at her childlike excitement for this, knowing you both ultimately want it to just feel like old times.

“Agreed.” You hum, reaching an arm to wrap around the younger girl’s waist. “I hope your dad is going to be as excited.”

“He has to be.” Eleven grins, turning up to you with a delightful smirk. “Man hasn’t eaten Eggo waffles in almost a year. It, honestly, might blow his mind.”

You let out a light laugh through your nose and roll your eyes before pressing down on the toaster button. “Now that is something I’d be intrigued to see.”

The two of you giggle at the thought, before simultaneously shushing one another, and falling into fits of giggles all over again. Carefree and truly just happy to be together after what feels like forever. You want to get emotional over it, but that’s not normal for an adult to burst into tears in front of a fifteen year old. So, you instead take up El’s hand within your own, and gently spin her around.

She easily sways with the movement, letting her spin take her back towards your fridge where she quickly pops it back open. She leans her upper body farther in the fridge than you expect, and try not to cringe at the noise her shuffling things around is making.

“Good! Thank god,” Eleven leans back from the fridge, holding up your large can of whipping cream, and a bag of M&M’s. You were really hoping she wouldn’t find those… guess not. “Why do you keep chocolate like this in your fridge?”

“It’s yum,” You shrug while trying to think it through some more. “Have you never tried chocolate from the fridge?”

“No. I’d be too worried that Jonathan would eat it when I’m not looking.”

You snort with Eleven’s blunt admission, but picture the Byer’s boy and his recent indulgence, and… stealing candy from a fifteen year old definitely checks out for him. “Fair enough…”

The timer goes off. It actually sounds the loudest yet, screaming to the house that breakfast is about ready. You rush, but the toaster pops and it’s a race for nothing. Scowling at your kitchen appliance, you swipe the waffles up and do your best not to throw them towards their plates out of frustration.

Eleven snorts behind you, nudging by your arm and looking at the two waffles stacked. “Can we really only toast two at a time?”

You frown, “Uh… I mean, that’s? I’m not even sure.”

“Let’s find out,” Eleven grins, proceeding to pull out four toaster waffles in her hand.

You start to disagree with the idea, but she’s quickly shoving the waffles in next to each other before pressing them down to toast. Eleven grins once the waffles are down, and steps aside to present them to you like it is a grand achievement. You openly gawk in response, not knowing what to say, and very uncertain about the idea entirely. “O… kay! Well, we’ll just have to see how those turn out.”

“They’ll be fine,” Eleven waves them off, and grabs the whip cream can from the counter. “Eggo’s are tough like that.”

“Sure, haha. Whatever you say, El.” You hold your hand out in her direction. “Can I see the whip cream, though? I have no idea how much is left, and am going to start assembling the extravaganza’s.”

Eleven proceeds to shake up the whipped cream, and nod. “For sure, just let me get a taste…”

“Eleven.” You warn, and the look you’re given back tells you she doesn’t like the tone you’re using. “Please?”

“Sure. In a second.” She stops shaking your can, and begins tipping it back towards her mouth. Your scowl deepens as El presses against the tip of the can, and it hisses sadly in response. “Aw, what?”

Eleven begins furiously shaking the can all over again. It almost makes you sad with her sheer determination to have some whip cream. “Alright, alright, let me see the thing.”

You manage to grab El’s wrist without getting simultaneously hit by the can. Plucking the can out of her grip, you don’t look at her when she makes a noise of frustration. You shake the can again over one of the waffles, and nothing still comes out. The can feels hefty, like it still has something inside. But the compressed air keeps spraying, maybe a little slower than you were expecting.

You turn the can towards your face, and cluelessly hold it over your face. Not the smartest move, you know. But it’s not like–

Your finger slips, pressing on the nozzle by accident, and suddenly there’s whipped cream blasting into your face. Closing your eyes in time, you flinch away and lift your finger from the can. The spraying doesn’t stop.

Eleven fails in remaining quiet, rushing towards you with a loud, “Oh. Shit!”

She’s reaching for the can, and you’re pulling away just confused at what to even do at this rate. How to make this all stop.

“Put it down! Just put it down!”

“Why?! You want it to get all over the kitchen floor?!” You ask as El frantically grabs the can from your hand. Then it’s whipped cream sputtering into the air, and unfortunately landing back on Eleven. Plopping onto her head, shoulders, and slightly down her front side. The floor around is now messy too, a messy kitchen with messy chef’s if that’s something anyone would call you two.

And then the toaster’s obnoxiously beeping all over again. Cherry on top to all of it.

“Well, holy shit you two.” You and Eleven slowly turn to the hallway just off of the kitchen, regarding the incoming voice from the bedroom. “...Good morning.”

Eleven perks up at the sight of her dad, while you can only give him a nervous grin. “H–Hey! Didn’t, uh… didn’t think you’d be up just yet.”

“I think we both know that’s not true. Not with,” Hopper waves his hand in a circular motion at the scene in front of him. “All of this going on just a room away from me.”

“We’re making Eggo’s!” Eleven cheers, already being the gem she is and grabbing a paper towel from beyond your sink. “You hungry?”

“Hah, she got to you quick then.” Hopper steps around the corner and stands closest to you. He reaches a hand towards your jaw, and swipes gently at the whipped cream that sticks to you. “But, I don’t think she would’ve pulled this for no reason.”

“Not her fault,” You sigh, trying not to acknowledge how smooth his thumb felt, and how flustered it might make you. “Actually mine. Entirely.”

“Yeah, she could’ve asked me to use my powers to help her out.” You and Hopper turn to a smug looking Eleven. She doesn’t lift her eyes to look back at either of you. “Simple solution, really.”

“Alright, smart ass.” You laugh, which you see Eleven grin at but feel Hopper nudge you for. Always the father for her, even if it’s standing up to you.

“Well, do you guys need any help with…” Hopper gestures to the kitchen with a wave of his arm. 

You shake your head. “No. This was clearly supposed to be a surprise… if you want to help, you can definitely just go back to bed and wait for us to call you out.”

Hopper openly laughs at the suggestion, but doesn’t fight it. “Alright, alright, sweetheart…” he warmly chuckles, reaching back towards your head and swiping some more of the mess in your hair. “Whatever you say.”

You sigh at the further mess on his fingers, to which he quickly presses into his mouth with a quick movement. You feel your eyes blow out wide making Hopper grin. He drops his hand and proceeds back from the way he came. “Call me when you guys are ready.”

“Will do.” You try to play off what just happened, and only exhale the breath you were holding when he’s out of sight.

“Uh…” Eleven warily calls your name, and you turn your attention back to the girl. She pulls out four mostly burnt Eggo’s with a sheepish smile. “I think my suggestion might’ve been wrong.”

You laugh maybe painfully at Eleven, and quickly reach to take the waffles from her hands. “No worries, we’ll just try again. I think I have a new can of whipped cream too in the fridge.”

“What?! No way.” Eleven bounds back to the appliance. “I checked all over, and–”

“–In the door holder.” You point without looking, to which El breathes a quick ‘oh’ once she sees it.

Throwing the burnt Eggo’s out, you give the kitchen a simple once over with a knowing smile. Knowing that mess is just the first of many more before plates were served this morning. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your family back together for a fun-filled, Eggo-extravagant meal together. One you were convinced was never going to happen again.

“Alright, El. How many Eggo’s are left?” You ask, walking back over to the counter and picking up right where the hiccup caught you off guard. 

Notes:

Yeahyeahyeah im ruNNING BEHIND!!!-- It's fine. I'm getting there! In due time! Again, this one feels lackluster and like!!! I'm convinced there's been something missing in my writing recently. I just have to be reading more-- but, not that anyone reading this may care or not but I just got hired for a job yesterday!! It's in retail, so nothing insane, but I'm really looking forward to it! And I got a little distracted last night with my family to finish this chapter. Here it is, nothing special, but hopefully a sweet moment you enjoy with El and the man himself, Jim :).

Hope everyone is doing well! Much love <3

Chapter 10: Sword - Hopper

Summary:

A long night ends with some simple questions. Shockingly enough.

You’ll never complain about Alaska after everything you saw and experienced in Kamchatka. The worst you dealt with when first getting here was the blinding snowstorm, and Murray’s constant noise.

Now, the snow has died down, and Murray’s safely asleep in the front of a car that Enzo drives back to the same inn from a day or so ago. Time is an enigma since you’ve entered the snow. Yesterday might as well have been a year ago at this rate. Joyce sleeps easily in the row in front of you, and you’re snuggling up in the back of the car next to Hopper. You can’t tell by his breathing if he’s awake or starting to drift, but you swear you can feel his eyes watching you from overhead, and you won’t say anything in retort

He’s here, and he’s just as warm as you remember, and his heart is still beating with his chest still rising and falling with the breath of a living man. And you could start crying with the thought. The man you were sure you’d lost in the fight of a lifetime, just to get back and battle all over again.

A promise kept, he told you he’d do anything in order to keep you safe a long time ago, and fulfilled that promise even after death. His time wasn’t finished, his job wasn't done, because he left his people behind to try and fight for themselves. A lost woman, and his broken daughter, and their large, quirky, unnatural found family. He didn’t leave anyone alone, sure. But him not being there did nothing but cause sadness for those involved, especially Eleven and yourself.

So, you’re taking the time to thank every higher power that might exist above you, or whatever stars some great being put into place to let this be your outcome. Hopper’s heartbeat thumping steadily in your ear, his thin but physical body emanating that same comfort you felt with him back when Will Byer’s first went missing. You never realize how badly you miss something until it’s gone, so you were never going to take any of him for granted now that he’s back.

The soft call of your name catches you off guard, even if you knew better. Goosebumps rise on your arms under the long sleeve of your layers, but he would never know that. Turning slowly to the face above you, Hopper’s eyes stare into your soul when you find him. A clear window into the blue that always seems to shine when looking at you in moments like this. Hopper seems to be smiling, but there’s only so much you’re able to make out in this atmosphere. “Are you falling asleep?”

“No,” you murmur right back. “...You?”

“Not yet.” Hopper’s arm shifts and pulls you closer. “I don’t think I can if I actually wanted to.”

“Hah.” You let your face fall back forward. “Is that so?”

“For sure.” Hopper’s body further shifts, and you swear you can feel his chin gently resting on the crown of your head. “I can’t stop thinking about how I get to have you in my arms again.”

There’s no avoiding the smile that quickly spreads across your face with the comment. You struggle to shrug against Hopper’s puffy jacket, in all of its burn marks and tears. “Can’t say I’m not thinking about the same thing.”

“Well then,” Hopper’s voice rumbles in his chest, and gently vibrates into his jacket. You feel the noise on your cheek, which only causes you to smile more. “I’m glad to know we’re on the same page.”

You let the silence fall back between you two, listening to the blinker of the car before feeling it pull onto the next street. The conversation might as well be left at that, but the sudden image of the battle pops back into your memory. You sit up before you think about how your sudden movement might affect him.

“Actually, no. I lied.” You sharply turn back to Hopper and meet his wide-eyed look of surprise. “The sword. When the hell did you learn to swing a sword?”

Hopper’s face pulls into a grin before he snorts a quiet laugh. Jaw moving to open his mouth a little and wipe his tongue against the bottom of his front teeth. Thinking about the question for a moment. Then another… before shaking his head.

“Honestly, sweetheart… I have no clue.” He readjusts himself on the seat so that he’s sitting taller, but still leaving a very clear spot against his side for you to lay back into. “I think… I saw it, and acted.”

“Yeah, aha. That’s for sure.” You take his silent offer with silent acceptance, falling back against him. “That was honestly insane.”

“I know.” He huffs another light laugh, leaning his head back against the seat. “I wasn’t really expecting that out of me either.”

Neither was the demogorgon with its head being lopped off. After almost having been burnt alive by a surprise attack from Murray with a flamethrower, the last thing you expected was Hopper to find a sword in the snow. It all felt a little ridiculous if you think about it too hard. Like some great climax to a mighty battle for some popular T.V. series. I mean, seriously, you can’t really make this stuff up.

“Well… after everything we’ve been through, it should be the last thing that surprises me.” Hopper huffs in agreement as you yawn, getting yourself cozy up against him again. “Thank you, though… for keeping your promise.”

Hopper doesn’t move for a moment, or so you think. His cheek gently presses down against the top of your head, and the ex-chief heaves an easy sigh. “You have nothing to thank me for, sweetheart. You know I’d do anything for you if it means you’ll be happy.”

You don’t say anything back, instead leaning your weight right back into him. Hopper heaves one more easy sigh, and it lets you know that you don’t have to respond to his words. You let your eyes close finally, with putting the one off-putting thought to rest. Drifting off to unconsciousness with the gentle hum of the car, and the steady beating of Hopper’s heart. Feeling safe and at peace after a very long five months. Happy to be with him, and also happy he hadn’t tried to bring that sword from the fight home. Hoping it had found its peaceful resting place in the snow.

Notes:

Wow. Okay, this one is my quickest yet and HONESTLY?! I like it a lot more than any of the other ones so far. DID NOT THINK I was getting this bad boy done tonight. But, say what you will about determination and grit, haha. It's also nice to write out some of my thoughts with Season 4, because trust... I have a lot of them.

I digress, see you guys for the up to date prompt tomorrow xD. Much love <3