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Jim Hopper had always been a paranoid person.
So when he awoke in the middle of the night with a nagging in the back of his brain, he wasn’t surprised.
He figured he was thirsty, or maybe the room was too hot. He looked down at Joyce beside him in bed, tucked between him and the wall and so peaceful looking that he almost put his suspicions away.
Then the voice nagged at him to go downstairs.
He sighed, swinging his legs out of bed, careful not to wake Joyce.
He tread lightly on the carpet, finding himself walking the exact way they had taught him at the police academy.
Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe. Careful to make no noise.
He passed the mirror in the hallway and almost laughed at his appearance.
Here he was at 2 am in the morning, with his hair still messy and the lines prominent in his face, sneaking around in his own house like he was on one of his old stakeouts.
He was about to go downstairs to grab a glass of water when a muffled noise came from Will’s bedroom.
He tensed.
He knew of the kid’s past with the supernatural. It was not pleasant to say the least.
He told himself he was being irrational. It had been quiet in Hawkins for a couple months now. Surely Vecna couldn’t have gathered enough strength?
Another sound. This time of something bumping into something else heavy, followed by the sound of the lamp that Hopper had bought Will falling.
He grabbed the nearest weapon instinctively, an ancient letter opener that Joyce had insisted on keeping “because it had belonged to her great grandmother”.
He narrowed his eyes as he approached the door of Will’s room.
He half-expected it to be nothing, but what if he found the kid floating? Or bleeding from his eyes? Or something worse?
Hopper tightened his grip on the small knife.
He approached the door slowly.
10 feet. 5. 2. A couple inches.
His fingers snaked around the doorknob.
He slammed the door open and felt wildly for the light switch.
Light bathed the room and landed on two very surprised teenagers.
Will was not possessed. He was DEFINITELY not possessed.
Micheal Wheeler stood pinning him against the dresser, the lamp lying on the floor.
Will blinked in the sudden light. Micheal stood frozen, his face still inches, INCRIMINATING inches, away from Will’s.
Hopper dropped the letter opener and threw his hands on his face.
“Goddamnit Wheeler, always MY kids.”
Mike scowled at that, and Will, finally realising, smiled sheepishly, tomato red.
“Uh,it’s not-we’re not….um,” he muttered, running his hands through his short, brown hair.
Mike crossed his arms, almost grumpily.
“Wheeler, you are going home NOW.”
Mike sighed, before turning to Will and pressing a kiss into his jawline. Will giggled in response, and Hopper had to practically tear them apart before they did anything else.
He grabbed Mike by the shirt, which, he realised with horror, was Will’s, and dragged him out the room.
He shot a stern look at Will.
“Go to BED,” he warned.
Will just covered his face with his hands and climbed into bed, dragging the bedsheets over his head.
Hopper shut the door and dragged Mike, who was still protesting, downstairs.
He paused at the kitchen and hesitated.
Might as well get that glass of water.
“Stay here,” he growled.
The sound of the faucet against the glass was suddenly and surprisingly soothing, and he almost fell asleep to the sound, until he heard the usually grating noise of Wheeler laughing.
He frowned.
He placed the glass of water on the counter, forgotten.
He walked towards the living room, where the moon streamed through the windows, illuminating a tableau that made Hopper want to tear out his hair, bang his head against a table, and run over someone with a truck all simultaneously.
Wheeler lay across the couch, laughing at something his friend, Dustin, had said. El lay across Dustin’s chest, her hands curled up in his hair.
He had known they were dating, but he’d never thought they’d be that close to each other. On the couch. Watching a romantic movie.
He stood still for a second, waiting for them to acknowledge his existence.
El made eye contact with him first.
Her eyes widened as she saw him.
Her hands dropped from Dustin’s hair.
“Uh-h-hey Hop!” she smiled nervously at him, while blinking rapidly, as if any minute she would wake up from a dream.
“Hey kid.” he replied drily.
Dustin had caught sight of Hopper, and jumped up so quickly that El fell off his lap onto the floor.
Mike scowled.
“He interrupted me and Will too. Honesty I-“ he began, before being interrupted by being dragged towards the front door.
Hopper had a pounding headache.
He dragged both Wheeler and Henderson out, the scruffs of their shirts in each of his hands.
The cold, night air slapped him in the face almost as hard as the discovery of his children with their boyfriends.
“Honestly, Hopper, i-it wasn’t anything bad, we were just kissing, and then we watched a movie a-and…” Dustin faltered, seeing the expression on Hopper’s face.
Mike sniggered.
“Dug your own grave there Dustin.”
Dustin shoved him so hard he stumbled slightly.
The two proceeded to get into a fight, the occasional poke causing a full on struggling match, with Dustin stamping Mike’s feet and Mike elbowing him back.
Hopper stared at the two of them for a moment, wondering why, WHY, on God’s Green Earth his children had chosen THEM for boyfriends.
He frowned.
In the corner of his eye, something was moving. He whipped his head around, and saw STEVE HARRINGTON, of all people, climbing out a window.
Shit.
He was climbing out of Jonathan’s window.
And his usually perfect hair was not perfect.
And he had a suspicious mark on his neck.
The two looked at each other for a long time, staring, before Steve gave a stupid wave and climbed the rest of the way down the roof.
Why was Hopper not even fazed at this point?
“Get OUT,” he almost screamed, and the three of them clambered hurriedly into Steve’s car, which was parked in the driveway.
Hopper was about to chase them down the street, yelling about staying away from his kids, before he looked up into Jonathan’s bedroom window and clearly saw said three kids looking wistfully down at the car pulling out of the driveway.
Will, with his sleepy green eyes and mussed hair, El, still in the dress she had worn in the daytime, and Jonathan, wearing what looked like STEVE’S hoodie, and with stains, no fucking HICKIES on his neck.
Hopper wrung his hands, imagining Harrington’s neck in them.
The three waved towards the speeding car, and Henderson and Wheeler, peeking up at them through the back window of the car, waved back.
Hopper rushed back inside.
He was going to commit homocide tomorrow.
He was actually fucking going to.
But as he went to bed, sneaking in beside Joyce, he couldn’t help but smile fondly at the picture on his bedside table.
It had been taken a year ago, when Jon had tried to teach him how to use a camera.
The angle was wrong, and the focus slightly blurry, but you just about make out four people, sitting bundled together on a couch.
A brunette girl with a big smile, a tall guy with scruffy hair and tired eyes, a shorter, slightly more innocent-looking version of him perched on the arm of the couch. And beside him the very same woman who was asleep beside him now.
Hopper fell asleep very quickly that night.