#hoppers cabin becomes a cottage

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.2: Robin's Boy

A.N: Life is kinda sucky right now with job hunting, surviving at my current job, the strains that come with being a caregiver to a family member while maintaining a long distance relationship and just dealing with mental and emotional self-care. So here's this, super late and not beta-read but at least I wrote it.

As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags and/or ask box.

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce's Edition), Part 3 (One of Us), Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies her dad loves without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her.

Seeing the declared dead Chief of Police step out of a sleek black, obviously-secret-government-bullshit car flanked by an agent she recognizes as one of Owens' lackeys from last July when they were making the rounds with Government funded medical care contingent on signing sketchy NDAs? Just par for the course at this point.

Steve's face when Eleven-Jane rushes into the not-dead Chief's arms and it turns into a whole 'Moment'? Said Chief's look of barely interested confusion followed by tired annoyance when Steve drags her in front of him, rambling about Starcourt and new additions to The Party and finally getting to meet 'My Hop'? Yeah, none of that surprises her either. She plays along for Steve, doesn't give Hopper any time to say anything that would take that happy smile off his face or get rid of the way he's practically glowing he's smiling bigger than she's ever seen directed at anyone other than the kids. Tries not to think about the way it makes something in her clench and crouch like a cat getting ready to pounce and bare fangs she didn't realize she had outside of a life and death situation. She introduces herself, maintains eye contact and drags Steve off as fast as she can to do something, anything, that will distract him from trying to catch up like the Byers clan is with the kids and assembled assorted monster fighters.

She's not surprised when she can't stop Steve from stepping up every time Hopper or Joyce or anyone with a badge says they need anything despite his own still healing wounds. She's not surprised when Hop takes it a step too far.

They're at the Hopper Cabin that is steadily becoming the Hopper-Byers Cottage when Hop tells his and Joyce's shared custody bald parasite that Steve is little more than an annoyance he puts up with for the free babysitting service and manual labor and cause he can go up against shit that would give anyone else nightmares while keeping the kids safe and mostly in-check. She's sitting with Eleven-Jane, sewing patches onto one of Hop's old army jackets, (the kid had seen Eddie's battle vest in Steve's car and it had reminded her of her sister Kali and she'd decided she wanted one of her own for the war ahead and then all of the other rugrats had decided they did too so she and Argyle had taken to giving sporadic sewing lessons whenever the kids had the materials to start their own battle attire) when Steve comes round the corner to the back of the property striding with purpose she rarely saw when he was around his kids.

She leaves her unfinished project on the stump she'd been using as a stool and chases after him. She shooes off curious and worried kids, promising to stick with him, keep the walkie close and on, make sure he was safe and didn't run afoul of any demo-beasts or trigger-happy government goons as he made his way to his car and then wherever else he was marching his happy ass.

She hates the fact that when they're both finally back at the little apartment that Owens' yes-men had acquired for Steve when Harrington Sr. decided to be an opportunist prick and kick Steve out for 'not taking care of the house' in the middle of the 'earthquake', that Steve hasn't shed a single tear. She hates that she's not surprised.

He doesn't say anything as he kicks off his Nikes and shuffles over to the 'second-hand' couch they'd gotten from Mrs. Henderson (Steve and Robin were both fully aware she'd just gotten it shortly before Spring break and was in no way in need of a new one so soon, but they both also knew better than to call her out on her kindness). He doesn't look up at her from his spot curled in amongst the throw pillows and blankets they'd been gifted by parents of various members of the party after Hopper and Owens' story that the two of them had saved the kids again from some freak incident like last year with Starcourt. She pulls out the thick quilt they had found in the latest donations bins when Hawkin's government supervised relief force started outsourcing for supplies and basic comforts. He stares at the wall where they'd hung an oversized corkboard dedicated to polaroids and photo booth strips and even some properly printed pictures of the little monster fighting family they'd put together.

She can't pull him out of this, no matter how much she may want to. There's some places his mind goes only Eleven-Jane would be able to reach and neither of them were going to put more on that girl's plate. So she puts on a Bruce Springsteen record she used to hate and curls up as close as she can to him through the quilt and pillows. Every now and then she gets up to get them both water, to grab some crackers to try and coax him into eating and to switch over to a new record or just flip the one on the player but she always comes back to her spot next to her Steve.

"Whatever he said to you, you know it's not true. Right? You're worth more than a dozen undead cops on a power trip." That gets an amused huff.

"Seriously Stevie, the kids adore you, I swear all the moms in Hawkins think you're the best thing since sliced bread and I don't know what I'd do without my personal chump. We're soulmates, remember? One of these days we're gonna mind meld like Spock and McCoy and we'll be unstoppable. I can't make it without my McCoy, Bones."

"I can't make it without you either, you hobgoblin. Thanks Bobby."

The next day is better. Steve is still a little quiet, a little droopy. But he's present and there's a simmering anger underneath his smile that Robin is proud to see him acknowledging but makes her worry about him as he ushers her into his car to drop her off on her rare lone shift at Family Video before he heads out to a quick 'consultation patrol' with some military special operatives to check out something weird by one of the new cracks.

No one had told any of the kids yet, about the cracks starting to spread out in smaller fissures like a slowly spreading infection. Hadn't thought it necessary with Steve and Nancy (both now legal adults and wasn't the government taking full advantage of that) there as a first line of communication while Joyce wrangled a restless Hop as he settles back in and heals and spars with Owens over payouts and government aide for the town and what the growing military presence was and wasn't allowed to do. With the parents occupied the kids had come together tighter than ever, focusing on their injured and recovering from the nightmare fuel that was their spring break. No one noticed.

She can't help the rant she falls into as they drive through checkpoints and past regular civilians being escorted through areas a little too close to a Gate for comfort. She goes on about how half of the soldiers act like Steve is just one of them and the other half treat him with the same cautious curiosity they do Eleven-Jane whenever she makes her way to the 'front lines' these days. She wants to get the weird boy-speak head nods too! Even Nancy gets them, especially when she's walking around with her sawed-off strapped to a jerry-rigged hip-holster. Robin has used Darlin' before, she's speed poured Molotov Cocktails to hand to soldier boys trying not to piss their pants as Steve and Nancy barked orders as they tried to down a demogorgon fresh from the Upside-Down. Where's her battlefield camaraderie?

It makes him laugh and shake his head fondly as he calls her crazy and weird with that soft smile on his face that makes her chest feel warm and fuzzy like her parents' hugs used to when she was 10 and crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. She doesn't tell him to be careful as they turn down onto Main street or to make sure he comes back in one piece as he rolls to a stop in front of the dark storefront. She starts on another tangent about him abandoning her to the drudgery of Capitalism as he gets to frolic in the woods with a bunch of burly men with their toys before he laughingly reaches over her to open her door to start pushing her out of the car. He smiles big and dopey as she practically spills onto the asphalt, still rambling away about neglectful soulmates and abuses of driving power with smatterings of claims that she'll take over his apartment if he dies and use his ashes as fertilizer for the plants he's taken to keeping on the fire-escape outside the living room window if he dares to leave her alone to babysit his hellions.

He shoots back a final, "Love you too Bobby!" before taking off towards where he's meeting the scientists and soldiers he's supposed to lead through Upside Down infected woods. As he leaves her standing on the sidewalk he doesn't make any sort of promise to be safe, to let the government goons just do their job, to make it back to her alive or in one piece. Not even to make it back to her. She plays with the locket she's taken to wearing that holds a curled up braid of hair shades darker than hers or anyone's in her family.

She doesn't watch his car to the end of the street like she might have before Spring Break, after their Starcourt 'adventure', instead she takes a deep breath and unlocks the dumb video store in this dumb town full of dumb people who don't know when to call it quits and just get the hell out of Dodge. She boots up the computer leaving it to warm up while she starts sorting through whatever mess the new shmucks Steve insisted they hire to cover what times the two of them couldn't because of the Arcade (which they had also gone and hired more staff for now that people weren't one tremor away from rioting in the streets) and Upside Down/ government related shenanigans they ended up getting dragged into.

The bell above the door jingles and she has to bite back a groan. "Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She won't turn to face him, not sure she can keep her cool if she does right now. Her hands move on muscle memory, shuffling papers into their proper piles and flipping open VHS cases to check if they need to be rewound. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." She may have only heard his voice a couple of times and in passing but she didn't call her ears little geniuses for nothing. She forces her body to relax, lowering her shoulders the way Steve taught her to and keeping her voice light like Eddie walked her through, calling on his Theatre Kid skill set to teach the Party how to convincingly lie improvise when being questioned by people who really did not need to know just what was going on in good old Hawkins.

She can hear him sigh and can't help but picture his hand running over the fuzz on his head the way Steve runs his hands through his coif more and more nowadays in a way he never did before Nancy, before he got pulled into this bullshit and Hopper was rumored to be the one signing his paperwork and taking responsibility for him when his parents didn't show up after an almost week long stay at the hospital. "Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here. To fix it."

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef and meatloaf covered in ketchup, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place she used to pet and give snacks to on her way to and from school make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies she and her dad used to stay up late watching together without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight by her bed for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her. Jim Hopper might have just done it.

She doesn't stop moving, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing her off. She fiddles with the sharp little knife she has tucked up her shirt sleeve in the little sheath she and Steve put together between shuffling papers, taps at the button on her vest hiding the mic attached to the walkie talkie that never leaves her pocket these days. When she finally turns to look at him she's not surprised by the thinness of his frame or the way his eyes and cheeks still look a little sunken in. She sees the tired father worried for his kids and his people and his town, angry at the government for their involvment and their stupidity that she had come to expect. She is not expecting the remorse, the fear, she sees looking back at her. She wonders for a moment what he sees when he looks at her, at any of the teens and kids and young adults he's fought alongside trying to stop the end of the world.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He looks mildly confused for a moment, meaning Joyce hadn't been passing along even the minimal information Nancy and Steve had been giving her to relay to Hop and the rest of the Party. That would have to be it's own discussion at some point probably. "-in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

"You care about Harringt- Steve. You're close, the two of you have been basically Siamese Twins since Starcourt from what I hear. I- I realize that I made a mistake dumb enough shitting Mike Wheeler is making more sense than me, that I fucked up in a way I don't fucking know how to fix. And I am asking. Politely. For your help."

Honestly she's not sure she believes him. Honestly he's surprised her more times in the last five minutes than most anything or anyone else has in the last year. The man has a lot to unpack and the situation with Steve is just a drop in the man's pile of shit he's managed to bury himself under but maybe there's some hope yet.

She checks the watch on her wrist (an obscenely expensive piece Steve got from one of his parents' rich friends at a holiday party he was too young to remember on a leather band that he had outgrown and never got around to replacing) and looks back at Hop. Ten more minutes. "Why are you here?"

Hop groans in that growly sort of way that makes her think of her grandpa Dale, a great bear of a man who had given the best hugs with shoulders to put Jim Hopper to shame. The no-longer-chief runs his hand over his fuzz again, one hand propped on his hip as he shifts his weight to one side and she tamps down the flicker of biting anger at another example of the ways Steve had shaped himself after a man who never gave him the respect or care he deserved.

"I don't know how to fix what I fucked up. Steve's a good kid, I can admit that now. And he didn't deserve my bullshit just cause I couldn't get past old highschool biases. I wasn't there for him like I should have been- like I told him I would be when I signed those papers. But he's not the kid I thought he was, he's nothing like his folks or the other trust fund brats who think they run this shithole town. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that kid deserves better than I've been doing."

She hums like she's mulling over his little speech to hide the way she's freaking out a little over what to say to all that. Even she doesn't know how she and Steve got to where they are beyond being tortured by Russians for information they didn't have then being drugged out of their minds while fighting inter-dimensional flesh monsters. But she doesn't think that would help Hop much in this situation.

But she thinks she believes him. At least for now.

"Alright, I'll help you with Steve." Hop sighs, his shoulders dropping as he seems to unclench slightly. Seriously, that much tension cannot be good for him after being in a Russian gulag for almost a year. "But not because I think you deserve it. You were right, Steve deserves better, but he wants you and Joyce and the kids to be in his life. Be a part of it. That is the only reason I will help you. He deserves a better dad than the one he's had and for some reason he thinks you're like super-dad."

"I- How the fuck did I not- What the hell?"

Robin shrugs, "The human brain is good at weeding out what it doesn't want to see. You didn't want to see Steve until you had to and that realization brought you to me. So. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"So what do I do?"

She checks her watch again. "He'll be running late, especially if the fissure he's checking out is as bad as we think it is. So you have time to run back home, get Joyce to make extra of whatever monstrosity of a casserole she's trying to make this week and you get your rugrats to figure out a way to be the last drop off after Steve takes the brats to the arcade later instead of sleeping off whatever knocks he gets on patrol today. Then instead of letting him head home you make him come inside for dinner. Use the excuse of finding out he's been doing patrols if you have to. But you make him go inside and sit his ass down and eat something and you let him just- let him just be, Hop." She's running out of time but there is just so much she wants to get through to him. "Just make him feel like you see him."

"I- I'll try."

"Yeah, sure. Just-" She bites back the vitriol she wants to projectile vomit in his direction. "Just don't hurt him again. He's more than just a babysitter or front lines muscle. And I will make you wish you were back with the Russians if you make him forget that."

"I believe you."

"Good." The bell over the door jingles again and she looks past Hop to see a group of teenagers making their way to the comedies. "Now I have to get to work and you need to not be here by the time Steve comes to check on me. So talk to you later, Chief."

"Right. Thanks for your help, kid."

She shrugs him off as he turns to head out. The teens are watching him not-so-discreetly as they try to act like they're looking through the latest releases. She forgets that the man is as much a mystery as the heavy-duty military forces that have taken over their small town.

"Alright, folks. What are we looking for today?" She still technically has a job to do even if the kids keep their distance from her like they do the rest of the Party who at this point have all been seen either spending time with said heavy-duty military forces or chasing something into the dark of the forest wielding weapons smeared in monster blood, or both. It's going to be a long day.

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[stevesbipanic]

Eddie collects rocks and crystals, it's why he likes dice so much, they're practical rocks. He has ones he swears absorb negative energy and others that he just likes the look of our how they catch the light. Some of them he ties together and dangles on his window frame. He gives his friends and Steve and Wayne random ones that remind him of them or ones he thinks they need in that moment. He carved a crude guitar pick out of obsidian once but it's purely decorative on his necklace.

Steve likes gardening and pressing plants and flowers. He knows when to plant winter bulbs and what herbs grow well together. He knows the meaning behind every flower and uses this knowledge to give his friends little messages. He asks out Eddie with flowers. He likes pressing flowers between old books and marking frames and bookmarks out of them. His parents once clean cut backyard is now overdue with plants and almost every window has a flower box and every wall has some climbing vine.

When Steve and Eddie move out it's into Hopper's old cabin, Hopper lives permanently with the Byers of course. There's plenty of room for a garden and vines and flower boxes, there's interesting rocks and crystals and it's quiet and peaceful for them.

[hawkinshellfire]

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 12 - Lover

 Chapter 12 - Lover

  We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

“Let me help you with that.”

 “I can do it,” Joyce says stubbornly.

 “What the hell is in there?” Hopper asks, pointing to Joyce’s duffel bag. 

 “Clothes?” she replies.

 “Why do you need so many?”

 “We’re going for two weeks, Hop.”

 “The cabin isn’t that far, we can always come back if you need more clothes.”

 “But then we have to come back to reality and I was planning on spending two weeks very far away from it,” she smirks. 

 “You aren’t saying that because there are a bunch of books in that bag, are you?”

 “There may be  one, ” she admits, “but it’s not what I plan on distracting myself with.”

 She steps towards him, drops her bag on the floor next to his feet and runs her palm along his chest. Rocking forward on her toes, she brushes her nose against his and pulls back with a devilish smile.

 “Tease,” he calls after her. 

 Joyce looks back and tosses a wink over her shoulder then reaches for her bag and walks it over to Hopper’s car.

 “Jesus son, get her bag,” Mr. Hopper remarks as he comes up behind them.

 “She won’t let me,” he tells his father, “I offered.”

 “You make sure you take good care of Joyce while you two are up there. And be sure to stack some extra wood so you don’t run out. Remember, you can always come back early if you need anything.”

 “Don’t worry dad, we’ll be fine.”

 “Joyce, if this one starts causing you too much trouble you make sure to give him hell, yeah,”

 “Will do Mr. Hopper,” Joyce smiles. 

 They arrive at Hopper’s grandfather's cabin just after lunch. The wooden house, surrounded by a wrap-around porch, sat in the middle of the woods near a small pond. 

 Joyce excitedly leaps out of the car, leaving Hopper to get the bags while she checks out the cottage. 

 There was an old fabric couch in the center of the room across from a large fireplace, a small kitchen with a yellow fridge and a bedroom and adjacent bathroom off to the side. 

 Her heart leaps when she realizes there is only one bed, despite knowing that she was going to get to spend every evening curled into Hopper’s side and every morning waking next to him, the reality settles in and makes it all seem so real. They were going to have two uninterrupted weeks together and she was giddy with excitement.

 Hopper comes up behind her and drops their bags to the floor, his arms circling around her waist while he drops his head to her shoulder.

 “So? What do you think?”

 “It’s perfect,” she smiles.

 He squeezes her, pressing their cheeks together before placing a kiss on the top of her head and moving to the kitchen. 

 “Why don’t we unpack and stack some firewood before I make us some dinner?”

 “Sounds nice.”

 He begins to unload the freezer bag, filling the fridge with goodies while Joyce slowly walks around the cabin and admires the art hanging on the walls. A photo of Hopper and a man she assumed to be his grandfather hung over the mantle. 

 Running her fingers along the throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch, she wanders into the bedroom. 

 This was the perfect place to spend the next few weeks. Away from the chaos that consumed real life, she could focus on the two of them. Just her and Hop. The world could wait. 

 Peering out the window over the bed, she smiles at the swans swimming in the lake and moves closer. 

 “Joyce?” Hopper calls from the kitchen. 

 “Yes?”

 “Do you want one burger or two?” 

 “Two please!”

 “Great. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

.

.

She’s nervous. Hopper can tell by the way her hands are folded in her lap and her shoulders are slumped. They’re sitting at the two person table located next to the kitchen, enjoying the burgers he prepared for them. 

 “You’re quiet,” he observes out loud.

 “Sorry, I was just thinking,” she admits.

 “About?”

 “How nice this is,” she smiles softly. “The food is good.”

 “Joyce,” he says in a near whisper. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 “I’m just a little nervous,” she tells him. 

 “Nervous?”

 “It sounds stupid,” she looks down. 

 “It’s not stupid,” he reassures her. 

 “What if after this week you decide that you don’t want this?”

 “I’ve wanted this for a long time, I was just afraid to admit it to myself,” he tells her, reaching for her hand over the table. 

 “But what if it’s too much, spending all this time alone together? Doesn’t it just feel so - serious?”

 “Come with me,” he demands, standing up and tugging her towards the living room. 

 She follows his lead curiously, their hands still wound together and she watches as he excitedly brings them towards a stack of old boxes. 

 He drops her hand and begins rummaging through the cardboard boxes one by one. Triumphantly, he turns back to her holding up a string of multi-coloured Christmas lights.

 “Lights?” she says confused.

 “We’re going to put them up. Make things more fun,” he explains. 

 “But it’s summer?”

 “So?” he shrugs, “who says we can’t put the lights up whenever we want? This is our house, we make the rules.”

 Skeptically, she accepts one end of the light strand and stares up at him. “You really want to put them up?”

 “Absolutely! Go grab me that tape in the kitchen.”

 When Joyce returns with the tape, Hopper already has three strands of lights stretched out along the floor. She passes him the tape and waits for instruction while noticing he put a record on. 

 The soft sounds of jazz fill the cabin only ceasing when a crackling sound from the old needle in the vinyl interrupts. 

 The two work to string up the lights in tandem, Joyce ripping off pieces of tape and Hopper using the pieces to attack the multicoloured bulbs to the ceiling. Only when the ceiling has become a sea of reds, blues and greens do they take a step back to admire their handiwork. 

 A strange comforting sensation overcomes Joyce as she stares up at the lights with her arms folded across her chest. Somehow, Hopper knew this would comfort her. She adored him for always knowing exactly what she needed. 

 From behind her, he watches as she marvels at the decorations and proudly smiles to himself. 

 “May I have this dance?” he asks.

 Feeling calm and bold, Joyce accepts his hand and allows him to twirl her into him. She crashes into his chest laughing and smiles up at him while he brushes her hair out of her eyes. 

 “Feeling better?” 

 “Much,” she smiles. “Thank you. You’re always so full of surprises.”

 “Speaking of surprises,” he grins and releases her, “I have one more.”

 He disappears into the bedroom and re-emerges holding a Polaroid camera.

 Proudly, he holds it up and snaps a photo of Joyce beneath the lights. 

 “Where did you get that?”

 “My parents said we could borrow it. Smile.”

 Embarrassed, Joyce pulls her arms around her chest and casts her gaze to the floor while he snaps another photo. 

 “You don’t have to do that,” he says softly, stepping towards her. “You know you’re beautiful.”

 The moment she smiles at his compliment, Hopper snaps another photo and lets it fall to the floor. “There’s  the smile.”

 Joyce gestures for the camera with an open palm and takes it in both hands when Hopper hands it over. 

 She raises it and snaps a photo of him, allowing it to fall to the floor alongside the one of her. 

 Hopper scoops both photos up from the wooden floorboard and turns them towards her. In her photo, Joyce looks petite beneath the lights and her smile takes up most of her face, while Hopper has his eyes closed and his nose scrunched in his photo. 

 “Oh god let’s get rid of that,” she says, pointing to the picture of her.

 “Not a chance. This might be one of my favourite pictures of you.”

 “You’re kidding?”

 “Nope. You look perfect.”

 The pair fools around with the camera some more before clearing their dishes and working as a team to wash and dry the plates. Joyce yawns as they work and nods when Hopper asks if she’s ready for bed. 

 He allows her to go into the bedroom ahead of him to change into her pyjamas. When he joins her a few moments later, he finds her propped up against a pillow in a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt with a book in her lap. 

 With a childish grin, he snaps a photo of her before setting the camera down on the nightstand and joining her. 

 “What was that for?!” she exclaims when the flash goes off.

 “I just want to remember this moment.”

 He slips beneath the covers next to her and uses one arm to pull her closer to his side. 

 “Do you mind if I read?” she asks. 

 “Not at all.”

 Joyce is fast asleep against Hopper’s arm in a matter of moments. Carefully, he places her page holder back into her book and slides the novel from her hands. Once it’s on the table next to the bed, he reaches for the light switch and turns out the lights.

 The next morning, he wakes before her and gently rolls her away from him so he can slip into the kitchen and surprise her with breakfast. He stumbles upon the Polaroids scattered across the floor on his way and decided to put them in a stack on the table.

 The final photo he picks up is the first one he took of Joyce, the one she claimed to hate, but there was something about it that made him want to preserve the memory. So, he slips it into his wallet before beginning to prepare eggs and toast. 

 .

.

That afternoon, Joyce trails behind Hopper as he leads the way to the lake behind the house. He places a blanket down on the grass and begins to unpack the picnic basket he prepared while Joyce stares out over the lake. 

 “It’s so peaceful,” she remarks.

 “It was my favourite place as a kid. Still is.”

 “I can see why. I don’t think I ever want to leave.”

 “Then we’ll stay,” he nods. 

 “Yeah right. Unfortunately, we have to go back to reality eventually,” she sighs.

 “Says who? Who’s to say we can’t just run off and start our adventure out here?”

 “Your parents, for starters,” she points out. 

 Joyce joins Hopper on the blanket he’d delicately laid out for them and folds her legs beneath her. 

 “Nah, I say we do it. Let’s just be crazy impulsive kids and we get the hell out of Hawkins. It’s not like anything ever happens there anyway,” Hopper says. 

 He leans back on his palms, legs outstretched between them and pinches his eyes shut. He knows what he’s saying sounds foolish, but a large part of him would love to leave Hawkins with Joyce and never look back. He hadn’t had a chance to tell Joyce yet, but lately, he’d been dreaming of leaving Hawkins more frequently. His father had been on his case about applying to serve and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. While he knew it was the right thing to do, he and Joyce had a good thing going here and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Was it childish to prioritize his teen romance over the duty he had to his country? Absolutely. But despite his father’s claims that he was a man (who should go and make the Hopper men proud) he was young and in love and a large part of him wanted to remain an impulsive, love-sick kid. 

 “We can’t,” she laughs, “but wouldn’t that be fun?”

 “C’mon Joycie. If we don’t leave now, then when?”

 Joyce laughs, placing her hand daintily on his shoulder, “One day,” she muses. 

 “Besides,” she adds, “we have to go back because I start working in a few weeks.”

 “Of course, my little librarian in training,” he teases. 

 “I’m not a librarian in training! I’m helping out for the summer!” 

 “I’m just teasing you, Joyce, I think it’s great that you’re going to be working at the library.” 

 “Really?”

 “Really. It’s literally the perfect job for you. Besides, now  you  can take me on a date,” he winks. 

 “Speaking of dates, do we get to eat on this one?” she giggles.

 “Of course,” he says, retrieving two wrapped sandwiches from the bag he packed. “Grilled cheese.”

 The two dig in and begin making plans for all the things they want to do during the week when the first drop of rain lands on Joyce’s cheek. Within minutes it’s absolutely pouring and the pair scramble to their feet and prepare to take cover. 

Hand-in-hand, Joyce and Hopper dodge the raindrops as they sprint towards the cabin. When they reach the back steps, Hopper releases Joyce’s hand and pushes the screen door open to let her inside. 

 She’s drenched from head to toe. Her cotton t-shirt now stuck to her chest, showing off her pale purple bra, despite her efforts to stay warm by folding her hands across her chest. 

 Joyce follows him into the main area of the cabin and he shakes his arms and chuckles. 

 “I didn’t see that one coming,” he says. “Come here,” he calls her over when he sees her shiver. “I’ll start a fire so we can warm up.”

 Hair leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor, Joyce makes her way over to the fire where she stands with her palms pressed to her sides while waiting for the fire to start. 

 Hopper rummages around in the pit, eventually turning back towards her once the flames begin to burn to life. “There we go it shouldn’t be long until it warms up.”

 “Thanks, Hop,” she smiles. 

 With his wet hair slicked back and his shirt pressed to his chiselled arms, Joyce has a hard time tearing her gaze away from him. He catches her staring and she quickly looks away. 

 Stepping towards the fire, she stretches her palms out and falls to her knees so that she can be closer to the heat. Hopper follows her lead and kneels down next to her. Outside the sky has turned an ominous grey, leaving the fire to be the main source of light inside the cabin.

 Joyce shivers again and instinctively reaches for the hem of her soaked shirt and pulls it over her head. She notices Hopper staring as she sinks back against her heels and shyly grins at him. 

 “What?” she asks.

 “Nothing,” he lies.

 “You’re supposed to remove wet clothing or you’ll freeze. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?” 

 “I might have heard it somewhere,” he shrugs. 

 Staring down at her petite frame clad in only her jeans and bra, he slides himself closer and reaches for her shoulder with a calloused hand. 

 Slowly, he runs his thumb along her exposed collarbone and she shivers.

 “Are you still cold?” he asks.

 “No.”

 Gently, his hand glides down her arm and he moves closer, taking up the majority of the space in her orbit.

 They lock eyes as his hand falls from her arm before he reaches for the hem of his own shirt and tosses it somewhere behind him. 

 Her palm settles on his bare chest and Joyce looks up at Hopper through hooded eyes. His heart lurches at the way the fire makes her face glow. She looked absolutely radiant. 

 “Hop,” her voice snaps him out of his trance.

 “Yeah?”

 “You’re staring.”

 “Sorry, it’s just. Jesus Joyce, you’re beautiful.”

 Unsure of how to respond, she leans forwards, placing both hands on Hopper's shoulders and kisses him,  hard .

 He responds by placing open palms on her bareback and tugging her as close as their knees will allow. 

 Hands roaming Joyce’s bare-back, Hopper begins to kiss along her jawline and down her neck. She tilts her head back in response, granting him more access. 

 From where they sit on their knees, their upper limbs tangled, Joyce reaches for the button in Hopper’s jeans and undoes it while he licks along her collarbone. His palm settles on her inner thigh and the soaked material of her jeans suddenly becomes hot beneath his touch. 

 When kneeling becomes an inconvenience and they are forced to part for breath, Hopper looks over at Joyce with a caring smile and whispers.

 “Can I try something?”

 She nods in response, a mixture of nerves and excitement.

 “Lay back,” he whispers.

 He guides her as she lays against the blanket on the floor and slowly slides himself down her body. When he reaches her naval he pauses before looking up and locking eyes with her. 

 “Is this alright?” he asks.

 She nods again.

 Wordlessly, he helps her slide out of her soaked pants and tosses them to the side. Leaning down, he places a hesitant kiss on her inner thigh and she trembles. 

 He reaches towards the elastic waistband of her cotton panties and again pauses to smile up at her. 

 “It’s okay,” she gives him permission before he has a chance to ask. 

 Joyce draws in a deep breath as Hopper once again kisses her inner thigh. 

 Her hands lay limply at her sides but she immediately reaches for his hair when he uses his tongue to lick along her center in one fluid motion.

 He smirks as she bucks forward, the hand clutching his hair a sign that she’s enjoying this but he wants to be sure so he asks again.

 “Is this-?”

 “ Yes, ” she hisses before he can finish asking, the desperateness in her tone something he’s never heard before. 

 Once again, he leans forward and runs his tongue along her slit, this time following the motion up by teasing her with his index finger. 

 Joyce tightens her grip on him and admires the way his flexed arms look in the firelight. Propped up on her elbows and sprawled out on a blanket in front of the fire, she closes her eyes and tosses her head back while Hopper’s head bobs between her thighs. 

 It isn’t long before she’s trembling beneath him, coming undone around his tongue while she whispers his name harshly beneath her breath. 

 They manage to stumble their way through the dimly lit cabin towards the bedroom afterwards, where Hopper manages to make Joyce come undone yet again. 

.

.

 After breakfast the next morning, Joyce finds herself wrapped in one of Hopper’s flannels while they sit on the back step and watch the sunrise over the water. 

 With the sky painted a faint shade of pink and the stillness of the water only shifting beneath the ducks that swim across, it felt like a scene from a movie. Leaning her head on Hopper’s shoulder, she reaches for their shared cigarette and takes a long drag. 

 They sit in silence for the majority of the morning, Hopper occasionally shifting next to Joyce when he reaches into his back pocket for another smoke. She keeps her open palm resting on his lap, where he’s tracing gentle circles with the edge of his thumb.

 Before lighting another, he shimmies from beneath her and cups her cheek in his hand, sliding his thumb along the curve of her jaw before his fingers settle on the nape of her neck and he brushes her lips with a gentle kiss. She smiles against his lips, caught off guard by his abrupt, tender action.

 He chuckles under his breath when he feels her smile and she demands to know why he’s laughing.

 “What’s so funny?”

 “You’re smiling,” he teases with a grin.

 “Well, it’s your fault for kissing me like that!”

 “I couldn’t help myself.”

 Their laughter fades and Joyce shifts back into her previous position with her head resting on his shoulder. 

 “What are you thinking about?” she asks. 

 “How much I love you.”

 “No you were not,” she forces a laugh. At this point in their relationship, it wasn’t unusual for Hopper to tell Joyce he loved her. Though she’d yet to say it back, she adored the way he’d become comfortable with saying the words to her. He seemed to like to remind her with any chance he got and she received butterflies in her stomach each time the words rolled off his tongue. She also knew that he wasn’t hurt by the fact she hadn’t said it back. He wanted her to mean it when she said it and she was confident that when the time came, she would. Besides, she was certain that she loved him, she was simply unsure of how to process those feelings.

 “I was,” he admits. “I think I’ll love you forever.”

 “You can’t love someone forever, it’s not possible.”

 “Fine. Then I’ll love you until the clocks stop ticking.”

 “What does that even mean?” she challenges. 

 “It means exactly what you think it means. My heart will belong to you until the clock stops ticking.”

 “Hop, the clock is always going to tick, that’s the entire point of time.”

 “Exactly. So you know I’ll love you long after we’re both gone too.”

 “That’s morbid,” she teases.

 “It’s romantic.”

 “Says who?”

 “Me.”

 After a few moments of silence, he speaks again. “I mean it, Joyce. ‘Till the clock stops ticking.”

.

.

That evening, Hopper invites Joyce to join him fishing but she declines and opts to spend her evening reading instead. After he sets out with his tackle box, wearing a hat Joyce describes as “ridiculously cute” she draws herself a bath and climbs into the tiny tub with plans to finish her novel. 

 It’s a quiet evening, the only sounds interrupting her thoughts coming from the crickets that begin to chirp with the rising moon. She loses herself in a world of fiction within moments and without a window in the bathroom, there is no way to tell how long she’s been reading. It’s perfect and blissful and everything she never knew she needed. 

 With a few chapters to go, Joyce places her bookmark between the pages and drops her head back against the tub, pinching her eyes closed as she absorbs the calmness the silence brings. 

 Moments later, the creaking of the floorboards on the back deck announces Hopper’s return and she finds herself smiling. 

 “Joyce?” he calls out as he enters the cabin.

 “In here!” she yells through the semi-shut door to the bathroom. 

 The sound of his footsteps gets louder as he nears the door and she hears him come to an abrupt halt just outside the door.

 “You can come in,” she laughs in an almost teasing tone. “I was just reading in the bath.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Yes.”

 He pushes the door to the bathroom back slowly, the mere thought of Joyce sitting naked already overstimulating his senses. He finds her sitting in a tub with hardly any bubbles, book in hand. 

 “How was fishing?” she asks without looking up.

 “Not bad. Caught a few,” he says, though his focus is elsewhere. “How was your evening?”

 “Wonderful,” she beams, “I’m almost done with my book.”

 “I’ll leave you to finish it then,” he offers, rocking back on his heels.

 “Stay,” she whispers. 

 “I don’t know if you’ve noticed how small that tub is Joyce but I don’t think we’re both going to fit,” he chuckles.

 “I meant here,” she pats the empty air next to her. “Sit with me.”

 “Alright. Why don’t I read the rest to you?”

 “Really?”

 “Really.”

 Hopper waddles over to the side of the tub and plops himself down onto the tile floor. With his legs outstretched he reaches for Joyce’s novel, careful not to lose the page she’s on. 

 He begins to read, pausing every now and then to admire how she crinkles her nose when she becomes invested in a particular sentence. 

 “Earth to Hop,” she reaches over the side of the tub and waves a hand in his face. “Why did you stop reading?”

 “I got distracted.” 

 “By what? You were  literally  reading the words off the page.”

 “By  you ,” he smirks, lowering the book. 

 Hopper places the novel down on the floor next to him and pushes himself to his feet. With a dopey grin, he grips both sides of the tube and looks down at Joyce. Her eyes widen when she realizes what he’s about to do and a shriek escapes her lips just as he slips into the water, fully clothed. He hovers over her to steal a kiss and brushes her cheek with a soap-soaked palm. 

 “Turns out we both do fit,” he beams.

 “Barely,” she laughs. 

 Waiting until Hopper climbs out of the tub, his clothes heavy from the weight of the water and pressed to his body, Joyce grabs a towel and dries her hair before stepping out after him. She stands before him in nothing but a tiny towel and smiles shyly. 

 No words are exchanged. He glides towards her in three large steps and cups her face in his palms. He walks them backwards, towards the door and down the hall while they kiss. They bump into the doorway and two parts of the wall before making it to the bedroom, where Hopper lifts Joyce and carries her towards the bed. She wraps her legs around his centre and allows her fingers to dance through the baby hairs at the base of his neck while he carries her across the room. 

 After placing her down on the bed, her petite frame still damp from the bath, he looks down at her with hungry eyes. 

 “I’m not made of glass Hop. I’m not going to break,” she reminds him. 

 He nods.

 Desperately, he moves forward to close the distance between them, greedily gripping the back of her neck while snaking his tongue into her mouth. She reaches for the hem of his soaked shirt and helps him remove it. His belt and bottoms are quick to follow and their damp naked bodies collide once again while their kisses grow sloppier and more desperate. 

 They tumble to the left and Joyce finds herself in a position to climb on top of Hopper. Straddling him, she looks down at him with wide eyes and grins. In a hushed tone, speaks while running her hands down his bare torso. “Tell me what you want.”

 It’s a question while simultaneously a demand and it sparks something animalistic inside of him. He tosses both arms around her waist, tugging her closer while his lips curl up into a massive smirk. He presses them against hers hard, the force of them catching her off guard. Hopper pulls back slightly so that his lips ghost over hers while he speaks and in a deep sultry tone he replies, “I just want you.”

 Cupping her chin in his palm, he greedily kisses her before leaning back against the pillows, tugging her with him while whispering, “Come here.”

.

.

 Sitting on the back porch steps, Joyce passes her joint to Hopper and smirks when he coughs on his initial inhale. After a few hours of trying to convince him to get high with her, Hopper had finally conceded and agreed to split a joint with Joyce. He’d been high a handful of times in the past but was always hesitant when it came to smoking. On the other hand, Joyce enjoyed an occasional joint whenever she could. She found it eased the chaos swirling in her mind and it served as an escape from the hell that was her Hawkins life. She had never, however, been high with Hopper.

 She watches as he focuses on his breathing and laughs beneath her breath. It was so typical of him to try and be good at everything; even something like this. As if on cue, Hopper inhales incorrectly and begins coughing.

 “Jesus Joyce, how do you smoke this stuff?”

 “They are no worse than your nasty cigarettes,” she says. 

 “They’re way worse! I don’t even think you can compare them.”

 “I can and I will. Your cigarettes are ten times worse.”

 “Agree to disagree?” he asks.

 “Fine. But you know I’m right.”

 “I never said that.”

 “You didn’t not say it.”

 “You’re infuriating.”

 “You find it fascinating.”

 “What can I say, you intrigue me,” he admits.

 “Does that mean once you get me all figured out you’ll get bored?”

 “Bored? Of you ? Not possible.”

 “Oh c’mon. You won’t be bored of me a few years from now?”

 “I won’t be bored of you a hundred years from now,” Hopper smiles at her. 

 “Now I  know  you’re lying,” she half-laughs.

 “I’m being serious Joyce. It’s me and you from now on. Come here,” he says, standing up and gesturing for her to do the same.

 Joyce slowly rises to her feet and follows Hopper into the cabin. He marches straight towards the support beam next to the couch and fetches a pocket knife from his pants. 

 “What are you doing?” she asks when he raises the blade to the wood.

 “Carving our initials.”

 The next forty-five minutes are spent carving their initials into a heart while discussing the exciting future plans they both had. 

.

.

A day before they were set to return home from the cabin, Benny and his girlfriend Helen drove up to spend the night with them. The day was packed with outdoor activities and by the time the four of them settled around a campfire with some beers, Joyce was absolutely drained. She curls herself against Hopper’s chest, not caring that Benny or Helen may find it odd that she chooses to sit in his lap. 

 They decide on playing truth or dare. Despite Joyce’s initial protests that it was a childish game, she finds herself having fun. 

 “Alright Joyce, truth or dare,” Helen asks.

 “Truth,” she responds. 

 “Tell us about your first kiss with Jim.”

 Joyce blushes and casts her gaze downwards before beginning to speak. Rather than describe the kiss they shared at her party, she begins describing a party they both attended in the ninth grade.

 Hopper nearly chokes on his drink when she begins telling the story, knowing exactly which story it is. All these years and he never thought she remembered that kiss. They were both drunk (her far more than him) and it was never mentioned again. It hadn’t even been mentioned now that they were together, which further convinced him she had no memory of it happening. 

  .

“Joyce!” A young drunken Hopper called after Joyce as she sprinted from the party. “Joyce, wait up!”

  When he finally catches up to her on the sidewalk, he’s out of breath and panting. 

  “What is it Hop?” she asks with an exhausted sigh. 

  “Don’t let them get to you okay? It’s just a stupid game.”

  “A really stupid game,” she mutters. 

  The two of them were attending Randy Smith’s birthday party when a game of spin the bottle broke out. When Joyce refused to participate in such a “childish” game, Randy stood up in front of everyone and exclaimed it must have been because Joyce had never been kissed and everyone laughed. 

  To prove that she was cooler than everyone else, Joyce downed three drinks and stormed away from the party, leaving Hopper to chase after her. 

  Hopper knew that this was the exact reason Joyce hadn’t wanted to play. Just a week prior she was telling him that she wanted her first  real  kiss to be with someone special. She asked if he thought that was stupid and he told her no, in fact, it was sweet. 

  “Can I walk you home?” he asks, noticing that she’s far drunker than she’s letting on.

  “Sure,” she nods. 

  The pair walks home in comfortable silence, Hopper occasionally offering his arm to steady drunken Joyce on the bumpy pavement. Midway through the walk, Joyce starts rambling about the heap of trouble she’ll likely get in at home and that’s when he knows she’s had far too much to drink. She never talked about her home life like this. 

  As they’re approaching her house, Hopper asks if she’ll be alright. She looks him in the eye and meekly smiles before replying that of course, she would be, she always was. 

  Unconvinced, he follows her to the door where he spontaneously wraps his arms around her and makes her promise that she’ll call if she needs anything. 

  While pulling back, he locks eyes with her and before he has the better sense to stop himself, he’s leaning down to place a brief, chaste kiss on her lips. 

  Joyce says nothing in response, instead, she offers him a shy smile and a timid wave as she turns towards the front door. 

  He feels like an ass his entire walk home. She wanted her first kiss to be with someone special and he just took that away from her. With any luck, she wouldn’t remember it and he could carry on as if it never happened. 

  The next day at school she doesn’t mention it and he thinks he might be in the clear. A month later she tells him all about her first kiss with a boy from her art class and he’s convinced she doesn’t remember that night on her porch.

  It was his first kiss too. He never forgets it. 

.

 “That’s so sweet!” Helen coos. 

 “I didn’t know you remembered that,” Hopper whispers to Joyce so that only she can hear. 

 “You never brought it up. I thought you wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened,” she admits. 

 “God no Joyce. I was embarrassed and thought you either didn’t remember or if you did you wish I hadn’t done it. We really did suck at communicating huh?”

 “You did,” Benny interjects. 

 In the midst of their confessions, their whispers had somehow turned into a full-blown conversation without them realizing they had an audience. 

 “Everyone at school has known you two were into each other for years. You’re literally the only ones who couldn’t see it,” he informs them. “I can’t believe it took you two  this  long to figure it out.”

 “But we figured it out,” Hopper smirks, leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on his girlfriend’s lips. 

 “Gross,” Benny whines, which causes everyone to laugh.

 “Alright, Benny, truth or dare?” Joyce asks.  

 .

.

Tossing their bags into the trunk of the car, Hopper leans over and smirks down at Joyce. 

 “What?” she asks when she catches him staring. 

 “Remember last night when you were teasing me about being a typical boy that’s fascinated by cheerleaders because of, I believe your exact words were ‘they wear stupidly short skirts’?”

 “Yeah?” she replies skeptically, “what about it?” 

 “Well, it’s not too late for you to join the squad for next year.”

 Joyce’s eyes nearly pop out of her head and she swats at his arm to scold him for making such a ridiculous statement. 

 “You wish,” she scoffs. 

 “I  do  wish.’

 “Hop!” Joyce exclaims, “stop picturing me in one of those ridiculous little skirts!”

 “I can’t help it. You’re already hotter than the rest of the cheerleaders without the skirt. If you wore the skirt I think time might standstill.”

 “Oh yeah?” she laughs.

 “On second thought, maybe don’t join. When I told you I’d love you until the clock stopped ticking I was hoping that would last longer than the first pep rally of senior year.”

 “I can’t believe we’re going to be seniors,” she muses. 

 “The seniors that everyone wants to be,” he reminds her. “I’m going to go after a football scholarship and you, my genius girlfriend, are going to get into any college you want, I’m certain of it. Then we can get the hell out of this small town.”

 “Me and you?” she asks softly. 

 Hopper closes the trunk of the car, sealing in their bags and smiles over at Joyce, “Me and you." 

 “‘Till the clock stops ticking,” he adds with a cheeky wink before tossing the keys into the driver's seat and beginning their trip back to reality. 

  My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

[strangerstuffandthingsimagines]

Human Touch Pt.1 (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Part 2

Series Summary: Having lived a sheltered life hidden in the cabin secluded in the woods, the reader is only now given the opportunity to explore what if means to be a regular teenager, as, she is granted the chance to experience her senior year. Following the events of October 1985, Billy meets the adoptive daughter of Jim Hopper, the same police officer who arrested him based on what had happened between Steve and Billy. The two find themselves completely enamoured with one another, although to Hopper’s dismay. There is more to the reader than meets the eye, and after what was supposed to be a fun night of sneaking into the school pool turns sour, the reader finds out there might be more to her than Hopper has led on. 

Warnings: Swearing, romantic themes (nothing smutty though, yuh girl doesn’t write smut.)

A/N: I’m pretty nervous about this! I hope you enjoy it :) I’m not sure how many parts there will be, so I guess we’ll find out.

Taglist: @madhatterweasley @characterobsessed @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Saturday, January 4, 1986

Luminescent blue light glowed from the still water of the pool, the strong smell of chlorine nearly burning your eyes as you hesitantly stood by the pool.

“Is it cold?” You asked, now second guessing if you really wanted to go swimming in the dead of night.

“The waters fine, besides, the pools heated,” Billy explained, his strong arms treading the water as he watched you in amusement. “This was your idea, remember?”

You purse your lips at him, arms folded across your chest.

“Fine.” You announced. “But turn around, no peeking.”

Billy turned slowly as he bounced on his tiptoes, just barely touching the floor of the deep end.

You kicked off your sneakers and peeled off your socks. Quickly you unfastened the button of your jeans and wiggled them off your legs. You hesitated with your shirt, now becoming nervous about what Billy might think as this was the closest you had ever been to naked in front of him. Finally, the thought of walking around in a wet shirt wasn’t so appealing as it was below zero outside.

Your arms wrapped tightly around your chest, feeling completely naked as you stood in your undergarments. The smell of chlorine lingered in the air as you shifted the weight of your feet.

“Okay, I’m-I’m coming in.” You announced as you sheepishly dipped a toe in, sloshing the water around.

Billy now thinking you had got into the water, turned to face you.

“Wow.” He breathed, taking in your entire being.

He admired the way the light silhouetted your shape, creating a vibrant blue outline along your skin.

Your head shot up from the toe you had been swirling in the water and immediately scrambled to hide from his entranced gaze.

“What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You spoke a mile a minute. “I told you not to look!”

Billy made his way to the edge of the pool, not looking away from you.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, still taken by you.

Your cheeks burned at his words, now chewing on your bottom lip.

“Really?” You asked in disbelief.

“Of course, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” His words like silk as his hands reached up to help you, water running down his arms as it traced his veins.

Kneeling down you gripped onto his shoulders, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you into the cool water. You let out a small gasp by the temperature, which had taken you by surprise.

“Cold?” He smiled.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, nerves now overwhelming you.

“A little.” You admitted, thankful you were now in the pool so he wouldn’t be able to feel how sweaty your palms were. Guiding you backwards, you gently bumped into the wall.

“I’m not a very strong swimmer.” You admitted, as this entire idea sprouted from the misconception that this was something normal teenagers did. “I thought this would be a good idea, now I’m starting to second guess myself.”

“Put your legs around my waist, I’ll hold you up.” He explained, his hand cupping your thigh as you followed his instructions.

“I’ve got you.” He hummed, placing a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

As soon as his lips made contact with your skin, tingles echoed throughout your body. Your nails grazed the skin on his back, uneasy by your own unfamiliar feelings.

“Sorry.” You blurted out. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“First time breaking the rules?” He grinned. “Don’t worry, no one’s going to catch us.”

“You’ve done this before?” You asked curiously, playing with the hair that clung to the nape of his neck.

“I use to back in California, I and a few friends would hop the fences, drink a few beers and smoke.” He reminisced. “You’d like it there. Lots of sea turtles if you know where to look.”

You smiled at the fact he remembered how much you loved turtles, cringing as well, just thinking about how that was one of the first things you decided to tell him about yourself when you first met.

“Maybe we can go sometime, me and you?” He suggested. “Get away from here. Away from this shit hole town.”

His lips parted slightly as he stared back at you waiting for an answer. All you could wonder was if he could feel the pulse of your heart as is rattled against your ribs.

He spun you around in the water, waves rippling from your slow movements. Your soft skin felt like silk under the water as his hands held onto your body.

“Billy.” You murmured as your lips pressed into his neck, his body tensing at your touch as goosebumps formed on his shoulders. “Kiss me.”

His free hand found your waist and pulled you as close as he possibly could, his chest pressed firmly against your own as he feverishly kissed your lips.

His free hand clutched the pool ledge, careful not to drift away.

His touch caused your head to go fuzzy as you were intoxicated off of him, completely drunk of the new feelings you felt, buzzing with every movement of his mouth on yours. His kiss making its way along your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

A loud slam of the corridor door startled you, sucking in a sharp inhale as you clung to him tightly.

“Shit,” Billy muttered, looking up from behind your hair.

“It’s Saturday, why would anyone be here?” you asked as Billy hoisted you out of the water. Scooting backwards you quickly scrambled to your feet.

“We gotta get out of here.” He stated now pulling himself out of the water. You fumbled to get your clothes back on as Billy followed suit.

“Janitor must have heard us, called the cops or something.” He explained as he straightened out his coat, before taking you by your hand. “We can get out this way.”

Muffled laughter softly echoed throughout the empty pool, your shoes squeaking as they failed to grip onto the wet tile. The vibrant red “EXIT” sign pulsed in the distance, your only escape route.

Both you and Billy tensed as the cold air blew against your damp bodies as you pushed open the heavy door. Peering around the corner, your heart sank as you saw the parked cruiser blocking the exit of the parking lot.

“We’re going to have to hop the fence.” You explained, your eyes scanning the area.

“Alright, shit.” Billy shivered in the cold, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“On three, we sprint to the fence.” You explained as you rubbed your hands together for warmth. “One. Two-“

“Three.” Billy laughed, beating you to the punch.

“Billy!” You yelled a giggle erupted from your lungs as you chased after him. “Wait up!”

Billy already starting on the fence his fingers clinging to the holes woven by the metal bars. Making sure you were keeping up, Billy glanced down now and then, although, you were hot on his heels.

Billy hopped down once he reached the top, landing with ease.

“Too fast for you?” He taunted with a smug look on his face. Before you could respond to his cockiness, a shout from the school doors startled you, promoting you to lose balance.

Your leg caught on the barbed wire fence, having to swing your weight over to avoid the rest of you getting caught, you prayed Billy would catch you before you smacked against the cement.

Just as you hoped, Billy’s strong arms caught your fall.

“Babe, are you okay?” He asked pressing a kiss to your temple, his voice filled with concern as he studied your face for any sign of harm.

“Yeah, I cut my leg a little.” You pointed down toward your calf. “But we’ll worry about that later.”

Ditching Billy’s car, the two of you began down the back alleyways until you made it to the main streets of the town. The relief of escaping quickly dissolved as blue and red washed over your features, bathing you in its light.

“Shit.” you breathed, your hand pushing away from Billy as the silhouette of a hat emerged from the sheriffs truck.

“Y/N.” Anger dripping from your father’s voice. “Get in the truck.”

“I can ex-”

“Now!” He ordered, not allowing an explanation from you.

As the pickup truck pulled up to the shabby cottage in the middle of nowhere, your hands eagerly unbuckled yourself from your seat, the souls of your shoes skidding against the gravel as you stepped out of the still moving car.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me. We are not done with this.” Hopper growled as you darted toward the front door.

“As if you haven’t already yelled at me enough.” You snapped back, your knuckles pounding against the front door for El to let you in.

The door slowly opened, El having not moved from the couch as she watched her soap operas on tv. You slammed the door in Hopper’s face before he could make it through the threshold of the house.

The door swung open, nearly smacking into your back.

“I’ve done everything for you, and you go against my explicit orders.” He continued his rant. “I told you to stay away from him and you didn’t listen!”

“I told you, I was hanging out with some people from school and they talked me into sneaking into the pool. When we got caught we all split up, I wasn’t just with him!” You lied, doing everything in your power to keep Billy out of trouble.

“I was a teen boy once, I’m not an idiot,” Hopper stated, a hand placed on his hip. “You really expect me to believe that?”

You craned your head back in frustration, a guttural groan escaping you. El now curiously took an interest in the argument unravelling in the living area.

“You are suffocating me.” You groaned, truly playing the role of a dramatic teen. 

“It’s my job,” Hopper said firmly. “To protect you from jackasses like him.”

“I’m eighteen, Dad. I can take care of myself,” you said as you reached over the couch to grab a chip from the bowl in El’s lap. “The whole point of letting me go to school this year was to allow me to experience what it’s like to be a normal teenager for once.”

“Cut the dramatics.” He snapped, angrily shrugging off his coat.

“Maybe if you didn’t cut me off from society for eighteen years I wouldn’t have to be dramatic!” You yelled with a mouth full of chips, throwing your arms up in frustration.

“There it is again, the dramatics.” he sighed as he emptied his pockets of spare change and cigarettes, glancing at you with a hard look.

“You’re the one being dramatic,” you muttered, shoving more chips into your mouth as you stormed off to your room, making a statement by slamming the door.

Steam clouded the bathroom mirror as you soaked in the hot water, sitting on the floor the tub, you allowed the water to run down your body and wash away the chlorine and frost that clung to your skin.

You watched as red seeped into the clear water, swirling down the tub drain. Raising an eyebrow you wiped your hand on your leg, scrubbing away the dried blood that had crusted over the wound.

“The fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, pulling your skin around trying to locate the cut. There was no pain anymore, only furthering your confusion, as only an hour earlier you were limping from the deep gash caused by the barbed wire.

The wound was completely gone, not a sign or mark of your misadventure from earlier. It was as if it healed…all on its own.

[halo-of-honey]

The Florist and the Chief, Pt. 2

Jim Hopper x Original Fem. Character

Synopsis: Mac has to make a choice she doesn't want to make. But not making it could ruin everything.

Words: 8,562

Notes: Here is the sequel! I snuck in a cheeky little 80s reference I’m sure no one will get. But if you wanna know the answer, message me OR check out the end notes on AO3! I also promised to tag @coolyoungbouquetdestinylove.

Part 1

[[ Read on AO3! ]]

A young woman stood on the deck of a small cottage overlooking a pond. The sun was beginning to rise and she watched as a morning fog rose from the surface of the water. A loon glided elegantly by, softly wailing in the haze. The spring air was chilly on her bare legs, sending a shiver up her spine. She pulled the collar of the oversized flannel shirt she was wearing up around her chin, breathing in it’s musky scent. Behind her in the bedroom, a man stirred awake realizing the young woman was no longer there.

“Mac?” he mumbled into the dim room.

Hawkins Police Chief, Jim Hopper pawed at the sheets, searching blindly for the young woman who he thought had been there moments ago. When his large hand didn’t find her, he sat up on one elbow and squinted groggily around the room. Across from the bed, he noticed the door to the deck was slightly ajar. A cool breeze from outside was ruffling the long curtains that blocked out the light. Hopper swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, reaching for a pair of jeans discarded on the floor.

The Chief pulled on the jeans, but didn’t bother zipping or buttoning them. He shuffled shirtless towards the open door and pulled back the curtain. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he finally found the person he was looking for. Hopper took a moment to admire the young woman standing on the deck. Even after more than a year he was still blown away by how beautiful she was. He had to remind himself every day that she was just as attracted to him.

“Mac? What’re you doin’ up so early?” Hopper mumbled as he stepped out onto the deck.

Mackenna Kinney glanced over her shoulder, her auburn hair catching the light, “Hmm? Sorry, go back to bed. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“A few hours.”

“Mackenna...” Hopper reproved. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, “You need to rest.”

Mac leaned her head against Hopper’s chest, “I know, I just got caught up with work.”

“I know this is your dream or whatever, but you haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in over a month.”

“I’m alright, Hop. This is what I want.”

“That’s what worries me.”

Mac twisted so she was facing him and stretched up on her toes, placing a sweet kiss on Hopper’s lips, “The semester is almost over. I’ll get some rest then.”

“That’s a month away.”

Hopper growled as Mac’s hand snuck down the front of his jeans and into his underwear. Her silvery blue eyes almost deepened in color as she watched his reaction to her touch. She liked the softer side of Hopper, the side not many people got to see. But she had to admit she loved his rougher side, too. The way he looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive. She pressed her palm down his member, a small smirk playing across her lips when it twitched. Hopper’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Damn, woman. You’re just...trying to distract me.” he struggled to say, a low rumble in his chest. “We can’t...anyway...El’s here.”

“Nope, I dropped her off at the Byers’ last night. Remember?” Mac clarified. “We’re all alone.”

Hopper grinned, “Well then...in that case.”

✧✧✧✧

“Okay, alright you two. Come on! Come sit! I have an announcement.” Mac said, herding Hopper and El to take a seat on the living room couch.

“Mac, the potatoes are going to burn in the oven if I don’t take them out!” Hopper protested.

They all looked over as the oven door opened, three baked potatoes floated out and landed with a soft, slightly crispy plop on the stovetop. Hopper shot El a look and she shrugged silently, moving to curl up on the couch. Outside a large blanket of snow slid off the cabin roof followed by a gust of frigid air that swept through the room from the gaps in the windows. It was as if the tiny cabin shivered in the presence of El’s powers.

“Thanks, El.” Mac smiled. “Now come on, sit! Sit!”

Once they were both sitting Mac stayed standing in front of them, pacing and wringing her fingers. El’s eyes followed the young woman go back and forth across the well worn carpet as if she was watching a tennis match. Hopper waited patiently for a few moments until his stomach rumbled hungrily. He had gotten home late for dinner and was starving. Mac had been so anxious about her announcement she forgot about dinner until Hopper knocked on the door.

“What’s the big deal, Mac?” Hopper asked finally.

“Well, you know how I’ve always wanted to become a biology teacher?” Mac said, chewing her lip. “But I never got to continue my degrees and whatnot.”

“Right?”

“Well...old Ms. Radcliff finally decided to take her retirement at the end of this school year.”

“Really? I thought she would’ve stayed at that school until she literally died behind her desk.” Hopper commented under his breath.

Mac shot him a look and he shrugged, “But anyway, the school has started searching for a replacement to start in the fall. I applied as soon as I saw the listing in the paper. I’m not exactly qualified but I could be...and well, they hired me!”

Hopper and El’s faces both lit up, “Wow, hun! That’s great!” Hopper said.

“Yes...exciting.” El agreed, looking proud of herself for picking out the correct word.

“Right well, I’ll have to start night courses now to get my teaching certification. Then when that’s done I can consider starting a masters degree or skip right to a PhD program.”

“P-H-D?” El inquired.

Mac smiled, “It means I’ll be a doctor. But not a medical doctor or a mind doctor like the one Will sees. I’ll be a doctor of science.” she explained.

El squirmed excitedly, “Bitchin!”

Hopper and Mac laughed, “Yes, it will be pretty bitchin if I can pull it off.”

“I’m very excited for you, Mac. This is great news!” Hopper said, standing to go to her.

“I know, it’s going to be so much work but I feel like it’s what I need to do.”

Hopper pulled Mac into a warm hug and gave her a kiss on the lips. Moments later, El came over to stretch her arms as far around the two of them as she could. Mac freed an arm of her own to put around El’s shoulders. She couldn’t think of a time when she was happier in her life. It had taken her a long time but Mac was finally getting around to fulfilling her dreams. She would have to give up the florist shop, but she knew her grandfather would have supported her choice if he was still alive.

A loud, rolling grumble sounded from Hopper’s belly and El giggled, “Can we eat now?” he asked.

Mac rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling when she said, “Yes, Jim. We can eat now.”

✧✧✧✧

Hopper traced lazy circles on Mac’s bare back. She was lying on her stomach with her head on a pillow, gazing sleepily up at Hopper. He smiled down at her, leaning to kiss her forehead and then pulled the sheets up around her waist. Mac was struggling to stay awake, even though it was almost half-past eight in the morning. Granted she hadn’t slept much the night before and the roll in the sheets with Hopper wasn’t helping.

“Sleep, Mac. I can go pick up El before I stop over at the station.” Hopper mumbled to her.

“I have to study...and I have homework to grade.”

Hopper leaned to kiss Mac’s shoulder, “You spent all night studying. And besides, it’s Saturday. I want you to sleep for a couple more hours. Then you can go back to work.” he insisted.

“But there’s so much to do...the house is a mess.”

“El can clean the house. She should really start having chores, anyway.”

Mac’s eyes slowly sunk shut, “I guess I could sleep for a few hours...” she mumbled.

Hopper smoothed his hand over her hair, “Just sleep, hun. I’ll be home for lunch.”

“Mhm...” Sleep started to take Mac away, but she remembered one more thing. “I told Joyce...pick El up at nine.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Just sleep.”

✧✧✧✧

“Well it’s done. I sign over the deed to the shop next week sometime.”

Hopper could tell by the slump of Mac’s shoulders and the way she picked at the cocktail napkin under her beer that she was not looking forward to that event. As excited as she was to start her new job at the high school and the PhD program she’d been accepted to only a few days before, it was clear letting go of the florist was going to be the hardest part. He knew she was brilliant enough to take the other parts in stride. But the shop had been a part of her for almost as long as she’d been alive.

The couple had met for a drink after Hopper got off his shift one summer evening. The bar was mostly dead, as it almost always was, but there were a handful of college boys in the back playing rounds of darts. It was much too early for them to be drunk, but they were getting a little rowdy. Every few minutes, one of them would shout and attract the attention of the few other patrons in the bar. Hopper wondered if he should say something to them.

“At least it’s someone you trust. I’m sure Mr. Krelborn will take really good care of it.” Hopper offered.

Mac chewed on the inside of her cheek, “Yeah...he said he wouldn’t change much. He even talked about buying new state of the art refrigerators. You know, the ones I couldn’t afford?” she said.

He reached out to rub her back, “It’ll be okay, Mac. Once you get going with all the other stuff, you’ll forget all about the shop.”

“I hope I don’t. I don’t want to forget it.”

“Well...you know what I meant.” Hopper replied, feeling like he said the wrong thing. “You won’t forget, it just won’t worry you as much.”

Mac nodded meekly, “Right...yeah.”

Mac took a pull from her beer, her gaze drifting over to the young men in the back and Hopper tried not to sigh. It bothered him seeing her this depressed. He hadn’t seen her so upset since the time Billy Hargrove nearly strangled her to death the winter before. It took over a week for her to get back to herself after that incident. Hopper wanted to help her feel better, but wasn’t sure how. He worried that his plans for their anniversary coming up might not go over well if she was still down about the shop.

“Alright, well come on. Let’s go pick up some ice cream and we can be fat and watch a movie.” Hopper said, pulling out his wallet to toss a couple bills on the bar.

Mac gave him a weak smile, took another big gulp of her beer, then slid off her stool, “What movie?”

“Lady’s choice.”

Hopper winked at her as he reached for her. Mac rolled her eyes, but her smile got a little bigger. If there was something Hopper knew about his girlfriend, it was that she was a sucker for his gentler side. He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her out of the bar. As they headed down the sidewalk to the store, she leaned her head against his shoulder. It’s a start, Hopper thought to himself.

✧✧✧✧

Mac jolted awake a little over an hour after Hopper insisted she sleep. Outside the bedroom door, something was scratching softly at the floor. They didn’t have any pets, so for a moment Mac worried that a stray animal had gotten into the cottage somehow. Drool was crusted on Mac’s chin and she reached to push her hair out of her face when she sat up. She had gotten it cut to about shoulder length in the fall after another teacher suggested keeping it short would deter head lice. So she was still getting used to keeping it tamed.

“El? Is that you?” Mac called from the bed.

“Yes, sorry Mac.” El answered on the other side of the door. “I was trying to be quiet like Hop said.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sweeping.”

Mac smiled to herself and let out a breath, “Have you picked up the living room?”

“Yes,”

“And the dishes?”

There was a pause in the scratching on the floor, “No...” El answered finally.

“Alright, well let me jump in the shower and then I’ll come help you.”

“Hop told me not to let you do that. He made me promise.” El replied.

Mac rolled her eyes, “Did he now? What exactly did he say?” she asked, knowing El could repeat back word for word what he told her.

“El, you must not let Mac do any housework. I want you to take care of all of it. Let her sleep.”

“What else?”

El hesitated again, “Nothing...”

Mac climbed out of the bed and pulled on Hopper’s flannel shirt again, going to open the door, “What else El?” she said, looking the girl in the eye.

“He said, ‘Use your powers to stop her if you have to.’” El answered, clutching the handle of the broom. “But I don’t think he meant it. Like he told me about how adults say things they don’t mean.”

“Right, you’re exactly right.”

Mac smiled even if she was a little miffed that Hopper would suggest that to the girl. There was no guarantee she would understand he was joking and the consequences would end with Mac held down in a chair by an invisible forcefield. A flash of that teenage boy getting tossed across Joyce Byers’ living room crossed her mind. She didn’t want to think about what that must’ve felt like.

“He said he’d be home at one-one...I mean, one-fifteen.” El continued.

Mac glanced back into the bedroom to the clock on the dresser, “Well then that gives us about three hours to get this house spick and span.”

“Spick and span?”

“Cleaned up.”

El nodded and smiled, “Spick and span.”

“Alright, again let me go jump in the shower. Then I’ll come see what needs to be done.”

✧✧✧✧

Hopper had big plans for his and Mac’s first anniversary. Though much to her frustration he insisted they were all a surprise. Hopper had to take care of a few things at the station before he came to pick her up, so Mac took her time getting ready in the morning. Of course, this led to a number of mishaps including tripping on the corner of the carpet and knocking over a vase of tiger lilies. When Hopper arrived at her apartment and let himself in with his spare key, she screeched and rushed into her bedroom.

“I’m not ready yet! Stay in the living room!” Mac called.

Hopper chuckled and stooped to pick up the heap of soggy paper towels Mac left on the floor, “What fought back this time?” he asked.

“Careful! There’s probably still glass. I had some lilies on the console behind the couch.”

“Are you almost ready? We have reservations.”

Mac raised an eyebrow at herself in the mirror as she dabbed on a little perfume, “Reservations? Really? Jim Hopper made dinner reservations?”

“Yes, it’s a special night. Doesn’t it call for reservations?” he asked, taking out a dustpan to sweep up the remaining pieces of glass.

“I suppose so, I’m just shocked is all.” Mac replied, stepping into the hall.

Hopper stood up straight and took her in, “Damn...”

She was wearing a robin’s egg blue empire waist dress patterned with white flowers. The bust criss-crossed and tied around her neck, showing off her freckled shoulders. She wore little white kitten heels and her legs looked incredible. At Hopper’s expression Mac blushed and dropped her eyes, recalling the way he looked at her the day they met. He didn’t look half bad himself in a tidy red shirt and black slacks.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” he said, striding over to wrap his arms around her.

Mac giggled as Hopper twirled her around, “Oh Jim, come on. You’re just trying to butter me up.”

“Maybe later.” Hopper replied with a wink. “For now, we have reservations!”

“Let me just finish cleaning up that vase, okay?”

“I already did.”

Mac smiled, “You’re too good to me, Jim Hopper.”

“And you’re too good for me, Mackenna Kinney.”

The couple headed out, Hopper driving Mac’s powder blue VW Beetle to the restaurant across town. When he parked, he jogged around to the passenger door to hold it open and help Mac climb out. As they walked down the sidewalk arm in arm, Mac realized what restaurant they were going to. It had only opened a few weeks before, but everyone in town was already raving about it. She had heard the chef came from Chicago and previously worked at a number of five star restaurants.

“Hop, isn’t this that new place? I heard it’s really expensive.” Mac mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s our anniversary.”

“I know...I just don’t want you breaking the bank just to take me out for a nice dinner. You know I’m happy just getting a burger down at Frankie’s.”

“We always go to the diner. I wanted this night to be different.” Hopper admitted.

As they got to the door, the host came to hold it open for them. Hopper ushered Mac in ahead of him, gentlemanly as always. The host quickly returned to his podium and scanned through his reservations book. When he found Hopper’s name, he smiled and then showed them to their table. It was only big enough for the two of them, with chairs on either side and was next to the plant-filled window. Fairy lights were strung around the room, giving everything a very intimate atmosphere.

Almost every table was filled and their waiter had to scoot around the room to avoid bumping into anyone. “May I get you anything to drink to start?” he asked when he reached their table, folding his hands politely in front of his black cumberbund.

“Uh, sure, yeah. What kind of wine would you recommend?” Hopper asked awkwardly.

“Well it would depend of course on what you’ll be having for dinner. But I can say if you prefer red wine, we have a lovely bottle of 1974 Catalans sangiovese. Or for white the 1980 Diamond Creek sauvignon blanc is excellent as well.”

Hopper hesitated, clearly out of his depth, “We’ll try the red.” he answered finally.

“Very good choice, sir.” the waiter said with a curt nod and then left them.

Mac was grinning at her beau when he looked back at her, “Very good choice, Chief.” she teased.

Hopper rolled his eyes, “Alright so I don’t know shit about wine.”

“It’s fine. I hardly do, myself.” she replied sweetly.

“Is red okay? Did you want white?”

“No, no red is fine.” Hopper let out a visible sigh, so Mac slid her hand across the table to cover his. “Hey, it’s fine. You did fine.”

Hopper smiled, twining his fingers into hers, “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”

“I can tell. What do you have to be nervous about? You know you don’t have to do fancy stuff to impress me. I love you just how you are.”

“I know, and I love you, too.” he said, pausing. “It’s nothing...I’m just not used to these uppity restaurants.”

“Again, Hop. We could’ve just gone down to the diner.”

“No, I want this to be special.”

“Okay, Jim. If you say so.” Mac said.

The waiter returned with their wine, pouring a small amount for Hopper to approve. Mac pressed her lips together, trying not to giggle as Hopper pretended like he knew what he was doing. He drank the whole glass in one big gulp, the waiter clearly taken aback, and then nodded roughly. The waiter forced a polite smile, poured them both a glass and then placed the rest of the bottle into the wine stand beside the table.

“Do you know what you would like?” the waiter asked.

The couple jumped, realizing they hadn’t yet looked at the menu, “Uh, no, can we have another minute?” Hopper answered curtly.

“Certainly, sir. I will return to take your orders shortly.”

When the waiter returned, they put in their orders and then Hopper sat back in relief. He was glad to be done with most of the formalities. Now he needed to prepare himself for what he had planned after dinner. That was what he was really nervous about. Watching Mac across the table as she glanced around the room, he couldn’t believe he had gotten this far with her. That even after everything -- his less than ideal figure, his age, and more importantly El and all the secrets that came with her -- Mac had stuck around.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that you ran into me that day at the library?” Hopper asked suddenly.

Mac’s eyes locked on his, two pairs of burning blue flames in the dim room, “Yes, but you can tell me again.”

Her tone soothed him and he leaned forward to be closer to her, “I never thought I would love anyone again. Not after Diane and Sara. But I took in El and things were going well. And then you turned up. You were so eager to take time out of your day to help me find a book. The hot, young thing that you are interested in me. A fat old man.”

Mac’s cheeks flushed, knowing the gravity behind his words if he spoke his deceased daughter’s name aloud. “You’re not that fat or old.” she mumbled, smiling.

“Well either way, you changed my life. I thought I’d be fine raising El on my own, but you’ve made it a million times better.” Hopper finished.

“Oh, Hop...” Mac cooed, holding back tears. “I worked so hard on my makeup tonight. You’re gonna make me ruin it!”

Hopper laughed, “I love you, Mackenna. Always.”

Mac stretched across the table to kiss Hopper, smiling into his lips. “I love you, too Jim.”

✧✧✧✧

The cottage on the pond had many faults. The floorboards were somewhat creaky, some of the doors didn’t always latch all the way, and the stairs down to the cellar could test even a sober man’s balance. But the one thing Mac had to give it was that no matter what, there was always hot water. When her coworkers and friends complained of freezing pipes and calling plumbers in the middle of the night, Mac couldn’t sympathize. She knew that when she stepped into her shower, it would be gloriously hot and stay that way the whole time.

Mac enjoyed the little things. As long as she had a roof over her head, a hot shower, and the man she loved in her bed she was a happy woman. All the while, she was practical and appreciated a clean home and a solid to-do list. She stood in the shower, shampooing her hair and thinking about everything she needed to do that day. Eventually she turned off the water and pushed back the curtain. When she stepped out of the tub though, she had to reach out and grab the towel rod as the room spun suddenly. It was made of plastic and cracked almost instantly, sending Mac crashing to the floor.

She landed hard on her wrist, elbow, and hip, but managed to keep her head off the tiles. For a moment she sat there, arm stinging and in shock. She didn’t think she felt so dizzy in the shower. But now that she was down there on the floor, her head did feel a little woozy. Carefully she stood up, using the vanity to help stabilize her. She gripped it hard as blood rushed to her head again, though she managed to stay on her feet this time. El started knocking on the bedroom door.

“Mac? What was that? Are you okay?” she called from the hallway.

After El had almost walked in on Mac and Hopper having an intimate moment, they had to make it a rule that she needed to knock before entering someone’s bedroom. If she didn’t receive the go ahead to come in, she had to stay in the hall. Only if she thought it was an absolute emergency was she to let herself in. Fortunately they had never really needed to enforce the rule, but El followed it nonetheless.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just slipped on the rug.” Mac called back.

“Okay...” El replied.

Mac lifted her arm, wincing when she saw the blood running down her arm. It appeared that when the towel rod broke, it slashed into the side of her forearm leaving a line of shallow scratches. She made quick work bandaging herself up as she had injured herself in similar ways many times before. But it bothered her that this time wasn’t just because of her clumsiness. Although she knew exactly why she fell, she wasn’t prepared to admit it quite yet.

Once she was bandaged and dressed, Mac found El in the kitchen already elbow deep in a sinkful of grey, sudsy water. From what she could tell, El was just moving the dishes around under the water and not actually washing them. The girl looked over her shoulder, a suspicion in her eyes only an old soul could muster. It was as if she knew Mac had lied to her about slipping on the rug. Mac tried to ignore it.

“Are you washing those dishes or just teaching them how to swim?” Mac asked, moving to stand next to the sink.

“How do you wash dishes?”

“Well first of all, drain some of that water.” Mac instructed. “You don’t need so much. Maybe only half the sink.”

El nodded, her arm moving as she searched for the drain plug, “Then what?”

“Then you take the sponge and you use it to clean all the food off. When there’s no more food, you rinse the dish under the tap and put it here on this towel” Mac explained, laying out a clean dishcloth on the counter next to the sink.

“Okay...”

El got to work scrubbing and Mac dried and put the dishes away. It didn’t take long for El to clean them all. She drained the rest of the water from the sink, then helped Mac putting them away. Mac could tell El was eying her bandaged arm, which stuck out slightly from the end of her rolled up shirtsleeves. She wanted to assure El that it was a minor injury, but she also didn’t want to draw any more attention to it than what was absolutely necessary.

“What now?” El asked finally when all the dishes were neatly in their cabinets.

Mac ran through the list she had made in her head, “Did you clean your room?”

El nodded, “Yes.”

“Water the plants?”

“Yes.”

“Do your homework?”

El hesitated, “Most of it.” she answered slowly.

“Well, go get it and meet me in my study. We’ll do our homework together.”

“But Hop said...”

Mac ground her teeth, “I know what he said. But it’s okay. Now go get your homework.”

El didn’t move until Mac gave her a pointed look. Then she rushed off to her bedroom to do as she was told. Mac still hadn’t gotten used to being a parental figure in El’s life. She didn’t exactly enjoy laying down the law, but she knew if she wanted to be with Hopper this was what she would need to do every once in a while. Fortunately El was a pretty well behaved child and the few times when she did push back were usually directed at Hopper.

Mac sighed and ran her fingers over the bandages on her arm. She was still so tired, but there was so much work to do. She wondered if Hopper was right, maybe she was overworking herself. But this is what she wanted, to finally get her PhD. Maybe this was just the price she’d have to pay to get it. She took another deep breath, then turned to head to her study.

✧✧✧✧

After dinner Hopper walked slowly down the street with Mac back to her car. He helped her get in then went around and climbed in behind the wheel. When he pulled away from the curb he continued on straight for a while, well past where Mac thought he would need to turn to get back to her apartment. She also realized they were also going in the opposite direction of Hopper’s cabin in the woods. Mac reached to brush her hand down the back of Hopper’s head.

“Hop, where are we going? You missed the turn.” she asked him.

Hopper shook his head and glanced at her with a small smile, “No, I didn’t miss the turn. Just trust me, okay?”

Mac suddenly felt nervous, was he taking her somewhere to propose? She didn’t know if she was ready for that level of commitment. They had been together for a year but Hopper had a child, and she was still adjusting to her new motherly role. With all the upcoming changes, selling the shop, preparing to start her PhD, she didn’t know if she could handle a wedding on top of it all. She couldn’t say yes to Hopper, but she loved him and couldn’t bare to lose him either.

Hopper noticed the shift in Mac’s expression. The concern that was making her brows knit together and her fingers fidget with her skirt. For a moment he considered turning around, saying it was all just a joke. He wished he could ask her what she was thinking. This was something he had planned for so long, he’d worked so hard for it. Hopper ducked his chin in determination and continued driving.

Finally Hopper steered the Beetle off the main road onto a gravel drive leading into the woods. It bumped along, creaking as he gently coaxed it around potholes. The sun was just beginning to set, the light streaking in long shafts between the trees. They were only a few miles outside of Hawkins proper, but it felt like a whole other world. With the windows rolled down, the only sounds were the rumble of the car’s engine and the birds’ evening conversations.

“Where are we?” Mac asked as a small cottage appeared in front of them.

Hopper parked the car, shut it off, and started to climb out, “Home.”

“What do you mean ‘home?’ You don’t live here.” she asked when he came to help her out.

He was grinning from ear to ear, “I don’t yet. But we could...together.”

“Hop...what are you talking about?”

“Just come on...come inside.” he said, pushing down the sudden worry. This was not going well at all, he thought.

Taking her hand, Hopper led Mac gently towards the front door of the cottage. He pulled out his key ring and turned it over in his hands for a moment until he found the one he was looking for. Mac almost couldn’t believe it when the lock turned over and he pushed open the door. He let her go in ahead of him, his palm warm against the small of her back. She took small, tentative steps feeling somewhat like an intruder.

“Jim, who’s house is this?” Mac asked firmly.

Hopper slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, “It’s our house, Mac. I bought it for us.”

“What?”

Mac’s voice was so small, Hopper almost thought he blew it completely. So he turned, getting down on one knee so he could see her better and she took a startled step back, “Mac, wait! No no no! I’m not proposing!” he said quickly.

“You’re not?”

“No! Not yet at least, not until we’re both ready.”

“Oh...” Mac mumbled.

Hopper stood again, hoping it would bring her some ease, “Mackenna I want you to move in with me. I bought this house so that we could be a family. I thought...well honestly I thought you would like it better than the cabin.”

Mac took in his words as tears started to well in her eyes, “Jim...are you serious?”

“Yeah, Mac, this house is ours.”

Just when Hopper thought she was going to turn and run, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He laughed and kissed her back, wrapping her in his arms. Mac continued to weep but she started laughing, too. When Hopper finally loosened his grip on her, she reached up to wipe shyly at her damp cheeks. Hopper cupped her head in his palm, his fingers winding in her hair. His smile was bigger than she’d ever seen it.

“There’s a big deck out back that looks over the pond. It’s beautiful.” he said. “And there’s a spot I think you’ll love. To have all your plants and stuff. Do your work.”

She chuckled, gasping a little between her sobs, “Okay, show me.”

✧✧✧✧

Mac’s study was actually the little sunporch that jutted out off the side of the house. As one would expect, it was filled with plants. Some hanging in pots from the ceiling, some spilling over the edges of the shelves that lined the walls. It always smelled of the earth, sweet and rich. In the springtime, some of her plants would bloom and the room would remind her of the florist shop. The shelves held many books as well, mostly informational tomes on plant biology and botany.

This was also where Mac kept some of her most prized possessions. A copy of The Great Gatsby her grandmother gave her when she was young. The little terracotta pot that once held the first plant -- a beautiful African violet -- her grandfather gave her. A bundle of wild flowers El gave her the day they met that were dried and framed. A birthday card from Hopper including the words “I love you, always” inside, one of the first times he ever told her. The only remaining photo she had of her deceased parents.

She went to her desk and straightened up some of the papers there. To her left was Mac’s workbench, which at that time was splattered with soil, a couple plant starter trays, and a number of different seed packets. Some empty petri dishes were stacked precariously in one corner along with other scientific equipment. To her right in the other corner of the room, a large well-worn leather armchair sat stoutly, the throw blanket crumpled in the seat. The end table next to it that was almost always obscured by books also held a neglected mug of coffee from the evening before.

Mac preferred to work on her feet most times since she was always moving around. But for grading homework she had a rolling padded stool to sit on. She pulled it out and got settled, glancing out the windows in front of her at the pond. The loon from that morning was diving into shallow water near their little dock. Behind her she could hear El rustling around in the kitchen. A short while later, the girl appeared at Mac’s elbow. Books and papers bundled in her arms, El carefully floated a steaming mug through the air, landing on Mac’s desk.

“Tea.” El explained.

Mac smiled, “Thank you, sweetheart. Smells great.”

El dumped her books in the armchair, then took the old coffee mug to put in the sink. When she returned, she had her own steaming mug. Mac watched the girl as she cupped it in her hands, closing her eyes to breathe it in. Sometimes El surprised her with the things she picked up on. She was sure El had seen her doing that with her own drink once and was just parroting the action. If Mac was honest, she thought it was kind of cute and endearing. She just hoped she wouldn’t give the girl any bad habits.

“Music?” El asked.

“Sure, you pick.” Mac replied, already focusing in.

El picked a jazz radio station out of the city. She left the volume low, knowing Mac didn’t like working with it too loud. Then she cozied up in the chair with her own homework. Occasionally she would ask Mac questions or bring over a worksheet to show her. But mostly the two girls worked in silence. Because of this, Mac didn’t even notice when El finished her homework and left the study to go watch TV.

Mac also didn’t hear when Hopper came home. From the front door, it was hard to see if anyone was in the study. Hopper unbuckled and removed his holster, storing it safely away in the small cabinet by the door. As soon as he stepped up behind El on the couch though, he noticed Mac hunched over her desk. He put a hand on El’s shoulder and she twisted to look up at him. Her expression was apologetic and Hopper understood what it meant.

“How long did she sleep?” he asked El softly.

“Until nine-four...9:45.” she replied.

Hopper sighed, “What did you guys do?”

“She took a shower and fell. Then we did the dishes. Then we did homework.”

“She fell? What does that mean?”

“She said she tripped on the rug. Her arm has...white cloth.” El said, struggling for the word ‘bandage.’

“Shit...” Hopper mumbled under his breath. When he saw El’s distressed expression, he tried to give her a reassuring smile, “It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay...”

Hopper gave her shoulder a rough pat, “Run off to your room, kid. Okay? Mac and I need to have a talk.”

El nodded and unfolded from the couch. As she left the room, the TV switched off on its own. Hopper waited to hear her door shut, his eyes glued on the back of Mac’s head. When he was sure El was gone, he sighed and headed for the study.

✧✧✧✧

“Where do I put this?” El asked, holding up a small, boxy radio.

Mac glanced over her shoulder from where she was putting dishes into the empty cabinets, “You can put that out in the study.” she answered.

El moved to put the radio on top of the many boxes that were stacked in the sunporch. The moving company had brought over their boxes that morning and they had been working to empty them since. Across the room, Hopper caught Mac’s eye and grinned at her. He was busy taking his record collection out of their boxes and putting them on shelves. When El returned from the porch, she sat down on the floor next to him to help. Mac smiled back at them, a warm feeling washing over her at how adorable they looked together.

“Pink...F...F...Flo...” El said, sounding it out.

“Pink Floyd. Hey, that’s a great album.” Hopper said, glancing at the record she was holding.

“Pink Floyd.” El parroted.

“Did I not play that one for you?”

El shook her head, “No.”

“Well put it on then. We could use some tunes.”

El stood and went to the record player. She gingerly pulled the vinyl album out of its sleeve and placed it on the player. She lifted the pin and lowered it gently onto the record. At first it didn’t sound like anything was playing until the low heartbeat started to grow louder. When the sounds of what could’ve been an accounting office kicked in, El tilted her head in curiosity. Eventually the drumbeat of “Breathe” finally entered and Hopper started to bob his head.

“Now this is music.” he said.

El moved her head a little too, watching what Hopper was doing. “Good.” she said, smiling.

As records ended, Hopper would find another that El hadn’t yet heard and have her put that one on next. Mac would occasionally chime in with suggestions. But mostly she just wanted to watch Hopper interacting with his adopted daughter. She had spent countless hours with the two of them, though now that they were moving in together it felt a little different. Hopper was right; they could be a real family in that cottage.

“Hot Tuna?” El asked, pulling an album off the shelf and holding it up to show Hopper and Mac.

Hopper was up a ladder next to the dining room table, putting up a hanging chain lamp that Mac’s grandmother had given her. The lampshade was a stained glass pattern of purple irises. Mac stood underneath, ready to catch the lamp if it fell. Outside the sun had gone down and their dinner was cooking in the oven. Hopper glanced under his raised arm to look at El and Mac flinched as the lamp swung suddenly.

“Oh yeah, Burgers? That’s a good one.” he answered.

“Hot Tuna Burgers?” El mumbled to herself.

Mac chuckled, “The sixties were a weird time, kid.”

El nodded and put the record on, “Yes, very weird.”

“Hey kid, can you come help me out here?” Hopper asked and El moved to stand on the other side of the ladder from Mac. She looked up at him, squinting in the light, “Mac, where do you want it?”

The chain clearly gained slack as El used her powers to levitate the lamp, “A little higher, El...a little more...yeah, okay that’s good.” Mac said.

Hopper pulled the chain tight and slipped one link over the hook he screwed into the ceiling, “Alright, El, go ahead and let go. Slowly though.”

As El released the lamp, it swung a little bit then settled over the table, “Perfect.” Mac said with a nod of her head.

And it was perfect; their new little life in the cottage.

✧✧✧✧

“Hey, I thought I told you to get some rest?” Hopper said, reaching to smooth his hand over Mac’s hair.

She barely looked up from her work when she replied, “I did for a couple hours.”

Hopper sighed and looked away for a moment, trying to summon his patience, “What happened to your arm, Mac?”

“I tripped getting out of the shower.” she said, tugging her sleeve down over the bandages. “It’s barely a scratch.”

“How long are you gonna keep bullshitting me?”

His stern tone finally got her attention, “What are you talking about, Hop?” she asked, turning to face him.

“Mackenna, really? Are you serious?” he snapped. “You can lie to El if you want. But don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you! I’m fine, everything’s fine!”

Hopper growled, running a hand over his face exasperatedly, “You’re not though! Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re pale, you’re practically skin and bone. And now this with your arm! You didn’t trip, Mac. Did you?”

Mac glared back at him, “You’re an asshole, Jim.” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’m an asshole? That’s fucking rich!” Hopper laughed angrily.

“I have a lot of work to do.” she continued, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her desk. “So if you’re done calling me ugly, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone.”

“Argh! You insufferable woman!” Hopper roared, making Mac jump. She looked at him again, “I’m not calling you ugly, Mackenna! I’m saying you’re killing yourself. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore!”

“I’m not...I’m f--” she started, but Hopper cut her off.

“No! Don’t you dare! If you tell me you’re fine one more time...I swear, Mac.” he threatened, glaring at her.

“Hopper...” Mac mumbled, her whole body trembling.

Hopper hesitated, realizing he had really frightened her. He moved to kneel in front of her, putting his hands on either side of her face. “You tell me that this is what you want. But you can’t honestly tell me that working yourself into the dirt is what you want.”

“This is how I get my degree. A PhD is a lot of work.”

“Then maybe you need to give up teaching. Maybe both things are too much.”

Mac tried to shake her head, “No, I can’t do that. I want to teach. I’ve always wanted to teach.”

“I think you need to choose, Mac. I think it has to be one or the other.”

“It doesn’t though. It’s just because the semester is almost over, that’s all.”

Hopper sighed and leaned his head into her chest, dropping his hands to her elbows, “Mackenna, please...you know what’s happening. You’re smart...so smart. You know better than this.” he said quietly.

Mac couldn’t stop her body from shaking, “Jim I can’t...I can’t just give up.”

“You wouldn’t be giving up though.” he said, looking up at her again. “If you quit the teaching, you could focus on your degree and then start again when it’s done.”

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything. If I stop teaching, what if I never get a chance to go back?”

“There’ll always be opportunities, Mac. Maybe not here in Hawkins. But if we have to move somewhere to follow your dream, you know El and I would do that in a heartbeat.”

“We have bills to pay and my degree isn’t free.”

Hopper shook his head, “We’ll figure out the money.”

“Hopper...”

“I just want you to be healthy. I can’t watch another person I love...” he said, turning his face away as images of his daughter Sara in her hospital bed flashed through his mind. His eyes lingered on the braided, blue band around his wrist, “I can’t watch you die, Mac. I just can’t.”

Mac kissed Hopper’s forehead, “Let me finish this semester, Jim. Let me finish this semester and then I promise I’ll quit the high school.”

Hopper looked into her eyes, seeing that she had her own tears leaving wet streaks down her face, “This last semester, and you give them your notice first thing on Monday.”

“First thing.” Mac nodded solemnly.

“Okay...”

A small part of Mac’s heart broke agreeing to Hopper’s compromise. She could almost feel it drifting away from her. But the sheer panic in Hopper’s eyes when he spoke about losing her...she couldn’t do that to him. She knew deep down he was right, she was killing herself. Her fall getting out of the shower was only the beginning. If she kept going at the rate she was, fainting spells would be the least of her worries. She was physically unable to handle the teaching position and the workload of her PhD simultaneously. It was time she made a choice, one or the other.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” Hopper mumbled finally, reaching to wipe her tears with his fingers.

“I’m sorry I lied.” she replied. She ducked her head, “You were right, I didn’t trip. I got a bit lightheaded and tried to catch my fall. I broke the towel rod.”

Hopper looked at her arm, “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should get you checked out.”

“I’ll make an appointment with my GP this week. But I’m sure they’ll just tell me I need to sleep and eat a good meal.”

“Well, I can’t sleep for you.” Hopper joked. “But I can certainly try to cook you a good meal.”

“That’s sounds nice.”

“How much more work do you have to do?”

Mac glanced at her messy desk, strewn with worksheets and essays, pens and pencils. Her typewriter was even perched on an inch deep stack of papers, “I can work on it tomorrow. For now, I think I’d like to go out in the canoe.”

Hopper’s face brightened, “That sounds relaxing.”

“Well you go get it ready and I’ll have El help me make us a little picnic lunch.”

“Can do, hun.” Hopper said, standing. He went to the door on the sunporch that led to the backyard and then paused, “I love you, Mackenna. Always.”

“I love you, too Jim. More than you know.”

✧✧✧✧

El and Mac made their way down the dock with a bunch of cucumber and chicken salad sandwiches wrapped in a dish towel and a full thermos of hot tea. They watched as Hopper nudged the canoe off the muddy shore and into the pond with an oar. It’s forest green paint was chipping where it met with the metal edge and it was clear the white interior paint had seen better days. Hopper had brought out a big heap of wool blankets, which were piled on the end of the dock.

“Alright, pass me the blankets first.” he said, tossing the guide rope up to Mac so she could keep the canoe steady.

El put the thermos down and started handing over blankets one by one.. Hopper did his best to make kind of a nest in the bottom of the canoe. “What next?” El asked when she passed over the last blanket.

“You get in, then Mac can pass us the lunch.” Hopper held out his hand and El took it, looking like she was about to leap into the boat. “Just step in gently.”

El nodded and gingerly stretched one foot into the canoe. She wobbled for a moment, then righted herself, smiling broadly. Hopper helped her sit down in the front of the canoe and then came back for Mac. She passed him the sandwiches and the thermos first, which he set into the little wooden crate at the back. Then he held out his hand again for Mac.

“Thank you, Chief.” she said sweetly, carefully stepping down into the canoe.

“You’re very welcome.”

Hopper sat down on the little shelf bench towards the back of the canoe and Mac got settled between him and El. She made sure El was tucked into a blanket while Hopper paddled them out towards the middle of the pond. When he decided they had gone far enough, he stored the oar away in the back and then settled down behind Mac. He pulled her in between his legs and she leaned back against his chest, pulling another blanket up over her lap. She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the warm sun on her face.

“Now this is the life.” Hopper said, the sound rumbling against the back of Mac’s head.

He leaned to kiss Mac’s temple and she scrunched up her face when his beard tickled her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw El at the opposite end of the canoe, watching them with a wistful smile on her face. Her lovely chestnut curls ruffled in the breeze and her cheeks were flushed from the slightly chilly air. El held Mac’s gaze for a moment and then looked away, out to the world around her. Hopper wrapped his arms tighter around Mac and she snuggled in.

They certainly could get used to this.