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wheneverfeasible · 2 months ago

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I saw your post about shipping Wayne with people and I must raise you: Wayne x Hopper

Bet.

~~~

wc: 3.8k || rating: T+ || tags: referenced homophobia, f-slur, temporary (fake) character death, background steddie, brief background jopper || ao3

A tired sigh left Wayne’s lips as he took in the sight before him and leaned against the doorframe of his trailer. This was the third time this had happened, meaning this was just the third time Eddie was caught.

Wayne dragged his eyes from his sheepishly smiling nephew to the police chief standing behind the boy with his arms crossed, his mustache bristling in irritation. Wayne dropped his hand from where it was pinching the bridge of his nose to offer Hopper a rueful smile of his own.

“Sorry, Chief,” he mumbled.

A grunt was all he got in answer, but at least Hopper was moving to undo the handcuffs binding his nephew’s wrists behind his back. The slight tuft of hair growing back after that unfortunate buzzcut looked like a rat’s nest, but at least the kid was grinning up at him instead of scowling. Small mercies.

“Next time I catch him skipping school, Munson, I’m throwing him in the drunk tank. I don’t care if he’s a minor,” Hopper warned threateningly, shoving Eddie between the shoulder blades towards his uncle.

Wayne swiftly clasped Eddie by the shoulders and pushed him into the trailer before Eddie could retaliate with a rude hand gesture like he knew the kid wanted to do. Elizabeth would faint if she had been around to see it, he was certain, lord rest her soul.

“Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll personally drive him to and from school if I have to,” Wayne grimaced, which caused Eddie to squawk from behind him. Though, not out of embarrassment as he had originally thought.

“Uncle Wayne! You can’t miss work like that!” Eddie exclaimed, looking genuinely worried. And it was true; if Wayne had to call out any more than he already had since his brother Al started leaving Eddie home alone, his hours might get cut even more than they already were. Or worse.

Wayne raised a single eyebrow at Eddie, pleased that his nephew was sweet enough to worry about him, but also hoping it got the point across. “Then let’s hope I won’t have any reason to do so,” he dryly remarked.

Eddie looked appropriately shamefaced, his big dark eyes dropping to the floor as he dragged the toes of his ratty shoes over the ground. Wayne eyed him a moment longer before turning back to look at Hopper with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“See that you do,” Hopper gruffly stated, looking away for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own. “I can only cut the kid so much slack. I don’t want to see him go down the same road as his pop.”

Wayne winced a little, his younger brother always a sore point for his nephew, who stiffened before huffing and walking back towards Wayne’s room—which frequently became Eddie’s room when Wayne made him stay with him instead of living in that old house all by his lonesome.

“He’s a good kid, Hop,” Wayne murmured, despite the sound of the bedroom door slamming. “He’s more like Elizabeth than he is Alan.”

Hopper glanced off to the side where Wayne’s bedroom was located. “Let’s hope he’s got some of his uncle in him too,” he muttered, which caused Wayne to feel a small flush of embarrassed pride. “Elizabeth was a good sort, but…”

Well, she had married Al, hadn’t she? Wayne got what Hopper meant.

Wayne took the few steps down to grab Eddie’s backpack Hopper held out, clapping his shoulder with a small nod of thanks. He knew that Hopper was the only one who cut the kid any sort of slack at all, knew that if it had been one of his deputies or officers that Wayne would be picking Eddie up at the jailhouse instead.

“I appreciate it, Chief. Really I do.”

Hopper just gave another grunt before stepping back. “Nothing against you, Wayne, but let’s stop meeting like this, yeah?”

Wayne couldn’t help but give another small grin. “I could invite you in for coffee so it seems less like a business call,” he lightly teased. “Or if you got a thermos, at least let me top you off.”

Hopper shook his head, though a good portion of his earlier irritation seemed to have left him, a corner of his mustache tilting up slightly with a half-smile. “I’d say next time, but let’s hope there’s not a next time.”

It still felt a little strange to be anything less than completely professional with a lawman, but then Hopper wasn’t like most other police officers. He remembered years ago, back before Hopper had been chief, when the then deputy had caught Wayne in a compromising position with another man.

Now, Wayne knew he wasn’t perfect. Just like his brother after him and their father before them, he was a high school dropout. It wasn’t necessarily by choice, if anything it seemed almost like the curse of Munson men, though he’d be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to encourage his nephew to strive for something greater.

Wayne was…content, he supposed, with his situation in life now. Sure, he might wish he didn’t have to work so much just to barely make ends meet, but he earned everything he had through good, honest hard work. But he got lonely sometimes, and for people like him, well…there wasn’t much for a man to do when he preferred the company of other men.

He knew it had been stupid to do it, knew it was a damn risk, but he’d still let Reggie Thompson crowd him against the brick alley wall by the sickly sweet smelling dumpster outside the bar. And it had been great at first—minus the dumpster—but then the flashing lights of a police cruiser had ignited their hiding place and Reggie took off without a glance back at him, Wayne fumbling with his jeans that had been shoved down to his knees.

Newly minted Deputy James Hopper had caught him like that, literal pants down, unable to deny what he had been up to with another man. Wayne felt the cold certainty that he was about to be beaten to death, or worse, and just hoped it would be quick. A cop catching a fag in action? Yeah, there had only been one way Wayne saw that playing out.

Except…Hopper had looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, but he hadn’t reached for his baton or gun or anything. He didn’t threaten Wayne, or blackmail him, and there was no disgust on his face or in his voice when he’d just warned Wayne off on public indecency and suggested getting a motel room next time. Let him off with a warning instead of a ticket. Or a bloody head.

And that was it.

Hopper never brought it up again after that, never treated Wayne any differently, never harassed him or anything else. Wayne didn’t know if Hopper saw who he had been with beyond a very male body, but Reggie never acted like he’d been accosted afterwards either, though Wayne heard that he’d bought his girlfriend a wedding ring the very next day.

He wouldn’t say he and the police chief were friends or anything, but they were friendly, allowing the two of them to exchange an occasional dry remark, smile, and even a nod of acknowledgment and greeting when crossing paths outside of the times Hopper brought Eddie home. Or Wayne had to bail his brother out of the drunk tank.

And things continued like that for a little while, and much to Wayne’s chagrin, it wasn’t the last time Hopper brought Eddie home to him either. (Even after it was Eddie’s official home, after Al dipped out for good. Wayne would always love his brother, but he could acknowledge that he wasn’t a good man or a good father. Hell, he wasn’t even a good brother.)

Slowly, however, hardly without Wayne realizing it, things began changing between him and Hopper.

It began with Hopper actually accepting a cup of coffee one night when he brought Eddie home from a house party he had crashed out in Loch Nora, much to Eddie’s horror. The look of betrayal he gave Wayne had been hilarious, all things considered.

Then, before Benny’s alleged suicide, Hopper had been leaving the diner when Wayne had entered and Hopper had called out to Benny to add Wayne’s coffee to his tab, a favor returned from their last shared cup together at the trailer. Wayne had protested, then somehow had settled on that he would allow it only if Hopper joined him next time.

And, strangely enough, Hopper did.

It didn’t quite become a regular thing, but if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, they would always join the other. Wayne was there during some bad days of Hopper’s, and Hopper was there when Wayne felt like he was failing Eddie, and eventually he thought he might actually consider them friends.

He didn’t let himself think about what else he felt for the man.

Wayne had actually bought Hopper a beer when he learned that the man had adopted a young girl out of seemingly nowhere, remembering those dark days after his first daughter’s passing. The man looked good, happier than he had in a while, and Wayne found himself enjoying the way his mustache would twitch when he smiled.

Of course, after that first beer, Hopper made Wayne accept a return in favor. Which then had Wayne buying the next round, and Hopper the next after that.

And then Wayne did something very very stupid.

He kissed him.

They had been stumbling out of the bar, laughing and smiling like the friends Wayne was amazed they were, both far drunker than they had initially been intending to be that night. Their bar stools had gotten closer and closer during the night as well, until Wayne could feel the warmth of Hopper’s knee pressed against his own.

Hopper’s voice had been low, a rumble that matched the mischievous look in his eyes, and Wayne was but a simple man. And he was lonely. It was hard being gay in a place like Hawkins, much less when your one-bedroom trailer had your nephew in said bedroom and you slept on the rolling bed in the living room.

So they’d stumbled into the night, laughing about if they should call a cab or walk, Hopper’s hand warm on his lower back to keep balance when the chief’s eyes scanned over to the very same alley he’d once accosted Wayne in years ago.

Wayne’s heart stuttered in his chest, this being the first Hopper acknowledged Wayne’s queerness since that first night, especially when Hopper snorted with a wry smile and crooked smile.

“Still can’t believe making out in filth is worth it,” he huffed, and Wayne was just drunk enough to convince himself he heard curiosity there.

Wayne shoved his fear down to grin at Hopper, reaching out to grab his shirt’s lapel and dragged Hopper into the alley, the other man letting out another amused snort.

“You’ll find that you’re willing to put up with a lot of shit if you’re desperate enough,” he teased in return. The dumpster’s location had moved since he was there last, but no matter. Wayne found a spot and quickly turned himself so that he was falling back against the rough bricks and grinned once more at Hopper.

Who, because of Wayne’s grip on his shirt, was forced to stumble forward with him, his hands shooting out to catch himself on the alley wall, bracketing Wayne in between his arms.

“See?” Wayne breathed, his eyes dropping to where Hopper’s lips were partly hidden by his mustache there. He swallowed, licked his lips, and felt a thrill when Hopper’s eyes tracked the movement. “Not so bad, is it?”

Hopper took a small step closer, and Wayne could feel the heat of him radiating against him. And he was so, so lonely. He’d given up looking for companionship once Eddie moved in with him, not that he’d had much of a selection to begin with, unless he left town for one of the bigger cities.

“No,” Hopper had rumbled, voice lower than ever, and Wayne’s toes curled in his boots. “Not bad at all.”

Wayne released Hopper’s shirt to press his hand flat against Hopper’s chest, his thumb lightly stroking over the hair that peaked out between the open buttons. Hopper shivered against him, but made no move to stop him. Emboldened, Wayne then slid his hand up, curling it behind Hopper’s neck, feeling the air between them grow thicker, heavier. Needier. His other hand settled on Hopper’s hip.

“Wayne—” Hopper started to say, leaning in, but Wayne was already ahead of him.

He tugged Hopper closer, pressing their lips together, wasting no time in tasting the lingering beer on Hopper’s tongue as he opened his mouth up to him. Hopper groaned, pressing even closer as his hands moved to Wayne’s hips, holding him against the wall. It only took a brief shift of his hips to slot a thigh between Hopper’s, making the man groan even louder and rock forward against him.

Wayne felt the insane urge to ask if that was a gun in Hopper’s pocket, but he had no intention of releasing Hopper’s mouth to do so. Instead, he rutted up, rocking with Hopper in the dirty alley as their tongues slid together, all but moaning in Hopper’s mouth as he felt Hopper’s answering desire against his own.

And then a can clattered at the entrance of the alley, causing the two men to suddenly jerk apart, staring wide eyed as a drunk stumbled past the mouth of the alley without seeing them. Wayne pressed a hand to his chest before turning in sudden horrified realization towards Hopper.

The police chief.

Who he had just assaulted, if Hopper chose to see it that way.

And Hopper wouldn’t meet his eyes, was scrunched in on himself, and Wayne felt a brief fear that Eddie wouldn’t ever know what happened to him. Cops were good at hiding bodies.

Hopper didn’t lash out, however. He didn’t reassure Wayne, but he didn’t hit him either. Instead he just stood there in a silence that Wayne didn’t dare break. Until finally, with a pained glance in Wayne’s direction, Hopper murmured a quiet ‘sorry’ and then quickly left the alley without another look behind him.

Wayne wondered briefly if he should tell Eddie to sleep at a friend’s for the next few days, just in case a mob showed up at the trailer, but then he felt immediately bad for thinking such things of Hopper.

Life continued on, though the once easy companionship he and Hopper had shared was now clearly over. Wayne heard it through the grapevine that Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers were going to go on a date.

Wayne hated gossip.

He hated he couldn’t stop listening for it even more.

And then Hopper died.

Wayne couldn’t go to the memorial service. They had been friends, once, though things had been strained between them after the alley. Back to being acquaintances, back to being strangers. Now they were nothing.

It wasn’t the first time he had to mourn someone in secret, but this time hurt far worse.

He was forced to confront the true depth of his feelings for the man he would never see again.

Then, months later, he walked into his trailer to find the mutilated remains of a dead cheerleader, his nephew nowhere to be found.

It was the worst week of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t, especially not his sweet boy. It would kill him.

And then, miracle of miracles, his nephew was found. Hurt, broken, but alive. Rushed to the hospital by the Harrington boy with their younger neighbor, but alive.

He was put in a medical coma while he healed, and believe it or not but it was Harrington—or Steve, as he asked to be called—who ranted and bitched and demanded that Eddie not be handcuffed to his bed when he wasn’t even conscious and wouldn’t be until the hospital let him.

It was Steve who, on the other side facing Wayne and the door, sat beside Eddie’s bed more often than not. And when he wasn’t, he was usually at the Mayfield girl’s, or volunteering with the relief effort.

Steve was there that day, facing the door Wayne had his back to, when he glanced up from the magazine he was reading with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Thank god. Have your creeps cleared the charges yet?” Steve huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Wayne was just in the process of turning around to see who Steve was talking to when he heard his voice.

“Jesus, kid, there were some things that were a little more important than clearing someone in a coma. No offense, Wayne.”

Wayne froze, his breath caught in his throat. It was impossible. And yet, as he slowly turned around, there he was: Hopper.

He was skinnier, and balder, than the last time he’d seen him. And missing his mustache. Hell, he looked more like Wayne now than Wayne did, his own facial hair far scragglier as he hadn’t cared about its upkeep while his nephew was in the hospital.

“Hop?” he gasped, standing swiftly from his chair and making an aborted movement to reach out for his old friend, before remembering they weren’t like that anymore. He drew back, but couldn’t stop the way his eyes roamed over Hopper in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hopper said, quieter, and if Wayne could believe it, more self-consciously.

“Well I take offense,” Steve said with his hands on his hips, standing now to frown at Hopper. “I don’t care what story they want to use, they just better clear his name. After everything we’ve went through because of them, it’s the least they can do.”

Hopper sighed, rolling his eyes in that exaggerated way he had, like everyone else was a pain in his ass. Wayne loved it.

“Yeah, yeah. Send them a therapy bill,” Hopper muttered. He then indicated with a thumb over his shoulder to the door. “Go get something to eat, kid. You look worse than me.”

Steve grinned then, a little cheeky. “Yeah,” he agreed with a laugh. “Welcome to the club, by the way, comrade. Robin’s making us tee shirts.”

“I look forward to it. Now go on before I call Buckley and tell her you’re bleeding out.”

Steve looked horrified at that threat, swiftly grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair he’d been in and hurrying out the door. “The doctor said the stitches are healing perfectly!” he grumbled in complaint as he left.

And then it was just Wayne and Hopper. And Eddie, technically. Hopefully he couldn’t hear any of this, because it was getting harder and harder not to let the tears building up behind his eyes loose. Not that there was anything wrong with crying, of course.

Wayne had always taught Eddie to feel his feelings, instead of shoving them down under the false belief that men were weren’t supposed to cry. Being sensitive didn’t mean being weak.

He felt weak now though.

“Hopper? Are you really…”

Hopper scrubbed a hand over his shaved head, looking down at his boots for a moment before glancing back up at Wayne. “It’s, uh…kind of a long story. But I’m alive. Officially again. And don’t tell Steve, the brat, but Eddie’s cleared too. He’s free to go home as soon as he’s healed up enough. The doctors are going to bring him out of the coma soon.”

A gasping sob of relief left Wayne before he could stop it, twin fat tears rolling down his cheeks, followed by more. Not only was his nephew alive, healing, and cleared of all charges, but the man he thought he had lost forever was alive and standing right before him.

Sure, he couldn’t have him the way he wanted, but just having him alive was enough. He wouldn’t dare look that gift horse in the mouth. There had been no body to bury, believed to have been lost in the fire, but now he knew why.

Hopper looked conflicted, and then he was glancing over his shoulder at the open door. Wayne tried to reel his tears back in, Hopper obviously looking for an escape, but Wayne wasn’t fast enough and Hopper was once more striding towards the door and away from him.

Except…except Hopper didn’t leave through the door. No, he closed it, throwing the lock and then turning on his heel and striding with purpose back towards Wayne. Before Wayne could even think to flinch, however, Hopper’s hands were caging his face and drawing him forward and—

The kiss tasted of tears.

It didn’t hold the desperate heat like it had in the alley, yet Wayne was gasping into it regardless. One of Hopper’s hands left his face to wrap around his back, pulling him closer, and Wayne might be a middle aged man who did hard labor for a living, but he swore he felt his knees go weak.

Hopper pulled back slowly, though he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Wayne’s with a soft breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “The entire time, all I could think about was that I had to come back, for El, and for you.”

“Hop…” Wayne’s thoughts were racing. He had a million questions he wanted to asked, like how was he even here right now, where had he been, what was going on, but all that could escape him was: “Joyce?”

Hopper snorted, pulling away with a small wry smile and shake of his head. “I had thought…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I thought the spark was still there between us, thought it was what I wanted, but…all I could think about was you. I miss our friendship, Wayne. I would lay awake at night, wondering how things might have turned out differently if I hadn’t left that night in the alley.”

Wayne shook his head, trying desperately to get his thoughts in order. He had to be dreaming. He just had to be. Yet…there was Hopper, solid and real and and warm and alive.

“I don’t need you to…to be something you’re not, Jim,” he finally managed to get out after clearing his throat, stepping further away and wiping at his face. “I just need you alive. And hopefully as a friend.”

Hopper studied him for a moment, and there was a darkness to his eyes that reminded Wayne of how they used to look back when Vietnam had been fresher, the darkness of a soldier who had seen far too much bloodshed. But there was also something he’d never seen before too, at least not directed at himself. Not from Hopper.

“You have me as a friend, Wayne, always.” Hopper reached out, slowly, to take Wayne’s hand in his. He’d never been the touchy-feely short, Hopper, but now he brought Wayne’s hand to his chest, holding it there beneath his own. “But also…hopefully as something more.”

More.

He couldn’t have stopped the smile on his face even if he’d tried.

Wayne wanted more.

Later, Eddie would be brought out of the coma. Later, Eddie would come home to their new government funded bungalow. Later, Wayne would find Steve as attached to Eddie’s side as he had been in the hospital. Later, he would find Steve in Eddie’s bed, instead of beside it. Later, Wayne would get to see Eddie smile, hear him laugh, and watch him fall in love with a boy who loved him back.

Later, Eddie would catch Wayne and Hopper in a compromising position and complain that, when he said ‘fuck the police’, he didn’t mean it like that.

Later, Wayne would have his more. He would have his everything.

This is only Steddie adjacent but y’all are getting tagged anyways.

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

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