Chasing Calliope [Jim Hopper x Reader]

Back Then

Your eye peeked open slightly as the sunlight began to flood into your bedroom through a sheer curtain. For the quickest of seconds, you had completely forgot about the events of the night prior. Rather, you smiled as you recalled the memories of the romantic dream you had regarding a certain Mr. Robert Redford, assumably due to the movie you had decided to watch in your time of distress.

And then, suddenly, everything began to rush back to you.

You groaned, lifting one of your hands up to rub over your eyelids in exhaustion. You already knew what it was like when Hopper nursed a hangover; he would be hungry, grumpy, and groggy. With the memories of the last time you hosted a hungover Hopper, you sat up in your bed before heading down the hallway and into your kitchen.

Before entering the small area, you peeked over the side of your sofa, a small smile playing at your lips as you watched Hopper continue to sprawl out over the small cushions. Soft snores tickled the air, his hair a complete bird's nest as drool glossed over his chin. He looked incredibly peaceful, knocked out even.

A calm before the storm.

One of the main reasons you were convinced that he stuck around for so long was because of your cooking and baking skills. You always said that in another life (a life where you didn't find solace in lipstick pigments and heated hair curlers) you would have opened up your own bakery somewhere in downtown Hawkins. Hopper couldn't have agreed more.

The first time that the man had tried your baking was when you made a platter of s'mores cookies, claiming that you had made them specifically with El in mind when you had approached the cabin. Secretly, all you desired was his reaction to the sweets and his alone.

"I make the kid 'Triple Decker' Eggos- that's more than enough sugar for her," he smiled, shaking his head as one of his hands hovered over the exposed tray of cookies you had settled on the counter. "She isn't even here, so I really think that this is just some ploy to get the Chief fat. Maybe so you can rob a bank...outrun me, perhaps?"

"Oh, really?" you drawled, taking a cookie in your hand before toasting it against the one he had finally chosen. "Well, here's to future robberies and watching you fall on your ass trying to catch me."

The man chuckled, bringing the cookie to his mouth before sinking his teeth into it. His eyes fluttered closed, an obscene noise emitting from his chest as the graham cracker shortbread melted on his tongue. You blushed, nearly choking on the cookie currently trying to break down on your own tongue.

You had to force yourself to stifle a giggle when he pulled away, a small amount of marshmallow sticking to the whiskers of his mustache.

"These taste so good," he groaned, whistling in approval after he swallowed it down. "I haven't met someone who has baked this well since...well, shit, I guess since my mom. And that was a long, long time ago."

You bit your lip, shuffling back and forth on your feet, "I'm sorry to hear about that."

"Don't be," he shrugged, taking another bite. "Been without parents for a long time, darlin'."

You forced a tight smile, nodding in understanding. You had also been without the caring presence of a mother for quite some time, since you were four, in fact. The memories you had of her were scarce, but you did remember the scent of her perfume. It was probably because your father still kept a bottle of the fragrance stored in his closet, or maybe it was because it still lingered on the clothes he refused to toss after her passing.

"The point is," he began, licking his lips before pointing a thick finger in your direction. "You cook awfully well for a girl so young. Like you've had years of experience in the kitchen."