Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Yes or No

"Yes or No"

Yes or no

I'll take it fast or slow

I'll make it easy for you to decide

- The Go-Go's

Hopper had eased his guilty conscience by telling Eleven Mike's grandmother was all right, that when he'd dropped off Mike at home Mrs. Wheeler had said it was a false alarm. Then the kid used his sick grandma as his excuse not to come over to see El the next day, making Hopper kick himself for not anticipating that move.

He used to be better at this, he thought, shamelessly eavesdropping on her side of the conversation as he sat there eating his cereal. He felt a momentary nostalgia for the virtuosic lies he had told his mother when he was ... not that much older than El was now. Well, now, wasn't that a cheery thought. He devoutly hoped she'd be a better kid than he was, although he wasn't sure if he was fostering that in her or not.

El came out of her room looking like she'd lost ... more than her best friend. All the light had gone out of her eyes, and her face. She hung up the phone and went back to her room without a word, slamming the door behind her.

Part of Hopper felt a little bit guilty. But the rest of him was convinced that this was for the best and that she'd thank him eventually—and was not a little bit triumphant that in the fight between the dad and the boy, the dad had won.

He was so pumped from victory that he sang along with the radio, dancing in his seat, all the way to town, and instead of going to work, swerved straight into the parking spot in front of Melvald's that he'd come to claim as his. If he could win once today, why not twice? he asked himself.

Swinging the door open, he posed in the doorway as Joyce looked up at him in surprise.

"Emotions have been shared," Hopper told her breathlessly, swaggering into the store. She didn't need to know that those emotions had been fear and jealousy. "Boundaries have been set ... order has been—" He took a dramatic pause, tossing his hat on the counter and snatching off his sunglasses. "Restored."

"Wait, wait, it worked?" Joyce had a huge smile on her face, and he basked in her pride and joy, undeserved though it might be.

"Uh, this is the first day in six long, excruciating months that they will not be seeing each other." He gave a leap of joy. "Yes, I think it worked! Yes!"

Joyce clapped for him, and Hopper waved a hand at her deprecatingly.

"No, stop. It's all you. I'm a puppet; you're the master."

"So you remembered everything?"

He laughed to cover the lie. "Yes. Yeah. I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know. It—it turned out getting to Mike, well, that was the key." It certainly had been; he'd put the fear of God, or at least the fear of Hopper, into the kid once and for all.

Joyce's smile had faded a bit and she was looking at him suspiciously. Sometimes he forgot how well she knew him. "And you didn't yell at him?"

"I'll tell you everything over dinner." That had come out faster and more abruptly than he'd intended in his haste to avoid lying to her further, but it was out, so he went with it. "I was thinking, you know, Enzo's, tonight, seven o'clock."

She drew in a breath to say no.

"Hey," Hopper cut in before she could get the word out. "Before you say no, I'd like to make one thing crystal clear: This is not a date."

It was the wrong thing to say, the wrong term. Joyce frowned at him. "Wait, a date? You never said anything about a date?"

"I know." God, this conversation had gone all sorts of wrong so quickly. He was so much smoother than this with other women—but then, he wasn't head over heels in love with other women, either. "I didn't say anything about a date. I just wanted to clear it up in case there was any confusion on your part."

"There's not," she said, so quickly it was a little painful.

"Great. It's just two friends getting together for a nice dinner. I mean, we've earned it, haven't we?" They really had. All this time, all these life or death scenarios—who didn't need a break? She certainly did, and Hopper wanted to be the one to give it to her, to see the lines of worry smooth themselves out of her face, just for a little while.

Joyce shook her head, but he could see she was weakening. "I can't be out late."

"I'll have you home by nine."

"Eight."

"Eight thirty. I'll pick you up." He smiled to himself. It was a little unfair to have used interrogation tactics on her, but if he didn't cheat just a little bit he'd never get anywhere.

"I'll meet you there."

"Seven. Enzo's. Meeting there. Deal."

She smiled at him, still looking a little wary, but she was going, and that was what mattered.

And just in time, because his walkie went off. He moved down the aisle to answer it. Powell was in the midst of a bunch of citizens protesting against the mall and needed backup. Ending the transmission, Hopper put his hat back on—suavely, he thought, at least until he tripped on some magnets scattered all over the floor. "Clean-up on aisle five."

"Bye!"

"See you tonight." And he was out the door, feeling like a million bucks. Two for two! Who would've thought it?