Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Jailhouse Rock

"Jailhouse Rock"

"No one's lookin', now's our chance to make a break"

- Elvis Presley

Hopper paced the floor while Murray and the Russian jabbered back and forth. Of all the people to have to trust! He had no idea if what this guy was going to tell him the Russian said would be accurate, he had no idea what the hell the Russians were doing in Hawkins and didn't trust that the Russian was going to tell Murray the truth about it anyway—the whole thing was an exercise in frustration that he really did not need.

Eventually, he realized that the room was silent. He stopped his pacing and saw the Russian, Murray, and Joyce all staring at him. "What? Is he ready to talk? Joyce, ask him some questions."

Joyce leaned forward, but before she could speak, Murray held up a finger for her to wait.

"He wants Burger King."

"What?" Hopper repeated, staring at Murray like he was still speaking Russian. "What does what he wants have to do with anything?"

"You want him to talk, he wants Burger King," Murray explained, very slowly, as if Hopper was a small child. "And a cherry Slurpee."

"You have got to be kidding."

"Hop, he's right. You have to ... grease the wheels. Besides, I could use a burger, too," Joyce added.

He glared at all three of them, but none of them seemed intimidated in the least. "Fine," he snapped, grabbing the keys.

"Don't you want his order?" Murray asked.

"Order? What does this look like, Shangri-La? He'll get what I get him."

"What exactly is the point of going if you're not going to get him what he wants?" Joyce asked.

Hopper stifled some rude words. "Fine! What the hell do you want?" he shouted at the Russian.

Unmoved by Hopper's anger, the Russian relayed his order to Murray, who shared it with Hopper. Hopper didn't bother to write it down. He wasn't going to act like he was at this asshole's beck and call. Once Murray was done speaking, he stomped out to the car.

When he pulled back in, he was somewhat calmer. The drive had helped, the cigarettes he had smoked on the way had helped, the fresh air had helped. It was cleaner and more normal inside Murray's than he had anticipated, but it still smelled ... musty.

Inside, he unpacked it all, not particularly carefully, in front of the Russian, who sat there smiling and watching Woody Woodpecker like he was the king of the world. "Two Whoppers. Extra ketchup. Large fry. Pack of Marlboro Reds, and one extra-large Slurpee."

Grabbing his own burger, Hopper sank down on the couch next to Joyce, while the Russian sat forward and started in on his food. "Burger King is nowhere near the 7-11, by the way," he said sourly to Murray.

"Never said it was." Murray smiled at him as though somehow he and the Russian were a team now, coming together to drive Hopper crazy. Well, it wouldn't take much.

"Let's try this again. Joyce."

Joyce leaned forward, trying to make eye contact with the Russian. "Alexi. The generators—what are they powering?"

"And tell him that we know it is not the Starcourt Mall, so he can stop selling us that crap."

Murray let loose a stream of Russian. Halfway through, Smirnoff took a sip of his Slurpee and proceeded to spit it out all over the carpet before spouting off more Russian back to Murray.