"Are you holding my hand?"
"I'm scared as shit right now, so yeah, I'm holding your hand."
Steve Harrington x fem!oc
Summary inside
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As if the day couldn't get any worse, it turned out that the Wheeler residence was in the process of being dissected by the FBI—or some shit. Thus, leading to a fun, pretty vague explanation on why said FBI would be at the house, followed by an even vaguer explanation on why Halley knew such information.
"I have to go home."
Hopper, who stood staring at the house through spy-grade binoculars, only shook his head. "No way."
"But... My mom and dad are still there." She tried to push forward but the chief was absolutely not having it. He took hold of her shoulder, keeping her from continuing and gave a sympathetic, yet hard glare.
"They'll be fine." It was a no-nonsense tone, and Halley, who had experience enough of Hopper's fatherly 'fuck no's knew that any arguement Nancy had would fall flat. However, that didn't stop her from struggling.
Nancy had a walk of determination; she got all of three steps before Hopper took her arm. "Hey, hey, hey." Nancy tried to yank out of his hold, "Hey, no. No way. Listen to me." That was probably the last thing she wanted to do, but it didn't stop Hopper from leaning down to meet her eyes, "Listen. The last thing in the world we need, is for them to know you're mixed up in all of this."
"Mike is over there." there was barely a pause before Nancy cut in, her eyes staring wildly at the suites ransacking her house. Halley was leaning over the open car door now, searching for the girl behind all of this.
Acknowledging the obvious fear, Hopper gave a slight head shake, trying to calm Nancy down. "They haven't found him. Not yet." he pointed to the sky; a giant helicopter was ominously low. Scouring the ground for three boys and a girl with a shaved head.
What they would do when they found their targets. was something none of the five wanted to find out.
"Get back in the car." Hopper nudged Halley and then guided Nancy into the backseat before dropping back into the driver's seat. Putting his arm around the passenger seat, Hopper turned to look at the three teens tightly packed together. Joyce followed his lead, her demeanor far less composed. "We need to find them before they do." His eyes locked on Nancy, "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"
"N-no, I don't." She was pressed against the back of the seat.
"I need you to think."
Nancy, hands shaking in her lap, shook her head. "I don't know, we haven't talked a lot. I mean lately—"
Without waiting for her to finish, Joyce spoke up, Hopper obviously unaware of how to ask questions without interrogating in a suspenseful situation, "is there any place that he might have gone? Somewhere that your parents don't know about?"
