On Santa's Lap

December 23, 1984

The Annual Hawkins Holiday Foundation Social

An event you had neither heard of nor been to before this year but would be an event you would happily be attending every year after this if it meant you would be seeing Jim Hopper like this again.

You'll be honest: You definitely didn't even understand what you were getting yourself into when Karen Wheeler asked you to help her and a couple of mothers plan this event.

You also didn't know what you were getting into when she asked you to secure a venue.

And you most certainly didn't know what you were getting into when you promised Karen that you would find a Santa replacement when Ted Wheeler got the flu three days ago and wouldn't be able to wear the suit for the third year in a row.

-

"Hopper, I am begging you."

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Come on," you begged, holding a nondescript silver pan in your hand as you followed him into his office before closing the door. "I promise, it will only be a few hours tops, and I will get you out of that suit so quickly that you won't even remember what it felt like to be inside of it."

Jim sat down behind his desk, barely listening to your pleas as he began to open the mail from that morning, "Why aren't you asking your brother?"

You rolled your eyes, "He's too skinny."

He stopped opening the envelope and shot his eyes up at you with raised brows, waiting for you to continue to put your foot in your mouth.

"I just mean that - oh, come on, Jim, you know I love how cuddly and big you are, but you know what I'm getting at," you groaned, approaching his desk and tossing the pan in front of him with a little clatter.

He sighed, poking the pan with the envelope opener, "You're the one who keeps making me fat with all this food, Cal."

"What did I just say?"

"I'm just saying," he continued, peeling back the foil. "You wouldn't even be asking me to be Santa if you didn't keep turning me into Santa."

You pouted, shuffling forward before peeling the foil back and picking up a piece of the peach cobbler you specially prepared for your boyfriend, "I'm asking you politely to become Santa Claus, because I think you would be the cutest Santa Claus in the world. Now, open up."

He tried his best not to smile before sighing, opening up his mouth reluctantly before you placed the cobbler in his mouth. He let the dessert melt on his tongue before groaning, causing your heart to flutter as he eyes closed in delight.

"Shit," he cursed through a mouthful. "That's good. Always making me good shit."

"Good enough to say yes?" you replied with hope that it sweetened the pot enough to end this conversation so you could call Karen and get this whole ordeal over with.

He looked over your body, his eyes lingering on your thighs with mischief before sitting back, putting his hands behind his head, "I don't know, Callie. I just. Don't. Know. "

You huffed, looking at the closed office door before you began to tie your hair up with the pony tail on your wrist. You looked over to him with a smirk, "When is your next meeting scheduled?"

He smiled giddily, unbuckling his belt, "We have an hour."

You smirked, getting on your knees before resting your hands on his thighs gently. You looked up at him with a grin, "You'll pick the suit up after work at Bimbel's. No later than 6:30, got that?"