Charmolypi [S.H]

Chapter Seven

Summary:

The dinner.
Reader gets to meet the kids and Joyce in this chapter :)

Notes:

A little over 7k words.
Enjoy !

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No matter how much he wanted to just ditch this whole thing and drive away, he knew he couldn't delay it any longer. His knuckles turned white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel. With a deep, resigned breath, he finally turned off the engine, the rumbling noise fading into an unsettling silence. His gaze remained fixed on the old, crumbling building before him.

Stepping out of his car, he made his way inside the station, relieved to find it wasn't as crowded as last time. The familiar scent of coffee and ink lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the tension gnawing at his nerves. He gave a quick nod to Flo as he passed by her desk, her sympathetic look and raised eyebrows silently conveying, "Good luck, you're going to need it." Her unspoken warning only heightened his anxiety.

He hurried down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the scuffed linoleum floor. Each step brought him closer to the wooden door at the end of the hall, which loomed larger and more intimidating than usual. Its chipped paint and tarnished brass handle seemed to mock his apprehension. Grabbing the door handle, he felt a new resolve settle within him. He hadn't done anything wrong. He had absolutely nothing to be sorry for. With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside, his footsteps steady and deliberate. His resolve did not falter, even under the harsh glare Hopper was throwing his way.

The room was sparsely furnished, the overhead light casting a stark illumination on the worn wooden floors and the battered desk in the center. Hopper stood behind it, his expression one of impatience. Ignoring the instinct to sit, Steve chose to stand firmly in front of the door, arms crossed. He hoped this encounter would be over quickly, his eyes locking with Hopper's, silently communicating his unwillingness to be here. The tension was palpable, each second stretching into an eternity as he braced himself for whatever was to come.

"Well? Are you going to keep standing there like an idiot or are you going to tell me what the fuck that shit you pulled yesterday was?"

Steve clicked his tongue, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Why am I the only one here?" he asked instead, making sure to keep his tone measured. He raised a brow. "Because if I recall correctly, I wasn't by myself yesterday."

"Well, if I recall correctly," Hopper started, his face impassive, "the last time I had you all here as a group, I specifically told you not to get involved. And that obviously didn't work, seeing as you did exactly the opposite." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in.

He pushed his chair back and stood up, taking a step closer to Steve. "I just figured I'd try a different approach today," he continued, his voice dangerously low. "So tell me, Harrington, what part of not getting involved, especially not with any of the kids, did you not understand the first time?"

"Look, we wouldn't have done anything unless we absolutely thought we had to," Steve said firmly, pushing himself away from the door and uncrossing his arms. "Henderson thought that maybe the reason Owens wasn't finding any portals was because—um..." He paused, racking his brain for whatever nerdy explanation the kid had given. "Something about geologism or magmatism..." He gestured vaguely, knowing he was probably butchering the words but trying his best to convey the gist to Hopper, who raised a confused brow. "What I'm trying to get at here is that the kid thought the compasses weren't reliable tools anymore. That would mean the gates could be fucking anywhere, and we wouldn't know about them."