Showing Appreciation

Author's Note: So I binged both seasons of Stranger Things a few weeks ago, and quickly fell down a Hopper trashcan. Here's hoping that this fic helps purge some of the consuming dirty thoughts I've been having about this man. 

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The sun was starting to set and, except for the hum of overhead lights and the occasional flutter of a page turning, there had been no sound or movement at the Hawkins Police Station for the past couple of hours. You glanced up from the mystery novel propped on the desk in front of you, turning a cramped neck to look over at the large wall clock.

6:23pm.

Giving a sigh, your eyes trailed over to Chief Hopper's office, where the door was still firmly shut. What the hell was he doing in there? You hadn't heard a peep out of him in almost three hours, when he had stormed out of the office, grumbling to himself and pacing around a bit, before grabbing a folder out of a filing cabinet and secluding himself back in his office. Hell, he could be dead in there for all you'd know, with his lack of noise or activity.

Debating for a few long moments before making up your mind, you marked the page of your book and put it down on the desk. Rising from the chair, you lifted stiff arms over your head and stretched out limbs that had been sitting in one position for far too long.

While you weren't an official employee at the station, you had recently starting helping out part-time on the weekends. Chief Jim Hopper had been putting in a lot of overtime lately, and Flo was exhausted trying to keep up with his late hours during the week. Hopper had said that he didn't need anyone in the office with him, but Flo still worried and didn't want him here alone.

That's where you had come in. On top of your main 9-5 job throughout the week, you had also spent the last three Saturdays here, running the front desk. The town of Hawkins rarely had any real emergencies, hence them not being open 24/7. And since the station was technically closed on weekends, there were rarely any calls and not much to do, so it was an easy way to make a few extra bucks and get some reading done, since Hopper mostly stayed holed up in his office. In fact, you tended to make random excuses to knock on his door, just to make sure he was still alive in there.

Which was what you were doing right now. He had been radio silent for long enough to make you curious, and a tad bit worried, so you strode quietly across the tiles and lifted your hand to give a light knock. After a long pause where there was no answer, not even a grunt of welcome, you turned the handle and opened the door.

Peeking inside, you saw, with a tad more relief than you wanted to admit, that Hopper was indeed still alive. He was staring intensely at the papers spread out on the desk before him, so focused on his task that he didn't seem to realize you were standing there, and probably hadn't heard you knock, either. You were just about to quietly back out and leave him be, when he seemed to sense your presence, his head lifting and eyes zeroing in on you.

Irritable and aloof as he may be, you couldn't deny that the chief was a very handsome man. His blue eyes looked tired, and his mouth was set in a hard line, but it still didn't detract from the masculine features that always seemed to spark a little zing of awareness each time you saw him. His hat was off, and he ran a hand through his hair with agitation, before bringing it down to wipe over the front of his face. You suddenly found yourself jealous of the long, thick fingers that teased through his beard and stopped to rest lightly over his mouth.

"What time is it?" he asked, his fatigue-rasped voice jolting you out of your wayward thoughts.

"Almost 6:30," you responded, prompting him to puff out an expletive under his breath.