1985 (Jim Hopper II)

Drunken Sleepover

When we got to Hopper's new place, the first thing I noticed was the trailer, the one we bought together. It was parked out front, locked up and desolate. He decided to live in the middle of no where, in a beat up cabin and if I were to give you a reason as to why, I don't think I could.

The girls lead me inside and I got a good look at everything. The decor pretty similar, only the interior was obviously more cabin like, wooden walls, weird Aztec type molding on the trim, it definitely felt like a place Hopper would call home. His signature couch still kicking, his recliner chair sewn in a couple spots. It made me smile, knowing he was still the same, simple guy, who cared very little about material items. The guy I knew in the past. As much as Robin claimed his demeanor and interactions have changed, I know that somewhere softie Hopper still existed. If the "I don't give a fuck what kind of bachelor pad I have" part of him still existed, I was sure the fluffy part did, too.

"He has a date tonight. I don't know when he'll be at home." El says to me softly, the gentle hum of the AC unit almost over powering her voice.

"Th-that's fine. Do you think he'd care if I waited? Or like... slept here? I really don't want to go home." I twiddle my thumbs, my eyes glancing over to what I could only assume was his bedroom.

I'd obviously take the couch, though. No way I'm staying in the rat gut house.

"How do you know?" The girl tried her best to be articulate but something was a little off, she was missing body language and I doubt she understood idioms.

"He's a friend from my past. I haven't seen him since I've been home, but I-"

"Is your name Hannah?"

I felt my ears grow warm. I was blushing, wasn't I?

The red head bounces on the balls of her feet and kind of states of into space. She had no clue what was happening.

I nod slightly and watch El nod in return.

"You stay. I think it'll make dad happy."

"Thank you."

"Come on! I bought like six magazines to read through!" The red head tugs on El's arm, trying to pull her into her bedroom, but El halts her and says,

"Wait, Max." Approaching me.

"You stay. This means you can't hurt dad." She says, very close to me, pointing her finger at me.

I feel some sort of force come through her as she points, almost as if she shocked me, but I knew that was impossible. I nodded quickly, a bit terrified of what Hopper has turned a child into. Was she just like him?

I took her hand, held it in mine for a minute to hopefully calm her nerves and muttered,

"Go read. Have fun. I wouldn't think twice about hurting him." My voice hidden so that the red head, Max, couldn't really put much together.

It wasn't her business, right?

El nods again and let's go of me, our hands drifting apart as she peels into her room, shutting the door.

It was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some decent sleep. I lifted the pull out, the memories of me first moving in with Hopper suddenly fresh and clear. The first night I slept there, the night he pulled me into his lap, ignoring me, banging plastic nails on this couch. I smile at the rickety old thing with fondness before taking the blanket from the recliner and a pillow from Hoppers room, making myself nice and cozy before quickly drifting asleep.

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My ears can barely make it out, still fuzzy as I wake up, trying to regain consciousness. Screaming, loud yelling,

"YOU BETTER NO-" The booming voice cut short.

"Jeez! Ever heard of knocking?!" Max.

"Yeah, jeez!" El.

"I-I'm sorry I thought you were... is-"

"Can Max spend the night?" El asks.

I sprout up in panic, glancing over to the towering man across the room from me. How had he not even noticed me? What... what was he wearing?

"Yeah. Sure. That's.. so cool. Really cool."

"Ooookayyyy." Max says, a bit thrown off by Hoppers behavior.

I watch him close the door and I feel every part of my body tense up, I feel frozen, and his way overly giddy smile is the first thing I see.

But when he sees me, it really quickly fades.

And there we were.... staring at each other from an eerily familiar position. I watch his chest move up and down, the pace building. His fingers twitch against his jeans and I notice a bottle of something in his hands. The sweat from his forehead made him glow, and the redness burned in his cheeks with a red hot intensity. Just as I thought looking at him couldn't be any sweeter, I watch him clench his jaw tight. That great jawline still prominent, the irritated look in his eyes, like he wanted to kill me, it made my heart thud harder than I've felt it in years. I was anxious, relieved, pained. I didn't know what to make of the conflicting feeling in my chest and in my jeans.

My eyes widen as I realize it's still just jeans, my bikini top and an unzipped hoodie. I clear my throat and pull my hoodie together tight and, just before I could say anything, Hopper asks me to,

"Get the fuck out of my house." His words slightly slurred.

I couldn't take him seriously in this state, because the tone of his voice just wasn't serious.

Also it was more of a statement than a question... he wanted me out. I don't know what came over me but my dumbass... giggled. His shirt, his intoxication, him being all dad like about this sleepover... it was so strange to me. So much so that it made me laugh.

"What... the hell... is so funny?"

I push my nose up and snort, like a pig.

"Besides the dad life, fun button up and slurred words? Nothing. Nothing at all." I giggle some more.

Hopper approaches me slowly and looks me up and down before grabbing my wrist, taking my finger away from my nose, and placing it in my lap.

"I said get out."

My happiness is severely cut short this time, because this time it actually did come out serious. Angry even.

"Hopper, a-a rat exploded in my dad's basement last night and then it's guts started oozing and crawling up my wall I don't want to-"

"Oh shut up, Hannah! Don't come back to Hawkins with your-your psychotic bullcrap!"

Psychotic?

I bite my lip hard and, to prevent tears, glare at him.

"Psychotic?" I ask, my brows furrowing.

Without a ton of thought, I put my palms into his chest and push him hard away from me.

Hopper falls onto his ass and looks up to me, in shock. That's really soon replaced with anger, again, and he sprouts to his feet faster than expected, lifting me up by my wrists and pushing me through the living room.

If he could breathe fire right now, his nostrils would be smoking.

My back hits the wall and I try to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Let me go you drunk asshole!" I flail my arms, pushing and pulling, but have no luck.

"Don't act like you're better than me. You left." He says darkly, pressing my wrists into the wall above my head.

"H-Hopper, I-"

"I hate you, kid."

But before his words could fully hit me, his soft lips did instead. They pressed to mine roughly, and I melted right into it. Drunk or not, I'd missed him so damn much.