voltage ; stranger things

two ; nothing's changing

COLLEEN pulls her keys from the car's ignition and collects her things before stepping out and slamming the door shut. She's forced to jump down a bit from the driver's side; she's been bugging Hopper about getting her own car for months now. Who wants to drive the police truck around in front of everyone? Not her, is exactly her. She feels like a little cop-wannabe who stole her dad's car and smokes to look cool in front of her peers.

The cabin's rickety steps groan and creak in protest under her weight as she climbs the stairs and approaches the front door. Even from out here, surrounded by the symphony of crickets and other insects that make their appearance in the summer, she can hear the radio from Eleven's room blaring a cheesy love song from five years ago. Mike must be here again.

"I'm home," she announces as she shuts the door behind her. She drops her keys in the bowl by the coat rack (which never gets used) and reaches up to pull off her name tag.

From his recliner facing the glaring television, Hopper raises a hand and grunts in reply. At once, he returns to eating potato chips and staring at the comedy show he surely doesn't even know the plot to. Colleen rolls her eyes and crosses the room. In the six months Eleven and Mike have been spending literally every day together, Hopper has acted as though the world was ending and the apocalypse chose to hit his house first. Only, instead of doing anything about it, he's decided to pout and grow a mustache.

"Fun day?" Colleen teases. She begins to gather the empty beer cans from around his recliner, dumping his full ashtray into the trash can just a few feet away.

He groans and rubs a hand over his face, exaggerating the purple half-moons stamped beneath his eyes. "Exhilarating," he says in a dull tone. "Perfectly outstanding."

She snatches the bag of chips from his lap, and scoffs when he protests. "Eat some fruit, old man," she says. In the kitchen, the stuffs the bag into the cupboard and fetches a cup of water to soothe the gentle hangover he's sure to have come morning time. "You need to go shopping. Unless you want tortillas with tomato sauce for breakfast."

"Isn't that your job?" he asks.

As she walks back into the living room, Colleen catches a tiny glimpse of her and Eleven's shared bedroom, where her sister and her boyfriend are currently making out on the carpet. "Isn't it your job to keep an eye on them?"

Hopper blinks a moment, then leans his recliner back further and further until he can see into the bedroom. "Hey!" he yells, startling his elder daughter as she sets the glass of water down. Inside the bedroom, Eleven and Mike look to the door before the former raises and hand and it slams shut, the lock clicking softly.

Colleen, quite used to the daily events of the shouting and pounding on the door, sits in her respective spot on the sofa as Hopper leaps up and begins to slap the doorframe. She pays no mind, simply takes up the remote and switches the channel to her show. She chuckles in sync with the laugh track, kicking off her shoes and settling in for the evening.

This had become a reliable pattern for her once she'd graduated high school; she would come home from work, help a bit around the house, and watch her shows while Hopper scolded her sister and Mike for not keeping the bedroom door open at least three inches. Then, usually around ten o' clock, Mike would go home and at last give the family their peace and quiet. She and Eleven would brush their teeth, usually making silly faces with the toothpaste smeared over their mouths, then kiss Hopper goodnight and retire to bed. And then, they did it all over again. She's found she rather likes the routine.

Outside, the sky grows darker and warmer, inviting the pestering bugs that weren't already awake to come out and play. Mike leaves at exactly eleven fifty-nine, kissing his girlfriend goodbye in the doorway before he goes. Hopper grumbles as Eleven shuts the door after him, rolling her eyes.

"Bedtime," she says, stopping in front of Colleen so that she blocks the television.

"Yep," her sister replies. "You're right." They retreat to their bedroom and change into their pajamas, which consist of shorts and tank tops - the heat this summer has been found to be the worse than it has been in over fifteen years. Of course it had to occur when their air conditioner broke. Colleen is forced to power it back up at least twice a day.

They brush their teeth, sticking their tongues out at each other and flicking water back and forth, before filing into the living room and each pressing a kiss to Hopper's scruffy cheek.

"Goodnight, girls," he mumbles.

"Don't stay up too late," says Colleen from the doorway. "You know the rules."

He quirks an eyebrow and huffs deeply. "In bed by midnight, yatah, yatah."

"Midnight," she says. She goes to shut the door. "And don't forget to put your keys by the door. I don't want to find them in your jeans again on laundry day." As she disappears, he digs through his pocket before producing his keys and tossing them on the table. He sighs. Once again, she's parented him more so than vice versa. He needs to do better, he tells himself as he settles back into his chair. Tomorrow, he promises. He'll start tomorrow.

In their bedroom, the girls set out their outfits for the next day and begin to tuck themselves into bed. It's hard to believe it was only two years ago that Colleen used to tuck Eleven in herself.

"Was work good?" asks the younger sister.

Colleen pulls her covers over herself, then kicks them off when she becomes much too hot, much too quickly. "It was alright," she answers. "There was one woman whose hair looked like she'd been in a tornado." She smiles as her sister giggles quietly in the dark. "And Jonathan and Nancy came to see me. That was a nice surprise."

Eleven hums from her side of the room. "Still the ugly shirts?"

Colleen chuckles softly. "Yeah," she says in a whisper. "Nothing's changing." She lies for a long, long minute, awake much longer after her sister has fallen asleep. Her own words ring in her ears, and she finds she doesn't mind them at all.

Nothing's changing.