Harrington 3

Beating Around the Bush

"You're playing, so cool! Obeyin' every rule!"

"This is a terrible song—"

"Dig way down in your heart! You're burning, yearning for some."

"Please stop singing."

"Somebody to tell you, that life ain't about passing you by!" I belt out the lyrics, rolling down the car window and dancing stupidly, "I'm trying to tell you, it will if you don't even try!"

"I will push you out of the car, Liz."

"You can fly, if you'd only cut loose! Footloose! Kick off your Sunday shoes!" I grin, pointing at some people out the window, "Oh-wee, Marie! Shake it shake it for me!"

"Woah, Milo! Come on come on, let's go!"

"Lose your blues! Everybody cut footloo— hey!"

I try to turn the radio back on, but Hopper swats my hand away, shaking his head in amusement.

"We ride in silence."

I groan, "you're no fun. Live a little why don't you?"

"I've lived enough, thank you very much." He makes a left turn as we pull into the parking lot of the pancake house we always go to, "and if you keep singing like that I won't live much longer."

"You're right." I nod and examine his head, "Is that a new grey hair?"

I reach out to touch his temple, but he swats my hand away again, "watch it."

"I am watching it," I say, "I mean it's pretty hard not to, it's right there. Screaming in my face. No wonder you wear that hat all the time."

He rolls his eyes, but chuckles as he sloppily parks in a space and cuts the engine. I hop out of the cruiser and breathe deeply.

"Ah." I sigh in contentment, "Love that smell."

He breathes in deep as well, a mix of syrup and butter and batter and dreams. The broken Pancake Palooza sign looms over our heads, and I smile. I love coming here with Hopper, it's something we both look forward to.

"Oh, that's the stuff of legends," he agrees as we enter the small diner and take our usual seats at the back.

I immediately begin scanning the menu, even though I already know what I'm getting. Hopper does as well, and soon we're deeply indulged in conversation. It never takes long.

"And I always tell them to keep the door open three inches, and they never listen!" He complains, looking exhausted as he runs a hand down his face and groans. I wave off the waiter who was about to take our order and lean back in my seat.

"Well," I say, taking a sip of my water, "I don't know what to tell you, Hopper. Other than it won't last."

"What?" He frowns.

"These things don't last," I repeat, "not just the whole relationship, but El being so rebellious. Sense will be knocked into her sooner or later, it's just a matter of time. You could talk to her and Mike like a normal human being and not be so grumpy, but then again I know that's not really your style. So I just say wait it out."

He groans again, and I smile slightly. Mike and Eleven's relationship has really taken a toll on him. He knows it, I know it.

"Can't you talk to her?" He asks through his hands, which are once again running down his face in frustration.

"And say what?" I ask, "can you please stop trading DNA with Mike and spend a little quality time with your adoptive father? Hopper, if it was that easy you and I wouldn't be in this mess."