me when your wish is my command type shit xx (if you saw this when i first posted, no you didn’t)
જ⁀➴ agent orange and fucking cleaning supplies
a part of my i’ll still stay au!
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
over the years, hopper has grown quite paternal towards you.
it all started when you bumped into him and joyce at melvald’s. he was visibly very angry about something and you swear you heard him say mike.
“i can talk to them.” you interjected. “if you want.”
“what?” he gruffed, not realizing you had the audacity to not only listen in to his conversation, but to also intervene.
“with mike and el. i’ve known him since he was yay big.” you held your hand down to your knee. “i can try talking to them if you’d like.”
hopper stared at you like you’ve just hung the moon and stars right in front of him (in hopper terms, meaning in reality he had just stopped furrowing his brows at you).
joyce nudged him, reminding him to, well… speak.
“yes!” it came out too enthusiastic for a man like hopper. he cleared his throat and repeated, “uh, yeah. i’d appreciate that.”
“no worries.” you shrugged, smiling at him. “i’m dropping off a casserole at the wheelers’ today, i’ll speak to him.”
ever since then, hopper practically took you under his wing as a thank you.
the second you had told the group what was wrong with you, he wished he never did.
he absolutely cannot afford to lose you. not in the same exact way he lost his sarah. he wouldn’t be able to take it. he wanted to fix it.
when you and steve were having your talk in the kitchen he stood right in front of dustin. “it’s from those upside down fucking snowflakes, right?”
“well—i can’t be sure-”
“but it’s a possibility?”
“yeah.” dustin nodded. “the spores are toxic, but i don’t think they did the cancer-making.”
“what do you mean?”
“do you remember at the start of the lockdown how we had a 6pm curfew? and how we had to stay inside at all times during the alcohol-slash-disinfectant-slash-whatever spraying?”
“yeah,” nodded hopper, confused.
“i don’t think it was actually alcohol. or disinfectant. or anything remotely safe. think about it—some random particles from another dimension infiltrate our world and the government is just gonna spray hawkins with normal disinfectant? i think they used a mixture of benzene, formaldehyde, and trichloroethylene.”
“what are those?” hopper asked.
“chemicals in cleaning supplies and disinfectants.” answered mike.
dustin nodded. “i speculate this… concoction is made up of highly concentrated chemicals. they don’t care if a handful of people get hurt by not sticking to curfew. they just want to get hawkins clean.”
hoppers face turned red.
the second time. the second time the military was involved in one of his daughters’ deaths.
first time it was with some herbicide and now it was with fucking cleaning supplies.
hopper took a seat and perched his chin on his clasped knuckles, staring off into the distance as the others formed a plan to make a makeshift lab for you.
you were half asleep in steve’s arm by the time he saw you again. hopper couldn’t bear to look at you. not when you looked so weak and tired like sarah.
he went to the basement with the rest and only went back up hours later. you had woken up from your nap and were eating a pb&j sandwich steve had made for you. your appetite was practically nonexistent, but you could never turn down steve’s famous pb&j sandwich. never ever.
he cleared his throat. “hey.”
“hi.” you smiled, weak.
he shuffled awkwardly to the couch you were sitting on and sat next to you, keeping his distance like his presence was going to bother you.
you shifted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. “if i actually end up… y’know, dying or something-”
“don’t say shit like that.” he cut you off. “please, don’t say shit like that.”
if not for your sake, for mine, he wanted to say.
“okay. sorry.” you figured it would be a sensitive subject for him. “i just—i need you to know that you’re a good man, hop. i know you think your all mean and shit, but you’ve done so much for me. i just need you to know that.”
“you’re not too bad yourself.”
you laughed lightly. almost immediately, tears clouded your vision.
he felt the wet patch form on his shoulder. “hey-” he shook his shoulder so you would look at him. “you’re gonna be fine, kid. i know it.”
your lip trembled. “i’m gonna miss you.” once you said it you realized it didn’t make much sense—how could a dead person miss someone? i mean, they were dead.
“i’m here, kid.” he reassured. “right here.”
you nodded, sniffling.
he finally spoke up. “why didn’t you tell me sooner? i would’ve understood.”
“you shouldn’t have to.” you felt like you were repeating yourself over and over whenever you had this conversation. it was tiring. “it makes no sense why i would put you through this. why i would force you to struggle with me.”
“you’re no struggle.” it came out sharper than he intended. “you need to stop acting like you’re some burden. you’re the only reason most of us are still alive and sane. being there for you is the least we can do. it’s the least i can do.”
“that’s the thing—you don’t have to do anything at all! i helped you guys out because i wanted to help. not because i expected something in return.”
“you’re not getting it, are you?” his tone was slightly condescending and you were taken aback.
“what?”
“y/n, we were always gonna be here for you. whether you like it or not. do you seriously think we wouldn’t have found out if you didn’t tell us? it’s a small town. one way or another, we were bound to find out, and one way or another, we were gonna show up.”
“we’re a family.” he continued. “you need to start acting like it.”
you blinked. you wanted to fight. to reiterate your point. to tell him he had no right to speak to you that way.
you couldn’t. you couldn’t find the energy to. you just nodded and stared at the half eaten sandwich.
hopper thought your understanding would bring him ease. it didn’t, because it wasn’t that. you didn’t understand and he knew that. you were complying. you agreed because you physically couldn’t not agree.
he sighed and stared at you as you set the plate back on the coffee table.
