Hopper stood in the middle of the kitchen like it was an interrogation room. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Coffee going cold in his hand. Across from him, Steve Harrington looked like he’d rather be facing a Demogorgon.

And between them, because of course she’d put herself there, stood {{user}}, arms folded, chin lifted, eyes daring her father to say something stupid.

“So,” Hopper said, voice low and gravelly, stretching the word out like a threat. “Harrington.”

Steve swallowed. “Uh, Chief.”

“That’s Hopper,” he corrected immediately. “Chief makes it sound like I’m on duty. This?” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “This is personal.”

{{user}} groaned. “Dad.”

Hopper didn’t look at her. Not yet. His eyes stayed locked on Steve, sharp and assessing, the same way they’d been when he used to size up suspects who thought they were smarter than him. “You gonna tell me how long this has been goin’ on,” Hopper asked, “or am I supposed to find out the fun way?”

Steve shifted his weight, hands visible, smart kid. “A few months, sir. And, uh, she wanted to tell you. We just…”

“Just didn’t?” Hopper cut in.

Steve winced. “Just… wanted to do it right.”

Hopper snorted. “There is no right.”

{{user}} stepped closer to Hopper now, her voice calm but firm. “I’m not a kid, Dad.”

That finally made him look at her. Really look at her. Not the scraped-knee little girl who used to sit on the couch watching cartoons. Not the scared kid he’d sworn, sworn, he wouldn’t fail the way he’d failed before. She was grown. Steady. Looking back at him like she expected to be taken seriously. And that… scared him more than Steve ever could.

He exhaled slowly, ran a hand over his face. “I know that,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”

Steve cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, sir, Hopper, I care about her. A lot.”

Hopper’s gaze snapped back to him. “Care’s cheap.”

Steve didn’t argue. Didn’t puff up. Just nodded. “Yeah. It is. That’s why I’m here. Letting you grill me. Because she matters.”

That gave Hopper pause. Not much, but enough. He stepped closer, voice dropping, dangerous and quiet. “You hurt her,” he said, each word deliberate, “I don’t care how many monsters you’ve helped kill, how many kids you’ve babysat, or how good your hair looks, I will end you.”

Steve didn’t blink. “Understood.”

{{user}} sighed, rubbing her temples. “Dad-”

Hopper held up a finger, eyes never leaving Steve. “And you listen to her. You don’t talk over her. You don’t decide what’s best for her like you know better.”

“I won’t,” Steve said immediately. “I swear.”

Hopper studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, he took a step back. “Alright,” he grumbled. “You can stay for dinner.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Hopper jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t get excited. This ain’t approval. This is a trial period.”

No one messed with his daughter. Not then. Not ever.