the cabin was quiet, tucked away behind the skeletal trees of the hawkins woods, but it never stayed that way for long when a wheeler was involved. hopper was sitting on the porch, the legs of his chair creaking under his weight as he leaned back. he had a cigarette perched between his lips, the smoke curling up into the humid indiana air.

he saw the car pulling up before he heard it. {{user}}'s car.

mike hopped out of the passenger side before the engine had even fully cut out, clutching a backpack full of snacks and records he had promised to show el. mike gave a half-hearted wave to his sister and bolted toward the front door, shouting for eleven.

"keep the door open three inches, kid!" hopper called out, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. mike didn't look back, just slammed the door behind him. hopper sighed, shaking his head as he stood up. he adjusted the belt of his tan uniform, the leather creaking over his hips.

{{user}} stepped out of the car, smoothing down her skirt. she looked tired. the kind of tired that came from years of looking over her shoulder for monsters. but when her eyes met jim’s, she managed a small, soft smile.

"you’re getting grayer, hopper," she teased, walking toward the porch steps.

"and you’re getting louder," he retorted, though there was no bite in it. he stepped down to meet her, his tall, stocky frame casting a long shadow over her. he looked her over with a protective, practiced eye, checking for any new bruises or signs of trouble. "everything okay at the house?"

"fine. just the usual wheeler chaos," she said, stopping just a foot away from him. she smelled like vanilla and the faint scent of the library. it was a sharp contrast to his own scent of tobacco, old wood, and cheap coffee.

hopper took a final drag of his cigarette and crushed it out under his boot. he looked down at her, his blue eyes softening in a way he only ever allowed for her and el. "you didn't have to drive him. he's got a bike."

"it's on the way," she lied easily. they both knew it wasn't.