It was 3 o’clock in the morning and Jim Hopper couldn’t sleep. For some reason, the sleep medication that Joyce got him just wasn’t working tonight. To take his mind off the probably growing Soviet threat that he frequently stresses over, he figured the best thing he could do at this hour was to scope out the quiet streets of Hawkins.
Hawkins was sleepy. He was sure there were only a few cars on all the Roane county roads now. But, to shut his anxieties up, he’ll drive up and down each street anyway––just so he’s sure. And he figured, that’s the only thing that he could do to remedy his surging brain.
While patrolling the backroads of the town, he distantly spotted lights out by the Sattler Quarry. Headlights. The likelihood of someone having legitimate business at the Quarry right now was slim. And Jim knew it wasn’t his business, but he was a cop and that’s what they do, they pry. Honestly, before everything, he would have ignored it. But now, after the saving the world multiple times, he can never be too careful.
As he made a left turn, he concluded that it was probably some stupid teens smoking pot, or going at it like rabbits. Shit that doesn’t matter, shit that isn’t serious like an obnoxious part of his brain kept insisting it was. Still, as a protector of private property, he pressed his foot to the gas pedal and sped down the road.
Jim turned his lights off when he pulled up the car that was on and parked. He was going for a stealthy approach here, not wanting to startle whoever was in the cheap station wagon. Grabbing his flashlight, he parked and approached the vehicle.
He shined it into the car, which had its windows rolled up and appeared hazy. He knew it was pot and let a breath out of his nose at how obvious and cliche this whole thing was. Smoking out in the open at the Quarry, a total rookie move. He rapped his rough knuckles against the window and it quickly began to roll down, the smell of weed spilling out with it. And with this, he met the gaze of Steve Harrington’s big, brown doe-eyes that were puffy and red with tears.
“Hopper,” Steve sniffed, “hey”.
After three years of getting to know the Harrington boy, he immediately knew something was seriously wrong. Steve’s greeting was ignored as Jim studied the disheveled teen and took notice of the tender, red skin under his right eye and the blood leaking into his mouth from his nose.
“Woah, kid,” Jim mumbled with raised eyebrows. He immediately dove into his pocket to grab a white handkerchief to help the boy. Steve sniffed again and wiped his nose on his sleeve, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“That doesn’t make me any less concerned,” he muttered and tossed the cloth to him. Steve began to dab his bleeding face and leaned back in his seat, he said nothing. “What happened?”
Steve stayed silent, staring off at the Quarry while biting his lip. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”
“It was just a fight.” He huffed, shaking a little.
“Then why are you crying?”
Steve shook his head bitterly as hot, thick tears rolled down his swollen cheeks. “It doesn’t matter,” he spat with gritted teeth. Hopper noticed he was white knuckling his steering wheel, but he failed to see the increasing tears.
“It does. You’re fucked up and hurt. Don’t think I can’t smell that weed, Harrington.” Jim sighed, taking out a cigarette of his own and lighting it. “What would your father think?”
It was an innocent question. Jim just wanted to strike a nerve. Something, anything to make him spill to the officer. He only wanted an answer from Steve, so when the teen turned his head into the light to reveal a broken look instead of a confession, he was extremely confused.
“I don’t know. I’m sure if I asked, he’d probably just fucking do it again.” He whispered with a trembling voice. When he weakly threw up a hand gesturing towards his injuries, Jim’s eyes widened and a hand went to pinch between his eyes in realization. “Ste-, fuck.” He hissed, turning around.
Jim had never investigated Harrington’s home life. Frankly, he never had the time between saving the world and being a father. He knew Steve was wealthy. His father, a business man, and his mother, probably a servant for his father. The only interaction he had ever had with the Harrington family––besides his weird relationship with Steve whenever doom was imminent––was when he answered a domestic violence call between Mr. and Mrs. Harrington in ’79, at the time of day when Steve was not present. He figured, because of this, Steve was telling the truth and not giving him some bullshit excuse.
“I’m sorry.” Hopper sighed, puffing on his cigarette and turning around. He stared down at the boy who was now curled in on himself and softly crying. “Hey, you’re not in trouble.” He said, trying to sound reassuring, but he was never good with comforting people. He hasn’t even been able to bring himself to say his heart to heart to El and Mike yet. Joyce tells him, “even if it’s a month late, it still counts”, but he never listens.
Steve only nodded, staying silent while he forced his tears back. A sob threatened to escape his mouth, and he held it back with sore, trembling lips. He didn’t want to cry, but sometimes he just wasn’t ‘man’ enough to keep it in, as his dad frequently put it. With a shuddering breath, he let himself inhale deeply as if he were sucking all his feelings back in. Jim patiently watched him compose himself, but he was simply glad he didn’t have to do much consoling.
Once his breathing slowed and his demeanor relaxed, Jim assumed the boy was now capable of holding conversation without bursting into tears. Yet, the boy didn’t speak. He sat there motionless with his eyes low. “Why’re you out here?” Jim asked, placing a hand on his hip. He knew he was going to have to lead things, as always.
“Had no where else to go.” Steve answered swiftly with a shrug, eyes shifting away from the cop.
“Then I’m guessing you can’t go home tonight?”
With a frown, Steve shook his head no. “Okay. Is there somewhere you can stay?” He questioned, he knew that the Byers’ would likely house him in a heartbeat.
Steve shrugged, he could feel the chief’s investigating gaze on him. He felt like the authoritative glare demanded an answer. “I don’t have any friends or family that I could go to.”
His eyes involuntarily rolled, “that you don’t want to go to, or that you actually can’t go too?”. It had come out ruder than Jim wanted it to and he winced internally as soon as it escaped his lips.
“I don’t want them to know.” Steve whispered, tears pricking his eyes once more.
“Shit.” Jim muttered as he quickly reached in the car to grab his handkerchief from his lap. He knew the kid was sensitive right now, but sometimes he can’t help his abrasiveness. It’s another thing that Joyce often nags him on.
He began to softly wipe Steve’s tears away with the clean side of the cloth and made sure to puff out his smoke opposite of his face. His large fingers brushed against his swollen cheek and Jim clicked his teeth. “This is gonna need some ice or it’s gonna bruise pretty bad.” He hummed, his hands retreated as soon the boy’s crying subsided. He knew he needed to help, and his protective bond over Steve made him feel like that was the only option anyway.
“I can take you by my cabin. You can clean up and stay the night.” Jim stated flatly. It was more of a command rather than an offer, but it still caused Steve to gently lift his head to look at Hopper through the messy hair that fell over his eyes.
“What about El?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. He was intrigued and wouldn’t mind the free bed in the state he’s in. He’s hardly sure if his dad would even let him back in the morning, so he figured logically, he should take what he can get. They have had plenty of fights in the past, but this time it was just that bad––Steve had seriously reached his breaking point and there was no point of return.
He watched Jim take a long drag on his cigarette. “She’s at Max’s tonight.” He answered and turned on his heels, “Follow me out”.
The two men started their cars and pulled out, one following the other.
“You can take the couch or El’s room. There isn’t a lotta space to work with, sorry.” Hopper chuckled, handing another blanket to Steve, who was already sitting on the couch.
Steve shrugged with a sad smile, “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, when you’re ready, pick one.” He nodded, going to the television to turn it on. Steve watched him grab a bottle of whiskey and situate himself in a recliner to watch reruns of Hawaii Five-O with a lit cigarette loosely on his lips. “Can I have one?” He asked, pointing to his cigarette.
Jim chuckled, “How old are you again?”
He rolled his eyes, “I’m fucking nineteen, give me a damn cigarette, Hopper.” He huffed and reached for the pack on the table. The older man snatched the pack away, “You may be an adult, but are you a man? Do you deserve a police chief’s cigarette after breaking the law with your reefer?”
“You sound like my dad.” He sighed, sitting back down in defeat. Jim raised an eyebrow at the remark, but took a swig of his whiskey anyway. “But hey, I still have some if you want to share.” He offered, taking out a sealed plastic tube with a joint inside of it. “See, I’m a respectable guy who shares,” he continued and Jim turned to look at what he had in his hands.
As soon as the chief noticed the illegal paraphernalia, he immediately rose from his seat. “Are you crazy, Harrington?” He exclaimed, trying to take it from Steve who pulled it away with determination.
“C’mon, Hopper. My goddamn dad beat the shit out of me tonight, let me at least have this.” He pleaded as Jim put his hands to his head in shock at the audacity of the kid. “We’re cool remember, we saved the world together and shit. I would rather not get high with the chief of police, but you kinda invited me here.”
“Exactly! I invited you here. This is my house, and I make the rules rules.” He boomed and Steve could smell the alcohol on his voice.
Steve let out a laugh smugly, “Well, actually. It’s your cabin, not your house.”
Jim Hopper could only stare at the boy with squinted eyes after that statement. He felt himself accidentally let out a chuckle of amusement, he had never experienced such a thing in all of his years on the police force. Steve, who was cheesily grinning with pride in his ability to aggravate people so easily, raised the tube at Jim and toyed with it between his fingers. Jim Hopper was curiously bewildered with his charisma and his insolence. Had another person asked him for this, he would never even considered saying yes.
“Y’know what?” Hopper sighed, “You go for it.”
And Steve gave him a lopsided at this. “Cool. Come with me outside though.” He requested and the man nodded.
He showed the boy the way outside and handed him a lighter since it looked like he didn’t have one. “I haven’t been high since high school.” He hummed, remembering the days of getting baked out of his skull with James Rollins in his dad’s Oldsmobile.
“Why?” Steve flatly asked without thinking.
“I’m a cop.”
“Right.” He stifled a laugh in his hand as he sat on the steps to Hopper’s cabin.
The cop shook his head at the boy and leaned next to the door frame. It was quite warm out, so the two could sit outside peacefully and enjoy the summer weather. He watched Steve spark the lighter and take a toke, he tried his best not to judge as an arm of the law. “Does your dad know you smoke?”
“Yeah. He’s gotten me good for it a few times.” Steve admitted, looking at his shoes while taking a hit. Quickly, he felt the effects of the weed take over and he was numbed. As the dull ache of his dad’s punches lessened, he estimated that he could successfully ignore his pain for an hour or so now. The throb in his cheeks would soon temporarily fade.
The rest of Steve’s session was filled with silence and the occasional coughing from him. Hopper did nothing but stand disapprovingly with his arms crossed while the younger guy had his illegal fun. “Thanks for letting me smoke.” Steve hummed, looking up at Hopper. The man nodded stiffly, “Just don’t go around telling people that I let you do drugs in front of me.”
“Damn,” Steve scoffed, “It’s just marijuana. Relax.” He finished as he stood up. He snickered when Hopper rolled his eyes, “so what’re you gonna do when El smokes weed for the first time then?” He asked, walking up to the man.
Hopper threw his brow up and he was dumbfounded to say the least. “Steve. Do you ever think about shutting up?”
“Doesn’t even cross my mind,” and he doesn’t miss a beat, “but you, know it is going to happen right?”
No reaction was given to the bitter old-man who didn’t appreciate Steve’s tone. He was high and he was euphoric, there was no stopping his arrogant behavior. “Teenagers experiment.” He explained simply, raising a finger at him as if he were to scold Jim. “Go easy on her, is what I’m saying.”
Jim watches him walk past him and go inside. He ponders over the kid’s hippie speech and decides, while it is reasonable, will definitely ground El if he ever finds out that she’s smoked pot. Once he hears the boy call “My face looks like shit! Can I get some ice?” from the bathroom, he comes back inside and attentively gathers an ice pack for him.
Watching the boy weakly settle on the couch, he brings the ice, but also takes him a glass of water and painkillers with him––the good-kind too––because he figures that Steve’s in a world of pain right now. He sits on the far end of the couch where the boy doesn’t have his legs sprawled out on. “Are you feeling better?” He asked softly, afraid that he might cause him to have a sudden crying fit. He was used to El having random triggers and he didn’t want to be the cause of one for Steve.
“Mm’yeah, I’m high.” He said as the corners of his lips curled goofily. “I’ll be fine.” He hummed, sitting up to look at Hopper who looked like he was about to speak.
“Well, how are you?” He blurted, cutting off the cop.
“I’m fine, kid.” He answered dryly, not wanting to entertain his high antics.
“No, really, how are you?” He repeated. “You’re like super badass all the time, but does anyone actually ask you how you are ever?”
Damn is all Jim can think. He was confronting all sorts of dilemmas tonight with Harrington, out of all people. “That’s a good question,” he sighs, “I’m alright, I’d say.”
The teen laughed bitterly and took in a sharp breath, smoothing his hair back with a shaky hand.
“Really? Because I’m pretty shit, man.” Steve confessed and it fell flat. The flow of the conversation ceased and it grew silent. The witty verbal sparring between the two had shriveled up and Jim said nothing. The boy leaned back on his elbows and his breath hitched in his throat, he felt as if he could cry again. He didn’t dare match the gaze of Jim who was both very concerned and looking directly at him.
“Kid.” Jim muttered, shifting to face towards him.
Eyes red from both weed and now tears, Steve turned away from Hopper and prepared to stand. “Wait-“ He reached out, grabbed the smaller man’s arm and pulled him back down as he slightly rose. Steve let himself be tugged and he gently fell against Hopper, his skinny body clashing against the heavier one.
His tears began to pool in eyes and blind him as Hopper took his wrists gently, being sure not to accidentally grab him too roughly. Steve shuttered at the touch and leaned into the man, he felt as if he was being reached out to and he should reach back. He felt the boy press against him and he pulled back instinctively, yet didn’t retreat completely. He slowly slipped a hand up the lower portion of Steve’s back, just testing to see what the boy would do.
“I’m tired.” Steve whispered, leaning on him for total support. He was quiet because he knew that if he spoke in his full voice, he would burst out crying and embarrass himself, King Steve, even more than he already has tonight.
“I know.” He nodded, looking down at him.
“I’m so so tired. Of everything.” He murmured with a cracking voice, “I’m tired of Demogorgons, giant flesh spiders. I’m tired of my dad. I’m tired of being fucking lonely. I just want it to end.”
“I’m sorry, kid.”
Even though he himself doesn’t even know what else could be said in this situation, “You already said that earlier.” he frowned.
“And I meant it. I can try to help. I am a cop after all.” Jim said sincerely. He’d go file paperwork in the morning for the boy.
A scoff slipped out of his lips as the tears fell faster, “What’re you gonna do? Arrest my dad?”
Jim sighed, and thought something like that. He watched Steve close his eyes and give into emotion. “I don’t know yet, but I’m going to keep you safe,” He insisted, clasping the smaller hands in his own for emphasis.
This caused Steve to swoon. He was scared, desperate––he felt horribly alone. He could go to his bestfriend Robin and ex-girlfriend Nancy to vent, but it could never be about this. Dustin is a friend, but he’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve to be troubled with Steve’s serious problems. So, Hopper was an outlet that he had never had access to before and he wanted to test it.
“Show me what you can do then.” He whispered, looking up at Hopper while batting his eyelashes which had tears clumped to them. He wasn’t sure of what sort of response the man would give him, but it’s not unlike him to try when he’s got nothing left to lose anymore.
He knew exactly what he meant. Jim Hopper was no fool. Approaching this subject meant no turning back, this was regrettable. But with Steve pressed up against him, practically panting in his ear, he frankly didn’t care to go over whether it was ethical or not to fuck a teenager that you saved the world with. Three times.
And with that Jim went for it. Feeling rusty, he leaned in to press his lips to Steve’s and was met halfway by the teen. He wrapped a calloused hand around the back of the boy’s neck and rejoiced at the feeling of finally kissing someone in such a long time. And it felt really fucking good for him. Steve’s lips were incredibly soft, yet his mouth tasted faintly like weed.
Since ditching Tommy H. and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler, Steve has gotten zero action except for his left hand and he’s dying for it. If Billy Hargrove hadn’t sacrificed himself at the battle of Starcourt and they had kept at their subtle homoerotic rivalry, then they probably would have been hate-fucking by now too. But that isn’t how it is. So that’s exactly why Steve Harrington is okay with letting the chief of police Jim Hopper go to town on him.
As they began to slowly make out, Jim allowed himself to lean forward, pushing Steve into the couch while also making sure to not crush him at the same time. His beard pricked Steve’s face which caused him to softly smile into the kiss, letting it be deepened by the older man who began to unbutton his own shirt. Jim was definitely his oldest lay.
Steve slipped his tongue into Jim’s mouth with ease and wrapped his legs around his thick waist. With his shirt off, Jim quickly began working to take off Steve’s bomber jacket and shirt. When he achieved this, he began working down the teen’s body by trailing rough kisses down his neck. Steve gave him a hum of pleasure and turned his neck so he could bear his neck further for hickies (he knew he would regret this later when he has to hide them from his friends).
Sure enough, Jim began to nibble on the sensitive skin of his neck as if he instinctively knew what the boy wanted. He let out a soft moan to encourage him, and then another. He figured that Hopper hadn’t scored much recently and his libido needed a jump start. Steve, who already had his crotch pressed to Jim’s, began to buck his hips which caused them both to groan. His cock was already hard and he was ready for stimulation.
Whines escaped Steve’s mouth, his member was trapped in his tight jeans and he could almost beg for release, but he wouldn’t. “Take ‘em off.” He whispered, grabbing Jim’s hand from behind his neck and dragging it to his bulge. He glanced up at Jim with rosy cheeks and an overall, flushed face, “Give it to me,” He panted. The older man just chuckled and gave into what he desired.
With Steve’s denim off and Hopper’s uniform strewn across the floor, the two briefly parted so that Jim could go retrieve some lubricant at the boy’s request.
“Here.” Jim said, throwing the lube into his hands. Steve caught it and squeezed it onto his fingers, “Ooh, it’s the warming kind,” he mused. He nodded while sitting down again on the other side of the couch and watching him as he takes off his briefs. “Use this on many people?” He asked and suddenly spread his legs which caused Jim’s breath to catch in his throat.
Jim shook his head and eyed the beautiful sight in front of him, not uttering a single word. Steve squeezed some lube out onto his fingers and slowly began to spread it onto his hole with the man attentively watching. The man sighed and began to stroke himself through his own boxers. “Come help me, Jim,” Steve whispered his name, deliberately not using ‘Hopper’ as he usually does.
He let out a groan at this and crawled over the boy, grabbing the lube. He returned to kissing the boy, but this time paying attention to other parts of his body. Steve hissed as he began to suck on his tender nipples and leave dark red splotches all over his chest. While he nipped at his skin, he lubed up his fingers and slowly began to loosen up his hole by working on his rim.
“You’r-,” Jim paused to lean up and kiss Steve, “God. So fucking hot,” he mumbled between sloppy kisses. When they disconnected, there was a small strand of spit that reached between their lips momentarily. Now, with the constant stimulation, Steve was letting out pretty moans that were telling Jim that he was doing all the right things with his fingers. After starting with a gentle circling motion, he slowly dipped in his index finger inside of Steve which caused the boy to cry out softly in surprise.
Steve was panting. Jim’s eyes met his, “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Steve nodded, trying to catch his breath. He appreciated the simple clarification of consent, Jim was a good man, after all. He rested his forehead on the large man’s shoulder, he smelled like Old Spice and it was almost intoxicating for the boy who was melting with every touch. Steve felt like Jell-O in Jim’s arms as his finger began to work him open more and more as lube was being continuously applied.
Quickly, one finger turned into two and Steve had his head thrown back in ecstasy. Jim had found his prostate. At the same time, a strong and gentle hand began to stroke Steve’s cock for extra effect.
“R-Right there.” Steve stuttered as Jim delicately pressed on the swollen spot. Because of this, his moans picked up and he began to curl his toes with pleasure. Still, despite being the only ones in the cabin, he managed to keep himself at a reasonable level. But, this isn’t what Jim wanted.
He dipped his head right next to his ear, “Louder, baby.” He said huskily as he nipped on his earlobe teasingly.
“Uh-huh.” Steve moaned, allowing himself to raise in pitch with every press to his prostate.
Soon enough, after enough fingering, Steve was loose enough for his cock. He knew what to look for, this was not his first rodeo with a man and Steve could tell––he appreciated it very much. The last thing he wanted was to end up fucking someone who has no idea what they’re doing.
Jim pulled his fingers out of Steve which caused the younger boy to cry out at the empty feeling that it left him with. However, he was swiftly satiated when Jim grabbed the head of his cock and pressed it to his hole. He rubbed it at his entrance, teasing the boy. Only giving him what he wanted slightly, just enough to make him whimper and beg for more without completely losing his mind.
“Please, c’mon, I need it,” Steve pleaded sweetly with big puppy dog eyes. Jim smiled, then chuckled, “Alright, alright.” He hummed and planted a quick kiss to Steve’s jaw. “Tell me if it hurts” He continued.
“I’m not a pussy. Put it in already, Hop.” He moaned, bucking his hips into his hand. Jim deeply groaned at the nickname and slowly plunged himself into the teen’s hole. The man let out a hiss as Steve’s walls squeezed around his cock, “Fuck, you’re tight.”
Steve clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth slightly when he went in, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He felt the large member throb inside of him, begging for movement. He bucked his hips at the tight feeling in his belly to thrust on his dick to tell Jim that he was ready for it.
Grabbing his hips, Jim lifted him up off the couch to take him to a better place. Again, working with limited space, Hopper pushed him to the wall and pulled out just to thrust back in. Steve gasped at this and dug his fingers into Jim’s shoulders as he began to gently fuck him with a slow pace. “O-Oh, Hop. Faster.” He moaned, requiring more of the out-of-shape man.
Jim sped his pace and began panting far more than he already was. He decided that this would be his workout for the week. Even though they had just started, he began to feel this all coming to a close. As he felt his balls twitch, he thrusted harder and harder, trying to bury himself in the Harrington boy. At some point Steve opened his eyes and saw Jim watching him, measuring his progress.
“You’re s-so big, man. Fuckin’ me so good,” Steve hissed, biting at Jim’s neck to leave at least one hickey on him to make sure he can’t forget this moment right away.
“Talk about yourself,” he groaned, “you take my cock so good, Kid.”
His cheeks turned deep red at that remark, but he was far more proud than he was embarrassed. “Thanks.” He whispered.
No response came from Jim as he was determined to not cum just yet. He wanted to keep fucking Harrington just like he used to bang Christy, but unfortunately he isn’t as youthful anymore and his stamina reflects it. However, when he heard Steve whimper “I’m gonna cum”, he was rather happy because he was pretty much at his boiling point already.
“Harder, I’m so fucking close.” He whispered as Jim reached up to grab a fist full of his fluffy, brown locks. The man slammed into him with great force, producing a smacking sound with each thrust. He tugged on the hair in his hand which made the boy moan and squeeze down on his cock.
Steve cried out as the heat in his belly finally peaked and his balls spilled, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” he sighed out erotically and wrapped his arms around Jim. Seconds after, following a few final thrusts, Jim came with a large grunt and finished inside Steve. He continued to fuck the boy after orgasming with sloppy thrusts, causing Steve to softly whimper from overstimulation.
He let go of his hair and retreated back to the couch with Harrington, an utter mess, in his arms. Jim laid him down gently, grabbed a towel from the floor that he preemptively brought and used it to clean the mess they had created. He gently wiped the cum off Steve’s stomach and kissed his collar bone, listening to him pant softly and regain himself.
“I needed that.” Steve sighed tiredly, letting Jim clean him up. The older man only hummed in response. “So what did you think?” He asked, lifting his legs up for Jim so that he could clean his load out of Steve.
Hopper chuckled through his nose and tossed the towel down once he was done, “You’re better than Chrissy Carpenter.”
He placed a quick reassuring kiss to the slightly bruised splotches on the boy’s thigh which originated from his strong fingers holding him in place as he slammed into him
“I’ll take that as a compliment?” He questioned, throwing an eyebrow up.
“Used to bang her all the time in high school.” Jim huffed, taking a cigarette out from his discarded khakis and lighting it. Steve watched him put on boxers and retreat to the bathroom where he washed his hands, but not his face. Disgusting, Steve thought.
This time, when Jim returned to the living room, he let Steve have a puff of his cigarette and then sat in his recliner, leaving the boy alone on the couch. He’d figure out what to do once it was morning.