Chapter Text
The banging at the door of your apartment makes you jump every time, but it's hardly unexpected. Ever since you moved into the place a week ago, your neighbour has been on a mission to make your life miserable. You honestly don't know if it's you in particular Mr Gresky objects to, or if it's the idea of anyone living in the next door apartment at all. Either way, the guy has banged on your door at least six times a day to complain about the noise you're supposedly making, and since you stopped answering the door after 6pm, he's started banging on the shared wall all evening as well.
Plastering your best attempt at a polite smile on your face, you drag yourself away from the pile of books on the kitchen table and go answer the door.
"Mr Gresky, I've been sitting working-" You begin as you swing the door open, but stop abruptly when you see that your visitor isn't your stumpy, grey haired neighbour, but a tall, burly cop in khaki uniform.
"Hey there." The cop fixes you with piercing blue eyes, and you feel an instant - and inappropriate - twinge of attraction, "We've had a noise complaint from your neighbour. Mind if I come in?"
"You got ID?" You ask automatically, and his mouth shifts from a grim line to a slight smile.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
"Ah, no. Sorry..." You hesitate, torn between inviting him in and insisting on the ID the way you always did in the past.
"S'alright." He solves the dilemma for you by handing over his police ID. "Chief Jim Hopper."
You hold out your hand and tell him your name in return, and although he looks slightly amused by your approach, he takes your proffered hand and shakes it firmly. His touch makes your skin tingle, but you try to ignore that; he is here to follow up on a complaint, after all.
You step aside to let Chief Hopper into the apartment, and he perches on the edge of an armchair while you take the couch.
"Your neighbour says you're making a lot of noise." His gaze drifts to the guitar propped in the corner, and then to your stereo. "Gotta say, I was expecting to find more of a, er, party house, from what he described."
"Well, I've lived here for a week, and the first time I used the stereo, Mr Gresky came knocking and I haven't used it since. Same goes for my guitar, though that's been a lot harder to give up. Most of the time I've been working on lesson plans, sat right there," You gesture through the open doorway into the kitchen where the small table is piled with books, "In complete silence. But I guess my breathing must offend him." You realise your voice has risen in frustration, but it doesn't seem to bother Hopper.
He nods slowly. "Well, I'm certainly not going to write you up. But I don't think your neighbour is gonna stop complaining."
You drop your head in your hands, suddenly close to tears. Moving here was supposed to be your fresh start, and instead you've acquired a six month lease on the neighbour from hell.
"Let me ask you something," He says, "The landlord give you a cheap rate on this place by any chance?"
"Well, yeah, I guess..." You raise your head and sigh when you see the expression on his face. "I got hustled, didn't I?"
"Officer Powell tells me that Mr Gresky has made noise complaints about everyone who's lived here since '76. Never had a tenant last more than a few months."
"Shit." You mutter, dropping your head right back into your hands.
"You like to play the guitar, huh?"
The change of subject surprises you enough to look up at him, "Since I was a kid. I usually play every day." He raises an eyebrow, and you explain further, "I'm a music teacher, but I used to be a musician, and a songwriter. I mean, I still am, kind of, but, y'know..."
"You teaching at Hawkins High?" He asks, sparing you from any further rambling.
"I'm starting there in the fall. I figured spending the end of the summer here would give me a chance to get to know the town before classes start."
"Where'd you move from?" His questions don't feel like an interrogation, he actually looks genuinely interested, but then he is a cop, so maybe that's just how he reels in his suspects.
"San Francisco. LA before that." You shrug, quickly moving on, "I was born in Nowheresville, Indiana though, so-"
"So you should feel kind of at home here." He gives you a wry kind of smile, and you can't help smiling back.
"Maybe, if it weren't for Mr Gresky."
Hopper taps his fingers on his thigh and nods slightly before looking back at you.
"There's a trailer for rent on the lakeside. No neighbours - not much of anything around there, actually - so you could play as much music as you wanted. If you're interested-"
"I'm interested." You tell him quickly.
"Well, I can check out the details and give you a call, if you want?"
"That would be amazing." You feel a little of the tension release from your chest, "Seriously, thank you."
He makes a 'don't worry about it' kind of gesture and stands up. "If you write down your number..."
You hastily scrawl it on the notepad he holds out, trying to ignore the rush you get when your fingers graze his as you hand the pad back.
"Well, I'll call you." He says, and you thank him again before escorting him to the door. You never would have expected that a visit from a police officer could offer you the hope you so badly need right now. Then again, you've never met a police officer like Hopper before.
Your phone rings at 9am the next morning, just as you're sitting down with cereal and coffee. Hardly anyone has your new number yet, so you pick up a little tentatively, and hear a deep voice on the other end.
"It's Jim Hopper. I'm calling about the trailer, if you're still interested."
As if on cue, Mr Gresky starts banging on the wall, and you hear Hopper chuckle.
"I'm still interested," You tell him, fighting the urge to bang the wall right back. Then you have a thought that wipes the smile off your face. "The only thing is, I figure it's going to be a struggle to get my deposit back for this place, and I can't afford to put another one down. I should have thought of that before."
"The owner of the trailer is pretty relaxed. You can probably work something out." Hopper tells you, and you let out a sigh of relief. "I could take you out there this morning, show you the place?"
"Oh, er, yeah." You reply in surprise. "I mean, if you have time."
"I'm not on duty this morning. Pick you up in an hour?"
"Er, yeah, that's fine." You want to ask how come Hopper is the one showing you the place rather than the owner, but he doesn't give you the chance.
"See you then." He says, and hangs up.
You eat your breakfast in record time, then dash into the bedroom and look in the mirror. You're still wearing your sleep shirt, and your hair is a mess. You've never been the type to dress up for a man, but you would like to at least look presentable in front of the first guy you've been attracted to in ages, even if there's been no sign that he might feel the same way. As it's a fairly warm day, you choose denim cut offs and a tank top with a plaid shirt unbuttoned over the top, adding boots in case the lakeside setting means mud. You might have been living in cities for the past few years, but you grew up in a place not unlike Hawkins, and spent plenty of time in your high school years messing around by the lake.
You probably should have expected that Hopper wouldn't be wearing his uniform, but it still takes you by surprise when he appears wearing jeans and a flannel button down not dissimilar from yours, the sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms. He looks downright delicious, and having to sit beside him in his truck while he drives you out to the lake is like sweet torture.
"So, who owns the place?" You ask, trying to distract yourself from looking at his thighs in worn denim.
"Actually, that would be me." He admits, keeping his eyes on the road. "I lived there before my daughter came along."
It's not a surprise, but the fact that he's a family man still feels a little like a gut punch, "So you and your wife needed a bigger place, huh?"
He glances at you, "No wife. Just me and Jane. But yeah, the trailer wasn't, ah, the right place for us."
"How old is your daughter?" You ask curiously, expecting a pre-schooler and a divorce.
"She's thirteen," He replies, surprising you, "I adopted her out of a bad situation."
"Wow, that's... That's very cool." You say honestly, and as he glances over at you, you see something in his expression that gives you the same jolt you got from touching his hand the day before. "I hope I get to teach her at school."
"I hope so too." He says slowly, and you feel a blush stain your cheeks as a slight smile lifts his mouth.
"It's not much." He tells you, as you park up outside the trailer, but you've already lost your heart to the place at first glance. Sure, it's a little dilapidated, but the view is spectacular, it's private, and your fingers are itching to pick up your guitar and sit out on the little porch overlooking the lake and play.
"I'll take it." You blurt, and he laughs.
"You haven't even seen inside."
"If it has four walls and a roof with no holes, I'm good."
He gives you an appraising kind of look. "Come on, I'll show you."
Inside there's a living room, kitchenette, bedroom and bathroom. The furniture is basic, but includes a couch, a table, and a bed, so the essentials are covered. It's actually bigger than the apartment in town, and you're desperate to make it yours.
"How much?" You ask bluntly, and Hopper looks to be hiding a grin as he names a figure slightly below what you're paying for the apartment.
"But the landlord can be kind of hard to get hold of," He warns, "Works a lot. If the power goes out you might be living by candlelight for a while." He may be half joking, but with him being a cop, it's a fair point.
"I'm pretty handy. Unless the roof falls in, I can probably manage any day to day issues." You assure him.
"Good to know." He nods towards the porch, "If you're planning to play guitar out there, I don't expect to get any noise complaints from the fish."
You snort with laughter even as you register how good a smile looks on him. And then your heart jumps in your chest as you notice him glance - very quickly - at your bare legs. Maybe the burly Police Chief is interested in you after all.