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1. Hopper
After they’d announced the big news, Chrissy and Eddie didn’t mind who knew about them expecting, but they weren’t going and telling every damn person in town about it. Jim understood why not. It’s not like either of them had been treated very well by the town while he’d been gone. A literal witch hunt would for sure make anyone bitter against a town. He’d never tell him, but Jim could admit to himself that he was quite impressed by Munson. He wasn’t sure if he’d have the guts to stick around like that kid did after everything he’d been put through.
It seemed to give Eddie a little thrill to still cause the bland people of Hawkins to wince or look away from him when he was out in public. Whether it was still out of fear of thinking he could summon the Devil or whatever other shit that Carver kid had been spouting, or because they were ashamed of the way they’d behaved back in ‘86. Either way, Eddie Munson could still make people look twice, and judge once.
Jim himself was guilty of it. The first time he’d pulled Eddie over had been in ‘83. Maybe ‘84? Could be; that would have been Eddie’s original graduating year if the kid’s dad hadn’t caused some trouble for him and his uncle. Pulling that hunk of junk to the side of the highway, Jim had leaned in, looked Eddie Munson up and down and thought, ‘punk’. Fortunately for Eddie, he was also a ‘punk’ with a mighty useful side job that Jim had some interest in.
After the whole ‘Vecna’ deal and getting El back, bringing Joyce back to Hawkins… Jim Hopper changed his mind about Munson. Jim had watched all the kids (because that’s what they all were, no matter how much Henderson or Wheeler tried to argue with him about it) practically dog piling on top of one another while they all took shelter in his old log cabin. The town was in shambles and enough people had fled town that Jim hadn’t found it difficult to convince everyone it was best to stay inside and at his cabin for the time being. Joyce seemed to pick up that he felt safest in familiar environments.
Mike, Dustin and Lucas (as well as Lucas’s sister, Erica) had begged their mothers to go too. Jim didn’t fight it, even if he knew part of the reason was because they wanted to be with El. He didn’t blame them after what they’d all gone through. He still kept a weathered eye on Wheeler though.
Max had been in the hospital, Jim remembered clearly. The kids were all distraught and begged Joyce (and Steve) to go and visit the hospital as soon as everyone was awake the next morning. Steve didn’t ask Jim or Joyce. Steve said, “Yeah, of course. We’ll all go, and take shifts between everyone.”
Jim either didn’t catch it, or didn’t care at the time. It could have been the latter. He was fucking exhausted, malnourished and refused to go to the hospital. Other people needed the care more than him. He already knew what was wrong with him. Joyce had pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. She just held him extra tight that night when they fell asleep.
When they got to the hospital, Jim had led the pack towards Max Mayfield’s room. Steve and Robin (whom Jim wasn’t as familiar with, but Nancy had a pretty tight hold of her sleeve most of the time they were moving so he figured she was just another one) didn’t follow. They went down a few doors and bullied their way past some suspiciously suited up men guarding the door. Jim gave the guards a squint and told Joyce he would catch up. She had nodded, her eyes also following Steve and Robin. Neither he nor Joyce really like the idea of any of the kids going off on their own right now.
Inside that hospital room, Jim had met Chrissy Cunningham for the first, real, time. Before now, she was just another high school student— good kid, rich parents, handsome boyfriend, went to church— and now, it seemed she had joined the Party.
Jim had been given the crash course of the century to learn why Chrissy was in the hospital. How she’d been the first victim of Henry Creel and escaped by a lucky coincidence.
He’d been about to leave, to find the kids again and let them know where Chrissy was when he’d been given another shock—
“Chief, do you know where Eddie is? No one will tell me the room number…” Chrissy Cunningham asked almost desperately like it was totally normal for the church-going cheerleader to ask after the town’s drug dealer.
Steve and Robin had nearly fallen over to placate her, telling her they’d find out and break her out if they needed to. Jim turned a blind ear when Robin admitted to knowing how to break into locked doors, only for Steve to remind her bricks wouldn’t work in a hospital.
He didn’t know the whole story, but Jim got his first sense he’d misjudged something.
Heading back to Max’s room, Jim sat with El and her friend Lucas, keeping his hand gently on Max’s ankle as she slept. Or, whatever it was that happened when someone was in a coma. Dustin was the one who asked him, “Hop, did you see which way Steve went?”
But it was Nancy who told Dustin, “He and Robin went to see Chrissy. Eddie’s in room 103.”
Dustin, Mike, and Erica were scrambling out of the room before Jim could ask why the hell they wanted to know where Eddie Munson was. Lucas stayed behind, dutifully holding Max's unresponsive hand. Joyce had no idea either by the look on her face, but Nancy just shrugged and leaned into Jonathan’s side as they stayed with Max. About ten minutes later, Steve and Robin came to sit with Max and relieved Nancy and Jonathan. Jim wasn’t sure when they’d had a moment to decide all this, but none of the teens spoke a word other than, ‘Your turn’.
Jim decided to stay with Steve and Robin in Max’s room, while Joyce elected to go with the other two to see Chrissy. It wasn’t much more than another ten minutes before Robin said they were going to see Eddie now and remind the kids to come and see Max again before they left. So curious, Jim stood and left Lucas alone in the room to follow the other two to Munson’s room.
The reason for the kids not adhering to whatever schedule Steve and Nancy had cooked up was apparent once they’d opened the door (bullying past another two guards at the door). Eddie was barely visible beneath the pile of teenagers he had all over him; from Mike sprawled out by his legs, Dustin covering as much of his torso as he could without touching the bandages wrapped around him, Erica not holding Eddie’s hand, but ‘just looking’ at the rings there. Even El was amongst the pile, sitting by Mike next to Eddie’s hip, chatting away with the punk metalhead like she’d known him for years. Jim knew the two had never met before now.
Seemed Jim had misjudged more than one person today.
Dustin had whined and kicked at Steve when the older boy told him to let Eddie breathe and go see Max. El looked quite conflicted about leaving her new friend. Mike stubbornly remained laid out on the bed, though Munson looked like he’d take some pleasure in kicking him off if he nudged his leg again. Steve tried once more and Robin joined in that they’d bothered Eddie long enough, when Jim was surprised by Eddie piping up and managing to win the kids over instantly.
“All right you miscreants,” Eddie groaned from underneath his pile of teens, “Stevie-boy wants me all to myself and I don’t think you children could handle seeing your dad macking on someone so handsome. So shove off before I make you.”
Jim choked on a laugh (or just a cough of shock) at the brashness. But he’d known Eddie a while and didn’t take anything the guy said seriously. Neither did Steve, who just huffed a long, drawn out and tired sigh. Mike just rolled his eyes.
Dustin actually wrinkled his nose up at Steve of all people, while Erica muttered something under her breath and Jim’s poor El just watched all of this with that sweet disposition of hers.
“Dude, don’t get in the middle of something good. I’d better not hear from Robin that you were coming on to Eddie when I get back.”
Robin cackles at Steve’s sputtering and Jim’s brows rising up to his hairline. Eddie just joins Robin in laughing loud enough that a nurse opens the door and scolds them for having too many people in the room at a time. The kids don’t notice the redness of Munson’s ears, but Jim does. He wasn’t police chief for nothing.
Eddie grins as the kids peel themselves off the bed, Dustin ducking in for one last hug before they leave, looking like a band of dejected toys or something. Robin slips onto Mike’s old spot, her feet swinging up and landing between Eddie’s. El is the last to leave, telling Eddie to have a good sleep.
Jim decides maybe Eddie isn’t so bad when the shit-eating grin slides off his face immediately and a soft crooked smile replaces it, “See ya later, kiddo.”
Steve kicks his feet up next to Eddie’s elbow, leaving Jim with the last chair, which he slides up next to Steve’s.
Eddie’s eyes are following Jim’s every movement, though he’s not asking why the man’s here. Or how, seeing as Jim had been thought dead until very recently, and Eddie had already been in the hospital when the others learned of his return.
“Hey Hopper,” he greets genially, “you’re lookin’ rough, man.”
Jim grunts, “You’re not looking so hot either, tough guy.”
Eddie grins, that shit-eating one again. Like a mask sliding back into place. “Steve might not agree.”
“ Jesus Christ ,” Steve whispers, “you’re gonna give someone a conniption pretty soon with all your ‘implying’.”
“Who? Henderson?” Eddie grins, trying to subtly shift in spot to get more comfortable. Robin grabs up a pillow and helps him out, “That’s sort of the aim, Steven. Unfortunately, he’s a bit too used to me to believe it. And Hop stopped listening to my shit years ago.”
Robin clears her throat, like she’s hurt for being left out. Eddie rolls his eyes, “ You don’t count, Buck.”
Suddenly it’s Steve’s turn to grin ferally, “I meant Chrissy.”
That had shut Eddie up pretty quick, as he launched a pillow into Steve Harrington’s face. That was the first time Jim learned about Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson.
That was years ago already, and so much had changed. That unlikely pair he heard about in the hospital of all places was married now. For the last six months already. And he’d been there when they’d shared the big news that Chrissy was expecting and there were going to be more little Munson’s running around his town and causing him grief.
Thank God or whoever for their mother, or Jim would seriously think about retiring by the time they knew how to drive.
All that to say, Jim found himself almost wanting to keep the news away from people. No one in this damn town appreciated either of these kids— Chrissy, in their eyes, had ‘fallen from grace’ to live with Munson. But Jim knew Chrissy was the sweetest and surprisingly funny woman, who Joyce and El adored. She was a good role model for El, aside from the fact she shacked up with the local drug dealer, but Jim had also had a turn of heart about him as well so he didn’t hold it against her. Too much.
He promised himself he’d look out for Chrissy, seeing as she worked in the same building as he did during the week. But, not obviously , because Jim had witnessed first hand the wallop Chrissy had given Steve when he’d tried to insist on her being ‘in a state’ and letting him carry the bowl of salad to the table last get together. Chrissy Munson could take care of herself.
Jim knew that. It was one of the reasons he’d liked Chrissy so much after just meeting her. She was a good kid— a good person and she’d be a good mom too.
Jim also couldn’t be too obvious about keeping an eye on Chrissy during work, because he was the only one in the station who knew about the pregnancy.
He also got the clue to zip it when Chrissy walked in for her shift, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at seven in the morning (Jim had no idea how or why this girl could be so perky so early) wearing a baggy sweater.
Not , obviously, that this should have been something notable— Jim wasn’t a pig. He just knew, from knowing Chrissy, that she tended towards more flattering fits while at work. She always had. Flo had clucked her tongue at the younger woman when Chrissy had first started, but then fawned over the girl when those pretty, pleasant outfits Chrissy turned up to the Sheriff’s station in never became provocative or strayed far from ‘girl next door’. The title seemed to fit Chrissy well enough, until her husband walked in one day with her lunch and nearly caused Callahan to choke on his donut when Eddie leaned over the front desk and laid a smooch on Chrissy.
So, Chrissy walking in with what seemed to be a sweater Robin Buckley would wear (that is, comically oversized and an eye-watering colour) was enough of a silent plea for Jim not to mention anything to anyone.
She sat with Flo, the two girls chatting about their weekends while they filed, harangued Jim and the other boys into doing some actual work, and dealing with the walk-ins who mostly just wanted to complain to the Police Sheriff about some meaningless neighbour tiff. Chrissy was good at stopping most of them— Jim had nearly laughed out loud the first time she had waylaid Mr. Porter, who regularly came to complain about the kids who drove their bikes too close to the edge of his lawn. Chrissy had somehow distracted the man so thoroughly with talk about ‘Starting her own garden soon, and how did you ever get your tulips to grow so neat and tidy, Mr. Porter?’ that the man had simply waved to Jim on his way back out the door.
Chrissy caught Jim’s eye at some point, her fork half raised to her mouth as she sat in the bullpen with Callahan and Powell, everyone deciding to enjoy lunch from the diner. She looked a little panicked for a moment, so Jim shot her a quick wink. She seemed to relax after that, and neither thought anything about it. He wasn’t going to break someone else’s news.
Unfortunately, it was during that lunch that Callahan seemed to forget himself (like usual; the guy was a lazy loudmouth, if anyone cared to ask Jim) and began complaining about some of his (least) favourite people of Hawkins.
“That call down to the record store was a real pain in the ass, Chief,” Callahan whines, slurping up his spaghetti obnoxiously. Flo even wrinkled her nose, turning for a moment to try and enjoy her own pasta in peace at an angle that afforded her a more pleasant view. Chrissy frowned, but continued to eat her salad.
Jim sighs, “It wasn’t even a call, Callahan. I told you just to ignore it.”
Callahan seemed pretty heated though, wanting something to complain about, “Pretty sure getting a noise complaint from any citizen in Hawkins is enough of a call, Chief. Besides, it’s right on Main, it’s not exactly a place I could just ‘pretend’ to check out.”
Jim levels his Deputy with a look , pulling the grumpy frown from his back pocket of glares he likes to level at Mike Wheeler, “...You ‘pretend’ to do your job often, Phil?”
Callahan had the decency to stumble before breezing past this to keep complaining, “So anyway, I walk into the record store—”
“We’ve been over this, Callahan…”
“And whatever’s playing is just terrible! It was just noise!”
“Phil…” Powell jumps in, frowning at his partner while throwing a side eye at Chrissy.
“And who’s at the desk, do you think? That worthless—”
“Yes?”
Callahan seems to finally come back to Earth, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging out stupidly, gaping at a rather unimpressed Chrissy Munson.
Jim leaned back in his chair.
Chrissy took another bite of her salad, chewing slowly, watching Callahan almost pleasantly, “My husband works at the record shop. I hope there wasn’t anything going on?” she bats her eyes. Flo covers her mouth, pretending to chew thoughtfully, once again immersed in the conversation. Jim throws the woman a smirk that she ignores.
Callahan’s mouth flaps, suddenly at a loss for words.
Chrissy puts down her salad, “I’d better give him a call and make sure he’s okay.”
“No!” Callahan shouts, his face going bright red when everyone looks at him, “Uh, it, uh. Nothing happened, Chrissy, he, uh, your, um—”
Jim rolls his eyes, “Her husband , Callahan? Eddie Munson, who works at the store you decided to antagonize? Who plays rock and metal music at his job ? Where he sells music ?”
Callahan shut up appropriately after that, though no one stopped Chrissy from continuing her deliberate call to Eddie, enjoying the good mood it put her into and the bad one it put Callahan in.
👑🎸
It was a week later that Chrissy seemed to slip in her careful planning. It had been a week of big sweaters, comfortable jeans, and even a few shirts that pretty obviously belonged to Eddie (and Jim wouldn’t put it past Chrissy to wear those just to antagonize Callahan).
Jim grunted out a ‘mornin’’ to her much more chipper ‘good morning!’ as she walked past his office door. The chatter from Flo greeted her once she got to her desk, and the telltale grunts and moans from his Deputies that always greeted the cheery Chrissy on a Monday morning.
The morning went by with no big surprise or event— Hawkins had thankfully become a sleepy little town again, and Jim didn’t want to jinx it by complaining. This didn't stop Callahan and Powell, but that was their lot in life— to complain about nothing. Far be it for Jim to stop them.
Jim stepped out onto the floor around noon, stretching out his back while hearing that little voice in his head (that sounded a bit like Joyce) not to sit so damn long next time. He certainly wasn't getting any younger.
Flo wasn't at the front desk; she must have taken her turn in the filing room. Chrissy was still there however, and gave Jim a consolatory sort of grin that had Jim grimacing back at her.
"Not a word, Munson."
The cheeky thing gives him a little salute before reclining in her own hard-backed chair, "Yes'sir, Chief."
Jim just rolls his eyes, "That husband of yours is giving you some bad habits, Chrissy."
Chrissy laughs, one hand holding onto her desk while the other stretches behind her to try and snag a loose file someone had left there, "Yeah, well, he also gave me a back massage this morning, so who's laughing now, Hop?"
Rolling his eyes again (and refusing to laugh, on principle), Jim leans over the cabinet, meaning to comeback with a good zinger—
When Callahan and Flo come sauntering back into the pen, and things all seem to happen at once.
Chrissy, in her odd maneuvering to stay in her chair as well as grab the file, lets go of the desk. This, Jim realizes, was because she'd been carefully keeping her cardigan closed at the same time. Her baggy sweater choice of the day had been paired with a normal white shirt beneath it; no different than her usual style this past week, but enough that Jim can see a very distinct roundness to her midsection that was not there last time he'd checked.
Chrissy tries to be fast, but Jim sees the bump and immediately looks around on high alert.
But, if Jim saw it, then Flo and Callahan definitely saw it too, judging by the looks on their faces.
Chrissy, none the wiser to her accidental faux pas, snags the file and tucks herself back into her chair beneath her desk. Bump hidden all over again. If he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes, Jim wouldn't have known it was there. Physically. He knew, like, intellectually…
Mind out of there, Hopper. Jesus Christ—
"Oh!" Flo squeaks, in a very un-Flo-like register. Chrissy looks up at her desk partner, giving the older woman an odd look.
Jim, meanwhile, is frozen and uselessly staring at the two who'd just stumbled their way into a big Party secret.
Flo's hands start to flutter, and Callahan's mouth just sort of resembles a fish.
Chrissy slides a look at Jim, who has absolutely fuck all of an idea what to do right now. He'd promised himself he'd watch out for Chrissy, not just for her, but for Eddie too. These kids didn't deserve the gossip they got from this town. And now two of the worst blabber-mouths Jim knew looked like they'd seen a ghost.
Obviously seeing something of this on his face, Chrissy's eyes go a bit wide and she spins to face Flo and Callahan.
"Oh gosh, did you—?"
Flo immediately starts blubbering, shocking the hell out of Jim, "Chrissy, hon, are you…?"
Chrissy sort of sighs, resigned, but smiling at Flo, "Yeah. Yes… I'm pregnant." She does a lame little wave with her hands. Jim sort of expects her to be holding pompoms.
Flo flutters and rushes Chrissy, gathering the young woman into an awkward hug, since Chrissy is still sitting down. "Oh honey! That's such great news!"
Chrissy chuckles, giving Flo a little pat on the back, "Thanks Flo. We're pretty excited."
That makes Jim chuckle, while Flo is still making grabby hands at Chrissy, “I’d say everyone’s pretty excited about your kids, Chrissy.”
This makes Chrissy giggle too, though it sends Flo into a fit— “Kids? Hop, really, don’t go wishing another on the poor girl when she’s still not had her first—”
“Oh, I’m, uh,” Chrissy smiles that sweet little grin, the one Jim has caught El beginning to emulate. Sheepish and shy, but really there’s a faint hint of amusement there, “I’ve having, um, triplets?”
Jim revelled a bit in the long pause. It was funny being on the other side of things. He could sort of get why Munson had nearly pissed himself laughing when they’d told everyone.
Then Callahan opened his big, dumb mouth.
“Jesus Christ, Munson’s got nothin’ better to do that to stick—”
Jim and Flo both managed to cuff Callahan so hard on the back of his head, that the twirp actually bit his tongue as he yelped. Chrissy just looked highly amused by the whole thing, rather than the disgust or mortification Jim himself was feeling. She was made of pretty stern stuff. Maybe she and Eddie didn’t need as much protection as he thought.
But he still kept an eye on her for the rest of the day, up until Munson walked through the door to bring her home for the day. If Jim still watched (just in case, you know? Can’t be too careful) long enough to see Chrissy give her now visible belly little pets, or watch Eddie lean over to give his wife’s cheek a kiss and sneak a little rub down of her shirt front himself…
Well, if Jim didn’t keep an eye on his kids, he’d miss little moments like those, wouldn’t he?