something_incredible | (no subject)

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The last time Hopper had to do something like this, it'd been in New York. And it'd been a hell of a lot more expensive there, that's for sure, although the two storey townhouse he'd found them on Maple Street wasn't exactly cheap. He's a detective, though, he gets paid a decent salary and now he's got a mortgage, too.

And a place for the three of them to live.

With Eleven moving in, he'd given up his bedroom for her, but his back had ached within two days of sleeping on the couch and he'd pretty quickly come to the conclusion that they'd need a new place. Somewhere they could all have their own space, without tripping over each other or Ellie, who deserved a back yard to run around in on the days Hopper got caught up at work and couldn't always take her for a walk.

The townhouse is between Beacon and Hegal, the end unit of three, closer to Beacon. It has a gate on the side, a fenced in yard big enough for the dog and for Hopper to put out some lawn furniture, a few chairs, a little table. There's a tiny balcony off the window of what he figures will be Beverly's room, a ladder that leads down into the yard, but only once it's pushed down from above. No one can reach it from the ground and he kind of likes having the escape route, if there ever was a fire.

It needs some work. It isn't brand new, some of the baseboards are scuffed and need replacing, there are some cracks in the plaster in the kitchen. The floors are hardwood, which is nice, but they need to be refinished all through the second floor where the bedrooms are located.

Besides that, it's a nice place. Three bedrooms on the second floor, a bathroom off the master suite, which Hopper likes, because sharing a single bathroom with two teenage girls isn't something he's looking forward to. There's a fairly large bathroom between the two other rooms, one of which will be Beverly's and the other Eleven's. The main floor has a spare room, maybe an office, he hasn't decided yet, a sizeable kitchen and living room, as well a dining room Hopper figures they'll almost never use.

But there's space for all of them and as he stands on the front step with a box in his arms, the dog winding around his legs before disappearing into the townhouse to investigate, he feels pretty damn good about it.

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Nikita hadn't seen much of Hopper recently, but she also hadn't been worried about it, even if they'd had the kind of agreement where they worried about that. He'd let her know that Eleven had arrived here and that he was helping her settle in, which made sense. He hadn't talked much about Eleven, but she knew the name and how important the girl was to him.

It sort of made her wish again she'd had even one parent who cared that much about her, but that was something that she couldn't change and wasn't worth focusing on.

She'd sent a casual text last week with a funny picture of one of the new recruits' attempts to tie a bandage. She thought he'd appreciate that, and he had. He'd said something about moving and let her know where, so she'd come by today with a housewarming present of cleaning supplies. She'd moved into a lot of places and none of them had been clean except the one Section had provided (and that had been dirty in totally different ways).

She had a little bucket with a sponge, cloths, and some cleaning stuff in bottles and she swung it gently as she sauntered up to him.

"You're supposed to put your stuff in the house."

"Shit, is that how you move into a new place?" he asks, looking over at Nikita. "No wonder my last few places before Darrow never really felt like home, I just moved in and used whatever had been left behind."

That isn't even entirely a joke. After he'd torn his place to shreds looking for the bed the lab had placed, there hadn't been much left in the way of furniture, and when he'd moved them out to that old cabin, the furniture and the bed for Eleven had already been there.

This really is unlike anything he's done since New York.

"Did you bring cleaning supplies?" he asks, looking down at the bucket she's holding.

Eleven has a small box of things in her arms, with her school bag full of clothes on her shoulders. She stops beside him, looking into the house before looking up at him.

He looks pleased, and she can't help but smile small to see it. She's a little nervous about this, but excited, too. It's a real house — maybe not big, like Mike's, with a basement and everything, but it's bigger than the apartment, bigger than the cabin — and it's theirs. Hers and Hopper's and Beverly's. Even the silly dog, who El has decided she likes, too.

Even if her name is Ellie.

Though they see each other regularly, Vimes and Hopper have both been too buried in work--both official and unofficial--to do more but say hello in passing to one another, or to grumble about everyday things while they wait for a new pot of coffee in the precinct breakroom. He's gotten the impression that Things Are Afoot in Hopper's life, but even before he has a chance to ask, Hopper texts him to ask if Vimes wants to come see his new place, and Vimes takes him up on the offer.

Now he wanders down the pleasant little street that is subtly but unmistakably nicer than the surrounds of either Hopper's old apartment, or his own. He grins when he sees Hopper standing on the front stoop with a box in his arms. "Moving up in the world, are we?"

"Got your stuff?" Hopper asks, looking down at Eleven as she steps up beside him on the front steps. Ellie is trotting from room to room, sniffing corners, her tail wagging in wide arcs as she explores.

With another small smile, Hopper steps over the threshold and into the home. Their home.

"You remember looking at this one, right?" he asks. "I know we saw a lot of places that day, but this is one with all the bedrooms upstairs. A bathroom between the rooms that'll be yours and Bev's."

"Yeah, well, two teenage girls, a dog, and me turned out to be too much in an apartment," Hopper answers, turning at the sound of Vimes approaching. "My back only lasted two damn days on the sofa before it started reminding me how old I am now."

The sofa he left in the apartment. It had been there when he moved in and he doesn't feel right taking it. They've got new furniture coming, nothing fancy, but good enough.

Good enough to make a home.

"You know, Hopper, you're a hell of a lot nicer than me. Let the kids take the sofa. I've slept on enough of 'em in my life already."

Two teenage girls. Vimes still can't quite believed that Hopper's daughter actually showed up in this damn place. That kind of unalloyed good doesn't happen to men like them, at least not by chance. Vimes isn't even jealous, not really. Hopper deserves this kind of good luck.

"How's your girl settling in?"

Steve supposes that being friends with a middle-aged man means that he'll have to do a reasonable amount of physical labor, so he agrees pretty easily when Hopper asks him for help with the move. Maybe he'll get some pizza and beer out of the whole deal.

And he'll get to fuck with Hopper, which is one of his favorite things in the world to do.

"This place is awesome," Steve says as he hauls in a box labeled Bev. What could a teenage girl own that is so heavy, pray tell? He finds Hopper in the foyer, and pauses in front of him to look over at him over the top of the box with the most earnest expression he can muster. "Which room is mine?"

He tilts his head slightly as he finally enters the townhouse, leading Vimes inside and then setting his box down on the kitchen table. While he knows he's gotten better in the three years he's spent in Darrow, there are still times Hopper definitely hasn't the slightest idea how to talk to Beverly or Eleven. He tries, but it isn't easy.

"She's got a thing with jealousy," he admits. "So she's tryin', but I think she worries a lot that Bev's taken her place in my life."

It's hard to explain to a kid who's never had a proper family that that's not how it works.

"You see the shed out back?" Hopper asks in return, voice dry, although he has to expect Steve knows by now that if he needed somewhere to stay, he'd have a place. He'd be the one staying on the couch, because Hopper isn't giving up his bed again, but the couch would be there for him if he needed it.

"Got one of Bev's boxes?" he asks, peering at what Steve is carrying. "Her room is upstairs and to the back of the house down the hall. C'mon, I'll show you the rest of the place while we're up there."

It feel kind of strange, settling into a home again.

She follows him inside, taking a look around. Yes, she remembers this place. She likes that it has a yard. Maybe she can talk to Hopper about putting a bird feeder out, so that Stan can visit and see some birds, too.

He likes birds.

"Which one is my room?" she asks, shaking herself from the thoughts. She should focus on getting all of her things into her room, and maybe helping Hopper with anything too heavy.

She'd actually done that several times, but she chuckled like he'd just been completely joking. Some of the places she'd crashed in had been furnished (sort of), the shelters always had mismatched, broken furniture, and Section had given her a whole new flat along with her new identity.

"Yeah. New places are always a little dirty or dusty, and you probably don't remember what box you packed yours in," she shrugged.

"C'mon, I'll show you," Hopper says, then begins to climb the stairs with Eleven behind him. He pauses at the top of the stairs and puts his box down to the side where he'll be able to grab it and take it into his own room, then nods down the hall.

"Bathroom," he says, pointing. "Then Bev's room is the one at the back of the house and this is yours."

He walks into the room at the front of the house, then reaches out and pulls open the curtain that cover the big window. At the cabin, she had wanted the windows open and now he can actually give it to her. The window overlooks the street outside, the small green space across the street, trees and houses and cars as they drive by.

"You know that's not a very good gift, right?" he asks, but he's smiling as he heads inside, pushing the door open so she can follow him in.

"C'mon, I'll give you a tour," he says. "It's not huge, but with two girls now..."

He trails off and makes a knowing face over at Nikita. Two teen girls, one dog, one bathroom, it just wasn't going to work out for long without someone losing their mind.

"I'll take it back," she threatened. She'd use them if he didn't want them, but she bet he did. He was just being Hopper.

"Sure. Hope you got your own bathroom, at least. And that there are enough doors to slam for everyone to feel good when they do it."

She had been an angry teenager. If there had been a door, she wanted to slam it, whether she actually did or not.

Vimes has never gotten a very good sense of what a home is supposed to look like. His mum had had strong feelings on the issue, mostly having to do with cleanliness being next to godliness and being grateful for what you had. He'd spent his adult life sleeping--but not quite living--in one poky, rundown apartment after another. Then he'd married Sybil, and he'd moved into the grand mansion that was Number 1 Scoone Avenue. It's home now, but it had taken a while for him to think of it as anything besides the Ramkin mansion.

Now, he follows Hopper in with his hands in his pockets, and though there isn't much to see inside yet, he thinks it feels a bit like a home. He's not even sure why.

He leans against the edge of the table and sends Hopper a look that seems to say, Better you than me. "Gods," he huffs. "Kids."

"Christ, don't encourage the door slamming," he says in a dry voice. "El was already doing it enough back home."

He had hated it, but now he'll take it. If it means she's here and safe, she can be angry with him whenever she wants. As long as it's justified.

"Yeah, three bathrooms," he says, sounding kind of impressed. "Two upstairs, one for me, one between their rooms, and a small one down here. Just a sink and a toilet down here, but it's more than good enough."

"Yeah, never had to worry about any of this with Sara," he says with a huff of laughter. "She was the only kid Diane and I ever had and she... she died before any of the teen stuff could set in."

The words are still hard, but he's pretty sure he needs to be saying them. It used to be he'd lie about Sara, say she lived with her mom in New York, but even he had been able to recognize just how fucked up that was.

"Hopefully one bedroom isn't slightly smaller than the other," he says, mostly joking. "I don't wanna deal with whatever blow up that might cause."

She sets her box down just inside the room and joins him at the window. If she listens carefully, she can almost hear the cars when they go by. But she can see them, and the green space across the street, and people walking by. Her window has a wide, flat sill that she can already imagine decorating with things. She grins up at Hopper, then plucks the fabric of the curtains with one hand.

"I can change this?" she asks. She looks up at him, the hope tempered by a nervous wince. But she has her own taste, now. Max had helped her learn about it, and she wants to decorate her room the way she thinks she'll like it.

"Three bathrooms," she replied, and made sure to sound impressed too. She actually was, kind of. This place was nicer than a lot of her flats had been. He was a good dad, and he'd found a good place for himself and the girls.

"The door slamming's a requirement, I think. Better that than holes in the walls, maybe?"

Hopper laughs and says, "Yeah, they're pretty damn ugly, aren't they?"

He looks at the room as a whole, imagines what Sara's room had been like in their apartment in New York, then smiles at Eleven. It's a gentler smile than most of his, usually only see by El or Beverly. These are his girls now. Sara will always be his first girl, the first to have his heart, but she shares it now. And she's gone. It's time to look forward.

"Anything you want, kid," he says. "This is your space. Short of knocking out walls, you tell me what you want and we'll get it done. But you're helping with any painting."

He's not sure Eleven is above both, but he doesn't say so. If only to keep most of what Eleven can do still a secret. There's less of a chance someone might try to go after her in Darrow than in Hawkins, but there isn't no chance and he doesn't want to run the risk of anything happening to her.

She deserves a safe place.

"Two and a half, I guess," he says about the bathrooms. "That's what they called it when I was looking at the place. A half-bath. No shower, I guess?"

Her eyes flash with excitement. "Painting," she echoes, and looks at the walls. They're a simple, soft, grayish purple color, and they're not bad, but they're boring. Not at all like her vibrant blue shirt with the fake paint splatters on them. She wants something fun, something pretty.

"Yeah and you want anything fancy and difficult, you better figure out how to do it first," he says, pointing at her, but he's smiling. He can see the excitement in her eyes and he loves that. It's the sort of thing he wants for both of them, her and Beverly, giving them the home and all the stuff they should have had, but was taken from them.

"We'll get it all fixed up," he says. "This whole place. It'll be ours."

"Ours," she echoes. She feels warm and safe, in a way that she usually only does when Hop hugs her, and she grins up at him. Then she takes his hand and tugs her back out of the room — her room. They have a lot more unloading to do, and she wants to decide where her bed will go when it arrives, which means she'll need all of her things.

Which isn't much, but that isn't the point.

And the least she can do is help Hopper and Beverly with their things, too.

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