A/N: I hope you all like the latest chapter! Things are crazy in my life right now, but I'm going to do my best to update more regularly again. Hopefully over the summer I'll get a bit more on track. Lots more slow-burn to come, but things will begin heating up pretty soon...

The Aftermath

The first time I see my mom is the next morning as I'm getting ready for work.

"You got home late," she comments icily over a cup of coffee.

"I didn't realize you were still up," I say with feigned casualness. We were never good at making up after a fight.

"Did you really think I'd be able to sleep while you were out with that degenerate?" The bowl I'm holding slams on the counter. How dare she talk about him like that!

"What's your problem - you don't even know him."

"Why don't you have him over for dinner sometime then," she says snidely.

"I'm going to work. Goodbye," I choke out between clenched teeth. I'll eat something there rather than spend another minute with her.

I wake up to a pounding headache and a too-bright sun streaming through the windows. I sit up with a groan, pulling the blinds closed before stumbling to the bathroom for some aspirin. Splashing water on my face, I try and orient myself. Let's see...Thursday afternoon I made it to work and helped on the case on the Johnson's farm, Friday...I try to think through the fog, and I have a few blurry memories of watching tv and going to the grocery store...and then nothing. Fuck, what day is it? God, please don't let it be Saturday...but if it's not Saturday, how many days did I lose this year?

I go to the kitchen and turn on the radio and wait for the weather or traffic announcement to play while I throw together a turkey sandwich.

"Good afternoon, Hawkins. Hope you're enjoying the beautiful weather this Sunday-" I switch off the radio - damn thing makes my head hurt more. Sunday. The 24th. I breathe a sigh. There is the question, however, of how I spent my Saturday. I flop into a chair at the table, and it takes me a few minutes between the headache and the grogginess to realize the table is practically clear of garbage. What the… I highly doubt I did that. So then who…

My brother has a key to the place, but we haven't talked for a few months. If Diane had come by, I would have let her in, but she wouldn't have come by. I refuse to acknowledge the most obvious answer, because if she was here, figuring out just what I did and said yesterday becomes a lot more important.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and head back to my bedroom. Well, only one set of pillows looks slept on, but that doesn't necessarily eliminate us sleeping together. I lay back down and notice a hint of perfume from her hair on the sheets. God, I promised myself I wouldn't do this to her; she deserves much better than to be mixed up with me. She's been so generous with her time and energy, and then I have to go and be an asshole and seduce her to my bed and not even remember it. Because based on my history, that's exactly what I did. I've done that to plenty of women, but at least they didn't actually care about me. And I didn't care about them.

I should have hidden my car keys before I started drinking Friday. I told myself I could keep myself from demanding more of her time, but clearly that was not the case. She's so beautiful, and knowing that she wants me was clearly too much of a temptation to keep me away from her. And now...fuck, what do I do now?

If it was anyone else, I'd pretend it didn't happen and move on with my life. But she deserves better than that, considering what a good person she is. And as much as I shouldn't be attached to her, I don't want to burn what at this point amounts to a friendship with her. But I don't think any friendship can bounce back from: "I don't remember sleeping with you, and we probably shouldn't do it again for your own good, thanks though." I rub my hand over my face with a groan.

A few hours later, I wake to the phone ringing. At the edge of my consciousness, I can hear a whisper of a promise...I'll be there in a heartbeat…that disappears with another ring of the phone. I'm tempted to disconnect the damn thing and go back to bed, but I figure I should see who that is. For some reason, the thought that it might be Tricia trying to check on me is the only thing that gets me to the phone.

"Hello?" I grumble.

"Hey, Hopper, welcome back to the land of the living," Benny's voice comes through the telephone far too loud.

"Hey, Benny. What's up?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Though, I must say, this is the least I've worried about you in a long time?"

"Why do you say?" I ask before I can think better of it.

"Well, with that mighty fine gal you were with, it'd be hard to be too down in the dumps," he says with a laugh. My stomach falls - great, I went out in public with her. Now the rumors will really fly… Gossip is one of the most harmless reasons she'd be better off if I just left her alone.

"I'm sure I managed," I reply tersely.

"Oh, hey, I didn't mean," he stammers.

"No, no, I know you didn't. I'm nursing a massive hangover is all, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"I understand. You need a cup of coffee or just a friend?" I inhale to reject his offer, but he continues. "How about a ride? Last I heard, you were double parked outside The Big Wig." I stifle a groan and roll my eyes at myself - that's the bar Tricia works at. Great. Well, I need to get my truck sometime.

"A ride would be great," I reply after some hesitation.

"Lucy, I'm going to take my fifteen," I call. I didn't have much of an appetite when I arrived, so I just started working. If I'm going to be at work, I might as well get paid. Just as I'm exiting from behind the bar, two more customers enter. I give her a small smile as I duck out on the rush - today's been pretty slow so far.

"Tricia, could you hold on a second," she calls after me. I'm a little annoyed - I did just ask for my break, but when I turn around, I see why she called me back; Hopper just walked in. He either hasn't seen me yet, or he's pretending he hasn't. "How can we help you gentlemen?" Lucy asks, completely composed, as if this situation wasn't rife with uncertainty: Does he remember what he said? Does he resent me for not sleeping with him? Is he embarrassed he offered? Does he regret hitting on me...does he not feel the same now that he's sober?

"We've come for the keys to that truck outside, if you don't mind," his friend, Benny, answers.

"Let's see, where might those be? Tricia, do you know?" At the sound of my name, Hopper gives a quick glance in my direction - far too quick for me to get even a hint about his thoughts, let alone his feelings.

"They might be behind the bar," I walk back over, telling myself it's only paranoia making me feel like Hopper's gaze is boring into me. I search behind the counter for the recessed panel that denotes the hidden cubby where the managers hide confiscated contraband. I dig around. "Are these them?" I hold up a key ring.

"Yeah," Hopper grunts. I hand them over, taking care not to accidentally brush his skin. I can feel Lucy peering at me. "Thanks." He heads for the door, but Benny catches his shoulder.

"You don't want to stay for a beer?" Benny offers, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"Naw, I should get home. Thanks, man." And, just like that, he's gone. I turn to Lucy and give her an exasperated expression.

"You've worked here longer than me - did you really need my help finding the keys?" I keep my voice low in hopes the other customers won't hear.

"Well, excuse me for being a little curious about exactly what happened after you left yesterday with a thoroughly intoxicated Hopper."

"How do you know that? You don't even work Saturdays," I exclaim.

"No, but Marty does, and Marty came in this morning to open up." I roll my eyes at the mole-hills people will blow into mountains for some amusement. "Also, Alex called me on Saturday to tell me the news," she says with a slight squeal, but her excitement quickly dies. "But what the hell was that?" she asks, on the edge of anger for Jim's not conforming to what she clearly hoped would be the proper romantic-cliched script.

"That was Jim Hopper - what else did you expect?" I admit, part of me is right there with Lucy, enraged at the cold shoulder, but most of me is nonplussed - this is, after all, exactly why I didn't sleep with Hopper last night.

"Hopps, what the hell was that?" Benny asks beside me. I squint at him.

"What the hell was what?"

"That, in there. You acted like you barely knew that pretty bartender, and after you sat for hours in my place yesterday - and did God knows what else after you left." I stop in my tracks.

"We what?"

"Hey, that's between you and her, no judgement there," he says with a belly laugh.

"Benny, slow down. I'm a tad too close to the height of this hangover to be doing much in terms of deductive reasoning, and I have no memory of Saturday. What the hell happened?" That sobers him some.

"Oh, well, you two came into my place at about two, spent hours talking in a booth - I think about Sara mostly," he whispers that last part, but it still hits me in the gut. Maybe I do need that beer after all…

"What makes you think things got raunchy after we left?" He shrugs.

"Because of the way she was looking at you...and because I know you," he says with a laugh, "I figured you wouldn't pass up that opportunity." With half a backward glance, I think about how Tricia reacted when she saw me. Either she's a lot more experienced and callous than she let on, which I think unlikely, or we didn't sleep together. No deep blush, no body language indicating shame or embarrassment, no preening...not the typical reaction a woman has when she encounters last night's lover.

"I don't think we slept together," I announce. He does a double take.

"Is...is that why you were so cold? She wouldn't put out?" I shove him.

"No, Jesus. This isn't high school, Benny. I-just, why would I act any differently?" He doesn't answer that. Friendly isn't really my usual demeanor. I go to my truck.

"Well….do you think you're going to sleep with her?"

"No," I exclaim, unintentionally scolding. "She's way too young for me," I offer as explanation. He does a double take.

"Hold on, let me get this straight...you're going to not sleep with a beautiful woman...because she's too young? That's a selling point, not a negative," he exclaims as I hop into my truck.

"Don't be a pervert," I say around a half lit cigarette.

"Oh, arrest me, officer," he jokes. That manages to get half a grin out of me.

"Thanks for the ride." He mock salutes as I drive off. The one plus side of seeing Tricia is at least I have a better idea where we stand. I heave a sigh of relief that nothing sexual happened, but that still leaves a mystery of what she was doing in my house...and my bed.

AN: Thanks to user DestiiinyRae for the encouragement to write a chapter from Hopper's perspective! It was an idea I had been toying with, but wasn't sure if I would do it justice, but I figured we needed to check in with Hopper after all that :).