A/N: Apologies to everyone for the delay. I've been (and still am, really) busy with a load of preliminary exams. They're over next week, though, so writing should pick up more then. This chapter is pretty 'juicy', so enjoy!

He couldn't say no. It'd break her heart.

"He's nice."

Hopper? Nice?

Mike remained silent, looking drained and defeated. He was terrified. Who wouldn't be? He knew his death was only a few minutes away. Tuning everything else out, his thoughts wandered.

If I get to be a ghost - which'd be totally cool - who should I scare?

Oh, Lucas. Definitely Lucas. He's such an asshole, I'll scare the shit out of him when he goes to the bathroom or something.

Satisfied with his brief acceptance of death, he focused on El, who was sitting in front of him, her arms still around his waist. They usually didn't stay this close for this long, but who was he to argue? Besides, knowing that death was approaching and by all means inevitable, he might as well spend his last moments with her.

"Mike."

She paused, a frown forming.

"You don't have to stay."

Leave. Wait, no, stay. Or - well. Fuck it, stay.

Mike shook his head, a smile gleaming over his face slowly.

"I'll stay, El."

The excitement in her eyes was palpable. She slowly leaned forward, her eyes affixed on Mike's, opening her mouth a touch…

Clank, bang, knock.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Mike jumped backwards, remaining loosely in El's grip. His eyes widened significantly as he stared at the door (and his incoming demise).

El joined him, turning around and staring wide-eyed at the door. They looked like two deer in headlights.

She turned around for a moment, whispering quietly into the crook of Mike's neck.

"He won't hurt you."

She leaned up in an instant, giving him a surprisingly over-confident, unexpected peck on the lips before turning around to stare at the door once again, awaiting a knock of some form.

Knockknock.

Knock.

Knockknockknock.

The locks flicked down and across slowly as the door pushed inwards with a distinct creak. A black figure shrouded in the afternoon December darkness waded himself into the cabin, staring down at the ground as he wandered in, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. He raised his right arm to hang up his hat, glancing towards the couch nonchalantly as he did.

His arm froze, as did his body.

The trio remained in complete silence, only interrupted by a bird tweeting for a second or two.

Mike stared at the Chief, his mouth agape and his eyes somehow wider than they were before the door opened. He was literally staring at death. This was his Grim Reaper.

The Chief opened his mouth to talk, yet remained silent, somehow still frozen in time. Mike looked between the diminutive girl to his side and the large, grizzly-bear like human to his front, considering for a moment how much damage the former could do to the latter. He gazed down at the arms wrapped around his waist, noticing their grip tightening softly. His arms were still securely fastened to her shoulders.

Suddenly, a gruff yet quiet noise came from the hat-stand.

"What.."

The quiet nature was short lived. A boom followed, the roughness in his voice persisting.

"Is he doing here?"

El looked - for lack of a better word - pissed. She immediately piped up, causing Mike to wince at the grip of her arms and hands around his waist. He was being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste.

"He is MY girl-"

She paused mid-shout, leaving Mike to quickly whisper through his teeth, his lips remaining still.

"Boy."

"Boyfriend! And I LOVE him!"

She hastily ran through the multitude of things she knew couples did together, in spite of her lack of knowledge in regards to relationships. She'd heard them from Mike, the television, his friends (mostly Dustin) and even Hopper himself.

"We KISS! We make out! We have sex!"

Silence.

Mike could have died on the spot. Only two out of those three statements were true, but how the hell was the Chief supposed to know? How the hell did she know how to say that word in the 'right' context anyway!? She didn't know anything about stuff like that!

"Thatlastoneisn'ttrue." Mike squeaked, very clearly not loud enough for the Chief to be able to hear. Not that he'd want to hear whatever excuse that Wheeler kid made anyway.

The Chief remained silent. He turned around, dropping his hat, taking a step outside. He stood for a moment before reaching backwards, slamming the door with such force the cabin shook, piles of dust erupting from mounds in the ceiling.

"El!" Mike hissed under his breath, staring at her, clearly furious.

"What the fuck was that!? We don't have sex! Are you trying to get me killed!?"

She stared at him, still wide eyed. She had never, never seen him like this before. She tried to speak but her breath hitched, tears forming in her eyes, she could feel her face heat up as her bottom lip quivered. All she had wanted to do was explain what was going on! But Hop was so angry, she just couldn't control herself. She didn't know what to say.

Mike remained silent. He knew he wasn't supposed to get that angry at her, but he also knew that the Chief was now indescribably angry at him. It could take months - no, - years for them to even speak to one another again. Not to mention El, she and Mike's relationship could be best described as finished. From the Chief's point of view, anyway.

He mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. It wasn't her fault. Well - it was a little bit. But Mike could deal with it.

He wrapped a hand around the back of her head, pulling her towards his shoulder. She sniffled, tears slowly dribbling down her cheeks. He reached down his other hand, gently rubbing the rough fabric across her back.

He mumbled again, this time slightly more audibly.

"I'm sorry, El."

He never swore. Not out loud, anyway, and especially not at El.

She sniffled again, the wet patch on Mike's sweater growing increasingly large with every passing second. He felt awful, and rightfully so.

"It's okay, it's fine. You're okay." He whispered in a gentle tone, rubbing circles on her back. He'd never done this before, either. It seemed to be working, anyway.

He turned around for a moment, staring at the door, the large shadow imprinted on the window to its left still not daring to fade away. He'd have to talk to the Chief at some point, that was inevitable. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt as, after all, this was his idea.

He peered down at El. She looked defeated, only adding to the pangs of pain he felt. His hand shifted from her head to her back, interlinking with the other. She stared up at him as he cuddled her, his own look of defeat joining hers. She wanted to speak, she really did, but she just couldn't. Even if she tried, she doubted anything coherent would come out. She could always talk to Mike, though. Coherent or not.

"M-m-my fault." She whispered, sniffling once again. She turned her head to the side, resting against the wet spot she had previously created on his grey sweater.

Mike spoke in a low tone, holding her tight, remaining silent for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts.

"It isn't, El. I promise."

She peered up for a moment, nodding before placing her head back in its previous resting place. Lifting her legs up, she kicked them on to the unoccupied part of the sofa to her right, using Mike as one large pillow.

"L-love me?" She barely managed to sputter out. Her face was ridden with a look of fear. Had she just ruined her favourite thing in the entire world?

"I love you."

He took a long drag, the smoke filling up the bitter December air. It had been, and still was, a dark, cold, ugly, shitty, awful day. He was really, really looking forward to opening up the door to a nice warm cabin, interruption and (mostly) teenager free.

But no.

That fucking Wheeler kid was at it again. He knew about their shenanigans too well. He'd let it slide before, no less. The little evening kisses, their quiet conversations - God knows what they talk about - and their indiscreet hugs which always last a little too long. But this? This was too much.

He didn't need this in his life. Not right now, not ever. All that Wheeler kid had ever done was make a fuss of his daughter in his cabin. It was too much to process at once. He knew they liked each other - that was a given, obviously - but for her to say they loved each other? She's only fourteen! Does she even know what that means?

And all this time, right under his nose. They'd been doing whatever it was they found so fit to do - which he'd rather not think about - without even having the decency to try and tell him! What the fuck was Wheeler thinking? He'd pulled some stunts in his time, but this, oh-hoh-hoh, this was something else.

He almost would have preferred if El had gone over to the Wheeler's. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with it, right?

No, no. It was wrong to think like that. She was his daughter , anyway. And she was fourteen, but Christ, they'd done it together? Granted, he was only a year older when he'd - yeah, but really? Where? How? He didn't want to know. He really, really didn't want to know. He wasn't one for juicy details, Joyce was more in that region. Oh, shit, Joyce!

Now, of course, was as fit a time as any to remember that he'd promised Joyce that he'd pick her up from work, given that her car was in the shop semi-permanently. He glanced down at his wristwatch, cigarette still burning away in his mouth. He muttered under his breath.

"Three twenty five, she finishes at four, that's thirty-five minutes to get into town. Shit."

Mike damn nearly jumped out of his skin when the door flew inwards, the grizzly-bear figure standing there with what Mike could have sworn was a scythe.

The Chief growled angrily,

"I'll be back at five. If either of you so much as lay a finger on each other you're over."

He shot Mike an angry glance, just as Mike tried to-

"Wehaven'thadsexIdon'tknowhyshesaidtha-"

The Chief was out the door in seconds, having clearly not heard whatever it was that Mike had tried to say.

Well. It was a start.