This late into the evening, Hopper wishes he didn't have to bother with the special knock on the front door, but he doesn't have a way of undoing all the chains from the outside. So, he proceeds as normal, resting his forehead against the grain as he waits for Jane to let him in. It takes a moment, and Hopper feels guilty for bothering the kid.

"Hey," he tiredly greets the teen aloud. "Sorry I'm late." He shrugs out of his jacket, misses the coat rack twice, before he tosses it onto the back of the couch. "I hope you got my message," he continues, but mostly in a grumble as he heads towards the fridge and pulls out a can of Schlitz. The can pops open easily; the foam sucked into Hop's waiting mouth with a soft moan of appreciation.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his right hand, Hop shuffles towards the couch as his left hand starts to unbutton his work shirt. He glances at the half-open door of the sole bedroom as he lets the weight of his body pull him down to the cushions. The couch squeaks slightly in protest, but his audible exhalation covers the noise.

"Jane?"

The furniture barely accommodates his large frame, so he slouches further down, and cranes his neck awkwardly so that he can still peer pass the door. There's an off-white twinkle emanating from the string of lights in her bedroom, and they catch his sore eyes off guard.

He lifts his head slightly, ignoring the dull ache the pull of muscles cause, and frowns. "You okay in there? I see the lights are on."

The door swings open slowly, and the teen steps out into the living area rubbing at her eyes. "Tired," she complains softly. Despite his concern, Hopper can't help an endearing smile at the sight Jane makes. Her hair is a mess of curls sticking out in every direction, and the left pant leg of her pajama bottoms are hiked up to her mid-calf.

He takes a large gulp of his beer, and closes his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

"Not me," she shakes her mane of curls, but he doesn't notice. "You. You're tired."

The bark of laughter that escapes his lips is an accident, so he waves a hand in the air in her general direction before scrubbing at his face. "Yeah, yeah I am." A wide, jaw-cracking yawn erupts from him as if to prove the point. "But I'm home now, kid. So, go on ahead and get back to bed. You need your rest."

"So do you," she retorts, and Hopper winces at the bite in it. He cracks open an eyelid, but she pushes on. "You work, and work, and work all day, and then you come home and take care of me. But no one takes care of you."

"I'm fine," he sighs, but pushes himself up. "Really. I'm fine. I'm just tired, is all. I just need some sleep, and," he digs an elbow into the couch and shoves himself up to his feet, "So do you, young lady. It's as important as broccoli." He finishes off the can, places it onto the coffee table, and walks over to her. He places both hands on her shoulders, and lowers his head to meet her eyes. "C'mon. I'll tuck ya in."

"Only if you promise to stay."

"What?"

"Only if you promise to stay," she stresses.

Hopper hangs his head for a moment, but relents with a shrug. "Fine." He gently pushes against her upper half, and she follows the movement back into the room. She climbs into the bed first, back against the wall, and pulls the covers to her chin. She watches fondly as Hopper maneuvers his larger body onto the opposite half, giggling in the semi-dark as the mattress dips under his weight.

"I'm not fat," he whispers in mock anger, but his soft grin belies the tone. He toes off his boots, pulls his work shirt off and leaves the Henley on. He settles back, forgoing any sheets, and sighs heavily. "Get some rest, yeah?"

"You too," she murmurs. She closes her eyes, and touches upon her ability to ease the older man into a deep slumber. The bloodstain on her pillowcase will be well worth it in the morning. "Love you."

His response is a rumbling snore.

TBC...

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