Work Text:
"Nurgh!" You awkwardly gesture Hopper away, flapping your hand behind you in his direction as you bend over the toilet and give in to the overwhelming urge to puke. Since he's never been good at doing as he's told, though, you soon feel his hand on your back, and the other holding your hair away from your face as best he can. As much as you don't like him seeing you puke, you can't deny his touch is comforting.
When you feel like your stomach's wrung dry, you pull away and slump onto the floor. Hop awkwardly sits down next to you and puts his arm around you as best he can in the confined space of your bathroom.
"How you doing, sweetheart?"
"Gross." You rasp, your throat painful from puking. "You should stay away, you don't want to catch it."
"I'll risk it."
You wish you had the strength to argue, but instead you draw comfort from his embrace. You've been feeling sick on and off for a few days, and today it seems like the virus or whatever has finally won out.
"I'm going to help you to bed, then I'll go to the pharmacy." Hop tells you, "What do you need?"
"Whatever they have." You tell him, and then as a sudden desire makes itself known, "And ice cream."
"Ice cream?"
"For my throat." You justify.
"Okay, baby. Let's get you up."
But unfortunately his attempt to lift you makes your stomach lurch again, and it's another twenty minutes before he actually gets you into your bed, wearing one of his oversized Hawkins PD T-shirts, and heads off to town.
You doze a little while he's gone. You've felt exhausted lately, probably because you've been coming down with this stomach flu. So you're not sure quite how long he's been gone when you hear his truck pull up outside, but you do know that you're now really craving that ice cream. In fact, you're feeling pretty good. Maybe it was just something you ate, and now it's out of your system.
So when Hopper appears in the bedroom doorway, looking good enough to eat in jeans and a flannel shirt, a small paper bag in hand, you're able to grin at him.
"I'm feeling better now."
"Good, that's good." He doesn't look quite as pleased as you expected, but maybe it's just that he's still worried about you.
"Did you get my ice cream?"
"I put it in the ice box, I'll get you a bowl in a second." He still looks kind of distracted. "You feel better now, huh? Same as yesterday?"
"What?"
"You felt like shit in the morning, then as soon as it hit noon you started to feel better."
"Did I?" You try to remember. "Weird."
"Baby..." He comes over and sits down on the bed. "I got you something from the pharmacy."
"Okay..." There's something strange about his tone.
He pulls out a box from the bag and hands it over. It takes you a second to realise what you're looking at. "Hop! What the-"
"You're exhausted, you're sick in the mornings, and your appetite is all over the place. Also, your tits are..." He blows out a breath, "Well, kind of bigger."
"Oh shit." Your voice comes out as a whisper. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."
"So, you wanna...?" He looks incredibly awkward as he gestures between the pregnancy test and the bathroom.
You feel like you're sleepwalking as you push the covers back and climb out of bed, choosing the side away from Hopper. Grabbing the box you hurry into the bathroom, closing the door in his face, your breath now coming in gasps.
"No, no, no, no." Your hands shake as you try to read the instructions. You remember a friend telling you that home tests were like chemistry sets, but that was a few years ago and you guess the science has moved on, because this involves peeing on a stick, which would be easier if you weren't trembling so much.
"Sweetheart, let me in." Hopper's voice through the door is full of worry, with an edge of frustration.
"I'm just peeing! Leave me alone!" You shout back, as you try to perform the test correctly. There's no way you'd let him see this. Though given he'll probably be walking out of the front door in a few minutes, never to return, maybe it shouldn't matter.
"Let me in, or I'll break this goddamn door down!"
Cursing, you pull up your underwear and set the testing stick down on the countertop by the basin. You know Hop, and you know he'll do exactly what he threatened. He's possessive and protective, and it's something you normally love about him. You try to stifle a sob at the thought of losing that.
"What's going on in your head?" He asks as soon as you open the door and let him in, "What the fuck, baby?"
"It takes three minutes, apparently." You tell him, turning away and ignoring his question.
"Hey," He grabs your arm, gently but firmly, "Talk to me, I'm losing my goddamn mind here."
"I know!" You turn back to face him. "You think I don't know that? I know how you feel about this!"
"What?" His face is full of confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"I heard you, talking to Joyce about kids. She said she could never do it again, not after-" You swallow hard, trying to calm your voice, "Not after what happened, with Will and Jane and... and you said you couldn't either. You said that, Hop!"
"No, I didn't." His quiet tone is such a contrast to your rising panic. "I said I could relate to that. That's not the same thing."
"You lost your daughter." You whisper.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did. And then I found another daughter." He puts both hands on your upper arms, looking into your eyes, "And then I found you. I never thought I'd have family again. I didn't think I deserved it, not after Sarah. But it happened anyway, and it's..." He shakes his head slightly, "It's a miracle, sweetheart. And I don't even believe in that shit." There's nothing but sincerity in his face. "So if you're having a baby-"
You spin away from him, grabbing for the plastic stick on the countertop. Your breath coming in pants, you can feel a rising tide of simultaneous hope and sickening fear. Then, when it's in your hand, you can't make yourself look at it.
"I can't." You squeak, and Hop reaches out to take it from you. "It's got my pee on it!" You wail, but he grabs it anyway.
"You let me inside you, I think we can deal with me touching your pee." He looks at the stick as you let out a shocked giggle. "How does it work?"
"Two blue lines," You say, recalling the instructions through numb lips, "There have to be two."
A slow smile spreads across his face, as he lifts his head to look at you and holds out the stick so you can see it. "Looks like two to me."
You let out a sob, and the next thing you know your face is pressed against his chest as he pulls you tight into his arms.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Whatever you want is okay."
"What?" You tip your head back to look at him.
"I mean, if you're not happy, then-"
"Not happy?" You let out an incredulous huff of breath, "Not happy? Hop, we made a-" But you don't get to finish that sentence, because his lips meet yours and he kisses the life out of you.
When he finally lets you go, you smile up at him.
"We made a baby."
"Without even trying." He looks kind of proud of that.
"Yeah, I guess that 98% effective sticker on my birth control pills left a little more leeway than planned."
"Well, if it means you get pregnant two out of every hundred times we do it, then we should probably have a lot more babies by now." He grins and you both start to laugh.
"I love you." He tells you, placing a hand low on your belly. "Both of you."
You place your hand on top of his. "We love you too, dad."