I'm fine, I promise.

a helping hand

I had basically became one of El's main social outlets, since let's be honest, Hopper didn't trust anyone, not even Mike, being around her and being able to keep her safe,

(Mike's situation is different though, since the whole distrusting part was because one, he's a horny teenage boy and two, the first reason.)

It's honestly surprising that he trusts me around her. If any 'bad guys' came out to hurt her, I wouldn't be of much help only hitting a few guys before getting shot or something, and that's considering it's good day for me.

It's already a known fact that I can't fight to save my life, against humans apparently? Jonathan, Tommy, and Billy proved that to be true. If I couldn't beat up a couple of high school boys, one who had never fought anyone ... ever and was basically gentle awkward mess, how would I be able to fight gunned men?

I wouldn't. I definitely wouldn't. I'm like ninety-nine percent sure that I'd be used as a human shield, getting turned holier than all of the cheeses or any catholic priest, for that matter. El would have time to use her freaky cool mind powers to snap their necks, which is pretty unsettling to see a very innocent little girl do, and then save the day.

Being one of the only people that see her regularly, I have to deal with obvious questions and things you shouldn't be asking me. Like if I had a dollar for every awkward question, I could buy a small portion of my father's company.

"El, get in here. Dinner's ready.", I yell out of the kitchen and hear the patting of feet from the other room. "Before eating, we're putting up the dishes. No powers."

She gives me a pouty puppy-dog face, that she has been getting better at day by day, dropping the grocery bags back on the table with a crash.

  She hands me, no powers, the bags, beginning to start the little system we have. The system is probably one of my best ideas, that actually worked out, without big time costing flaws, I have ever came up with. The first time was ... an awful horrible fucking mess.

  The night ended with milk in places there shouldn't be milk, and taking my pick of Hopper's clothes, sadly when I tried his uniform on it looked like I was the after photo of a Jane Fonda workout tape, like a guy trying on his before the change clothes. And I didn't want to reck his confidence after seeing me wearing his baggy clothes.

I set up the table, putting plates, forks, and other cutlery in it's right place, the only good thing about my mother sending me to finishing school for two years in a row when I was younger, is that my table setting and manners is fucking top notch and not something to brag about.

  We have only like two or so bags left sitting on the counter, when Hopper does his knock on the front door. El practically skips/runs all the way to the door and opens it revealing a semi drenched Hopper. I guess it was raining way harder than it sounded.

  She drags him into the kitchen to show him all the food we made, when I say we, I definitely mean me, all I let her do is the small stuff like getting the ingredients and mixing, last time the kitchen, also dinning room, was a floury mess.

He looks it over, oohing and awing for El, some of which is probably real for an eight hour shift with only donuts and coffee make any other actual food seem like a delicacy. Hop goes to sit down at the table until he notices a few bags we didn't put up yet.

"Harrington," he says turning to look at me, "how many times do I have to tell you to stop buying us food?"

"Um, this one would make it the sixth, but that wasn't the question..."

"Just tell me or El that we're out of food so I can pay for it."

"I mean, it's not like I don't have money to waste, not that buying you guys food is a waste of money because it's not, but, yeah."