100 More One Shots ✔️

Three >> Jim Hopper X Reader

Title: Three

Paring: Jim Hopper X Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, little cutesy.

Spoilers: not really, but yes. Tread with caution. 

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It didn't hurt that you already knew the guy, and on the odd occasion when you passed on the street, he'd say hey, _________, rather than just a nod, or tip of his hat. Well, everyone knew Chief Jim Hopper, he was the chief, and everyone loved him. But what did hurt was the fact that he was the only guy you could turn to for this kind of help. Being a single woman living in Hawkins didn't mean you had a wide choice anyway, and besides, it was only for five hours, and the other officers at the station could handle their own for that long. His secretary already signed him up for it as soon as you asked, and now, you're nervous. All because the other man who was going to play the part for your class came down with the flu.

And you needed it, because your class of first graders were still in their believing phase, and this time of year you didn't want to answer to thirty sets of parents upset their kid didn't get to meet him.

You barely looked at Chief Hopper when he came to your end of the staff room; all you did was hand him the bundle of clothes, and point him in the direction of where to change. You made sure that the other teachers kept the kids away from the area as to not suspect a thing. It had to be airtight.

"Are you in the suit yet?" You ask, knocking on the bathroom stall. You stand in the restroom, arms crossed. It's the male staff toilet, and like the children's toilets, it has its fair share of tile graffiti, and smells faintly of sock sweat. You remind yourself that it's all for the kids. Sucking up your pride, you knock once more. "Does it fit?"

The stall door opens. Chief Hopper does fit in the suit, which is good, considering you didn't have a backup plan otherwise. The pants are a little tight around his legs, and the red coat is loose around the midsection. He wears the same boots he came in wearing, big and black.

"It's...red." He says, looking in the bathroom mirror, and then back to you. He notices a bag where a bundle of fake facial hair and padding is, and adds, wiping a hand over his chin, "isn't this scruff enough for the kids?"

You shake your head. "They're six years old, Chief...it's just how he looks." You fish in the bag, grabbing the padding. It's from the Hawkins Community Theatre props, used for the annual nativity play to make the actress for Mary look the part. You move to the Chief, and pulling up Santa shirt, tie it on. "How's that?"

He looks a little like Santa.

He harrumphs. "What did Flo get me into?" He complains, but instead of taking the outfit off, throwing down his hat and going back to police work, he sighs, and starts to apply the fake beard to his face. "...so, _________," he starts to say, one part of the beard falling as he spoke, "What happened to the regular guy who does this?"

You shake your head. "He came down with the flu." He makes a noise, and before the next part to the fake beard droops off, you still it, catching it before it can fall. "Here, let me. When I was a kid, I used to watch the mall Santa's getting ready in the parking lot." You roll a little more adhesive to the facial hair, and press lightly against his cheek to stick it on. "Thanks again for coming, Chief, I don't know what I would have done..." you sigh, and rubbing your nose with the back of your wrist, you add, "It's a Christmas miracle."

He makes a noise. "Miracle my ass," he mutters. You start to work on the other side of the beard, and by the time it's stuck on, he's shoved the white wig on, and the hat too. "There."