𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 4.2k

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘, 𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 into the police station after school on Halloween. She still had to sort through the other half of those police reports, which made that party at Tina's seem all the more interesting. The most exciting thing that had happened at the station since Owen arrived was a man by the name of Eugene McCorkle demanding to see Hopper. But get this – and this is the exciting part – Hopper hadn't come in for work yet, which meant that Mr. McCorkle was going to sit in the station and wait until he did.

If it wasn't clear yet, the Hawkins Police Department didn't even come close to the hefty, interesting cases that Owen saw on television from time to time. She had even seen some news story about a police chase gone wrong in Philadelphia recently. To be fair, a police chase through Hawkins wouldn't take very long before the criminal got out of Hawkins city limits. But still... that would be more interesting than the pumpkin patch sabotage that Mr. McCorkle was reporting.

At some point, Chief Hopper finally strolled into the building, a cigarette dangling from his lips as usual. Once he removed his coat and hat, he sat down with Mr. McCorkle just within earshot of Owen. She couldn't exactly stop herself from eavesdropping on their conversation, nor would she deny herself the pleasure of hearing the town's latest gossip. After all, she was only human.

"So. you're telling me that Merrill poisoned your farm, because he thinks you poisoned his, which, of course, you didn't?" Hopper repeated, just making sure that he was getting the details right.

"No, sir. And I got me an albi the night he accuses me," Mr. McCorkle replied indignantly. "My Jenny and her boys were in town. I was with them all night."

"Did you actually see Merrill?" Hopper questioned.

"No need. That man done lost his mind. Went around slandering me, threatening all sorts of madness," Mr. McCorkle sighed, causing Owen's ears to perk up. Threatening? Well, that sounded awfully incriminating on Merrill's side of things.

"A pumpkin conspiracy, chief..." Officer Powell commented, causing chuckles to erupt from him and his partner. Of course he and Callahan were listening in, too. Truly, since she started her job, Owen had yet to see either of those idiots make themselves useful around the office.

"Hawkins' very own Chinatown," Callahan's nasally voice chimed in next. However, their sorry attempts at jokes seemed to have no effect on Chief Hopper.

"Listen, Merrill threatening to do something and him actually doing something are two very different things," Hopper pointed out in that no-nonsense voice of his. Owen's eyebrow cocked questionably despite having not looked up from her work. Merrill threatening to pull some shit with Mr. McCorkle's pumpkins and then the pumpkins turning up poisoned soon after seemed pretty suspicious in her eyes. Or at least something worth looking into.

"You got a better explanation?" Mr. McCorkle retorted.

"Cold weather," Hopper said, as if it were obvious.

"It's October," he huffed.

"Yeah, it's a cold one," the Chief replied defensively. A moment of silence stretched through the air, likely due to Hopper's willful ignorance.

"You see these hands?" Mr. McCorkle asked.

"Yeah."

"You know why they look like that?" Owen couldn't help herself then, eyes darting up from her desk to see exactly what the man was talking about. Even from where she was sitting, Owen could see the wear and tear shown on the skin of Mr. McCorkle's hands. Scars and calluses weaved in and amongst the age-induced wrinkles littering the farmer's palms.

"Because you're old?" Hopper muttered, earning a few chuckles from Powell and Callahan.

"You damn straight," Mr. McCorkle snapped. And Owen couldn't blame him for getting upset. Even she had rolled her eyes back down to the papers on her desk, feeling annoyed for him. Even if it wasn't Merrill who poisoned his crops, Mr. McCorkle was out of pumpkins just in time for Halloween – meaning he was absolutely fucked.

"I've been doing this a long time, Chief. A long time. And I ain't never seen anything the likes of this"– Mr. McCorkle settled back into his chair –"None of us have."

"None of us?" Apparently, that final comment got Hopper's attention.

"Oh, Merrill didn't just hit me last night. He hit damn near everyone," Mr. McCorkle informed the group. Once again, Owen's attention was drawn in their direction, unable to ignore the unraveling of the story just as it was starting to get juicy.

"What are you talking about?" Hopper asked, an unsure cadence settling in his voice.

"Jack O'Dell, Pete Freeling, Rick Neary, the Christensens... all of their crops. Dead," the farmer listed off, causing Owen's brows to bump together. That sounded like a lot of work for one man. Even a man with a vengeance would struggle to get all of that poison spread before all those farmers woke up at the ass-crack of dawn. Clearly, this fact was clicking in Hopper's mind at the same time, as he scrambled to get a pad of paper out from his desk.

"Give me those names again," he requested once his pen and paper were at the ready. Mr. McCorkle stared at the chief for a moment, just to ensure that he was being serious. He must have seen enough conviction in Hopper's eyes, as he began to rattle off the names of all of the other wronged farmers again.

"Okay, let's... let's go check out these pumpkins," Hopper nodded, head turning to make pointed eye contact with Powell and Callahan. And just like with everything the Chief said, the two men followed along without another word. As the four men began to walk out of the station, Owen could barely get up from her desk fast enough. She scurried in front of Hopper, bringing the large man to a halt at the intrusion. His intense eyes stared down at her, unsure about why Owen was so adamantly putting herself between him and the door.

"Don't you think you'll need some extra help at the pumpkin patch? An extra eye to scope the place out?" she hinted, practically begging to be relieved of her desk duty for the day. However, her subliminal message to the chief fell on deaf ears.

"Powell and Callahan are coming. I think I've got more eyes than I'll know what to do with," Hopper muttered, shaking his head. He extended one large, boot-clad foot in an attempt to step around Owen, only for her to side-step just in time to cut him off again.

"Please take me with you," Owen begged, speaking just above a whisper in hopes that Flo wouldn't hear her. Hopper glared down at her, inciting a staredown between the two of them. He let out a dramatic sigh once he saw that she wasn't planning on letting up any time soon, head rolling back against his shoulders.

"Fine," he gritted, bringing a toothy smile to Owen's face. "Flo, I'm taking the kid with me, okay? Need some extra eyes on this pumpkin patch." Flo was on a phone call, as usual, but still gave the chief a dismissive wave of her hand as a mindless nod of approval. Without as much as a glance at the work still left on her desk, Owen snagged her jacket and her bag from off of the back of her chair before trotting out of the station behind Hopper.

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God, Eugene McCorkle really wasn't kidding about how bad his pumpkins were. As Eugene led the group through the fields of pumpkins, Owen was constantly swatting at all of the flies that had swarmed the place. The farm was a literal pumpkin graveyard. Every pumpkin Owen saw was blackened and falling in on itself, completely unsellable to the general public. Some of the pumpkins even had fuzzy mold growing along its surface, causing the redhead's nose to scrunch up in disgust.

"Now, you tryin' to tell me, with a straight face, cold did this?" Eugene remarked with an understandably snarky tone. Even a city girl like Owen, who didn't have even a day of experience with farming, could tell that something had gone horribly amiss at the McCorkle farm.

"How far does it go," Hopper asked, lowering himself to get a closer look at one of the pumpkins. From the looks of it, rotten pumpkins covered the field in every direction, even continuing all the way up into the treeline.

"Don't know. Haven't looked at anything other than the pumpkins," Eugene shrugged. Hopper stood to his full height again, marching curiously through the pumpkin patch. Eugene and Owen followed closely behind him and into the brush, making calculated steps to avoid briars and fallen limbs.

Just beyond Eugene's property stood a tree that appeared to be covered in the same rot that the pumpkins were. Gray, fuzzy mold hung from the bark, making the tree dark and discolored. Hopper brought one of his gloved hands up to rub against the bark. But when he pulled his hand away, dark gray slime stretched between Hopper and the tree. The edge of Owen's upper lip curled at the sight, growing more and more sure that this wasn't Merrill's doing.

"Hey, chief. You copy?" Powell's voice came through the walkie talkie in Hopper's back pocket. He attempted to shake the slimy substance off of his glove before giving up and answering with his clean hand.

"How's it lookin' over there?" The chief inquired, still inspecting the tree in front of him.

"Like a giant pissed all over Jack's bean field. Smells, too. It smell over there?" Owen's lips tightened, trying not to laugh at the comparison the officer had made. Powell was right, though – total mass destruction of the place.

"Uh, yeah. A little bit," Hopper sighed while trying, and failing, to deposit the slime from his glove back onto the tree.

"More than a little bit," Owen grumbled, which prompted the chief to shoot her a cautionary look. She had been given the "be seen and not heard" talk on the drive to the farm, but was already breaking the one rule within minutes of arrival.

"Listen. I want you guys to track the rot, see how far it goes. Just, uh, mark anything that's dead," Hopper instructed the other officers over the walkie talkie. Owen's eyes widened at the implication. Anything that's dead? The whole place was dead.

"That's gonna take some time," Powell warned.

"So take it," Hopper ordered. "And look, we don't know what caused this. Could be poison. So, don't touch anything without gloves."

"Copy that, Chief."

Hopper turned to Eugene with a sigh.

"You got any marking flags?"

Although Mr. McCorkle was still rather surprised that they were taking him seriously, he gave the chief a quick nod and began wandering back towards the barn. Owen and Hopper trailed behind him, hoping to find Powell and Callahan somewhere along the way.

"Aren't you glad you tagged along," Hopper brought up, sarcastically. It was Owen's turn to shoot him a glare from the corner of her eye. Although this was not at all what she anticipated doing when she visited the pumpkin patch, she had no choice but to resign to her fate. She didn't even grant Hopper a reply, instead letting her deadpan stare forward do all the talking. "Just hope you didn't have any big plans for the evening." Owen could hear the smirk in his words.

Well, she could kiss that party at Tina's goodbye.

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Hopper's flashlight was the only thing illuminating the dark, eerie woods surrounding the McCorkles' farm. Owen had lost count of how many little yellow flags she had shoved in the ground, marking every single rotten-looking piece of foliage she could find. If she was being honest, some of the shit she marked may have just been dead already – completely unrelated to the poison.

"I think we got all of them, Hop. I mean... it's kind of hard to tell in the dark, but..." Owen trailed off, wandering closer to the beam of light emanating from the chief's flashlight. He must've been tired of marking everything too, as he had ambled back out of the woods and into the pumpkin patch. The creepiness that came with nighttime didn't cease, even once she entered the clearing again. A thick fog had settled over the dead crops, making it almost impossible to see beyond the few feet in front of them.

A sharp popping sound from over their shoulder forced shocked gasps into their lungs. Immediately, Hopper whipped the flashlight towards the direction of the sound. A child in a cowboy costume, presumably one of Eugene's grandchildren, had a toy gun pointed towards the two of them as he hid just behind one of the trucks.

"You're dead!" The child's small voice called out to them.

"Yeah, you got us, kid," Hopper acknowledged dryly. His comment just caused the kid to shoot another couple rounds into the air.

"Happy Halloween," the chief tacked on with a deadpan expression. Owen was still trying to calm her racing heart when he stole a glance down at his watch. Apparently, he didn't like what he saw there, as he immediately began throwing out multiple expletives one after another.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..." Hopper repeated, taking off running towards his truck. Owen's feet kicked into gear before her brain did, running through the pumpkin patch in order to keep up.

"What? What is it?" she wondered aloud, in need of some clarification. But Hopper just kept echoing the same word over and over, even as he rounded the front of his truck to get to the driver's side.

"Y'know, you run surprisingly fast," Owen pointed out around gasps of air. She pulled the passenger door open and flung herself inside just in time. Hopper had already begun to crank the engine, peeling out of the McCorkles' driveway as soon as her door shut behind her. Dust from the unpaved road whirled around them as they sped down the driveway. However, it wasn't too far down the road before Hopper slammed on the brakes, causing Owen's head to sling forward.

"God, what is it," she all but shouted at him, hands gripping any available surface in an attempt to stabilize herself. Then, just as quickly as they had stopped, the car was being accelerated in reverse back down the driveway. The wheels were making this god awful squeaking sound, as if this was the most intense use they had seen in ages.

"Roll your window down," Hopper instructed once the car was put in park again. Owen's eyebrows scrunched together, totally puzzled. And of course, she had to let out an annoyed huff before doing as he said. "Hey, kid! Give me some of that candy, would you?" he called out to the little cowboy through her window.

"Are you serious? Hopper, what's going on?" Owen could hardly believe what she was hearing. Nothing he was doing made any sense whatsoever and he was literally refusing to acknowledge that she was even speaking to him.

"No way..." the kid replied, shaking his head.

Owen saw the irritated roll of the chief's eyes, even with the lack of light. In an even more confusing act, Hopper dug his wallet out and pulled a five dollar bill out. He shoved the money out of the window for the kid to see, waving it around.

"All right. How 'bout now?"

And just like that, the transaction was complete, meaning Owen got the job of holding the unexplained plastic, orange pumpkin full of various candies as they rode back to the station.

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Owen dragged her feet up the front steps of her house, already starting to feel an ache in her bones from walking nearly every square inch of Eugene McCorkle's farm. Good to know that a future in farming just wasn't her thing. Owen unlocked the front door, pressing her weight against it to shove it open. She was instantly met with blaring music coming from within the house – specifically that one song from that new Kevin Bacon movie.

Owen dropped her bag onto the couch, walking towards the source of the music. As she made her way down the hallway, she saw that the door to the bathroom was left ajar. Her pairing of increasing confusion and a deficiency in social skills had Owen pushing the bathroom door open.

The last thing she was expecting to see was an objectively attractive stranger standing in front of the mirror, perfecting his Ziggy Stardust face paint. In the time before he noticed her, Owen allowed her eyes to scan over his features. A grown out bright red buzzcut, unrealistically sculpted cheekbones, deep set eyes, and tan skin. Owen's eyes almost made their way to the exposed planes of his chest hidden just beneath his unbuttoned shirt. Almost. But then he-

"Hey," he greeted her with a smirk. When Owen met his eyes in the mirror, he was already looking at her. Fuck. He saw her staring. Just staring at him while he's in the bathroom like a total freak.

"Uh... sorry," she blurted, ducking out of the room and shutting the door behind her. So, this was who she was now? A girl who apologizes for catching a stranger in her own home? Just because he's good-looking?

Searching for absolutely anywhere to hide after that horrendous interaction, Owen's eyes caught sight of the lights on in Gordon and Law's room. She scurried towards their bedroom, hoping to find anyone else at the house. When she entered the room, Gordon was facing the opposite direction, tying a red ribbon around his hips. Owen's head cocked to the side, taking a moment to process the entire outfit he was in.

His skinny arms were peeking out of a white wife beater that had a red and yellow arrow painted across the body of it. To go with the top, white jeans clung to his also-skinny legs, while supposedly being held up by the aforementioned red ribbon strung through the belt loops. The getup even continued down into a pair of his old white Converse. She didn't know what the hell Gordon was doing outfit-wise, but this was the most put together she had seen him in years.

"What the hell are you wearing," Owen asked, nearly scaring the shit out of Gordon. He spun around to face her at rapid speed, revealing the painted on mustache across his upper lip.

"God, Owen. Don't just sneak up on me like that," he scolded, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the ribbon.

"I'm going as Freddie Mercury, obviously..." he grumbled. But the silence that followed his statement brought some concern to his features. He peeked up at her, their equally confused expressions mirror one another's. "For that Halloween party? The one you mentioned on that note?" he explained, trying to ring some bells for her. As soon as the realization about what he was talking about struck, it showed clear as day across Owen's face.

"Oh! Tina's party!" she exclaimed. "I didn't think we would have time to go. Work went over pretty late..."

"Owen, it's like, 8 o'clock. The party probably hasn't even started yet," Gordon chuckled, ambling over to check himself out in the mirror. Owen cocked a brow as she watched him try to flex in the reflection, her nose scrunching when his attempts fell short.

"Okay..." she dragged the single word out into multiple syllables. "But more importantly, who the hell is that in our bathroom?" Owen gritted the question out between clenched teeth, just praying that her brother would at least know who she was talking about.

"Oh, that's my roommate, Leo. Decided he would rather celebrate Dad's girlfriend's birthday than spend the weekend alone," Gordon said with a shrug. So that was the Leo that Gordon talked about during all of his phone calls home. It would have been really nice if Gordon had also mentioned that Leo was hot so that Owen wouldn't have been thrown for a total loop the first time she saw him.

"Well, that's... nice," Owen nodded, unsure of what else to say. She was suddenly much too fixated on the fact that she had left the door open to her incredibly messy room that morning. She hadn't anticipated having an attractive guest. Perhaps if she had, she would have cleaned – or just shut the door.

"Are you gonna go get dressed? We'll actually be late if you just stand there like that for the rest of the evening," Gordon quipped, thankfully putting an end to her downward spiral of thoughts.

"I don't have a costume. I didn't think I was actually going to be able to go."

"What about that one Tom Cruise movie you love?" Gordon suggested, glancing up at her as he propped his foot up to tighten his shoelaces.

"The Outsiders?"

"No, the other one."

"All the Right Moves?"

Gordon let out a groan, shaking his head.

"No, the... the one with the sunglasses," he replied, unable to think about any details other than the one scene with Tom Cruise dancing in his underwear.

"Oh, Risky Business!" Owen spouted once he narrowed it down a bit more. She had quite a few favorites amongst Tom Cruise's filmography. "Okay, that should be easy enough. Might go see if Dad has a shirt I can borrow," she thought aloud.

"Just go look in his closet. He's at Diana's place helping her pass out candy to trick-or-treaters," Gordon informed her as she hurried out of the bedroom. The older boy had to refrain from letting disdain cling to his every word.

For years, their house had been one of the few to have the porch light off on Halloween night. A sign for any passing trick-or-treaters to keep on walking, as their dad just didn't want to mess with it or have to interact with any kids that he wasn't legally in charge of. But of course, the moment Diana comes into the picture, he's all about the holiday. It made Gordon's skin prickle with anger the more he thought about it.

"Hey, who was that girl that came in the bathroom a minute ago," Leo asked, scaring the shit out of Gordon when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. A dramatic sigh ripped from Gordon's lips. This was already shaping up to be a less-than-relaxing trip home.

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Owen had snagged one of their dad's white button-ups out of his closet and layered it over a pair of boxers from the back of her own dresser. She tugged a pair of white socks on and just prayed that she wouldn't have to spend any length of time in the chilly October air. Owen stood in front of her mirror for an embarrassing amount of time, buttoning and unbuttoning her shirt in different ways in hopes of finding one that looked the best. (All of the options looked nearly identical.) She hadn't spent this much time worrying about an outfit choice in years, but she had suddenly become very concerned with what Gordon's roommate, Leo, would think about her costume.

"Owen! Come on! We gotta go!" Gordon shouted while banging his fist against her door. Owen couldn't refrain from audibly groaning, her head dropping back against her shoulders frustratedly. She quickly settled on leaving just a couple buttons undone – a tasteful amount, in her opinion – before hurrying out of her room.

The moment that she swung the door open, she was once again face-to-face with Leo as he trailed behind Gordon down the hallway. Each of them stopped in their tracks upon running into each other again. Except this time, it was Leo's turn to look Owen up and down. He did it unabashedly, though, like he wanted her to know that he was staring. Meanwhile, she was still just trying to keep her eyes a respectful distance away from all of the tanned muscles of his abdomen.

"Risky Business?" he guessed, dark eyes finally dragging back to meet Owen's. That easy smirk had returned to Leo's lips, just making his innate confidence all the more apparent. Owen's head bobbed in a swift nod, just thankful that her last minute costume was recognizable enough.

"David Bowie?" she checked, despite having known the origin of his makeup the moment she saw it. A slow smile made its way across Leo's face, his pearly white teeth on display.

"And here I was... worried that I did a shit job with the face paint," Leo chuckled, shaking his head. He was worried about people not recognizing his costume too? Owen could hardly believe it. "Good to know that I've still got a future in facepainting if Purdue doesn't work out." This comment even made Owen laugh along with him, a rare sound coming from her.

"Hey, the carnival's always hiring," she quipped with a toothy grin of her own. And then, in an absolutely magical turn of events, Leo was laughing at her joke too. The sound of their giggles had Gordon popping his head back into the hallway, brows furrowed in exasperation.

"What the hell are you guys doing? Let's go," Gordon pressed, growing tired of all the dawdling. With a hidden little grin, Owen slipped past Leo and made her way down the hallway, an added pep in her step. After just a few words exchanged between her and Gordon's roommate, Owen felt entirely reinvigorated about the event ahead.

Who knows? She may even have a little fun at this party after all.