Work Text:
Hawkins, Indiana
1984
Jim
“The roof is looking good, Chief!” Will Byers cried up from his vantage point on his front lawn. Jim Hopper turned and waved down at the boy, giving him an appreciative grunt before going back to his business of replacing shingles. He hoped when Joyce woke up from her flu-induced slumber, she’d be able to appreciate it. She certainly hadn’t appreciated his gift of Shurefine Saltines (“Not Nabisco? No, it’s fine, you’re only compromising cracker integrity.”) and Seagram’s Ginger Ale (“Were they out of Vernor’s? Thank you, though.”) when he found out she was sick and staying home from work. Not that he was complaining; Joyce had a rough couple of decades, if she wanted to nitpick free food and drinks, she was entitled to do so. Jim’s shoulders were broad.
Jim gave a start when he heard the sound of gravel crunching and a car horn. Turning his head, he took note of a little blue Chevy rolling into the driveway. He squinted but was unable to recognize the person in the driver’s seat until they emerged from the car. Bob Newby. Huh.
“Hey Bob!” Will chirped, running up to shake the man’s free hand. In his other hand, he clutched what appeared to be a bouquet of red roses. Jim felt a curious tightening in his throat as he frowned down at the scene. “Mom is sleeping, and Chief Hopper is fixing our roof.”
Soft, puppyish eyes were raised to the sky and Bob gave Jim guileless grin before waving and shouting, “Oh nice! Joycie said you were a big help around the house. I’d step it up, but I’m useless at that kind of junk!”
Joycie. Junk. Jim bit his lower lip so hard he nearly broke skin and forced the corners of his mouth into something resembling a smile. “Yup! I’m just the guy for this sort of junk, Newby! I’m gonna come down and say hey, all of this shouting is probably bothering Joycie.”
When Jim had two feet on the ground he clapped Bob’s shoulder a little too hard, grasped his hand with a little too much pressure, all the while wondering where the oxygen had gone off to.
“Say; you’re not coming down with something, are you Chief? Your cheeks are pretty rosy,” Bob clucked with real concern.
“Working hard, I guess,” Jim replied in a tight, controlled tone. “I guess you brought those for Joyce? I didn’t know you two were seeing each other socially.”
Bob laughed, his own round cheeks taking on a deep glow. He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s new, but I like her. I feel idiotically lucky that she even said yes to the first date.”
You are idiotically lucky, you fucking schlub. “She’s great.”
“More than I deserve, but I count my blessings. I don’t want to wake her; would you mind putting these in a vase and making sure she sees them?” Bob held out the roses in front of him.
Jim wanted to throw them on the ground and stomp on the delicate petals, but Will took them first, with reverent, careful hands. “I’ll do it, Bob.”
“Thanks, kiddo.”
Jim and Bob exchanged terse goodbyes, and when the smaller man was gone, Jim went inside to the bathroom to tend to the half-moon shaped cuts on his palms.
Bob
Now, it wasn’t that Bob actually entertained the fact that Joyce could be a cheater -- that was absurd. During the course of their courtship, they both commiserated over being with significant others with fidelity problems; unpacked their mutual feelings of worthlessness over the fact. Knowing Joyce as he did, Bob was certain that the act of subjecting someone to something that had caused her so much pain would be abhorrent to her.
But emotional affairs were another thing.
When Bob had moved back to Hawkins and opened up the Radio Shack in snug proximity to Melvald’s General Store, he assumed that Joyce and Hopper were in the middle of revisiting their High School years -- hell, everyone thought so. Hawkins was too small of a town to miss the Chief of Police’s Blazer regularly heading towards the country road that led to the Byers house, or ignore how often that vehicle was spotted next to Joyce’s little green Pinto in the parking lot of Tessa’s Coffee House.
Not that anyone had an actual visual confirmation of their status; no hand-holding or kissing or any sort of public affection at all. They just seemed to be talking . Still, Bob knew Joyce and Hopper, and lack of affection wasn’t a good enough indicator or their lack of relationship. They hadn’t been showy in high school either. Hopper always walked a safe half-step behind Joyce at a minimum. Close enough to intimidate other people from messing with her and calling her ‘trash’, but never side-by-side and never touchy-feely. He was a lumbering sentry that apparently had third base privileges behind closed doors.
Bob had to do some actual detective work to find out for sure. It wasn’t that he was a nosy person - no - this was fueled by something as simple and genuine as the stirring embers of a nearly forgotten crush. If she said she was seeing Hopper, he’d respect her. If she said she wasn’t, he’d still respect her, but with an offer of coffee and pie.
Hopper was just a friend. He had helped her through a difficult time. Yes to coffee and pie.
Of course, Bob was over the moon in that breathless, dizzying way that only things going as hoped could make him. That feeling sustained him for a good few months… until he found out about the things that didn’t make the cut in his and Joyce’s late night discussions.
The Upside Down. Monsters. Lost little girls. Government deals.
Bob was thrown, head first, into something he had not been around to experience the first time, and had not been privy to after the fact. But this was Joyce, and he loved her - of this he was certain - so if she wanted her to break into a hospital with her ex-boyfriend to save her son, he would do it with bells on.
He knew she wasn’t cheating on him, but he also wasn’t stupid. When they emerged from the hospital, carrying that poor child back to the Byers house, Joyce distributed her attention as follows: Will (naturally), Hopper, and then Bob when Jonathan noticed the red stain spreading over the left side of his pilfered scrubs. Honestly, Bob had forgotten about the bullet-hole for a moment when he saw how Joyce pressed herself into Hopper’s embrace and weep over her unconscious son.
As Bob faded in and out of consciousness that night, he vowed to step down with dignity if they all made it out alive.