Work Text:
The Side Bet
September 22, 1985
It was a quarter to five on a quiet Sunday afternoon when the front door to the Byers residence swung open and hit the wall with a bang that reverberated throughout the old, weathered house. Jim Hopper stormed through the front door yelling at nobody in particular.
“Turn on the TV!”
Joyce appeared in the living room instantly at the commotion. Brandishing a wooden spoon in one hand as if it were a battle sword, and a freshly lit cigarette in the other, she looked at the frantic police chief in her doorway with wide eyes. Her voice trembled despite her best effort to control it, “Oh my god, what happened?”
Were they under attack again? Will was still in his room, right? Wait… where’s El?
All the possible, horrible scenarios were running through Joyce’s head as she looked to Hopper to explain. A moment later, she could see a wavy, mousy-brown ponytail dance around Hop’s shoulder and was reassured by the sight of El.
By now, Hopper had dropped a six pack of beer at his feet and was struggling to get his dirty work boots off without making a mess, when he huffed at her, out of breath, “TV, Joyce! Quickly! Don’t ask questions!“
Joyce rushed over to the television and turned it on as fast as she could manage, hoping he would explain soon enough.
El just rolled her eyes as she slid behind her adoptive father’s hulking frame blocking the doorway. Joyce looked at the young lady for answers, but got none in return as El shrugged at her and headed straight for Will’s room in typical teenager indifference.
Once the boots were off, Hopper practically dove across the room to get to the television set. Joyce let out an exasperated sigh of relief as he instantly changed the channel and tuned into the Indianapolis Colts game.
She burned a hole into the back of his stupid, thick head.
“Really — all that for football? You nearly gave me a heart attack, Hop!”
Thinking about it for a second, he realised what it must have looked like barreling into the house like that, especially after the last two years they had shared. “Oh, shit… I’m sorry, Joyce, I didn’t—”
There was no excuse he could think of to recover from his gaffe. He shrugged sheepishly as he admitted to her, muttering, ”I made a bet this morning with Powell that the Colts would beat the Lions. I almost missed the last quarter getting here, because someone was taking her sweet time…“
Sitting back on his heels in front of the screen in frustration, he gave the TV a swift, impatient knock on the top of the set to make the picture settle and come into focus. Joyce puffed on her smoke as she watched him fiddle with the bunny ears to get the signal just right. He furrowed his brow as he stared at the screen, chewing his top lip under that sexy Tom-Selleck-looking ‘stache and muttered angrily to himself in the most furiously adorable way. She recognized it as the face he usually made when he was concentrating on something deeply important.
Smirking, she asked him in sing-song, “What’d you bet?”
The static on the screen cleared up as the channel came back into focus and he relaxed. Glancing at her with a smug smile, he replied, “A hundred bucks and a case of beer.”
She whistled at the amount.
“So, you have money to bet on football games but… not enough to take your daughter shopping for new clothes?” She teased.
She knew full well that he had the money to spend. It was only the idea of taking a teenage girl shopping for clothes that made it a chore for him —quite literally his definition of hell. Yet, that was the excuse he gave when Joyce pointed out the young girl was wearing overalls with rips in the knees on the first day of highschool. All Joyce wanted to do was take the poor thing shopping for something a bit more age appropriate and in style, but Hop hadn’t broken down and asked her yet, much to her surprise. Just when she thought he couldn’t get any more stubborn…
Hopper hushed her as the score flashed on the screen. It was late in the fourth quarter and the game was close, with the Colts leading by a single point.
Joyce pointed her cigarette at the screen, “Oh, you’re winning!”
”Barely…”
“Well, if you do win, you really should consider buying El some new clothes for the winter with that money. She needs a warm winter coat and a nice cardigan to wear for picture day, don’t forget. Oh, and I saw a sweet pair of corduroys she’d like at…“
Hopper waved her off, completely involved with the game now. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he asked her snidely — half joking, half not — “Don’t you have something cooking on the stove?”
Joyce pressed her lips together and fought the sudden urge to smack him with the spoon for his thinly veiled misogyny. She settled for waving the utensil in his general direction instead, calling out behind her as she headed back to the kitchen to finish up dinner.
“Nice to see you too, Jim.”
The rare sound of his first name on her lips caught his attention and she heard him chuckle to himself on the couch. As she retreated back to her stroganoff cooking on the stove, she could feel him admiring the view as she disappeared across the hall — such a typical man.
A few minutes later, she heard the commercial break and seized the opportunity, bringing them both a cold Pilsner. She whipped her apron off and tossed it over a chair, before dropping unceremoniously down on the couch next to him, their knees just barely touching. The game was quickly coming to an end and the teams were still neck and neck. It was a nail-biter for sure.
Joyce fidgeted in her seat, working up the courage to proposition him.
“You know, I was thinking — ”
He interrupted her, mumbling into his beer, “Hm, that’s dangerous.”
She swatted him at that comment and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and egging him on. She had to admit, he had been in a particularly fine form with her lately; his playful teasing had become relentless and she wasn’t sure what exactly was bringing it on.
Maybe it was just the time of year? After everything they had been through, they were both on edge; the first day of fall seemed to hang over their heads as a reminder of just how horrifying the season could get for their families. Or maybe it was just because they were getting more and more comfortable with each other and he was just deflecting his true feelings. Either way, it made her nervous and she wasn’t sure how to handle it except to keep holding her own against him the best she could.
She cleared her throat and continued, “I was thinking… how about we make a little bet of our own?“
“Like what?”
“How about if the cats win,” She threw him a wicked grin, and paused for him to correct her knowing it drove him crazy when she played dumb.
“Lions, Joyce. It’s the Detroit Lions,“ He mumbled, right on cue.
“Right, if the Lion’s win, you let me take El shopping next weekend for some new outfits at the mall.”
Well, that really didn’t sound too bad to him since there was no way on Earth he was stepping back in that literal hellhole again. Passing the task off to her would only be helping him out… There had to be a catch.
And Joyce didn’t skip a beat…
“With your credit card.”
Ah there it was. Joyce and El on a shopping spree, alone, with his American Express… Jesus Christ almighty, that was a truly frightening thought. A fair deal, he had to admit, but frightening all the same.
“And if I win?”
Joyce pondered it for a moment, glancing at the screen to see the clock had less than a minute left and Indianapolis had just taken control of the ball. If she knew anything about football, it was that Hop’s chances of clinching the win had just increased tenfold.
“How about, if you win… you can take me for dinner on Officer Powell.”
His face twisted in confusion at her logic, “How is me, paying for a dinner I’m going to eat, winning, exactly?”
She shot him a look that told him to think about it a little harder.
A wry smile graced his lips as he picked up her train of thought and they began to negotiate, “Okay. How about if the Colts win, you can still take El shopping — for a single outfit — and I’ll take you girls out for dinner after.”
“Nope, no kids!” Joyce held up a hand, dismissing his suggestion and looked at him point-blank. He was so dense sometimes.
“I’m talking about just you… and me.”
He studied her earnest face for a long moment and finally raised an eyebrow as her plan came into full view, ”So… You’re betting a date then?”
Wait… was this her little way of letting him know she was finally ready for something more?
Joyce pursed her lips at him as the Colts took their last time out. She was suddenly feeling quite confident.
”Call it what you want. I think we both deserve a night out, and I’ll agree to your single outfit for El… so I really can’t see how you could lose here. Do we have a deal?“ She held out a firm hand and he shook it without hesitation.
“Yeah,” He breathed. This was so unlike Joyce, but he had to admit, he kind of liked it. “You got yourself a deal there, little lady.”
As they turned back to the tv to watch the end of the game, she could see Hopper studying her out of the corner of her eye and felt his gaze burning into her.
The whistle blew and his attention snapped back to the game, their fate was about to be sealed by the National Football League and whatever sport gods were watching over them at that moment. Joyce realized she was holding her breath as Indianapolis crossed into the endzone with the ball in the last ten seconds.
"Yes!” Joyce fist pumped and clapped at the win while Hopper chuckled in disbelief.
“You realize you just lost, right?”
Joyce just beamed at him, “I don’t think I did…”
Her smile was contagious and Hopper clinked his beer can against hers in celebration of their first date — or was it their second-first date?
Will and El popped their heads around the corner at that moment. Will’s face was scrunched up as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on in the living room that they could hear his mom over Jonathan's new mixtape.
”What are you guys yelling about?“
El crossed her arms over her chest and mumbled to her best friend as she nodded toward her father, “I told you, he was like this all afternoon.”
Hopper shrugged, “Colts won.”
Joyce slapped Hopper on the knee and gave a subtle squeeze as she stood up to make her way back into the kitchen to put the final touches on dinner. She waved the kids off as she tried her best to play it cool; reaching up to ruffle the hair on her son’s head as she walked by, echoing, ”Colts won!“
Will was extremely confused now, “Since when do you care about football, mom?”
Joyce shrugged and smiled, turning back to the pair in the hall. Her cheeks flushed as her youngest called her out and she shared a sly glance with the stoic man sitting on her couch.
“Oh, I’ve been interested in football for years…”
Will wracked his brain for any memories he had of his mother watching football or even mentioning it over the years but came up empty handed. There was no way she was telling the truth... El looked at him perplexed, before she clued into what was going on and threw a small, knowing grin to Will. He caught on almost immediately, as if reading her mind.
Joyce was definitely not talking about sports.
Maybe, just maybe, Will and El would get their wish sooner than they both thought.