Chapter Text
It had been one of Joyce’s better nights.
(Now, it’s just a blur of vodka and friction in her mind.)
As they had lied in bed – afterwards – with the sheets shared messily between them, laughing hollowly and drunkenly, alcohol pushing away thoughts of their predicament and their children’s safety, Joyce’s heart had hammered in her chest. Between sharing sloppy kisses and drags on a cigarette, the realization that Hopper was hers, at least for the night, had slowly begun to sink in through the vodka-and-smoke fog.
(She can almost feel his touch, still. And whenever she reaches for a cigarette, she still expects to see his lighter waiting to ignite it for her.)
Sleep and sunlight had sobered them, the air of giddiness and irreverence had faded. Worries had begun to writhe in their minds again, worries of their kids’ safety, of their own safety, of their hometown’s safety. Tendrils of anxiety and regret had clawed into their throats as they dressed quickly and in embarrassment, all to the tune of Murray’s incessant knocking on the guest room door. They’d vowed in that moment, in a rushed whisper, to not discuss the night’s events until after everyone was safe and the dust had settled. It had been hard, at first, to pretend nothing had passed between them, but soon they had found themselves settling into an old bickering routine, all the while just a hint of long-suppressed flirtation shining through.
(That was four months ago. The dust may have settled, and the kids are safe – if not unhappy, so far from their friends - and Hop is gone.)
(And Joyce is eyeing up a positive pregnancy test– make it four, every one she could find in this placebo of a paradise– and she knows the dust is further still from settling.)