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They don’t really have time to talk until they’ve landed back in Alaska.
It had taken some threatening of Yuri to get another plane, and an exhausting flight back to the States, but finally they were that much closer to getting back home. After a refuel they’d be taking off once again, heading for California, and Joyce finds herself itchy to get home. Something felt off, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Hopper had found some clothes in one of Yuri’s back rooms, and had changed out of the ragged prison uniform; he’d even found a pair of boots, slipping them eagerly onto his damaged feet.
Yuri informed them gruffly that it would take an hour to refuel, so Joyce perches herself on the couch, kneading her hands into her coat. Hopper makes his way over and plops down beside her; she can’t help but smile at him, heart thumping loudly in her chest.
“Can I…can I ask how El is?” is his timid question, and Joyce’s eyes widen as her lips part.
“Oh! Hop, she’s great- or I mean, as good as can be,” her hands come to cover his, squeezing gently. “The move was hard on her, but she and Mike write letters. She’s tried to write Max a few times, but never gotten anything back.”
“Move?” Hopper asks, eyebrows furrowing, and Joyce winces.
“Oh, uh- after…everything, I had Owens help me relocate,” she tells him, thumbs brushing over the backs of his hands. “We couldn’t…I couldn’t stay in Hawkins anymore. We moved to California.”
“Wow,” Hopper chuckles, shaking his head. “West Coast, huh?”
“About as far away from Hawkins as I could get,” Joyce replies, and something sad tinges her expression. “I got a work from home job just…just in case.”
At that, Hopper’s fingers thread through Joyce’s, holding tightly. Her smile is damp when she looks up at him, and something in his chest twists.
“It’s been fine, though. We’re fine,” Joyce assures him, her free hand coming up to touch his chest lightly. “The most exciting thing that’s happened since we got there was…well, it was your package.”
Hopper fights to hide his wince, and Joyce’s eyebrows knit together as she studies him.
“I never wanted to put you in danger,” he starts, but Joyce is covering his mouth with her hand before he can get a full sentence out.
“You’re alive, Hop. I got you back. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” Joyce tells him fiercely, her hand slipping to cup his cheek. “And El is going to be over the moon to see you. She just did a project on you, actually.”
At that, Hopper’s lips curl into a half-smile, and Joyce’s thumb brushing along his lower lip.
“Did- how did the paperwork go? After…after the mall,” he asks, and Joyce frowns. “With…with you taking in El.”
“Oh,” Joyce’s voice gets soft, and Hopper tilts his head in question. “Um…Owens had to, uh- fudge some more paperwork in order for me to legally be El’s parent.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well…in order for there to be no questions with the adoption he had to…” Joyce trails off, hand slipping off his cheek to fiddle with the tips of his fingers in her lap. “Hop he had to forge a marriage license for us.”
Hopper’s eyes go wide, and Joyce feels his grip on her hand slacken.
“I’m sorry- he had to what?” Hopper asks, unable to look away from Joyce’s face as he attempts to process her words. Joyce bites her lip, rubbing her palms on her coat, and swallows before she speaks again.
“There were…a lot of questions, when the adoption process first started. So…Owens figured if we had been married, and I was her stepparent, it would be faster. And…he was right,” Joyce explains, keeping her eyes on his face. “So he drew together the necessary documents, and…married us.”
“You’re telling me that son of a bitch hitched us before I even got to take you on a date?” Hopper finally gets out after a long pause, and Joyce can’t help the short laugh that escapes her.
“It’s- it doesn’t have to mean anything, Jim,” Joyce starts, and Hopper’s quick to touch her cheek with his fingertips.
“Joyce- do you even realize how long I’ve thought about it?” he asks, and she frowns. “I’ve thought about being with you- in any way you’d take me- for so long. It was…it was the only thing that kept me going in that hellhole for- well, for a long time.”
At that Joyce softens, leaning into his touch, her free hand coming up to cover his on her cheek.
“We’ve always been ass-backwards,” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “Why stop now?”
Joyce searches his face, unable to keep the smile from playing around her lips.
“Married?” she asks, cautiously as their fingers lace back together. “You know this…isn’t a normal family, Hop.”
“I’m not asking for normal. I’m just…asking to be with you,” Hopper replies, leaning in until he can rest his forehead against hers. “I want you, and El, and your boys. That’s all I need, Joyce. I’m tired of denying it.”
Joyce sinks into him, shoulders loosening in relief as they breathe together.
“I want you, Jim Hopper,” she whispers, dropping his hand so she can cup both cheeks in her hands, holding him to her.
“Can’t believe it only took three decades to be able to call you my wife,” he murmurs, and the words send a flush of heat through her. “And I didn’t even get to ask you myself.”
“I’ll make you a deal- you can ask me yourself. When you’re ready,” Joyce tells him, and Hopper pulls back, nodding, as he brushes loose strands of hair out of her face.
“Well, I already got a ring,” he says, and Joyce’s eyebrows furrow. “My mom’s ring- I’m assuming you packed most of my cabin stuff?”
“El and the boys helped,” she nodded, and Hopper’s hands continue to stroke through her hair.
“Kept it with my old stuff- El knew about it,” he continued, and Joyce’s smile widens. “Never felt right to give it to anyone but you, y’know.”
Joyce’s expression softened.
“I promised you that ring when we were 17,” he murmurs, eyes dipping to her lips. “It was always meant to be yours.”
“Hop…” Joyce whispers, hands reaching up to grip the lapels of his jacket. She closes the distance between them and brushes her mouth over his; it’s soft and tentative, and when she pulls back, they share air, the tension building between them.
Hopper pulls her into him, his mouth covering hers in a deep kiss that she sighs into, fists tightening in his jacket. She nips at his lower lip, smirking into the kiss, and he grins against her mouth.
“Oy! Lovebirds! Now is not the time!” Murray’s voice pulls them apart, and Joyce flushes as Hopper strokes her hair.
“Just kissin’ my wife, Bauman,” Hopper tells him, and the look that crosses Joyce’s face has a hunger to it that makes Hopper wish they were alone. Murray snorts, looking up from the cup of coffee in his hands.
“Wife? Joyce, have you been holding out on me?” he asks, and Joyce flips him off. “Joyous nuptials to the two of you- but the point remains. Please refrain from mounting each other until I get you two home and away from me.”
“Fuck off, Mur.”
Murray bows dramatically, and Hopper leans in to press one last gentle kiss to Joyce’s mouth.
“Home?” he asks, and Joyce nods, fingers light against his collarbone.
“Home.”