Work Text:
He makes it ten steps into the underground tunnel before giving in. Heart pounding from more than just the adrenaline of their near miss, Hop asks, “El?” and leaves it at that, hoping Joyce will catch his meaning.
She stops and he nearly trips over her, catching himself just in time. That would be something. Escaping a Soviet hellhole just to twist an ankle on his not-quite-girlfriend. Or just his friend?
That’s a question for another time. Preferably with some more distance from Murray.
“Oh, God, Hop,” Joyce starts to say, and he inhales, bracing himself for whatever she’s about to say. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she turns around and grabs his arm, but he can’t feel it. All he can feel is the pounding in his chest and a sharp, phantom pain where Sarah’s hair tie used to sit on his wrist -
And then, “She’s fine, Hop, she’s great, she’s with Jonathan and Will in California.”
“What?”
“Jeez, Jim, you okay? You don’t look so good,” Murray chimes in, having caught up to them with Dmitri and Yuri close at his heels.
He thinks he understands what just happened, but he has to double check. Grasping Joyce’s shoulder, Hopper asks, “She’s fine? Her leg, it healed up okay?”
“Her leg? What -”
“Her leg that Jonathan had to cut open that night at the Starcourt? Trying to get that piece of the Mindflayer out? It’s okay now, there weren’t any complications?”
Her eyes finally light up with understanding, then compassion, “God, sorry, yes, Hop, her leg is fine. The paramedics stitched it up at the scene and she didn’t even flinch. She was limping a little for a week or so, but it’s fine now.”
He tries to get his breathing back under control. He doesn’t know if Joyce notices his near breakdown, if this is why she continues, “Hop, I’m so sorry. I should’ve said El was fine right away. Back at the prison, even. You must’ve been worried out of your mind…I can’t even imagine,” she shakes her head and wipes at her eyes, drawing his attention to her emotional state.
Because he knows she can imagine it, is the thing. He can see her start to remember that terrifying week where she didn’t know where Will was, and he doesn’t want her putting him up on some pedestal of suffering. As someone who’s been through both now, someone who’s been in pain and someone who’s seen their kid in pain, he knows which one he’d pick. Every single time. He’s known. All this time he’s known that as long as El made it out of the Starcourt okay, as long as the plan worked, she would’ve been safe with Joyce. It’s pretty much the only reason he’s made it through these long months.
So the fact that Joyce is close to tears right now, imagining she’s done something wrong? He needs to put a stop to that, now.
“Hey, hey,” he says, grabbing her and tucking her head into his chest. He tries steadying his breathing further, hoping she doesn’t notice his heart still going a mile a minute.
Dmitri clears his throat then, looking anxiously back towards the prison, “Can we continue?” he asks, gesturing towards what they hope is the path to freedom.
Hopper and Murray nod immediately but Joyce - bless her, he’s missed her - looks a little offended, raising an eyebrow at Hopper that he knows means, “Who the hell is this guy?”
He just smiles, feeling his skin stretch with the now-unfamiliar motion.
They continue down the tunnel, silence overtaking the unlikely group for a few minutes. Then, Hopper asks, a little less nervously this time, sure she would’ve said something already, “Jonathan and Will are good too?”
Joyce looks a little surprised for a second, then pleased. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re good too. So are the rest of the kids. Max’s brother, Billy, died the same night you did. Or didn’t, I guess. But everyone else is okay, thanks to you.”
Briefly uncomfortable with the praise - it was his fault they were short on time in the first place that night, all the time he wasted yelling at her over Scott Clark and feeling sorry for himself - he deflects with a genuine question, “Wait, did you say something about California a minute ago?”
Katinka might fly, but she’s not, by even the most generous definition of the word, spacious. With Dmitri and Yuri in the front, and Murray already buckling into the rear seat behind the pilot, Joyce and Hopper stare at each other for a moment, then at the remaining seat. He sees Joyce take a breath and before she can make some completely insane suggestion like multiple trips or I’ll just sit on the floor, Hop picks her up, tucking her head down against his shoulder to avoid what would be a very unfortunate rotor related accident, and climbs into the helicopter with her in his arms.
“Hop, hey, what?” She protests, and he feels a flash of guilt. He doesn’t exactly know what it’s like to be 5 foot 2 and vulnerable to unexpected lifts from not-quite-boyfriends. Though there are some advantages to her size: once he sets her down, she can stand at her full height inside the helicopter, while he has to bend nearly in half, in a way that really is testing his ribs.
“Sorry, but I think it’s either my lap or Murray’s,” he explains, then immediately regrets putting that image in his head. Still, it’s important that she has autonomy here.
“I don’t know, maybe Murray’s would better for -” she starts to say, and at his incredulous look - because fuck autonomy, she was his not-quite-girlfriend - “For your ribs! Hopper, you’re not exactly a picture of health here!”
To himself, he thinks that having to watch her pressed up against Murray Bauman (or really any other man, ever) for the next few hours wouldn’t exactly help his health either. Maybe she can see this on his face, or maybe she can hear Dmitri’s impatient sigh, because the next thing she says is, “Well, fine, then, sit down, if you’re sure,” with an exasperated look on her face.
Hopper sits down in the remaining seat and tries to ignore how everyone’s eyes turn to watch Joyce perch herself delicately on the very edge of his knee. He shoots his flightmates what he hopes is a withering glare and, when they turn away, whispers, “C’mon. My leg is gonna fall asleep in seconds if you sit like that. Not to mention we won’t be able to buckle up. You won’t hurt me, now get down here.” She sighs and starts to scoot down at the same moment he wraps a hand around her waist and pulls her towards him. As a result, she comes towards him faster than either were prepared for and they bump heads.
“Ouch,”
“Oof,”
They let out in unison.
“You okay?”
“Jeez, Hop, see, I’m hurting you already!”
But hurt is the opposite of what he feels. With her pressed against him from his chest to his stomach to his lap to his thighs, he nearly lets out an embarrassing sound of contentment. He manages to stifle it, but he still finds himself immediately in danger of getting aroused. To make matters worse, Joyce starts to shift around, bracing herself with a hand on his chest, trying to find a comfortable position. He doesn’t want to let her in on his problem, but he has to stop her before she makes matters worse.
Thankfully, the sounds of Katinka preparing for take off give them some cover. Murray, Dmitri, and Yuri all cheer as the rotor noisily starts up and Hop takes his opportunity to squeeze Joyce’s hip and beg quietly into her ear, “Please. Joyce, you’ve gotta take it easy on me here.” At her look of alarm, he looks meaningfully down at his lap, where she must be able to feel him starting to get hard. Luckily his entire lower half is hidden, but still. It’ll be a long helicopter ride if she continues to be, well, her.
Understanding floods her face, and maybe, if he’s not being too hopeful here, a little bit of pleasure. She leans down to his ear and replies, “Now I know why you wanted me on your lap.”
“Not helping,” he manages to grit out.
“Sorry, sorry,” she strokes a hand through his buzzed hair in apology and he shoots her an incredulous look. Does she really not know the effect her every move is having on him right now?
Mercifully, she angles her hips slightly away from his, although to keep her balance that causes her to shift her upper half even closer to him. Still, it’s a little better.
Once they’re in the air, as a distraction, he reviews the plan with the group again. When they fall into a contented silence, Murray and Dmitri nodding off into well deserved naps, Hopper leans close to Joyce’s ear again and whispers, “Does she have any clue I’m coming?”
“No,” Joyce says, without needing clarification as to who she is. “I thought it would be nice to surprise them. They think I’m in Alaska.”
“Why would you be in Alaska?”
“For an encyclopedia conference.”
At his further confusion, Joyce clarifies, “That’s what I do now. I sell encyclopedias by phone.”
Digesting this, Hopper has to ask, “And they fell for that?”
“They’re teenagers, Hop.”
“Yeah,” and he has to smile. A year ago, his greatest fear was his teenage daughter pulling away from him, becoming distant. Now, they’re five thousand miles apart, she has no idea he’s even alive, and yet he’s closer to her than he has been in months. Is it too much to hope that he’ll see her tomorrow? How fast is the plane ride from Alaska to Hawkins? God, if only she’d stayed in California. That would’ve been quicker for sure.
He doesn’t want to ask, but he can’t help himself. “Her and Wheeler still goin’ strong?”
She lets out a chuckle, “You might just have to accept that one, Hop.”
“Nah,” he says, scrunching his face in a mock scowl, “I think I’ll use my returned-from-the-dead card to split them up for good. There’s gotta be some respectful, tan, skater boy who’s caught her eye in California, right?”
“And that would be better than Wheeler, how?”
“Hm,” he murmurs through a yawn, letting the banter end as he closes his eyes and tips his head back, finally giving into exhaustion.
Half asleep, he asks one more time, “You’re really all okay?”
He grows concerned for a moment at the look of hesitance on Joyce’s face. He’s not an idiot, he knows the past eight months must’ve been hard for her. He would never have been able to cope, had they swapped places. Responsible for three grieving kids?
Losing her?
He’d take the Soviet gulag, thanks.
She strokes a hand across his cheek and the touch is softer than anything he’s known in months, years, even.
“El’s leg…I’d forgotten, Hop. I feel like a shitty mom, but it really wasn’t - it wasn’t her worst pain. Not by a long shot. Her worst pain, our worst pain was losing you. We were okay, I don’t want you to worry over it, over anything we went through. But that’s the truth.”
Joyce presses a kiss to his jawline, then higher up his cheek, where his stubble must be scratchy. She doesn’t seem to mind.
Hopper wraps his arms around her, tightening his grip in wordless reassurance that he’s here now. That they’re here now. Some place in between the hell behind them and whatever the fuck they were getting themselves into now. But they were flying towards home, towards their children, and that had to count for something.