Chapter Text
Hopper leans back against the couch, one foot propped on the table, a bag of frozen peas resting on his bad ankle. Since getting back and his bones slowly unthawing it's unmistakable that he's hurting bad. Between his busted ankle and his general aching bones and muscles he feels like he shouldn’t move for at least a week. Now he's staying in the cabin with Joyce and her sons, the former swearing that once he's better they'll find themselves a new place.
However, hearing Will and El talk in the kitchen about everything and nothing has him almost wishing his foot never heals. Not to mention the smell of breakfast wafting through the air. Joyce has stepped up since they got home, all of them have but especially her. She cooks, she’s been cleaning, hell she’s even helped Jonathon patch some of the holes in the walls.
He's more relaxed than he's been in a long time. There's no apocalypse. All their kids are together and safe. He even talked to Jonathon about hiding behind substances instead of dealing with his problems. Life is good.
"Mom? You're burning the bacon." He laughs at Will's call. He could see her, totally lost in thought scrambling to cut the burning. The adorable way she'd scrunch her nose in annoyance. The string of curses that would leave her lips. He waits for the sound before he laughs again. "Mom?"
"Joyce?" El's voice makes his heart drop to his stomach. He's up as fast as his ankle will allow as the sound of clattering comes from the kitchen.
Both kids are on their feet, Will supporting his mother who is leaning against him heavily. Her head is lolling forwards. El has taken some steps back, hand extended preventing a glass plate from shattering on the floor. It floats through the air settling back on the counter and Hopper takes his opportunity.
He moves quickly ignoring the shooting pain as he crosses the room to them. He turns off the oven first and then goes to support Joyce.
"I'm fine." He can barely make out her mumbling but he can already tell she's sweating, far more than the temperature in the cabin would justify.
"Like hell you are." He presses his lips to her forehead confirming his suspicions. Her skin feels feverish to the touch. "El, go call Jonathon. Tell him to pick up some medicine on his way back." He surveys the damage eyeballing the half prepared feast. It would be no good to have the kids eat anything she prepared. "And some breakfast."
Joyce groans as she tips unstably again. Even with the two of them bracketing her she almost goes forwards. "Whoa, Mom."
"Hey, grab the peas from the living room."
“What? No!"
"I'm gonna need it here in a minute, kid, please." Hesitantly Will steps back giving him the room he needs. Hopper grits his teeth, readying himself for the shockwave. "Alright. Count of three." Joyce either understands what he means or is too far gone to struggle when he lifts her bridal style. He suppresses the groan as he walks them to his bedroom. Thankfully, Will is already there with the door open and bag in hand.
He carefully places Joyce on the bed, adjusting her legs so she's lying on her side. Her eyes are screwed shut and almost as if Will knows, he moves to shut the curtains cutting off the light that was shining on her face.
"I don't know what happened. She was cooking and then I smelled burning and she was just. She was standing there holding onto the counter. And then she started to fall."
Hopper curses under his breath, connecting the signs from the past few days. She had a cough and a headache yesterday. She blew him off saying it was just the dust from cleaning the cabin. A year of grime would do that.
He should've known better. She was coming down from the effects of Russia too. Except he had 8 months to adapt. She crashed a plane, trudged through mountains of snow to even find the prison, crawled through a sewer twice, and got covered in all the blood and muck when they went back to the prison.
No wonder her body is choosing to power down to recover.
"I called Jonathon. He's on his way to the store." Hopper bites the inside of his cheek. That's not what he'd meant. Jonathon had gone to the Wheeler's for a long overdue talk with Nancy. Though, he can't say that he's surprised that he comes running the second his family needs him. "Is she-"
"She's running a fever. Won't know how bad until Jonathon gets here." He sits on the bed by her side watching as her eyebrows furrow. "She'll be ok. Your mom is tough." He realizes the slip of his tongue after the words come out. His words were directed at El, but it felt too weird to call her Joyce in the moment.
If the two picked up on it, they don't bother correcting him. Both of their eyes are locked on Joyce who is stirring uncomfortably. He wants to take their worry away. He's almost certain neither of them have seen her like this before. She seems like the mom that could power through the flu if it meant staying on top of things.
It almost makes his stomach flip at the sight of her down for the count.
He clears his throat when he thinks he can handle speaking without the fear dripping through. "Will you two go clean up the kitchen? And wash your hands, I don't want either of you getting sick too."
"What about you?" El's eyes move to him. He gets the ice back from Will, shooing them both away.
"I'll be alright. Come get me when Jonathon gets here." She hesitates but eventually backs out of the room.
He turns his head back to Joyce as a shiver wracks her body. He shuffles, grabbing the blanket and tosses it over her. He almost misses what she says again, so lost in his own thoughts.
"Stop." Her hand grabs his wrist and his eyes meet hers. He wonders if hers looked that foggy earlier. Waking up by her side, he should have known. "Stop beating yourself up."
"You a mind reader now?" She smiles weakly, her eyes drifting closed as another wave of dizziness rocks her world. He places his other hand on hers in silent assurance.
"Maybe." She opens her eyes again. They somehow look even heavier. "Are they ok?"
"You spooked them good but they'll be alright." He sees the guilt pass over her face briefly before her head lolls and she's on her back. "They'll be fine. You're the one we need to be worried about right now."
"I hate being babied." She grumbles and he has to fight the smile creeping into his lips.
"I know you do." He runs his fingers through her hair almost certain she'd wave off his touch. Instead she leans into it, groaning quietly. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"
"In my defense, I thought I was fine. Dust always bothered me before so I wasn't lying yesterday.” Listening to her now he can hear the way her voice croaks. Hours of cold and little sleep had beaten her down more than she let on. Enough to be the thing that finally knocks her off her feet. “Then when I was cooking I thought I was getting overheated because of the stove. I only stepped away for a second and the room was spinning.”
Her hair is already sticking to her face and he has to swallow the anxiety that rises in his chest. Still, his fingers coming through her hair seems to give her a little comfort as her eyes weigh shut again.
“I’m sorry.”
“Joyce.”
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”
“Hey,” He frowns. “Cut that out. You’ve been taking care of me for a week. It’s your turn.” She lets her head sink deeper into the pillow. “Jonathon will be here soon. You should try to sleep.”
“Can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” She glares at him from under the covers. He smiles and drops a kiss to her forehead. “I’m gonna check on the kids. Don’t move.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Good.” That earns him another glare and he knows if she were in better condition, probably a pillow thrown at his head too. He takes only a moment to check on the kids. They’re so caught up in their conversation that they don’t even notice him. The plates are cleared and they’re teaming up to do the dishes. Will is washing and El is drying. It’s enough to him that they have each other.
He sneaks back into the room not surprised to find Joyce already asleep. She is still shivering and he takes another blanket from the closet tossing it over her. When he sits down by her side she turns and for a moment he thinks the movement woke her up but she continues snoring. He lets himself relax, forcing all of the anxiety to the pit of his stomach. Jonathon will be back soon and she’ll be able to take some medicine. It’ll get worse before it gets better, he knows it will. But for now he takes peace in the sound of her snoring.