Work Text:
"and we know what we want
and the future is certain
give us time to work it out"
“Are you even sure that they’re here?”
“Where else would they go?” Joyce placed her hand on Hopper’s thigh, stilling his movements. “It’s going to be OK.”
“What if she doesn’t recognise me?” Hopper looked down at Joyce, his hand resting over hers now.
Joyce stopped herself from rolling her eyes at him. “No chance.”
She rested her head on his shoulders, slowly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It was going to take some getting used to, having Hopper back. They had spent nearly four whole days together now and it still didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel real that she could just reach out and touch him, feel him under her fingertips, him covering her hand with his own; reminding her that he was alive, not just part of her imagination.
It had been a long eight months, thinking he was dead, having his funeral, wondering how she was going to manage to raise a family without him now. It made her wonder how she managed before Hopper had sprung back into her life. Before Will went missing and they had been sucked into this world full of secrets and monsters. Ever since Hopper had been there, things had felt easier; she had someone to talk to, someone to help around the house, someone to ease the burden of it all. They weren’t together and they didn’t have to be, he was just there when she needed him. Until he wasn’t.
Those first few months had been the most difficult, trying to comfort El whilst working through her own grief; even when she felt it wasn’t her place to grieve. Hopper was, well, Hopper. And she turned the keys, she was the reason that he had gone. With Bob, it was almost easier, she had a reason to grieve, she could explain the grief. With Hopper, it was different. There was no name to their relationship, they weren’t exactly lovers (planned date be damned) but they weren’t just friends either.
She loved him, she knew that. But what was she meant to have done with that love? And how was she meant to have explained to El that she killed the man she loved? She didn’t, not really. Joyce had always found herself skirting around the subject, avoiding the difficult questions, not letting El ask too many. She knew she shouldn’t have, she knew El had a right to know. But Joyce could barely understand it herself.
It was the funeral that had brought about the questions in the first place. People had assumed, with Joyce organising the funeral and Hopper having spent most of his time with her and her taking in his child, that they were together. Joyce had been too tired, too exhausted to correct them. She could feel El’s eyes on her, the young girls face screwing up every time someone had comforted Joyce, said they were sorry for her loss.
“Did you love my dad?” She had asked later on that evening, as Joyce shared the sofa with the girl; Will and Jonathan on the floor as the makeshift family watched TV.
Joyce didn’t fail to notice how Jonathan’s head had flicked to her briefly, as if he had wanted to ask her the same question, as if all three of her kids had had the same discussion. She just wrapped her arm around El, tucking the young girl into her chest, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Jonathan found her in the middle of the night, on the porch, an unlit cigarette between her fingers (it didn’t feel right somehow, lighting a cigarette without him by her side). She had been crying, for the first time since she had turned those keys. Her son joined her, wrapped his arms around her and told her that everything was going to be OK. It was that night Joyce made the decision to move. Jonathan agreed that it would be for the best, a fresh start for all of them, even if it meant leaving some people behind.
The car pulled up the dirt path, Joyce could see Jonathan with Nancy, Mike and Will emerging from the cabin, probably wondering why a black car was approaching them.
“You ready?” Joyce asked, looking up at Hopper whose eyes were fixed on the place he once called home, the place he perhaps thought that he would never see again.
“No.” His lips twitched but he squeezed her hand, trying to weed out any last drop of comfort from her before they were thrown back into reality and the bubble that had encapsulated them for the past four days burst.
“What?” Joyce could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. They’d been at the cabin for a couple of hours now, the place starting to resemble more of a home again. Nancy and Mike had been to get food for them, Hopper couldn’t, it would’ve been too risky with everything else going on and Joyce didn’t want to let him out of her sight. Joyce had expected the two siblings to stay, they were as part of her family as ever but they declined, opting to give them some space to figure out the new territory they were now walking on.
“You’re in my kitchen, cooking.” Hopper strolled over to her, placing a hand on her lower back. She leaned into his touch, the heat from his palm spreading over her body. “Never thought I’d get this far.”
Joyce turned to look at him, her face softening as her eyes met his. She wrapped her arms around his middle, his hands cupping her cheeks.
Their lips found each other as Joyce lifted herself up on her tip-toes and Hopper lowered himself to her. As they parted, his forehead rested on hers.
“I-” A cough from the opposite side of the room interrupted Joyce, she could feel her cheeks burning red as she dropped her arms from Hopper. She looked to find her eldest son watching her closely, almost more embarrassed than she was feeling herself.
“Uh, El’s asking how long food is going to be?”
“Not long.” Joyce smiled, feeling Hopper’s hand on her back again. They weren’t trying to hide their relationship, it would’ve been too difficult. She had spent eight months harbouring all this love for him, she wasn’t going to waste a second now that she had him back. But it was going to take some getting used to, especially for the kids. Perhaps it had been easier only knowing that their mom had been in love with the man over actually seeing it develop before their very eyes.
Joyce knew that Jonathan would be the hardest nut to crack, he had seen directly how Lonnie had treated her. His ten year old self had hugged and sobbed in his mothers arms wishing he could do more to protect her. Will had seen flashes of it but he was too young and Lonnie was out of the house by the time he could understand what was really going on. Will was able to keep a nice image of his father in his head; one that wasn’t corrupt and scary. Jonathan had the real image, the true monster his father was. It was why he was so protective of her, it was why he took his time to warm up to Bob, he didn’t want her to get hurt.
She hoped Hopper would be different, that he had proved himself enough to show Jonathan that he would never hurt her. The small smile her eldest son gave her as he slipped back into El’s room with the others, gave her hope.
She didn’t worry so much about Will and El. Will had always hero-worshipped Hopper and she couldn’t blame him really, the man had helped save his life and multiple occasions. And El just wanted the perfect family, a mother, a father and siblings; something that had been provided for her almost instantly. Joyce had loved her as a daughter from the moment she met her, nothing was going to change that now.
They ate together as a family, around the too small table, but it felt right. Unconventional but right. Just them, Joyce, Hopper, El, Will and Jonathan, their makeshift family. It was like everything had clicked into place. Joyce felt herself welling up as she glanced around the room, between El and Will talking animatedly about something she didn't quite understand whilst Jonathan shook his head at the pair, a smile on his face as. Hopper had his hand on her thigh, watching their family just as much as she was. This was worth the heartache and the pain, Joyce thought. And despite the loss, she would do it all over again if it meant having this. Having her family.
Hopper flicked the lighter, the flame burning bright against the night sky. He’d left Joyce in bed, she had fallen asleep against his side snoring softly. It had been the most peaceful she had looked for the past four days. He, however, couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Just in case this was all a dream, a sick joke the universe was playing on him. He was scared that the moment he closed his eyes he would be back in that place, a million miles from Joyce and his family again and with even less chance of getting back.
He had that craving again; old habits coming back to him as he settled back at home. He had reluctantly peeled himself from her and dropped a kiss to her forehead as he left to satiate the addiction that he hadn’t really thought about in months.
Hopper jumped as he heard the door open, he expected it to be Joyce but he was quite surprised to find Jonathan in the doorway instead.
“Do you mind if I…?” The younger boy trailed off.
“Of course not.” Hopper patted his hand on the chair. He held the lit cigarette to Jonathan, who took it. “Does your mom know that you…?”
Jonathan shook his head. “She’d probably freak out if she did.”
Hopper scoffed. “I think you underestimate your mother.” He took the cigarette back from Jonathan, inhaling and letting the smoke fill his lungs; he let out a cough, it had been a while. “We once skipped class to run off and get high. We were up all night, eating our way through the contents of my old man’s fridge. I don’t know how we got away with it, we did a pretty bad job of hiding it.”
“I didn’t know you had known each other for that long.” Jonathan paused. “I mean I knew you had history but mom never really went into detail.”
Hopper nodded slowly. “Yeah, and I was the idiot who let her go back then. Should never have done that.”
“You found each other again though.”
“We did.” Hopper looked down at the young boy. “I love her Jonathan, I always have.”
“Promise me one thing.”
“Sure.”
“You’ll look after her.”
Hopper’s lips twitched into a smile. “She looks after me, kid.”
Jonathan’s face mirrored his. “Fair point.” He took the cigarette from Hopper, lifting it to his lips as he took a drag. “So, Russia?”
“That was an experience.”
“I’ll bet.”
The silence settled between the two of them, the only sound coming from the wind blowing through the trees. Hopper expected it to be awkward, as if he was intruding on their family dynamic. But as he looked over at the younger boy he realised that there was nothing to intrude on, he was already part of the family despite being ‘dead’ for eight months.
Jonathan stood up. “You make her happy,” he spoke. “I’ve seen her smile more in the last few hours than I have done in months. She was never the same after…you know. I’m glad she found you, we all are. Good night, Hopper.”
“Good night, kid.”
The boy gave him a nod before moving towards the front door again, stopping as he was met with a figure. “Mom?”
“Is everything OK?” Joyce’s face was full of concern as her eyes dashed between her son and Hopper.
Jonathan nodded. “Everything’s fine. I’ll uh, see you in the morning.” He squeezed past Joyce, his hand brushing her arm as he went.
“Hop.” Joyce raised her eyebrow, a warning tone to her voice. “What’s going on?”
Hopper stood, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, engulfing Joyce into his chest. “Nothing.”
Joyce pulled away from him, plucking some fluff from his t-shirt, eyeing him suspiciously. “I will get it out of you.”
Hopper shook his head at her, a smile on his face before he pulled her into a hug again, his chin resting on the top of her head, his hand running up and down her back. “He’s happy for us, that’s all.”
Joyce let out a breath as she relaxed into his embrace. “Feels odd.”
“What does?”
“Us being here, together, as a family.”
“I could go if you want.” Hopper’s lips quirked into a smirk as Joyce looked up at him, rolling her eyes.
She shook her head. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
Hopper nodded slowly, his hand cupping her cheek. “Good, because I’m not letting you out of my sight either.”
Joyce captured her bottom lip between her teeth. A breeze wafted past them, sending a shiver down her spine. “Shall we go back-” Hopper didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence as his lips collided with hers, slowly backing her into the cabin.