Work Text:
“I’ve got a tree!”
“You’ve… got a tree.”
Face wrinkled in confusion, Joyce stood frozen with her front door swung wide open, wind and snow whipping into the entryway and stinging her face. Hopper barreled past her, a gigantic freshly cut evergreen on his shoulder and Eleven in tow cradling a metal tree stand. The girl paused, smiling up at Joyce with an apologetic expression that said sorry my dad is a nutjob, then kicked off her snow-covered boots and politely set them to dry on the doormat.
“El?!” he called over his shoulder. “You’re up, kid!”
The girl hurried into the living room and set down the metal stand in front of the window, just in time for her dad to drop the tree into place, bows spreading wide and the smell of earthy, sweet pine filling the house.
Joyce shut the door and slowly approached, sidestepping Hopper’s wet tracks and a scattered trail of pine needles. Chilled, she tugged her robe shut and crossed her arms, staring at the large man in her living room and the even larger tree.
“Uh… Hopper?” she asked.
He shot her a crooked grin and peeled off his gloves with his teeth, his nose and cheeks rosy and cold-bitten and beard decorated with chunks of ice.
“Whatcha think?”
She gave him a bemused smile, eyes darting between him and the massive evergreen that now took up residence in her house with absolutely no warning.
“It’s… big.”
“Yeah.” He beamed, taking a step back to admire his work. “Might need to trim her down a bit for the star to fit, but I think she fills up the space nicely.”
“Mom? What’s going on?”
Jonathan appeared from his bedroom, standing in a t-shirt and boxers and wearing a groggy, perplexed look on his face. He rubbed his eyes, taking in the chaotic scene before him.
It was early, a little after eight in the morning. Joyce was still in her robe and had just barely put the coffee on when Hopper had barged in with an eight foot tall surprise. She wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip, watching him proudly fluff the branches and place her previously scattered, wrapped gifts for the boys neatly beneath.
“Apparently we have a Christmas tree,” Joyce said to Jonathan, casting him an amused smile over her shoulder.
“Ain’t she a beauty?” Hopper exclaimed, standing back to admire the evergreen that dwarfed even his large frame.
Jonathan shrugged, blinking sleep away. “Yeah, it... looks great.”
“Mom?”
Will peeked out of his bedroom and joined them, glancing tiredly around in shared confusion.
“Morning, sweetie. The Hoppers brought us a surprise, it would seem.” Joyce wrapped her arm around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze and smoothing down his adorably disheveled hair.
El stared sternly up at her dad. “You got the floor all wet and dirty.”
“Shit! Sorry.”
He hobbled over to the door and slid out of his boots, setting them on the shoe rack as he looked around for something to wipe up his tracks.
“I got it.” Joyce waved him off, grabbing a dish towel from the kitchen and soaking up the wet prints from her carpet. Jonathan was quickly by her side with a hand broom and dustpan to sweep up the array of pine needles littered from the door all the way into the living room.
“You boys got some ornaments for this thing?” Hopper asked.
“Uh, yeah… I think so. Down in the basement. Come on, buddy, let’s go find them,” Jonathan answered, nodding to Will. He ran to his room to pull on some pants, and the two boys disappeared down the basement steps.
“So…” Joyce began. “Gonna tell me why the hell there’s a tree in my living room, Hop?”
He shrugged and grinned down at her. “El and I cut ourselves one and figured your family might like one, too. They’re from my property." He leaned in and lowered his voice, tone void of judgment. "I, uh... I noticed when I stopped by the other day you still didn't have one.”
“Well, that was nice of you.” Her smile softened and she glanced down at El, stroking curls from her face. “You helped?”
The girl nodded proudly.
“I love it!” Joyce exclaimed, beaming at El, then up at Hopper. “Are you two gonna stay and help us decorate it?”
“Sure. Why not?” He slid out of his coat and hung it up by the door. El followed him over and handed him her winter gear.
The boys reappeared carrying a couple boxes up from the basement labeled CHRISTMAS in black marker and set them down on the couch. El joined them, and the three kids began sorting through the collection while Hopper unraveled a string of Christmas lights. Joyce felt her stomach drop at the sight of them, instantly transported back to last year when Will went missing and more recently the evil smoke monster that had possessed him. Shuddering, she pushed those feelings aside and headed into the kitchen to light up a cigarette, leaning against the counter as she smoked and observed the tree trimming.
Christmas had come too fast this year, and with all the extra shifts at work and the whirlwind of the last two years catching up to her, she hadn’t had the time to really decorate the house aside from hanging the stockings and wrapping a few gifts. Fondly, she watched the kids hang ornaments with excited faces, gaze drifting to Hopper as he expertly unraveled her mess of lights. He'd done this for her family. He'd brought a little warmth into a cold and lonely season that had stolen her Christmas spirit from her. Her insides, icy from grief and trauma and darkness, began to melt her frosted heart.
Once the lights were strung, Hopper joined her side. She poured him up a cup of coffee and offered him her cigarette. He accepted both with a wide smile, taking a puff and cradling the steaming mug in his palms to warm them.
“This was thoughtful of you, Hop,” she murmured, taking a last drag from the cigarette before putting it out in her ashtray.
He took a long sip of coffee and shot her a shy smile, shrugging. “It was really no problem. I, uh… I know the past couple years have been difficult for your family, so I guess I wanted to help brighten things up. Give you a normal Christmas. I dunno.”
“Well… thank you,” she answered honestly, smiling warmly up at him. He matched her smile, their gazes lingering together. She watched his eyes drop from her face and wander briefly over her form, and cheeks warming, she suddenly felt self-conscious about the fact she wasn’t even dressed yet. She took a sip of coffee to conceal her blush, but out of her peripheral, she saw his eyes continue to linger between sips of coffee and puffs of smoke.
“Come on, Mom! You gotta hang up your cows!”
She peered over to where Will was holding up a familiar package of ornaments the boys had gifted her several Christmases ago. Shyly, she glanced up at Hopper and brushed past, beaming at her youngest son and carefully accepting the ornaments.
“Cows, huh?” Hopper asked, coming up behind her and peering over her shoulder.
“Yeah, they’re my favorite.”
“Huh.”
She opened the box and started perching the cows on various branches, letting El help her choose their new homes. Before long, the living room was looking festive and bright, their family’s collection of mismatched ornaments hung as carols wafted from the Christmas record Jonathan had put on.
“Let me get dressed and I’ll put a casserole in the oven,” Joyce announced, glancing over at Hopper. “You two can stay for breakfast.”
He smiled, cheeks a little pink, and bowed his head. “That’d be nice. Thanks, Joyce.”
She hurried to her bedroom, slipped into jeans and a sweater, put on a touch of makeup, did her hair, and returned to find Jonathan filming El and Will as they goofed off with freshly discovered Santa hats in front of the now-decorated tree. Hopper smiled up at her from the couch, his mug in hand. He looked content and at home, bundled in his flannel and laughing at the kids being silly. Shaking herself, she headed into the kitchen to start throwing together an easy egg bake with hash browns and bacon. Hopper was at her side moments later hovering.
"You look nice," he commented, and she tried her best not to blush, shyly tucking hair behind her ear which she'd even gone through the effort of curling.
"Thanks."
“Need any help?”
“You wanna fry up the bacon?”
“I can handle that.”
She gave him the frying pan and a package of bacon from the fridge, and he got to work beside her, the kitchen quickly coming alive with smoky, savory smells and a greasy sizzle. Their shoulders bumped a few times as he worked the spatula and she cracked and whisked the eggs. It felt oddly domestic. She didn’t hate it.
Once the casserole was out of the oven, the kids all gathered around to help pour up the orange juice and set the table.
“Coming through!” Joyce shouted, carrying the steaming casserole dish with her cow-printed oven mitts to the dining room. She set it down on the table, and Jonathan squeezed her shoulder.
“Smells good, Mom.”
Hopper cut into the egg bake and dished everyone up, and the five of them settled down to eat. He told the kids stories of some of the rebellious stuff the two of them got up to in high school (the stuff that was kid appropriate, at least) until there wasn’t a crumb left in the casserole dish and everyone slumped back with hands on stomachs and satiated faces, complimenting Joyce’s cooking. She wasn’t a great cook, but breakfast casseroles were hard to mess up.
“Kids, can you take care of the dishes?” Hopper asked, glancing between the three of them.
Will nodded and nudged El. “Do you like to wash or dry?”
“I like to wash,” she answered stoically.
“Cool!” Will smiled. “I like drying.”
Jonathan rose, gave Joyce a kiss on the cheek to thank her for the meal, and began clearing the table, El and Will quickly helping with absolutely no complaints. Hopper smiled at Joyce across the table, cradling his glass.
“This was nice,” he murmured, draining the last of his orange juice.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah, it was. We should, um… do this more often,” she suggested with a shy smile. “I mean… not the tree, of course, but… you know, you and El over for a meal once in a while.”
“Sure.” He grinned, face lighting up. “We could have you guys over, too, sometime. El and I can sort of cook. We make a mean spaghetti and meatballs, and we're really great at TV dinners…”
She chuckled. “I’d like that,” she agreed, beaming at him. He beamed back, eyes lingering again.
He dug out his pack of smokes from his pocket, lit up a cigarette, and passed it over to her. They sat watching the kids busy themselves with cleaning up the kitchen, and passed the cigarette back and forth in comfortable silence as Bing Crosby crooned about a white Christmas. Joyce bit her lip at the amount of water Will and El were getting on the floor from the sink but didn’t comment. Water could be mopped up, and they were trying. Bless them.
“There’s still some decorations to put up!” Jonathan called from the living room, rummaging through a box.
El and Will finished putting away the dishes and raced over to find him. Joyce let Hopper finish off the cigarette and rose to her feet to clean up the water in the kitchen, then joined him and the kids in the living room where they were sorting through tinsel, bells, and a few other festive decorations she just hadn’t been in the spirit to put up after everything—after Bob.
El picked up a hanging sprig of green leaves and red berries and scrunched her nose, peering curiously at it.
“What—is this?”
Will smiled. “That’s mistletoe.”
“Missile… toe.”
Joyce smiled and knelt down next to her, eying her with amusement. “Do you wanna know what makes mistletoe special?” she asked the girl, raising both brows. El nodded, and Joyce took the decoration, lifting it above the girl's head. “When you’re under the mistletoe, you have to kiss someone!”
El frowned in confusion, and Joyce chuckled, leaning in and giving her cheek a big, wet kiss. The girl drew back with wide eyes, stared at her quizzically for a moment, then burst into a shy giggle. But her amusement faded, and she wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“Why—kissing?”
“It’s tradition, kid,” Hopper answered with a grin, stepping up onto a chair to cut down the top of the tree so he could place the star.
“Tradition,” El repeated, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, like blowing out candles on a birthday cake or… decorating a Christmas tree.” Hopper shrugged.
“Kissing under missile-toe. Tradition.”
“Yup.”
Joyce stood on her tiptoes, twirling the mistletoe over Jonathan’s head with a smirk.
“Mom…” he groaned, sighing.
She gave him a teasing, pointed look. “Hey, don’t be a grinch. Kiss your mother, young man.”
He rolled his eyes but smiled, bending down to give her a peck on the cheek. Pleased, she laid her eyes on Will, who grinned and shrieked in fear and hobbled to his feet, trying to escape. She chased him around the living room until she successfully grabbed ahold, dangling the mistletoe over his head and peppering his face with as many kisses as she could get in before he managed to spring free. Laughing, she let him, and straightened just as Hopper was descending to the ground behind her. Their bodies collided.
“Whoa, there.”
His hands came up to grab her by the waist, steadying her, and she spun around, bright red as she stared up at him in surprise. He peered down at her, clearing his throat. They were far closer than she'd anticipated.
“Sorry!” she blurted out, cheeks hot.
“It’s okay. I should have said something. Uh... star's up.”
Before she could answer, the mistletoe flew out of her hand, and she gasped, staring up with wide eyes as it hovered in the air over her and Hopper’s head. They both turned sharply to stare at El, who had a tiny trickle of crimson rolling from her nostril, hand extended in front of her, and an expectant look on her face.
“Kiss,” she stated matter-of-factly, peering at them.
Joyce blushed wildly.
“Kid, I–that’s not–” Hopper stuttered, equally red. She was acutely aware of his hands on her hips and their bodies pressed together.
El scrunched her brows and frowned up at them, clearly not understanding. “You said—tradition. You said—kiss under missile-toe.”
Joyce bit her lip hard and peered up at Hopper. He met her gaze, expression torn as his eyes searched her face in a silent question, mouth ajar like he was trying to voice the question out loud but was at a complete loss for words. Her heart fluttered, her stomach swooped.
“You did say that,” she pointed out, shrugging and smiling playfully up at him.
“I did,” he whispered. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, blue eyes darting briefly down her lips. They both hesitated, maybe trying to give the other a chance to opt out, but neither of them did.
Time stopped. Her heart sang in her ears. His lips curled up into a shy smile, eyes darting from her eyes to her mouth several times before he cupped her cheek and slowly leaned down. She hoisted herself up on the balls of her feet to meet him halfway, because the distance between them was vast, but they persisted and they managed. Their lips brushed, and she felt her heart leap in her chest. It was like electricity sparked between them. He must have felt it too, because he briefly jerked away as if she’d physically shocked him, long enough for her to mourn the absence of him. Now on her tiptoes, she chased his lips for more, reasoning with herself that it hadn’t been enough of a kiss to really count. He met her again without hesitation, smiling into the kiss as their lips collided. It was more firm, more confident this time, their mouths sliding together. Her hand found his chest, and the palm cradling her cheek tightened, thumb working her skin in gentle circles. A quiet sigh escaped her and vibrated into his mouth, and she heard him suck in a breath as he shifted closer, tugging her against him with a large hand clutching the small of her back.
Jonathan cleared his throat nearby like a cold splash of water.
Flushing, Joyce drew back, eyes awkwardly darting around the living room. Jonathan glowered at them in not quite disapproval, Will's eyes were fixed sharply on the train in his lap, and Eleven’s smile had fallen into a wide-eyed gawk as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. The mistletoe clattered to the ground. That hadn’t been an everyday friendly, traditional mistletoe kiss, and all three kids seemed to starkly pick up on that in their own ways.
There hadn’t been anything friendly about it, actually.
Cheeks stinging from embarrassment, Joyce pushed away from Hopper and briskly moved to the couch, folding down the flaps of the cardboard boxes resting there because it was something to do.
“I’ll, uh… go put these away,” she stammered, unable to meet anyone’s eye.
She stacked the boxes and hurried down into the basement, grateful for the cold air to cool her hot face and the solitude to collect herself. She put the boxes in their place and took a few deep breaths, trying to purge the sinful memory of Hopper’s kiss from her mind. But when her tongue darted out, she could still taste him there, and she realized her efforts were futile. The image was seared into her mind—his taste, his smell, his touch—maybe forever.
She'd never look at mistletoe the same again.
She managed to collect herself and ascended the steps a few minutes later. El and Will were on the floor assembling the under the tree train set while Jonathan swept up more pine needles. Hopper, it seemed, had taken up residence outside shoveling her snow-covered driveway. She peered at him through the kitchen window, watching him move piles of snow like it was nothing with strong arms. It had been years since she’d had a man in the house to shovel for her aside from Jonathan, and it threatened to loosen something in her chest she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Anxiously, she fumbled to light up another cigarette, listening to Will and El’s conversation from the other room.
“What—is this?” the girl asked.
“It’s a sled.”
“A sled.”
“Yeah, you sit on it and ride it down the hill. You’ve never been sledding?”
“No.”
“Maybe we can go!”
Will bounded into the kitchen, holding up a familiar Christmas ornament with Snoopy and Woodstock on a decorated sled.
“Mom, can we take El sledding? She’s never been.”
Joyce hesitated, biting her lip. “I really have a lot of chores to do today, sweetie, I–”
“I can take them,” Jonathan offered, appearing next to Will with his hands in his pockets and El by his side. He shrugged and smiled. “I’ll drive them over to the park. I bet Nancy and Mike would wanna come, too.”
She beamed at her eldest son. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“No, it’ll be fun.”
“El, you’ll need to ask your dad, but it’s okay with me.”
The girl was already excitedly shuffling into her boots, racing outside to where her dad was shoveling. Joyce glanced out the window, watching as he set his shovel aside and wiped his brow, the two of them exchanging words. After what looked like some gentle coaxing, El’s face lit up and she bounded eagerly back into the house.
“He said yes!” she announced.
“Okay," Joyce said. "Everyone bundle up. Hats, scarves, mittens, boots… Will, I think you have an extra pair of snow pants El can borrow.”
The three of them disappeared to get into their winter gear while Jonathan called the Wheelers, and Joyce busied herself by starting a load of laundry—the first of many she had to tackle today since Christmas was her only day off.
“We’re leaving, Mom!” Jonathan called.
She hurried up from the basement to the entryway, beaming and checking everyone over to make sure they were properly bundled up. She zipped Will’s coat, fixed Jonathan’s hat, and tightened El’s scarf.
“I don’t want you kids out there for too long, okay? It’s cold and windy, and the snow’s falling pretty heavy,” she said, looking sternly at Jonathan.
“I’ll have them back in an hour,” he promised, hauling the sleds in his arms. “Come on, guys! Let’s go.”
She followed them out onto the porch, wrapping her arms around herself as they loaded the sleds into the trunk and piled into Jonathan’s car. Hopper stopped Jonathan in the driveway, probably to give him instructions about keeping El safe, then smacked him on the back and waved them goodbye. She bit her lip and watched. Hopper met her eye from down the driveway, and she smiled shyly and headed inside, the memory of the kiss overwhelming her once again. She distracted herself by heating up some apple cider with cinnamon sticks over the stove, poured herself a mug, and sat down on the couch to admire her Christmas tree. He entered a few minutes later, knocking his boots against the doorframe before slowly unbundling himself, and they silently locked eyes several times.
She was very aware that they had the house to themselves.
“There’s apple cider on the stove. Help yourself.”
“Sounds warm. Thank you.”
She nodded, taking a long sip of hers and watching the colorful lights twinkle on against the lush green of the tree branches, illuminating the ornaments in a warm shimmer. He joined her a few moments later, the couch dipping beneath his weight and their shoulders brushing together, and stretched out his long legs onto the coffee table. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell the winter air and sweat mingling on his skin, and instinctively shifted closer.
He took a slow sip of the cider, moaning quietly. “This is delicious. Thank you.”
She glanced over at him and nodded, smiling but not quite meeting his eye. “The secret is the cinnamon sticks.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the music until the record hushed to crackles.
“I’ll go flip it,” she said, setting her mug aside and hurrying over to the player. She flipped the record and turned back around, stopping and staring in surprise. Hopper was leaning back against the arm of the couch, long legs sprawled over the cushions, and a playful smile painting his features. The very same mistletoe they’d kissed under by El's command now dangled above his head between two of his fingers as he twirled it around. She snorted and slowly approached, biting her lip.
“Hop…”
“What?” he grinned. “It’s tradition, Joyce.”
Smirking, she settled down sideways on his lap, and his hand came to rest on her hip, his boyish smile warming her.
“You know,” she began, feeling timid. “You don’t need to mistletoe to get me to kiss you.”
His grin widened, brows raising. “No?”
“No.” She shook her head and gradually met his gaze.
He tossed the mistletoe onto the coffee table and snaked his arms around her. She leaned down, their nose brushing and lips feathering until she closed the distance the rest of the way. She kissed him, and once again, there was nothing friendly about it.
The rest of her grief and loneliness melted away.
His large palm danced up and down her back, the other coming up to cup her cheek, and she braced herself against his chest. Warmth spread through her body, his kiss bringing her back to life after a cold and lonely slumber. Groaning, he laid back and tugged her close, and she sprawled out on top of him and kissed him until she was breathless. She drew back to smile down at him, her hair falling and framing his face. He pushed it behind her ear.
“Hop,” she breathed. “We should probably… the kids won’t be gone for too long.”
He made a noise of agreement, staring up at her with a lovestruck expression. “You’re beautiful.”
She blushed and couldn’t stop the happy giggle his compliment drew from her or the way she shyly averted her eyes like a blushing schoolgirl.
“You are,” he insisted, brushing more hair out of her face. He looked downright enchanted.
She beamed down at him and leaned in for another kiss. His fingers tangled against her scalp, and he cradled her close, urging her mouth open with his probing tongue. She was helpless to resist, body tingling pleasantly as she tasted him. He took his time, and they learned each other’s mouths. Panting, she reluctantly drew back again, resting her forehead to his. He was making this difficult.
“The kids…”
He groaned but nodded, fingers dancing up and down her back. She tucked herself against him, resting her head to his chest, and his big arms wrapped around her and warmed her, comforted her. His body was firm and soft beneath hers, dwarfing her in every way. She never wanted to leave. She never wanted him to leave.
“Thank you for this,” she whispered, staring at the twinkling lights on her Christmas tree and the lit up star at the crown that she would have never been able to reach without his help.
“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Joyce.” He kissed her temple.
“Merry Christmas, Hop.” She tilted her chin and smiled up at him. “Do you and El wanna stay for dinner? I’ve got a turkey that's way too big for the three of us. Jonathan’s making the stuffing...”
“Are you sure? We don’t wanna interrupt your family time.”
“No, we’d love to have you,” she insisted.
“I’d like that. I can even cook and carve the bird, if you want.”
“Deal.” She beamed, melting and eyes fluttering when he dropped his lips and kissed her forehead.
She shifted, cheek to his chest, and watched the Christmas tree contently as his heartbeat drummed in her ear and Bing Crosby crooned I’ll Be Home for Christmas in the background. Hopper hummed quietly to the music, his low voice vibrating pleasantly against her hair. The discarded mistletoe on the coffee table caught her eye, red and green and glistening in the ambient light. Whatever this new thing was between them, she'd always associate mistletoe with kissing Hopper.
Maybe she’d make a new tradition and keep it hung all year long.