Chapter Text
Hopper lets out a sigh, resting his head back against the seat. He can’t believe they really pulled this crazy plan off. They’re all alive, except Kali. Despite how he’s been very skeptical of her and her intentions, he really wishes she could’ve made it out with them. She’s been through so much pain in her life and just deserved a chance to properly live. A part of him feels guilty, like it’s partly his fault she didn’t make it.
But despite all that, he can’t help the smile that tucks at his lips; El is coming home with them—his daughter is okay.
After he found out about El and Kail’s plan, he felt his heart slowly crack into tiny pieces. This sweet, strong and traumatized girl was about to sacrifice her own life. He’s thanking whatever God is up there that his daughter changed her mind, that she’s alive and almost safe.
He just can’t wait to hold her in his arms again.
Their truck drives through the gate, breaking through the goo or whatever you can call it dividing the two worlds—well, world and wormhole.
The moment they’re back in the normal world, the soldiers wandering around downtown turn their attention to them, quickly lifting their firearms. They start to fire at them, the gunshots filling the quiet night air. The sound of glass shattering makes Hopper flinch as Murray lets out a scream—a bullet shattered one of the windows in the back.
“Shit!” Hopper curses, ducking down.
Murray speeds through the area, the truck slinging slightly as another bullet shatters a window. Hopper sneaks a glance at the rearview mirror and sees the Bradley’s Big Buy truck behind them. He lets out a relieved exhale; they’re all out of the Upside Down that’s about to explode at any moment by now.
The steel gate slides open in front of them. Thank God for Scott Clarke. It’s kinda ironic how this man was just a few summers back the root of Hopper’s jealousy, and now he saved all of their asses.
Of course it wouldn't be that easy—right as they pass through the gate, he feels a sudden, sharp pain in his arm.
Fuck.
Placing his hand on top of his sleeve, he can already feel the warm blood coming from the injury. Quickly, he unzips his jacket and pulls it down his arm, revealing a bloody, red, but not deep wound—it’s just a graze. Thank God. It would’ve just been his luck to get fatally shot right as they escaped the military and ended everything with the Uspide-Down.
Murray looks between him and the road, his eyes blown wide. “Jesus, Jim. You okay?”
“It’s just a graze,” Hopper answers with a strain in his voice as he reaches into his backpack for a pack of gauze. He quickly pulls out a piece and presses it to the wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
The radio crackles to life, making him jump in shock.
“Are you guys okay?” comes Dustin’s panicked voice.
Hopper picks up the walkie with his unoccupied hand and lifts it to his mouth. “Yeah,” he answers, nodding as he says it despite the boy on the other end not being able to see it. “I got a little bullet-graze, but we’re fine.” He leans back against the seat again, his eyes closing as he grimaces from the pain.
The moment he says it, he knows he shouldn’t have, because as expected he hears Joyce’s gasp in the distance on Dustin’s end, followed by a panicked ‘what?!’.
A second or two later, Joyce’s worried voice floats through the speaker. “Hop, are you okay?!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he assures her, a slight strain in his voice from the pain shooting through his arm. “It’s not deep and the bleeding is already slowing.” It’s not entirely true: the bleeding hasn’t slowed down, but he’s had injuries like this before, he knows it’s nothing—maximum a few stitches and he’s as good as new.
“You sure?” she asks, obvious worry still coats her hoarse voice.
“I’m fine, Joyce.” His voice is softer now, but still steady to hopefully quell her worries about him. “Promise.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. He can hear the tiredness in her voice, and for a moment, he wants nothing more than to fold her into his arms and not let go of her for days.
“How about you guys? You’re all okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” she says, her voice calmer than before.
“El too?” His voice has grown more quiet, a part of him still scared of the answer.
“She’s okay.” He feels relief wash over him, a smile tucking at the corners of his lips. “Barely even a scratch on her,” she continues, knowing he needs to hear it.
“Good, good,” he mutters, melting into his seat as he suddenly feels the exhaustion in his bones.
There’s silence from the other end of the line for a beat, then Joyce’s voice sounds again. “How about you guys pull over and join us? I don’t think it’s a very good idea to drive around in a stolen truck right now.”
“Yeah,” he says, then lets out a sigh. “You’re right.”
She is right. Driving around in a vehicle stolen from the military he and the others killed might not be the best idea.
He turns to Murray. “There’s a road up here to the left, behind those trees,” he says, pointing to a row of pine trees up ahead. “Park a little down that one so we’re out of sight.”
Murray responds with a curt nod, then his gaze flickers over to the other man briefly, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“So… how’s the lovebirds doing?”
Hopper certainly wasn’t expecting that question, even though he probably should’ve, considering this is Murray—aka the guy who told him and Joyce to pull over and get it over with already.
He can’t help the little smile that flickers on his lips, nor can he help the way his cheeks redden slightly. “We’re… good,” he answers simply, his smile widening beneath his beard. He fishes out a pack of tape from the bag and rips a piece off, then presses it to the top of the gauze, securing it.
“That’s all? ‘Good’?” Murray sounds slightly aggravated as he glances over at him with his brows raised.
Hopper lets out a long breath. Jesus, this man can be annoying.
“Is there some trouble in paradise?” Murray asks mostly teasingly, but Hopper picks up on the slight true concern in his voice.
There’s really no reason to be concerned in any way. Him and Joyce have been doing well—more than that. The past twenty months haven’t been easy exactly, not with keeping El safe, dealing with crawls, and stressing over the impending possible end of the world, but his relationship with Joyce is one of the only things that has been easy.
They already knew each other so well that the transition from friends to lovers wasn't that wild. It felt like a natural progression. They easily fell into the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend (it still feels too juvenile to call them that).
She’s been his safe space the past one and a half year; for longer than that if he’s being honest. But the nights she’s spent at the cabin—in his bed—made it possible for both of them to just momentarily forget how much everything else around them was falling apart.
In between despair and fear, they’ve found time to just be. They’ve had little makeshift date nights in the cabin on the nights El and the party stayed in The Squawk’s basement, playing boardgames or watching movies—the young adults even sometimes joined the teens. On all the days spent watching and helping El train, they’ve found the time for little stolen moments: the two of them snuggling up in the cold, a shared cigarette despite both of them “quitting”, and the occasional kisses that got a little too hot to be happening outside the safety of their bedroom.
The middle of the night conversations might be his favorite—the two of them unable to fall asleep from nightmares, fears, or stress, and just talking for hours about everything and nothing. Some nights ended up in deep conversations, opening up about stuff they hadn’t told anyone else before, other times it ended with the two of them moving as quietly as possible together, finding comfort in the other’s body.
He can’t help the slight flush that colors his cheeks as memories from those kinds of nights resurface.
“No, there’s not,” he finally answers, his voice lighter. He places a fourth piece of tape on the last edge of the gauze then glances at Murray. “Not that that’s any of your business.”
“I mean… you two wouldn’t even be together right now if it wasn’t for me, so…” Murray sends him a smirk. “I think I deserve some details.”
Hopper just chuckles and shakes his head, glancing out the window as Murray turns around the corner he told him to. A little down the road, Murray pulls to the side and parks the vehicle. As Hopper steps out, he watches the truck slow to a stop behind them.
Steve rolls down his window, his brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”
“That military truck is stolen, we can’t just keep driving around in it,” Hopper explains, stepping over to Steve's door. He pulls the walkie out of his backpack and hands it to Steve through the open window. “Take this so we can communicate from the back. We gotta find out where to go.”
Steve gives him a nod and takes the radio from his hand. Hopper gives Steve’s door a pat and walks around to the back of the truck where Murray’s already on his way up with Mike’s help. Behind Mike, Joyce comes into his sight. Their eyes lock and a matching relieved grin finds both their faces.
“Hey,” she says softly, bending slightly down as she holds out her hand. He slips the hand of his unwounded arm into hers, already feeling his racing heart calming a little at the feeling of her touch.
“Hey,” he grins up at her. With her help, he gets into the truck with a grunt, pain shooting through his wounded arm when he accidentally uses it as support.
The moment he’s inside the truck, he pulls her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair. Her arms wrap around his waist, her face nuzzled into his chest. Behind them, Mike pulls the back of the truck shut, cutting off the cold air.
As the truck starts moving again, Joyce pulls back slightly. She reaches up to cup his cheeks with her hands, her eyes scanning over him, looking for any signs he’s more harmed than he lets on.
“Are you okay, Hop?” she asks, despite how she asked the exact same question just minutes prior over the walkie. Most people wouldn’t notice the light tremble in her voice, but he does.
“I’m fine,” he says softly, a smile on his lips as he gazes down at her with gentle eyes. One of his hands slides from her back to her waist, the other holding the small of her back, keeping her close. “Are you?”
The corners of her lips curl into a soft smile as she nods. Her eyes glaze over with tears, her gaze flickering between his blues. She’s still holding his face tight, a desperation in her touch, a need to really feel that they’re okay.
He moves his hand from her waist to her cheek, gently wiping a spot of dirt away from her delicate skin.
Then, before he even has time to process what’s happening, her hands slide down to his collar and pull him down, her lips crashing against his. He hums quietly into the kiss, keeping it close enough to chaste because of the whole audience of youthful eyes behind them.
After a handful of seconds, she pulls back, her smile warmer and the look in her eyes less desperate.
“We did it,” he whispers, grinning down at her as his thumb brushes over her cheekbone. “It’s over.”
She nods and lets out a small relieved laugh, eyes brimming with tears.
He’s about to pull her into a hug again when he hears a voice behind them, pulling his attention away from the woman in front of him.
“Dad?” El says, her voice shaky as she gets up from where she was seated beside Mike.
Hopper untangles himself from Joyce, who then steps aside, making room for El to approach him.
“El,” he whispers, suddenly choking up as he opens his arms for her. She crushes into him, holding onto him tight as he envelops her in his embrace. Tears burn the bridge of his nose as he rests his cheek against her hair.
Ever since Henry showed him his daughter and Kali’s conversation, he’s had a heavy feeling in his chest. He’d prayed with everything in him that his girl would be okay, but a part of him had been so sure she was going to sacrifice herself. So now, holding her in his arms, he for once feels like the luckiest man on earth. His daughter is going home with them.
“Hey, kid.” His shaky words are muffled by her hair, his cheek squashed against it. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, his lips lingering.
“Hi,” she whispers, her voice weak from the tears that’s gathered in her eyes.
His hand moves up and down her back, his other hand holding the back of her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says quietly against her temple, just loud enough for her to hear.
In response, she tightens her arms around him, letting out a trembling sigh.
When the truck drives over a bump, causing both of them to stumble, he pulls back, taking her hand in his. “C’mon, let's sit down.”
Slowly, he sinks down, leaning against the back of the truck, his knees bend in front of him. With her hand still in his, El follows him down, sitting flush against his side.
Joyce is still standing to his right, watching them with gentle, teary eyes. He shoots her a smile and reaches for her, holding out his hand. She takes it immediately and lets him help her down. Once she’s seated beside him, he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
He lets his head fall back, his eyelids slipping closed. For a moment, he lets himself relax and just revels in the feeling of the two most important people in his life pressed against him.
Joyce rests her head on his shoulder, her cold nose nuzzling into his neck. Her hand comes up to cover his on her arm, her thumb brushing over his fingers gently. A warm feeling spreads in his chest at the closeness. He hasn’t seen her much these past few days, and it’d be a lie to say he hasn’t missed the hell out of her.
El’s hand is safe in his own, her smaller fingers wrapped around his. Her cheek is pressed to the edge of his shoulder, her eyes closed. He presses a quick kiss to her temple, giving her hand a soft, little squeeze. He watches the smile flickering on her lips at the contact, his heart warming.
His head falls back against the truck as he looks out at the group. “So…” he sighs. “What happened?”
Jonathan is the one to answer, looking at him from nearly the other end of the room. “A lot,” he says, exhaustion shining through his voice. “But…” A smirk appears on his face, his gaze flickering briefly to his mom. Pride is clear in his tone as he says, “Mom was the one who got the final blow.”
“What?” Hopper’s eyes widen and his brows raise, his gaze flickering between Joyce and her eldest.
“She—uh, decapitated Vecna,” Jonathan says, watching as the older man’s jaw slackens.
Hopper turns to Joyce, the corners of his lips turning upwards, his mouth still open. She lifts her head to look at him, a grin finding her lips as her nose crinkles. “I did.”
He shakes his head and presses his grin to her forehead, placing a kiss there. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers, just loud enough for her to hear.
She pulls back far enough to look him in the eye, a smile on her lips as she meets his gaze. The look in his eyes is soft, the love for her clear in them. Unable to help herself, she moves forward and presses her lips against his again. She feels him smile into the kiss, making her chest flutter. Once she pulls back, she tucks her head into his neck again, her cheek mushed against his shoulder.
They park the truck in the woods near Dustin’s house. Thanks to the dark, they can all sneak through the woods until they reach the shelter behind Dustin’s house. The Bradley’s Big Buy truck is way too recognizable and the military is definitely looking for it, therefore they need to get out of it. They’ve put together a plan: take the tunnels to the radio station, get something to eat and drink, get cleaned up, and then Steve and Robin are gonna take Joyce’s car to drop off all of the kids they rescued at their respective homes, whilst the rest hunker down in the secret basement.
Hopper and Joyce form the rear-end of the group as they trudge through the dark tunnels. Her smaller hand is in his, their fingers intertwined tightly. They’ve been walking in silence for the past minutes, occasionally bumping into each other as they stumble on the uneven terrain. He’s the one who breaks it as he glances down at her with the beginning of a grin.
“Now that the military knows I’m alive and the Upside-Down is gone,” he starts, catching her attention, her gaze lifting up to meet his. “I can get Owens to make some announcement about how I didn’t actually bite the dust and that I’m alive. Then I can finally show my face in town again.”
When she doesn’t say anything in response, he lifts his brows slightly as a smirk finds his face. “Y’know what me being officially alive again means?”
“That you have to pay taxes again?” Her tone is flat, but the glint in her eyes tells him that she’s teasing.
He chuckles, shaking his head at her as his gaze drops to the ground in front of them.
“Well, you do need to pay them again.” She nudges his arm with her shoulder, walking closer to him. “And it’s not like we have a big fortune in my bank account.”
He can already sense the anxiety starting to brew in her mind, so he gives her hand a squeeze and says, “The last thing I want you to do is worry about money right now. We’ve got enough for now and I can probably get my job as chief back soon.”
He lets out a little sigh and looks down at her. Her huge doe-like eyes are gazing up at him, the smudged black eyeliner making them appear even bigger than usual.
“What I was trying to say when you went all economist on me…” he teases, his smile widening when he watches her fondly roll her eyes at him. “Is that you and I can finally go to Enzos.”
He watches the smile spread on her lips with gentle eyes; he’ll never tire of seeing the way her smile lights up her entire face.
“You still wanna go?” she asks, mostly joking, her eyes shining.
“Joyce.” he says, stopping in his tracks and turning to her. “That might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”
Pausing her steps to stand in front of him, she rolls her eyes again, breathing out a soft chuckle. “Just making sure.” She shrugs, trying to bite down her grin.
His eyes soften as he steps closer, his free hand going to her waist to pull her in. “I really did mean it when I said I’ve been dreaming about it. Thought I had made that pretty clear,” he says, his voice lowering.
She shakes her head gently, her nose scrunching up in that adorable way he loves as the grin overtakes her features. Placing the hand not engulfed by his on his cheek, she coaxes his face closer to hers as she stands on her tiptoes. “I can’t wait for our date, Hop,” she whispers, her breath fanning over his lips.
He cranes his neck further down and presses his grin to hers, pulling her flush to his body with the hand curled around her waist.
“Oh, lovebirds!” Murray’s voice booms, causing them to part. They turn their heads in his direction to find him grinning at them. He lifts his hand to wave at them to continue walking. “No time for making out. Let’s go!”
Joyce turns her head back to face the man in front of her. They share a matching fondly annoyed look, both chuckling softly. She stretches up and places a quick peck at the corner of his lips then returns to her normal height. She squeezes his hand as she begins to walk forward again, dragging him with her.
Murray stands still, watching them with a smile as he waits for them to catch up. “I think I need a vacation after this. Somewhere sunny without a single kid in sight,” he says, fake annoyance clear in his voice.
“Just send us a postcard,” Hopper answers, giving him a brief clap on the back.
Joyce has her arm around Will as they sit on the couch, his head resting on her shoulder. It’s not often either of her boys snuggle into her like this anymore, and it’d be a lie to say she doesn’t miss it terribly, so she savors the feeling of Will’s warm body against her side, his hair brushing her jaw. Beside him, Max is resting against Lucas as she questions Will about what he’s been up to since she saw him last—which is almost two years ago.
Joyce watches them with a soft smile, happy that the redhead is fine and finally awake. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Hopper sit down in one of the chairs by the table. She turns her head to see him properly and finds a whole collection of gauze and a bottle of chlorhexidine on the table beside him. Slowly, he pulls off his torn jacket, his face contorting as he grimaces.
Joyce’s brows knit, worry washing over her features. “Hop?”
“I’m fine,” he insists with a strained voice, throwing the jacket onto the table as he leans back in the chair. The gauze on his upper arm is painted red from blood.
“You don’t look fine,” she says, untangling herself from Will. She presses a quick kiss to her boy’s temple, then gets up with a quiet groan. She steps over to Hopper and leans against the table to his right, already moving to remove the wrapping. “Let me help you.”
He doesn’t answer, but relaxes back in the chair as she peels the bandage off.
She winces at the sight she’s met with: an angry, rosy gash.
“Jesus, Hop,” she mutters and daps some of the ointment onto a cloth.
The second the antiseptic hits the wound, he flinches and breathes in sharply through gritted teeth.
“Sorry,” she whispers, despite how it’s not her fault it stings. Her free hand moves to his shoulder, her thumb gently running over the fabric of his shirt in silent comfort.
Her hands tremble as she works, partly from exhaustion and adrenaline that’s wearing off, but also from the realization that if this bullet had been just inches to the right, the outcome of this night would’ve been terribly different.
He must’ve noticed the way her expression changed—a crease forming between her brows as she bites down on her lower lip—because he breaks the silence between them with a little smile as he says, “This feels familiar.”
“What?” Her eyebrows raise expectantly as she briefly meets his blue gaze.
“You,” he says as he gently nudges her thigh with his elbow, his smile morphing into a smirk, “Patching me up.”
She breathes out a chuckle, shaking her head at him as she continues her work. He watches as the expression on her slowly face changes; the light dimming in her eyes as she grows pensive.
Her hands pause, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “Can you promise me one thing?” she asks quietly.
He hums in question, his brows knitting as he looks up at her with gentle eyes.
“That you stop getting into situations that get you hurt.” Her voice is so small and vulnerable. He feels guilt gnaw at him for all the times she’s had to worry about him.
He tilts his head slightly back to face her better, a little smile finding his lips. “I’ll do my best,” he promises genuinely, lifting his good arm to place his hand on top of hers on his shoulder.
“You better.” A smirk finds her lips as she meets his eyes.
His fingers wrap around hers and lift her hand to his mouth, his beard tickling her skin as he presses a long kiss to her knuckles. He hears her let out a soft sigh and watches her relax slightly, her shoulders dropping. His heart flutters at knowing his touch has that effect on her; that a simple kiss pressed to her hand can make her entire body relax.
As she finishes up her work, he notices Jonathan’s eyes on them, a barely-there smile on his face.
Truth be told, he’s forgotten there’s about twenty other people in this room, his world just narrowing down to himself and Joyce.
Catching the boy’s gaze, he sends him a soft smile, one that’s reciprocated.
Over the past year and a half he hasn’t seen as much of Jonathan and Will as he would’ve liked. Some days they’d tag along Joyce to the cabin, which has resulted in some bonding moments between him and the boys, but not nearly as many as he wanted.
Honestly, at first he was a little nervous they wouldn’t accept him that easily into their family—especially Jonathan. Not that he would ever blame them if they did, not with their history with Lonnie.
He knows how Jonathan was around Bob, he even saw it with his own eyes on several occasions. He always seemed wary around him, like he didn’t trust him around his mom and brother. Hopper expected him to be the same way now that he’s the one dating his mom, but the kid surprised him; from the very day they returned from Russia, the kid has put his full trust in Hopper treating his mom the right way.
One of the times the boys tagged along to the cabin, he’d joined Hopper on the porch. His demeanor had been all nervous and awkward as he came to sit beside him on the stairs. With a soft smile, he’d told Hopper that he’s never seen his mom that happy before—his own way of thanking Hopper for being there for her.
It means more than Hopper could ever put into words that her boys truly trust him.
Once Joyce is done, he murmurs a ‘thank you’ and, finally being able to use his arm again, lifts his hand to place it on her waist. His touch makes her flinch, pain shooting up her torso. With all the adrenaline the past two days, she hasn’t really noticed how painful her ribs are.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he pulls his hand away. Worry is etched on his face as he straightens in his seat.
She lets out a breath, brows knitting together at the pain. “My ribs are bruised or something,” she responds. “It’s just skin abrasions, nothing major.”
Her words do nothing to ease the worry on his face. “Can I look?”
She nods and curls her fingers around the hem of her shirt—well, his shirt (she stole it in the cabin when she changed). She lifts up the side of it far enough that it reveals the lowest of her ribs. Her skin is painted in various colours: red and pink where her skin has been torn or irritated, and bruises in several shades of blue, purple, and yellow.
“Have you cleaned it?” he asks, placing a gentle hand on her hip as he inspects her skin.
She nods. “Yeah, at the cabin.”
His thumb is running over the edge of her jeans in a soothing, repetitive pattern. He glances up from the bruises, eyes finding hers. “I think it should be bandaged to make sure you don’t get an infection,” he says, his face still painted with worry. “How far up is it?”
Letting the shirt fall back down, she sighs, grimacing. “All the way to my shoulder.”
His brows shoot up. “Jesus, Joyce,” he mutters, still holding her hip in his hand. “What happened?”
Her face contorts in a grimace again. “Henry kind of… threw me.”
She watches as his eyes widen in terror, his hold on her tightening slightly. “I would kill him if you hadn’t already done that,” he says, not an ounce of humor on his face.
She can’t help the fondness that washes over her at his protectiveness. She runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair, tucking a curl behind his ear.
He sighs, softening again. “I need your shirt off to take care of that, so…” he trails off, nodding his head toward the weapon storage—privacy.
She nods and turns around, gathering the supplies. As she walks towards where Hopper is holding the door open for her, she catches Murray’s eyes, his brow cocked and a mischievous glint in his eyes. She rolls her eyes and nods at the supplies in her hands, hoping it wipes the suggesting look on his face off.
Once she’s inside, Hopper pulls the rusty door closed. She feels her skin crawl at the whole wall full of weapons in there. After placing the supplies on the desk, she grabs the hem of the shirt and pulls it over her head.
“You stole my shirt, huh?” he grins at her, eyes twinkling in the low light.
She playfully rolls her eyes at him, dropping the shirt onto the table. “Shut up,” she mutters, moving a can of beef jerky out of the way so she can sit on the table.
“What’s mine is yours.”
He pauses at the sight of her bare skin, only the black bra covering her breasts. Moving to stand in front of her, he places his hands on her hips, eyes roaming over her torso.
“You’re beautiful, Joyce,” he breathes, bending down to feather a kiss to her temple.
She lets out a soft sigh, feeling the tension start to leave her body. She tips her chin up, puckering her lips. His face breaks into a grin as he cranes his neck further to press his lips to hers. She hums into the kiss, one of her arms coming around his neck as her other hand cups his jaw.
When he pulls away, just enough to look at her, and tips his forehead to rest it against hers, he whispers, “You really do get more beautiful every day.”
She can’t help herself as she pulls him in for another kiss, opening her mouth to him. It’s when he lets out a moan into her mouth that she pulls back, a regretful look crossing her face.
“We really shouldn’t be doing that in here,” she chuckles.
He sighs and nods, bending down to tuck his face into her neck, his arms wrapping around her. She feels him press kisses to her bare shoulder, then up her throat and she does her best not to moan at the feeling, the way his beard tickles her sensitive skin. Jesus, she wishes they were back at the cabin.
With a sigh, she grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him back. Her eyes flicker between his blue ones, a smile playing on both their faces. “Stop getting me riled up,” she says, fake sternness coating her voice.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, removing his arms from around her. He grabs the bottle of antiseptic and a clean cloth, then his eyes raise to hers again, a smirk on his face. “Just wanna kiss my girlfriend a little,” he says, feigning innocence as he shrugs his shoulders. “Haven’t had the chance in days.”
She places a hand on his scruffy cheek and gently caresses it as she says, “Well, now we have all the time in the world, honey.”
His eyes soften as they gaze at her, love making his blues shine in a way she’s seen countless of times since Russia—since before then if she’s being completely honest, she just didn’t allow herself to notice back then.
“Yeah, we do.”
He finally gets to work, the smile lingering on his lips as he gently dabs at the abrasions.
She watches him with gentle eyes, a warm feeling in her chest from the way he’s so gentle as he takes care of her.
Most of the kids have settled on makeshift beds, mostly made of all the blankets and pillows they could find in the entire radio station, plus a few actual mattresses.
Hopper’s been sitting with El for a while, gently talking with her, having a small heart-to-heart as Joyce would call it, when he notices that exact woman is nowhere to be seen in the basement. He tells himself that the anxiety that immediately floods his mind is ridiculous. Joyce is fine. They’re safe now. She’s safe.
After pushing himself off the floor, his knees protesting slightly, he walks up the stairs.
She’s okay, he keeps telling himself over and over in his head. She probably just went to get something to eat.
But as he looks around the radio station, he finds no sign of her. Now he really can’t help the panic that’s starting to creep in. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths.
She probably just went outside to get some fresh air.
He pushes the metal back door open and steps down the short flight of stairs. Tipping his head back, he looks up at the roof to check if she’s there.
She is.
He lets out a breath, his shoulders dropping as relief spreads through him.
She’s sitting near the edge, just a few feet from the ladder. Even from the ground, he can spot the lit cigarette in her hand as she looks over the woods; she clearly hasn’t noticed him yet.
“So it’s up there you’re hiding,” he says with a smile, his voice loud in the quiet of the night.
He sees the way she jumps at his voice, her head quickly tipping down to see him. As quickly as panic took over her, it fades away and she playfully rolls her eyes at him, though there’s zero anger in it. She takes a drag of the cigarette as he quickly climbs the ladder and onto the roof.
“I’m not hiding,” she defends herself, a small smile on her lips as she watches him slowly approach her. “I just needed some fresh air after whatever shit we all breathed in that… place.” She lets out a sigh and lifts the cigarette up, a guilty expression crossing her features. “And a smoke,” she adds. “I know we quit, but…” She scrunches her nose, smirking up at him as he comes to stand beside her. “Think we can break the rules for one night?”
A grin spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll always break the rules with you, honey.”
She chuckles at his words, her heart warming a ridiculous amount.
He lowers himself down beside her with a groan, his entire body starting to ache after everything the past few days—the beatings, the falls, the two bullets that grazed him, and the lovely perks of being in your mid-forties.
“Gimme that,” he mutters, reaching for the Camel.
She holds it out for him, a fond smile playing on her lips as she watches him take a drag.
He blows out the smoke slowly, tipping his chin up. She notices the way his shoulders drop slightly, a bit of the tension leaving him.
“Jesus, I needed that,” he mutters, the corners of his lips curling up.
She moves to tuck herself into his side, an arm wrapping around his broad back, her hand gripping the fabric at his hip. Her head tips to the side, her temple coming to rest against his shoulder. His arm curls around her, hand wrapping around her bicep, pulling her even closer. With her presence and the tobacco, he feels his body truly start to relax for the first time in days—much longer than that if he’s being honest.
After a little while of silence, only interrupted by the crickets and birds chirping in the woods, she breaks it. “Can you believe we made it?” she asks, her voice small.
“No,” he whispers, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. “Not yet.”
“Is it really over?” Her voice is timid, like she’s scared to voice the question.
He softens against her and turns his head to press a long kiss into her hair. “Yeah, hon,” he says softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze as a smile finds its way to his lips.
He really can’t believe it’s over. Sure, they need to figure out how to stay safe from the military and how to keep El safe. But that nightmare of a place and (thanks to his girlfriend) the monster who’s caused them so much pain are both gone.
She tilts her head up, meeting his soft gaze. There’s a coat of tears shining in her brown eyes, but a grin lightens up her face. He feels his heart melt a little at the sight—he’s so ridiculously head over heels for this woman.
He places the cigarette between his lips, but before he can breathe in, she plucks it from him, holding it between her forefinger and middlefinger. She moves closer, stretching herself to press a kiss to his lips, her eyes slipping closed. He smiles into it, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. She’s the one to pull away, her lashes fluttering as her eyes slowly open. A beautiful grin is on her lips, making her nose scrunch.
Overwhelming affection bubbles inside of him as he presses a kiss to her bangs-covered forehead.
She tucks her face into his shoulder, closing her eyes as she lets out a content hum, melting into him.
“Now we just gotta learn how to be a couple in more normal circumstances,” she says, followed by a small chuckle.
He tips his head to the side, resting his cheek against her head, her chestnut curls tickling his face. “I can’t wait to figure that out. Together,” he whispers into her hair, smiling softly.
She presses a kiss to the place where his shoulder meets his neck, her cold nose brushing his skin. “Me neither, Hop.”
His thumb draws small circles on her arm as his smile slowly widens. “I can’t wait for boring Sundays, sorting bills together, going grocery shopping together, coming to annoy you at work,” he rambles, the grin on his face audible in his voice. His voice softens as he says, “Taking you to Enzo’s. Doing all the normal couple-y stuff.”
She pulls back far enough to look him in the eyes, her cheek resting against his shoulder. The moonlight reflects in her eyes, making them shine as she gazes up at him.
“I think you can scratch the boring Sundays out, Hop.” She scrunches her nose with a smile, shaking her head against his shoulder. “I don’t think our life could ever be boring.”
He lets out a laugh, looking down at her with an adoration in his blue eyes that still bowls her over.
A moment of silence passes between them, both of them breathing in the calm. She breaks it with her question, muttering it into his sweatshirt, “How’re the kids?”
“They’re fine.” His thumb is still drawing small circles on her arm as he holds her close, just like he’s done countless times throughout their lives. “They gathered all the mattresses and pillows they could find to sleep on. Most of them have probably crashed by now.”
Her jaw stretches in a yawn—like the bare mention of sleep reminded her of how deeply tired she is.
A cold gust of wind hits them, causing them both to shiver. He lets out a long sigh and draws his arm away from her. “We should head down, get some rest,” he says as he slowly stands up, groaning as his knees ache.
She nods and accepts the hand he holds out for her. He helps her get to her feet, but doesn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he lets go of her hand and places it on her cheek, the other moving to hold her waist. Pulling her closer, he cranes his neck, meeting her lips in a kiss. Her arms come around his shoulders, holding him to her as she kisses him back, parting her lips.
When her lungs begin to beg for air, she pulls back, giving his cheek an affectionate pat. She reaches for his hand again and tugs him with her as she walks towards the ladder.
Once they make it to the basement, they close the door as quietly as they can behind them in case someone has managed to fall asleep. As they descend the stairs, they’re met with quiet chatter. The group has spread across the room and a sleepy silence is slowly settling over them. El’s sitting between Will and Mike on the couch, her head on her brother’s shoulder. On one mattress, Max is sound asleep, her head in Lucas’ lap as the boy attempts to fight off sleep. Atop another, Holly is snuggled against her big sister, her long, golden locks spread over the mattress. At the foot of it, Jonathan’s sitting with his head resting against the wall, a pillow supporting his back. The mattress beside him, right at the foot of the stairs, is left empty, and on top lies a pillow and a blanket.
He offers them a tired smile as they come to stand at the bottom of the stars. He gestures to the empty mattress with a nod of his head. “We left it for you.”
“Oh, honey. You should take it, lie down a little,” Joyce says, willing to put her own comfort aside for her kids’ as always.
He just shakes his head. “Mom, I’m fine. Take it.” A beat passes, then a smirk finds his lips. “My back can handle this alright. I’m not so sure you guys’ can,” he teases.
“Jesus, kid. You calling us old?” Hopper says from behind Joyce, affection clear in his voice.
“Maybe.” Jonathan shrugs with a grin.
Joyce’s heart warms at the way Jonathan is comfortable enough with Hopper to tease him. She can’t help but just smile at the two of them as Hopper plops down on the mattress only a foot away from Jonathan.
She walks over to where her youngest kids are sitting, finding El half asleep as she slumps against Will. “You guys okay?” Joyce asks as she comes to stand before them.
“We’re fine, Mom,” Will says, offering her a little smile. El raises her head from where it was nestled on his shoulder, smiling tiredly up at Joyce.
Joyce runs a hand through her boy’s hair, ruffling it fondly. “Get some sleep, yeah?” she says softly, her gaze flickering between the three teens. There’s dark circles beneath Will’s eyes, and El is struggling to even keep hers open.
She receives three nods in response, exhaustion painting their faces.
Bending down, she pushes Will’s bangs back and presses her lips to his forehead. Next, she moves a little to the right, and places a kiss on El’s temple as she gives her shoulder a soft squeeze.
“I love you both,” Joyce says, her voice soft and quiet as her gaze flickers between her two kids.
“Love you, too,” they say in unison—like twins.
As she walks away, she makes sure to give Mike’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
Hopper’s sitting on the mattress and pulling the WSQK sweatshirt over his head. He smiles softly up at her as she approaches, sending warmth to her stomach.
“Kids okay?”
“Yeah,” she nods, lowering herself down beside him. She shrugs off her corduroy jacket and drops it in a heap on the floor. She lets out a breath and levels her eyes on Jonathan.
“How are you, baby?” she asks, her eyes scanning over his appearance. Her heart aches at the tired look on his face, especially the bags beneath his eyes that are so prominent.
His lips twitch into a smile. “I’m okay, Mom.”
She nods as she leans closer and runs a hand through his greasy hair. Her hand slides down to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. “You really should lie down, not break your neck like this,” she says, a line forming between her brows as they furrow worriedly. “Take this mattress, Hop and I will be fine.”
He shakes his head, his smile widening at her persistence. “Mom. Take it. I’m fine like this.”
“Take this blanket and pillow then, kid,” Hopper gently interferes, holding up the folded blue blanket and the patterned pillow. “Lie down on the floor or somethin’. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’s better than sitting.”
“Then you’re gonna get cold,” Jonathan says even though he’s already taking the blanket from Hopper’s hands.
Joyce lets out a chuckle, shaking her head as she nods in Hopper’s direction. “He’s basically a walking furnace, so we’ll be more than fine.”
“Keep the pillow at least,” Jonathan insists. “It’s murder on your necks if you sleep without it.”
“Fine.” Joyce rolls her eyes affectionately and leans forward on her knees. She wraps her arms around her boy, squeezing him tight. “I love you, sweetheart,” she whispers.
Jonathan pulls back and looks at her with a smile, his eyes glistening with a couple of unshed tears. “I love you too.”
She gives his cheek a gentle pat and moves out of his space, sitting back on the mattress.
After getting up, he unfolds the blanket and places it on the floor between the Wheeler girls’ mattress and the couch, dropping the pillow on top. As he lies down, Joyce hears Nancy say something to him, but she can’t make out the words.
She really does wish he’d taken up her offer of taking the mattress so he could get a proper night of sleep, but as she slowly lies down on her back, she’s thankful her sore body has a mattress to rest on for the night. She lets out a soft sigh as her head hits the pillow, her eyes slipping closed. She feels Hopper’s weight beside her as he lies down too, hears the quiet groan he lets out.
After a beat, she turns her head to the side to face him and finds his gaze already on her. He smiles softly at her for a moment then moves his arm from between them. She lifts her head just enough for him to slip the arm beneath her, curling it around her shoulders. She rests her head on his bicep and places a hand on his chest, right over his heart.
Ever since Russia, she’s found a deep comfort in the sound of his heartbeat right by her ear or the feeling of the thumps beneath her fingers. She always uses it to reassure herself that he’s alive. It doesn’t matter that it’s been over a year and a half since she brought him back, she still sometimes needs the reassurance that he’s there.
His hand finds hers on his chest, his bigger one nearly covering hers entirely. His thumb gently runs back and forth over her fingers, and rests for a brief moment over the lower part of her ring finger. She can’t help but let her mind wander into the future they can finally dare to truly dream about—particularly the possible wedding that could be on the horizon. They’ve talked about marriage briefly, and he’s made it clear that it’s something he’s open to. A smile finds its way to her lips at the thought of the future possibly holding her changing her last name to match his.
“What?” he asks, bringing her out of her daydreaming.
She opens her eyes to find his gentle gaze on her. “Nothing,” she whispers, her nose brushing the sleeve of his t-shirt as it scrunches with a smile. “Just thinking,” she adds with the shrug of a shoulder.
“About…?”
“Our future,” she says quietly, her chest warming as she watches the smile spread across his face.
He shifts, craning his neck to the side to press his lips to her bangs. “I can’t wait to build a proper life with you and the kids,” he admits softly as he pulls back.
Her smile widens at his words, making her eyes crinkle at the edges. She lifts herself up, resting her weight on her elbow, and moves the hand on his chest up to his cheek. She runs her thumb over his skin as she gazes down at him with warm eyes. Then she leans down, sealing his words with a soft kiss. She stays close even as she pulls back, tipping her head to rest her forehead against his.
“I love you,” she whispers into the shared air between them, their noses brushing.
He lifts a hand to her face and tucks some curls behind her ear. He tips his chin up to press another tender kiss to her lips. “I love you too,” he murmurs against them.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s how loving he is with her, but Joyce finds tears stinging her eyes suddenly. She sniffles softly and tucks her face into the side of his neck. Her hand comes to rest over his heart again, and just like before, his fingers wrap around hers, gently holding on. As he runs a gentle hand up and down her arm, she places a few sweet kisses on his skin, her cracked lips a contrast to his soft skin.
It takes surprisingly short time for her to fall asleep, considering how she’s often borderlining being an insomniac, but the warmth and safety his body provides, and the relief of knowing the place and person that’s brought them so much hurt is gone does the job of making every muscle in her body relax.
The corners of his lips twitch upwards as her face digs further into him in her sleep. Tilting his head, he feathers a kiss to her temple, then rests his cheek against her hair.
He doesn’t fall into dreamland as easily, even though he probably should since he hasn’t slept in literal days. He glances around the room as much as he can without moving, afraid of accidentally waking Joyce. Most of the ones he can see have already fallen asleep, their chests rising and falling slowly. Out of his periphery, he sees Jonathan sit up from his makeshift bed on the floor, rubbing his side as he grimaces.
“Sore back?” Hopper asks in a whisper.
Jonathan head whips around at his voice, he clearly hadn’t noticed Hopper’s still wide awake. “Yeah,” he admits quietly.
“Want my spot?”
A smile flickers on Jonathan’s lips, his eyes dropping to his mother. “Nah. Mom seems pretty cozy.”
Hopper can’t help the way his cheeks redden slightly, neither can he help the smile that finds his face.
“Night, Hop,” Jonathan whispers right before he lies back down on his other side this time.
“G’night, Kid,” Hopper responds with a soft smile.
He buries his nose in Joyce’s hair and closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of her lavender shampoo. A smile tucks at his lips as he presses a long kiss to the crown of her head. In her sleep, she tightens her hold on his hand, her nose digging into his skin. His heart warms—the love he has for this woman is nearly overwhelming.
With her hair tickling his face and her hand warm in his, he slowly drifts off, but the smile on his face doesn’t falter.