Archive of Our Own

“You sure you wanna do this?” Hopper asked, loading the final moving box into the back of the truck. “Not too late, you know. I can take all this stuff back inside right now.”

“Positive,” Joyce laughed, kicking the back tire. “I’m more than ready for Hawkins to be nothing but a memory.”

Hopper pulled the silver sliding door down with a crash, then locked the orange latches on the bottom. He leaned back on the rear bumper then extended his arms, beckoning her closer to him. “It wasn’t all bad,” he smiled, gripping her waist and pulling her body close, inhaling the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo. “I met the love of my life in this shitty town.”

Joyce chuckled as she sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She planted her lips on his, and the kiss, like all the ones before, sent a shockwave down her spine. It had been almost a year since Starcourt, since their first date at Enzo’s the very next day. And though they’d been inseparable since, spending nearly every waking moment together, it still didn’t feel real. She kept waiting to wake up from the dream of her and Hopper finally together after all these years, perfectly happy in every way; kept waiting for the veneer to fade, for the shimmer and shine of a new relationship to wear off, but it didn’t happen. Every kiss, every touch felt better than the last, and every night she’d fall asleep in his arms in awe of the life they were building together. 

But while their romance blossomed, their kids struggled. Both Will and El found themselves the easy targets of relentless bullies, victims of a podunk town unable to accept anyone or anything unique. And despite Jonathan’s efforts to protect his little brother and Hopper’s efforts to defend his daughter, it had become too much to bear. So what started as a joke -- reminiscing about running away to Mexico, long walks on the beach with their toes in the sand -- became a reality when Joyce found an opening as a teacher’s assistant in Lenora Hills, California, a sleepy surf town made up of theater majors and post-war hippies. A tiny, three-bedroom house opened up for rent right near the beach, and Hopper wasted no time putting in for a transfer. Before they knew it, they were packing up their things and heading West. The lovers were thrilled to say goodbye to Hawkins and the dark memories it held, but the kids were less than enthusiastic about leaving behind the few friends they had and starting over somewhere new. Promises were made (Yes, you can call every day; Yes, we’ll visit as often as we can); compromises, too (Halfway-happy, remember?; Let’s just give it a year). Ultimately, the gang agreed to the adventure, ready to hit the road and try out a new life as a blended family. 

“You’re right,” Joyce sighed. She leaned back and looked into Hopper’s deep, ocean blue eyes. “Hawkins gave us our kids… brought us back together. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.” She smirked, reaching into the tight front pocket of his jeans and pulling out the keys. “But we don’t owe this town a goddamn thing. And I think we all deserve a little sunshine, don’t you?”

…

“I don’t know, Hopper,” Will groaned, sheepishly tucking his hands into his pockets and kicking his foot in the dirt between them. “Maybe Jonathan wants to ride this one.”

Hopper grinned as he sat on the bench and polished off the last of his Pepsi. “Jon and I rode Soarin’ Eagle together. I want to ride Jet Scream with you.” He tossed the empty cup in the trash and craned his neck, gazing up in astonishment at the top of the coaster. “I heard this one’s the tallest in the country.”

Will wiped the sweat from his neck as he sat down beside him. “What if…” he stuttered. “What if we just went in the Funhouse instead?”

“I hate those things,” Hopper chuckled. “Bad memories. Besides, I’m too tall for the stairs - too wide for the slides.” He puffed out his cheeks and ballooned out his gut, miming himself transforming like the Incredible Hulk, but Will didn’t react. Hopper watched as Will’s knee bounced up and down, up and down, his shoulders tense, eyes narrowly inspecting the track in front of them. He put his arm around the anxious boy’s shoulder then continued. “It’s okay if you want to skip this one. I don’t care which one we do, as long as I get to hang out with you.”

Will half-smiled as the overwhelming dread dissipated. “I know it’s stupid to be scared of a silly ride," he shrugged.

“Hey. It’s not stupid,” Hopper replied, his voice gentle yet firm. “You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to feel however you want, about whatever you want.” 

Will leaned back on the bench, crossing his right foot over the opposite knee. He pulled a park map from his back pocket and scanned its contents. “These other rides do seem pretty lame though.”

“Is it the drop?" Hopper asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "The height that freaks you out? Or maybe the loop?”

“I think it's the high speed combined with the complete and utter lack of control, leading to my grizzly death,” Will smirked.

“You’ve slayed bigger dragons than this,” Hopper exclaimed. “I’d hate to see you skip it and regret it later on, but it’s 100% your call. If you want to tame this beast, I’ll be right there by your side. But if not, I’ll follow your lead.” He held his hand out in front of him in a business-like grip. Will reciprocated, and the two shook hands in agreement. “Either way,” Hopper added, “I’ve got your back.”

Will looked up at the man he had come to know as the gruff, tough Chief of Police, scouring his face for a hint of judgment or disappointment. Instead, he found nothing but understanding and concern. Lonnie would’ve called him a 'pussy', grabbed him by the hand and forced him to get in line. He never would’ve let Will call the shots, much less call it quits. But Hopper risked his own life more than once to save Will’s. He saw the Byers at their lowest and chose to run toward them while others ran away. That kind of loyalty, that kind of bravery, that kind of security was still hard for Will to believe, hard for him to embrace. But he was tired of fighting – tired of looking over his shoulder for the next nightmare, the next monster. Maybe it was just a roller coaster - or maybe it was a fresh start, a chance to feel the fear and do it anyway, trusting in the safety offered by this new father figure and believing there was joy to be found in the journey ahead. 

He rose to his feet and tossed the park map into the garbage. “Let’s do this,” he said, holding his palm up in front of him. 

“Atta boy,” Hopper exclaimed, slapping his hand onto Will’s before taking off running, his long legs moving at full speed. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

…

“How long are we going to be here?” Jonathan groaned, leaning back on the camp site picnic table and picking stickers off of his gray, faded jeans. 

Hopper chuckled. “Why? No love for Kansas City?” He opened the rusty grill and poured the bag of charcoal inside, then pulled a bottle of sauce from his back pocket and set it on the brick shelving nearby. “They got the best barbecue this side of the Mississippi!” 

Jonathan rolled his eyes as he lowered his sunglasses. “Never much cared for barbecue.” 

“What?!” Hopper shouted, flailing his body in astonishment. “I can’t believe – the – the sauce? The tender, smoky, perfect cut grilled to absolute perfection?” He kissed his fingers, smacking his lips together like a stereotypical chef. 

Jonathan, unamused, shook his head in denial, running a hand through his shaggy hair. 

“You never had my barbecue, that’s why,” Hopper continued. “I’m about to change your life!” He turned back to the grill, sifting through his tools to find the tenderizer. “A-ha!” he exclaimed, reaching for the cutting board topped with paper packed meat. “Why don’t you help me, Jon? I’ll show you the ropes, teach you how to turn meat into magic!”

“No thanks,” Jonathan replied definitively. “Where’s El and Will?”

“Still passed out in the tents, I think. You’d think they were the ones drivin’ that last stretch the way they crashed when we arrived.”

Jonathan shrugged, lazily hobbling to his feet. “Maybe I’ll join ‘em,” he muttered.

“Oh come on,” Hopper protested, extending the tenderizer as an offering. “It’ll be fun.”

“I doubt that.” Jonathan crossed his arms defiantly. He felt a tinge of guilt as he scoffed, but not enough to change his demeanor. He didn’t intend to be difficult, but lately it had become his default setting and he wasn’t quite sure how to turn it off. The long hours on the road and complete lack of privacy certainly hadn’t made it any easier. 

Hopper sighed as he resumed arranging the makings of a meal, clearly disappointed.

In spite of himself, Jonathan attempted to course correct. “I’m – I’m a vegetarian,” he stuttered. 

Hopper eyed him skeptically. “Since when?” 

“Since – I don’t know. A while ago, I guess.”

The pair stood at a standoff for a moment, then Hopper excitedly clapped his hands, breaking the silence. “Alright then,” he exclaimed. He returned the meat and sauce to the cooler and his grilling tools to their storage pouch. “Let’s go!”

“Go?” Jonathan echoed, puzzled. “Go where?”

“Pretty sure I saw a farm stand selling some fruit and veggies not too far from here.” Hopper slapped his forearm, sending the truck keys flying in the air toward the boy. “But you’re drivin’,” he smiled.

A cool midwest breeze blew through their hair as they hit the highway with the windows down, a sky of purple and gold in the rearview mirror. Hopper glanced at the cranky kid in the driver's seat, his jaw clenched tighter than his hands on the steering wheel. He knew meaningful conversations weren’t always his strong suit, but watching Joyce parent her boys had taught him a thing or two, and he figured now was as good a time as any to try to connect with the closed-off eldest.

“Y’know,” his strong voice bellowed over the wind. “I admire you, kid. You were dealt a bad hand, but you never let it define you.” 

“Yeah, well –” Jonathan mumbled. “Will had it worse.” He kept his eyes on the road, barely reacting to the compliment. 

“It’s not a contest,” Hopper clarified, straightening in his seat and turning his head to address him directly. “He doesn’t have a monopoly on hurt.”

Jonathan sat in silence, not sure how to respond. He shifted awkwardly and tightened his grip even more, his face flushed.

“Being the oldest, shouldering all that responsibility? It’s not easy,” Hopper added. “But the way you stepped up for your brother, for your mom... You’re special, Jon. You’re – you’re a man of honor - more of a man than Lonnie ever was.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes skyward, trying to catch the tears suddenly forming inside of his lids. “Th-thanks Hopper,” he coughed. 

Hopper clasped a supportive hand to his shoulder. “I mean it,” he added. “That kind of integrity, it’s rare. And you’ve got in spades, kid. I’m lucky to know you - and I’m grateful you’re in my life.” He patted Jonathan on the back then leaned back in his seat, returning his gaze to the road ahead.

Jonathan smiled. He felt a swelling in his chest, a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in God knows how long. “I am too,” he said, beating back the trembling in his voice. “Grateful, I mean. That you and Mom … that we’re all … together.” 

“Good,” Hopper replied wistfully, his arm now hanging out the window. “Cause I’m not going anywhere.” He turned to face Jonathan again, quivering with affection. “Ever.” 

Jonathan grinned as he loosened his hold on the wheel and shifted to match his passenger’s pose, bending an arm outside the window and waving his hand in the wind. And as the warmth of the midwest summer seeped down into his skin, he felt the harshness - the chill in his spine embedded in his bones from years of fighting, years of fear - finally, finally melting away. 

…

“Kansas sucks!” El, sandwiched between her would-be brothers, folded her arms across her chest and squinted at the glaring sunset ahead.

Joyce laughed, turning down the sweet sound of Stevie's voice blasting through the stereo. “Tell us how you really feel, kiddo.”

“That was Okahloma, actually,” Hopper said sarcastically. “And now we’re in Texas. But you’re right - this part of the drive is a bit of a slog. Why don’t you guys play a game or something?”

Will rolled his eyes and slunk down into his seat. “Oh sure,” he groaned. “Monopoly's clearly the answer.” 

“Not ... what I meant.” Hopper gritted his teeth, glaring at the moody teens in the rearview mirror. “I’m talking I Spy, 20 Questions, License Plates…”

“Those all sound like a real hoot, Chief!” It was Jonathan’s turn to grumble. He tossed his headphones aside, heaving a frustrated sigh, the batteries on his cassette player finally dead.

Joyce placed her hand gently on Hopper’s forearm, raising her eyebrows instructively. He recognized the look immediately and responded accordingly, taking a deep breath and softening his large frame. “I think all this time spent on the road is starting to drive us all a little crazy,” she said softly. She turned to look at the scowling trio in the backseat, burdened by the tight quarters, crumby view, and abject boredom. “Just a few more hours ‘til our next stop, alright guys?”

“A little pent up aggression? I get that,” Hopper affirmed, taking her cue. “Think it’s time to play Punch Buggy.” 

“Punch Buggy?” El perked up, her pout dissipating. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin spread across her dad’s face. He reveled at any opportunity to provide a normal, everyday kid experience for El, and this was no exception. “Be on the look out for a Volkswagen Bug. They’re these little cars, real curvy, sometimes funky colors. If you see one, you ball up your fist and slug somebody next to you! Like this!” Hopper gestured at Joyce and held out his arm.

“Punch Buggy Blue!” she shouted, playfully thumping him in the bicep. He winced, rubbing the targeted spot to sell the pain of the slug.

“But why?” El asked, bewildered by the fake fight in the front seat.

“Why what?” Joyce replied.

“Why do you punch someone if you see a … a bug? I don’t get it.”

“It’s just to pass the time, kiddo,” Hopper chuckled. “It’s just a game.”

“I’m in,” Will chimed. He rested his elbow near the window, propping his head up with his hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t punch too hard,” he smirked.

Jonathan stretched his arms out wide, shaking the feeling back into his hands. “Me too,” he yawned. “Anything to make this drive go by a little faster.”

El threw up her hands in protest. “Well that’s not fair! I’m stuck in between you guys!” 

“Then I guess you better find the bug before we do,” Will winked. 

He barely had time to finish his warning before – whack! “Punch Buggy White!” El yelled, hitting him square in the arm.

“Hey! What?!” Will shouted, nursing the inevitable bruise forming on his skin. “There’s no way - come on!”

“Nope, fair play,” Hopper called, playing referee. “White bug just sped by!” In fact, it wasn’t a bug at all - it was a Honda Civic. But expecting El to immediately pick up on a model of a vehicle for which she had no frame of reference wasn’t exactly fair. And besides… she was smiling! And anything that made El smile was always Hopper’s greatest weakness. 

Thankfully, Will took it in stride, happy to be distracted from the monotony of the drive. “Oh, it is ON!” he shouted playfully.

The kids anxiously watched as car after car sped by, but no bugs. Will was making his complaints known, claiming he was about to forfeit, when he turned and looked behind them just in time to see a neon lime Volkswagen trailing their truck. Payback was his. “Punch Buggy Green!” he shouted, hitting El with an enthusiastic thwap.

“My elbow!” she screamed, half crying, half laughing. “It tingles!”

“Oooh, right in the funny bone,” Jonathan teased, laughing at their rivalry and grateful to be left out of it.

Within minutes, another shout. “Punch Buggy Red!” Joyce walloped Hopper on the shoulder, a legitimate hit this time.

“Hey, no fair!” he cackled, wincing through his smile. “You already got a freebie!”

“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to kiss it better?” she joked.

Hopper pouted his lips and nodded. Joyce giggled, pressed two fingers to her lips, then placed them where she punched. “That’s better,” he smirked.

“Hey, turn this up!” Jonathan yelled, interrupting the flirtation and leaning over the center console, reaching for the radio. “It’s the Ramones!”

“I think it’s plenty loud,” Hopper replied, trying to swat his hand away, but Joyce just rolled her eyes as she obliged, spinning the dial. The chorus rang out and the would-be siblings sang along, belting the tune in unison: “Twenty, twenty, twenty-four hours to go… I wanna be sedated!”

Hopper grimaced at the varying pitches echoing behind him, while Joyce joined in, adding her voice to the choir. Before long, the car was a raucous karaoke bar -- song after song, mile after mile, voices growing raspy making up words and melodies, arms and thighs still fair game to be punched at any minute.

“There! That sign said Albuquerque’s only forty-five miles ahead,” Joyce pointed out the windshield excitedly. “Almost to the motel!” She glanced back, expecting to see three faces full of relief, but instead found her boys, and her girl, slumped over one another in a pile of exhausted snores and restful dreams.

She reached across the front bench and slid her small hand into Hopper’s. “Sound asleep,” she whispered. 

He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed tight. “Guess the mayhem finally wore ‘em down,” he said, smiling as he leaned back in the driver’s seat. “You’re a great mom.”

“What?” Joyce blushed. “I didn’t even do anything! Punch Buggy was your idea, I just –”

“Just nothing,” he said insistently. “You’re incredible with them -- absolutely incredible.”

Joyce beamed, overwhelmingly flattered at the recognition. Even after years of Hopper complimenting her, gushing over her, she was still getting used to being acknowledged, let alone celebrated. She’d spent so long moving through her life like a ghost – invisible to her own family, beyond invisible to Lonnie - but it was different now. She felt so seen, appreciated, and valued, it nearly took her breath away.

“Sometimes, when you’re making breakfast with the boys or braiding El’s hair before bed,” Hopper continued, “I just sit back and watch, taking it all in. I see how strong you are - how protective - but I also see how gentle, how sweet you are, with them. You make them feel safe and important and loved.” He raised his hand to her face and gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “Baby, you’re the rock of this family. I am in awe of you.”

“Hop,” Joyce said shyly, basking in his adoration. She slid closer to him and wrapped her arm around his, leaning snugly against his shoulder. “What about you? I mean, you’ve got all these new mouths to feed, the volume at home is always turned to eleven - no pun intended - and your shifts have been longer and more stressful, yet you still come home with a smile every day.”

“Easy to do when I’m coming home to you.” Hopper grinned, gripping his hand to her thigh. 

“I know, after everything you’ve been through…” she added, placing her hand on top of his. “Watching El grow up, wanting to protect her … I know it was tough. But you have the biggest heart. You love so fiercely. Not only are you fun and hard-working, but I know - and they know - that you would do absolutely anything for this family. Those sleeping beauties back there? They are so incredibly lucky to have you as a dad.” 

Hopper's cheeks turned cherry red at the barrage of love and praise. His face wilted with emotion, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I told you… we make a pretty good team.”

“The best,” Joyce replied, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you, Hop.”

He leaned into the kiss, feeling the warmth of her skin on his. “I love you more,” he whispered, reaching for her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it before pressing their palms together and intertwining their fingers once again. He looked out at the last glimmer of light in the New Mexico night, his eyes darting back and forth from the road ahead to the angel on his arm, and he couldn’t help but think there was something terribly romantic about speeding down the desert highway with his high school sweetheart, like two runaway horses – wild, unstoppable, and free.

…

The Byers-Hopper clan donned their junkiest sneakers and best beachwear and made their way through two miles of hills and crags, rocks and dusty desert trails, until they entered the sunny clearing home to Wagon Wheel Falls. The dark teal water poured off the edge of the cliff overhead, and though the rushing cascade was far from the biggest or best, the sight was breathtaking. 

The kids splashed and wrestled and leapt off the rocks while their parents waded in the shallow nearby - laughing, relaxing, and trading kisses on their sun-drenched skin. Hopper played connect the dots, tracing his fingers along the freckles on Joyce’s shoulders, kissing his favorite ones on her neck and collarbone. Joyce ran her fingers through his hair, admiring the curves of his strong body illuminated by the sunlight bouncing off the water. The heat of the day balanced with the cool of the water, and time stood perfectly still. The family shared a mid-day picnic of apple slices and crustless PB & J, refueling for the afternoon, then Hopper challenged the boys to a cannonball competition while the girls looked on from their lounging spot in the shade. 

“I didn’t know places like this were real,” El exclaimed, sliding on her sunglasses and laying down on the towel beneath her. 

Joyce followed her lead and leaned back on her hands, eyes toward the sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? You know, I used to live not far from here.”

“Really?" El's head turned with eyebrows raised. "But I thought you grew up in Hawkins, with Dad."

“My grandparents owned a farm about an hour South,” Joyce explained. “They took me in as a baby, raised me, but they died when I was in middle school. That’s when I moved to Hawkins … to live with my aunt.” Her tone fell heavy at the mention of her mother’s sister, a well-intentioned woman plagued with many of the same demons that drove Joyce’s own mother to addiction. “She tried but – I wasn’t safe… with her,” she continued. “I moved out as soon as I could. Life was hard in Hawkins. No matter what I did, it seemed like … I don’t know. Like, the universe was against me.”

El sat up and removed her shades, then looked down sorrowfully as she crossed her legs. “I understand,” she said softly. “Life is … unfair.”

Joyce rose too, moving closer to El and taking her by the hand. “It can be. But it can also be full of miracles.” She glanced over at the swimming hole to see Hopper tossing a cackling Will over his shoulder while desperately fighting off Jonathan’s efforts to dunk him below the water. “Our yesterdays - they shape us - but they don’t determine who we are.” She turned back to El, smiling wide. “And I’ve got a feeling our tomorrows will be even better than we can imagine.” 

El echoed the wide grin, her heart full. “Me too,” she beamed. “Me too.” The duo embraced as the boys ran up to join them, drenched and out of breath. 

“What’s goin’ on here?” Jonathan asked, shaking the water from his hair like a playful, wet puppy.

“Oh, just talking about tomorrow,” Joyce smirked, still holding El’s hand and casting a knowing glance her way. “Next stop, California?”

“That’s the plan!” Hopper hollered. But the irresistible beauty of the day - the bonding with the boys, the sight of his girls hand in hand - lit a spark in his brain. Suddenly, any ounce of hesitation was gone and his plan became crystal clear. “Unless …” he said, holding up a finger to pause the moment. He knelt down and dug into the small backpack he’d carried down the trail. He pushed aside the sunscreen and half-empty water bottles, pulled out a small, maroon box -- hiding it in his hands -- then turned around and propped himself onto one knee. He peeled back the lid, revealing a shining, silver band knotted around a modest, shimmering diamond. 

The kids rallied around Joyce, their mouths agape, their voices fluttering with chirps of excitement and surprise. Joyce gasped. She raised her hands to cover the shock and delight on her face, then peered over her fingertips, barely able to take in the magnificent view – the love of her life kneeling in front of her. 

“The morning after our first date,” Hopper started, his voice trembling. “I went out and bought this ring. I’ve been carrying it around ever since. I knew right then – hell, I knew long before – that I wanted to spend every moment of the rest of my life by your side.” He paused - feeling the love radiating from El and the boys, taking in the look on Joyce’s face - capturing the scene in his mind. He took a deep breath, fully inhaling the wonder of the moment, then continued. “Joyce, I love you with everything I have and everything I am. Will you marry me?”

The kids cheered before Joyce could respond. She laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes, then knelt down in front of Hopper and placed her hands on his face. “Oh Hop,” she sighed, pulling him into a long, passionate kiss. 

He reciprocated, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her, before pulling back just enough to clarify. “Is that a yes?”

“That is a hell yes!” Joyce cried, elated. Hopper tenderly took hold of her hand and slid the ring onto her finger as the family’s shouts of glee reverberated throughout the canyon.

...

The moving truck pulled into the Circus Circus parking lot just after sunrise. Hopper cut the engine and sat in silence for a moment, simply watching the miracles asleep around him - his beautiful, brave, and loving wife-to-be, her brilliant, unique, incredible boys, and his hilarious, powerful, precious daughter. He wanted to freeze time, to find a way to capture just how lucky he felt and hold onto it forever. He reached around Joyce’s seat and grabbed Jonathan’s camera from its spot on the floor, tucked snugly between his feet. He fiddled with the buttons on the top until he figured out how to turn it on, then leaned back up against his window, looked through the viewfinder, and... click! The flash illuminated the cabin and woke up the crew of dreamers.

“Morning, family,” he said softly. “You guys ready to 'Viva Las Vegas'?”

“We’re leaving already?” El asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “But we just got here.”

“Not leaving Las Vegas. Viva Las Vegas. It’s – y’know what? Nevermind. Look! Across the street.” 

In the distance stood the Candlelight Wedding Chapel, the kitschy if not pristine building sandwiched between a strip mall and a casino. The narrow steeple shot up from the brown thatch roof, and the parking lot beside it was empty.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this!” Joyce squealed, eyeing the building, appreciating the beauty in its simplicity. 

Hopper’s brow furrowed as he set the camera down on the center console. “Hey, if you changed your mind…”

“Pfft,” Joyce teased, flinging the back of her hand against his shoulder. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning toward her. “Because I really, really want to marry you.” 

Joyce leaned in even further, their mouths nearly touching. “And I really, really, really want to marry you,” she breathed, closing the gap completely and feverishly pressing her lips to his.

“Should we leave you two alone, or …?” Jonathan murmured, still half-asleep.

“Okay, okay,” Hopper pulled back, biting his blower lip and savoring the taste of his fiance's kiss. “Alright El,” he said cheerily. “How about you help pick out the perfect dress for your perfect mom? And for you.” Joyce glowed, grinning at El as she clapped with excitement. “Boys, you’re with me,” Hopper continued. “We’ve gotta get cleaned up so we can look at least somewhat worthy of being in the same room as these lovely ladies.”

Joyce kissed her teeth, blushing once again. “What’s going to be our ‘something borrowed’?” she asked. 

“We’ll work on it,” Hopper winked.

“Something blue?”

El slid the hair tie from her wrist and onto her mother’s. “There,” she said. “Now Sara's part of the wedding, too.”

A beautifully heavy, heartfelt air blew throughout the otherwise playful scene. “Great idea, kid," Hopper remarked, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

Jonathan piped up with a smirk, lightening the mood. “Something old? Besides Hop, I mean.”

“Very funny,” Joyce sneered playfully. “We’ll take care of that. And something new …” She looked down at her ring, then stretched across the seat and gave Hopper a peck on the cheek. “That’s everything!”

Her husband-to-be smiled wide. “I called the chapel already, and they’re expecting us at 6 o’clock. Meet you out front?”

“I can’t wait,” Joyce whispered. She slid her hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a thin, worn leather wallet, sliding the credit card out in one smooth move. “But first … shopping!”

...

The men made their way down Las Vegas Boulevard, searching through the quiet, morning haze for any clothing store that offered more than beer-can hard hats and souvenir sunglasses. 

“Hey Hop! How ‘bout this place?” Will nodded toward the shop on the corner.

Hopper squinted up at the sign. “Arm-ay-nee,” he stuttered. “Sounds a little… fancy. I want to make sure your mom can afford whatever dress she wants, so gotta keep the suit budget modest.” 

They crossed the street, Hopper shielding Will’s rolling eyes as they passed two women dressed in glittery bikinis, handing out flyers. Will and Jonathan exchanged glances, stifling their laughter. Their snickers stopped when they realized that Hopper was no longer keeping up with their stride. Puzzled, they looked back to find the towering tourist enthralled by a strange young man wearing dirty, ripped jeans, a plaid shirt, aviators, and a red bandana, sitting on a bucket with a beaten acoustic guitar strapped across his chest. The busker’s voice was gravelly but sweet as his song carried down the pavement: “Uptown got its hustlers, The Bowery got its bums, 42nd street got big Jim Walker, He's a pool shootin' son of a gun.” They walked closer to the performer, watching as Hopper grooved along with his tune.

“It’s a sign, boys!” he exclaimed. “The heavens are smiling down on your old man today!” His shuffle ceased. “Er, I mean … your… uh…”

“We can call you old man,” Jonathan joked, poking him in the ribs. “Or maybe 'Chief Old Man'?” He tossed a few dollars in the player’s open guitar case. “How much for the bandana?” 

“This?” The singer rubbed the cloth around his neck. “Two more,” he grinned. 

Jonathan obliged, tossing in the extra funds, as the man untied the fabric and handed it to him, nodding appreciatively. Jonathan turned and handed the bandana to Hopper. “How about we stick to calling you Hop, for now? As in, here Hop - a pocket square.” Hopper smiled as Jonathan resumed his stroll, hollering over his shoulder. "Now we just need to find a pocket to put it in!”

…

Joyce and El made their way down a long, indoor corridor, a garish sky full of pink and white clouds painted on the ceiling. The harsh lighting betrayed the facade, and the bustling crowds milling about the hotel made them uneasy. The clanking of slot machines bounced off the walls. Break dancers effortlessly spun on cardboard boxes, the bass from their boombox reverberating off the floor. El hunched forward and clasped her hands to her ears, overwhelmed by the assault on her senses.

Joyce immediately picked up on her discomfort and put an arm around her shoulder, ushering her into the shop closest to them. They kept moving until the chaos of the thoroughfare was muffled, journeying deep into the back of the store and settling in a spot behind the register. “You okay, sweetheart?” Joyce asked, cradling El. 

“Sorry,” El said sorrowfully, shaking her head. She took a deep breath then dropped her shoulders, trying to calm down.

“Oh honey, no need to be sorry,” Joyce assured. She held El’s face in her hands and gently kissed her on the forehead. “This is … a lot,” she whispered. “I need a break, too.” She looked around the tiny shop with pale yellow walls, bare of decor except for a few framed posters of various hair bands she didn’t recognize – and one of David Bowie. “How about we look around? Flip through some records just for fun?”

El nodded, smiling faintly, then followed her mom around the aisles thumbing through the vinyls, not sure what she was looking at or for. She stopped at a Joan Jett record and held it up in front of her. “She looks like you.”

Joyce chuckled. “That is very nice of you. I wish I looked like her!”

“You do - but you’re prettier,” El replied matter-of-factly, resuming her perusal of the albums. She stopped again, holding up a muted, beige record with big, bold lettering on the cover that read Johnny’s Greatest Hits. “Who’s Johnny?” she asked innocently.

Joyce took the record from her, flipping it over and inspecting the track listing on the back. “Johnny Mathis,” she answered with an expression of fond recollection. “Chances Are." She tucked a hair behind her ear, staring longingly into the distance. Her face softened, a slight dimple popping in her cheek as she smiled.

“Chances are what?” 

El’s inquiry snapped Joyce back to the present. “What? Oh, er, no," she stammered. "‘Chances Are’. It’s a song. Your dad and I … Senior Prom.”

“You and Dad went to prom together?” El’s eyes widened. Any remnant of anxiety evaporated, instantly replaced by curiosity.

“No, unfortunately. I went with Lonnie,” Joyce answered. “Hop sat out in the parking lot smoking cigarettes in his car."

El rolled her eyes.

"But mid-dance," Joyce continued, "Lonnie took off – left with another girl.”

“Gross!” El stuck her tongue out, pretending to gag. 

“Yeah, he was gross,” Joyce laughed. “And he was my ride! So I stood outside, crying - absolutely devastated - and your dad saw me. He comforted me, like always, and then he turned up his car radio and we danced right there on the pavement - just us and the stars - to this song.”

Without warning, El pulled Joyce into a hug, squeezing her tight, then kissed her on the cheek. 

“What was that for?” Joyce beamed.

El shrugged. “I’m just happy. I’m happy you guys are finally … together.” She yanked the record out of Joyce’s hands and confidently made her way toward the register. 

“What’re you doing?” Joyce asked, rushing to keep up with her.

El quickly handed it to the cashier. “Something old," she grinned.

As they exited the shop hand in hand, Joyce spotted a silhouette in the store window opposite from them. She moved in slow motion, her eyes scanning the sight ripped right from her wildest dreams. A narrow spotlight shone above a silky white gown with a high neck and cinched waist. Its long sleeves were capped with ruffled cuffs - the design sincere and elegant, with just a hint of lace. “That’s the one,” she gasped. “That’s my wedding dress.”

…

They arrived at the chapel at a quarter to six, their chestnut hair in matching updos - half-up, half-curled. El wore a knee-length maroon dress with classic, puffy sleeves, and a petite black and white corsage on her wrist, matching her mother’s understated bouquet. Joyce anxiously flitted about the entrance, peeking inside the chapel doors and seeing nothing but an empty lobby. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Time to get married,” a low, husky voice answered in her ear. She felt a sudden squeeze on her hips and turned to see Hopper towering in front of her, as handsome as ever. He brushed his hands over the front of his charcoal gray suit, a dark red handkerchief folded neatly in the pocket. A black and silver bolo tie hung around his neck, and his hair was combed to the side in a perfectly disheveled quaff. 

Joyce leapt up, throwing her arms around him, then backed up in a panic, concerned about messing up the makeup she so rarely wore. “Hop!” she gasped. “You look incredible! That suit …” she continued, flirtingly tugging at his lapel. “It fits you so well. Where did you get it?”

“At a thrift store!” he exclaimed proudly. He held his hands out to his sides and slowly twirled in a circle, showing it off. “Apparently with all the drive-thru weddings around here, the secondhand suit market is well stocked!” 

Joyce looked him up and down, fiddling with the strings on his tie. “I like this,” she growled. “Reminds me of a cowboy.” 

“Oh, you like that huh?” he replied, shimmying his shoulders then placing his hands on her waist. “I’ll be your cowboy anytime, darlin’.” He leaned forward, ready to kiss her, but stopped himself, jolting back and holding his hands in front of his eyes. “Hang on,” he shouted. “I’m not supposed to see you in your dress before the wedding!” 

Joyce laughed as she pulled his hands down then held them in her own. “I don’t think that really applies in this situation, babe.”

“Good,” he swooned, melting as he always did when she called him ‘babe’. “'Cause I don’t want to take my eyes off of you.” He leaned in and lowered his forehead to hers. “You look gorgeous, honey. You’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world.” 

He heard a loud “a-herm!” and felt a dagger of a punch in his arm, then looked over to see El with her arms folded, impatiently tapping her foot. “And you,” he grinned, picking her up and spinning her around in the air, ”are the most beautiful girl in the entire universe!” 

She giggled and kicked her feet, hugging him tightly, then he set her back down and kissed her gently on top of her head. 

Jonathan and Will threw open the doors of the chapel, beckoning the party to join them. 

“What took you so long?” Will teased, kissing his mother on the cheek. 

Jonathan followed his lead, planting a kiss on the other side. “You look incredible, Mom,” he gushed. “Now, who do you guys want to officiate this thing? They've got an Elvis Presley, a Marilyn Monroe …”

“Do they have anyone who's not pretending to be someone else?” Joyce joked.

Will shrugged. “There's that guy,” he pointed at the front desk behind him. “Not sure if he's an impersonator or if he just looks like that.”

Behind the counter sat an older gentleman with tan, leathery skin and a dirty blonde comb over. He looked almost plastic, and his eyes matched the tight, bright aqua tee extremely visible beneath his white linen suit. 

“Dad!” El shrieked, excitedly tugging at Hopper’s sleeve. “It's Crockett! It's him! Miami Vice, Dad! Look!”

Hopper laughed. “Crockett it is!” he shrugged, instantly won over. 

Joyce snickered, rolling her eyes as she made her way toward the host. “Um, are you a … I mean … can you, um … perform the ceremony?”

The lookalike pressed his hands on the counter and coolly smacked some bubblegum between his teeth. “Depends who’s askin’,” he grunted in reply. 

Joyce looked back at Hopper for some guidance, but he looked every bit as puzzled as she was. “We’re here for the Byers-Hopper wedding?” 

Crockett pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and pulled a pair of jet black shades from his pocket. “Well then,” he hollered. “If you aren’t a cool breeze on a hot day!” He slid the glasses on, completing his look, then ushered them inside. “Right this way, lovebirds! Welcome to the Candlelight!”

They followed the officiant into the empty chapel, pink, teal, and purple confetti from the previous wedding still strewn along the floor. Hopper tugged at his collar as he felt the nerves start to kick in. “You’re uh, filming this whole thing right?” 

“Of course!” Crockett replied. He pointed toward the corner of the room where a large camera was mounted on a stand, a bright red light blinking on the top. “We’ll have a video tape for you to take home after the ceremony!” 

Joyce took hold of Hopper’s hand as they approached the altar, and he felt a rush of calm wash over him. “Good,” he exhaled, looking into her warm, brown eyes. “I want to remember this day forever.” 

“Stand here at the front!” Crockett beckoned as he stood beneath a white lattice arch draped with artificial pink flowers and green vines. “Kids, you can take your places at their sides.” He lowered his glasses to the end of his nose, eyeing Jonathan skeptically. “How old’re you son?”

“Eighteen,” Jonathan responded defensively, standing tall and straightening his tie. 

Crockett clapped loudly with relief. “Very good! You can sign the certificate. We do need one more witness, but don’t worry! We’ve got a guy.” He scanned the empty chapel then cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Charlie!” he yelled. “Charlie, get in here!”

A stranger dressed in a sparkly white and gold jumpsuit, complete with a long red scarf, appeared in the back of the pews and sat down quietly, giving a nod to the host as he combed a hand through his jet black hair. 

Joyce couldn’t help but laugh at the look of sheer confusion on Hopper’s face. “The perfect wedding,” she chuckled. “Just us, our kids … and Charlie.” 

"Perfect," Hopper howled, bursting with laughter of his own. 

Crockett interrupted their cackling, spitting out his gum into a bin behind the podium and straightening the cards in his hands. “You two ready?” he asked. The couple nodded, and the officiant cleared his throat. “Welcome one and all to Fabulous Las Vegas! We gather here today to celebrate the union of –” He glanced down at his notes, refreshing his memory. “James Hopper Junior and Joyce Maldonado Byers. It says here you two have known each other since high school. Life happened, you went your separate ways, but now… you found one another again.” His voice rose in pitch, practically squeaking as his continued. “There’s just something so beautiful about second chances."

The kids snickered under their breath as Crockett started to cry. 

“Sorry,” he sniffled. “I just love love, you know? And I can tell - I can tell just by looking at the two of you that you are truly meant to be.”

Joyce smiled. The stranger’s words pierced through the absurdity of the atmosphere, and she felt the truthfulness of his statement. She squeezed Hopper’s hand attempting to steady her emotions, but it was no use. He reached down and lovingly wiped a tear from her cheek, his own eyes starting to water as well. 

Crockett looked back and forth, observing the energy between them, then cleared his throat once again and continued. “Do you, James Hopper Junior, take this woman, Joyce Maldonado Byers, to be your lawfully wedded wife -- to have and to hold, to honor and cherish, in good times and bad, to love and respect, comfort and protect, for as long as you both shall live?”

Hopper’s hands trembled as he slid the band onto her finger, his face radiating with the most immense joy. “I do,” he answered, his voice shaky. Joyce beamed. It was now her turn to wipe his tears. 

“And do you, Joyce Maldonado Byers, take this man, James Hopper Junior, to be your lawfully wedding husband -- to have and to hold, to honor and cherish, in good times and bad, to love and respect, comfort and protect, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Joyce replied emphatically as she placed the ring on his finger. She felt every nerve, every vein in her body ignite, alive with pure elation. They both snickered giddily and held tight to one another, as though fighting to keep themselves from floating up in the air and right out through the ceiling. 

“Then,” the officiant announced. “With the power vested in me by the great battle-born State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!”

Hopper wasted no time pulling his wife in close, dipping her backwards in his arms. The kids cheered as the couple shared a picturesque kiss under the archway. 

“Let’s hear it for Mr. and Mrs. Hopper!” the officiant shouted over the celebration.

From the back of the room, the Elvis stand-in witness set a needle down on a record, and music filled the air. 

Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me

And if you think you could

Well, chances are your chances are awfully good

The chances are your chances are awfully good

Hopper’s eyebrows arched, his bright blue eyes shimmering as his jaw dropped open in surprise. “What? How did –?”

“Just like Crockett said,” El answered, winking at Joyce. “Meant to be.”

The host ushered the group together, ordering them to pose near the altar. “Alright now, everybody say ‘cheese’!”

“Cheese!” 

After several photos of the bride, groom and family, Jonathan and Crockett started talking shop - trading tips and tricks about cameras and lighting and angles. The ever-helpful Charlie rolled out a cart with seven flutes and several slices of red velvet cake, then handed a bottle of champagne to the groom. Hopper popped the cork, sending the foam flying out the top, and poured a drink for all, including a small portion for the kids. “To my wife!” he shouted, raising his glass. 

“And to my husband!” Joyce added, raising hers.

“To the Hoppers!” Crockett chimed in. “Cheers!”

Everyone clinked their glasses and drank. El and Will gagged at the first sip, shaking their heads in disgust. Jonathan downed his glass a bit too quickly for Joyce’s liking, and she gave him a stern look as he reached to finish off Will’s. 

“C’mon,” he whined. “It’s a celebration!”

Blissfully unconcerned, Hopper kissed her between sips - on her cheek, on her neck, on her lips - leaving her far too distracted to care about anything else but his touch.

The kids dug in to the cake, shoving large bites into their mouths, as the newlyweds playfully fed one another, tasting the frosting left on eachother's lips.

“So … husband,” Joyce breathed, sliding her hand into Hopper's back pocket. “What now? Back on the road?”

He smirked, kissing her once more. “Well … wife. I got us two rooms across the street - one for the kids, one for us – so we can have a bit of privacy.” He nestled his face into her neck and she giggled as he kissed her, his slight scruff tickling her skin. “Then tomorrow,” he added. “California. The first day of the rest of our lives.”

Will beat El to the final plate, grinning smugly as he held the last piece of cake. “What about a honeymoon?” he gurgled toward his parents, his mouth half-full.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico,” Joyce winked.

“And I’ve always wanted to take you to Mexico,” Hopper replied. “And we’ll get there – soon.”

Joyce gazed up at her husband as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he whispered, hugging her tight. “After all, we’ve got the rest of our lives together.”

“Married.” Joyce lifted both their hands to admire the wonderful sight of their matching rings. “Husband and wife.”

“Our Mom!” El shouted happily.

“– and our Dad,” Will added, smiling at Hopper.

Jonathan held up an empty champagne flute, gesturing one more toast. “To our family!” he declared. “Forever.”

“Forever,” Joyce echoed softly. “I like the sound of that.”