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"…this cabin has only four rooms. I mean, how the hell do you lose anything in here, seriously?"
"Mom, stop. You're working yourself up—"
Joyce huffs, accidentally slamming the junk drawer shut. "I'm fine," she promises her youngest, "I'm just trying to avoid another talk from Donald. I cannot be late again."
Will seems unconvinced, rolls his eyes, and goes back to looking through the couch cushions for her lost keys.
Her head whips around when she sees Hopper come out of their bedroom. "You checked in there, right?"
"Yes," he says, his peeved tone only adding to the bad mood emanating in the air.
She shakes her head, breezing by him. Clearly he didn't look hard enough. Men seem to lack attention to detail.
"Christ. They didn't grow a pair of legs and walk away, Joyce—"
She tunes out his voice as he calls after her, biting her tongue against mean words she knows she'll regret saying after a while and once she's found her keys. If she finds her keys—they've seemingly poofed into thin air, and she's searched high and low for these things! She could've sworn she dropped them in the bowl when she got home last night, like how she always does. Or mostly does.
"…if I were keys where would I be? Dammit, where are you—"
She closes her nightstand drawer basically as soon as she opens it. Nothing. She sighs, making her way out of the bedroom to search some more (and to glower at the lack of progress being made by the very two people she loves most) when she notices Hopper's untouched nightstand.
Joyce turns on her heels, ready to check the spot off her internal checklist, and throws the drawer open.
No keys. She's not surprised. There's only a handgun, nail clippers, a couple of condoms, a pair of reading glasses she doesn't think she's ever seen him wear, a small thing of lotion, and an unfamiliar, small, dusty red box.
Joyce freezes. Her brow furrows before it shoots back into her hairline, realizing what she could be staring at, and closes the drawer.
She's already late for her shift; she should be even more stressed now, but it's as if time has gone on a smoke break. Suddenly, she can't get her feet to move. She just stares at the drawer as an unsure feeling starts to bubble in her stomach.
Joyce is fairly certain she just found a ring box.
Obviously, the right thing to do would be to leave it alone and go on with her day. To completely wipe of her mind of the image. But that doesn't stop her from slowly opening the drawer to impulsively pop the lid the tiniest bit, and squint into the sliver of space until she gets an eyeful of a delicately placed diamond held up by an elegant golden band, nestled in soft cushioning.
She gasps softly and immediately clicks it shut and puts it back where she found it in the gentlest game of hot potato anybody's ever played.
A fluttery feeling settles in her chest, suddenly jittery in her skin. She scrubs her hands down her face, unmoving as she fights a persistent smile.
Joyce is now fairly certain she just found her own engagement ring.
"Hey."
Her heart plummets to her stomach. She whips around, startled like a teenager getting caught smoking by her mother. Finding Hopper in the door frame with her keys dangling from his fingers is a sight that should put her at ease; not make her nervous.
The smug "I win" look drawn on his face is replaced by concern in record speeds. "Hey, you alright?" he asks.
"No—" she waves him off, collecting herself "—I'm okay. I'm fine, I just…"
…found the ring I think you're going to propose to me with.
Joyce shakes her head, scrambling for an excuse, when instead she notices her keys and gestures to them. "Where were they?" she asks, padding over to him. "The keys?"
Hopper blinks like he might've momentarily forgotten about them, but he's quick to soften. "In your coat pocket," he murmurs.
"Of course." She exhales, taking them from his hand, even though her mind is completely elsewhere. "Thank you."
"Mhm. You better get going, it's already ten after. And don't worry about Donald. I'll talk to him if he gives you any shit—"
Nodding along, she watches his face, but not a single one of his words makes it to her brain.
The possibility of marriage, for whatever reason, has never fully donned on her before today. But standing here, looking at the man she's in love with, Joyce can't help but immidiately dive headfirst into these new waters.
She reaches up to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him. He melts into her, leaning back against the doorframe, even if he seems thrown off by the sheer intensity of the kiss. She can't blame him; she kisses him deep. Deep and slow, pouring the sudden vibrating, excited energy into it in a way that probably removes her lip gloss entirely.
Hopper looks dazed when she pulls back; eyes blown, face flushed as he wets his lips. "Damn."
She sighs happily and pats his chest before peeling off him. "Kay, I should get going. See you tonight, and have a good day, baby—"
"Yeah, whatever," Will grumbles, tense and clearly grossed out by the PDA. Joyce gives him a squeeze anyway on her way out the door.
She lingers in her car for a couple extra beats and lets out the true, deep breath she couldn't find inside the stuffy cabin. She doesn't even care about being late anymore. Donald can go cry about it.
She's getting engaged soon.
This discovery Joyce accidentally made three days ago now has, in a way, contradicted her past ideas of what her future relationship status might look like. After Lonnie, it took her a couple years to even think about dipping her feet back into the dating pool, let alone think about being somebody's wife again. When she did open up that door again to let Bob through, to give love another shot, it was taken from her; that passing installed a triple lock on her heart and made herself wholly unavailable again. Grief and heartbreak seemed to follow everywhere she went, and for some time, Joyce made quiet peace with the idea of remaining single for the rest of her life.
And then Hopper dug his way back into her life, like how he always seems to wind up doing.
She thinks the woman slowly, painfully grieving her late friend and partner would've waved off the idea of her being happy, healthy, and in love again. That woman would never have believed her future self if she'd known she'd be waiting on an engagement ring.
"Did you know I always used to know if you were working by the songs playing in the shop?"
Joyce's brow wrinkles at Hopper's comment as she off-handedly tries to un-jam her label gun. "Really?"
He shrugs. "You've got the same five singers under your belt. You were easy to pick out," he teases.
"Sure, but I don't think my tastes are all that underground, or anything."
"I doubt anybody working here listens to Joni Mitchell besides you."
"Yeah, duh. I'm, like, thirty years older than all the new hires." She slaps her palm against the side of the tool and grumbles. "This damn gun—"
"But this sounds new," he says, pointing vaguely to the ceiling as if that's where Etta James's heavenly voice might be coming from.
She nods distractedly. "I guess I've been on an Etta kick lately."
As Etta sings about a dream that she could speak to, Joyce focuses back in on the task at hand. She traps the tip of her tongue between her teeth and eventually pulls the trigger and tugs on the roll in a way that un-jams the tool. "Jeez. Finally."
"What's this song called?" Hopper asks out of no where. She'd barely noticed his silence in the first place.
"'At Last'," she tells him.
He nods, gaze elsewhere as he scratches his chin. He looks like he's in very deep thought. She cocks her head a little at him.
"And you like it?"
"The song?"
"Yeah."
"I mean—of course I like it," she says, amused if not slightly concerned. "I love it. I wouldn't be playing the album in the store if I didn't. Why?"
Hop only shakes his head, suppressing a clear smile. "'M just asking."
Joyce scrutinizes him for another couple beats, looking for answers in the watery blues of his eyes, but she doesn't find any. She only sighs and shakes her head. "Oh, Claudia popped by a while ago," she says. "Wanted me to say hi for her."
His brow furrows. "Henderson?"
"Yeah. She really is sweet, I hadn't seen her in so long…I wish we weren't so isolated from everybody, out in the woods."
"'I've been thinking about that, too," he admits, putting his elbows on the counter. "And moving out of that cabin."
Her brow lifts. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you some more about it. Y'know, 'cause Will's at college next month." Joyce winces at the mention of her last baby leaving the nest as Hop meets her gaze with a growing, slow smile. "Then it's just me 'n you."
"Hey, we still have a little while until then…"
"I know, I know." He softens, tilting his head and trying to catch her eyes off her task. "But I doubt you wanna be cooped up in that shack much longer."
She bites her lip, a fluttering sensation blooming in her belly, feeling somehow propositioned. She abandons her jammed label gun to the side to give the mustached man her full attention. "What have you been thinking?" she asks.
"I saw some listings go up around Maple, but I'm not completely set on any of 'em. Or there's out of state, if we wanted to… y'know. See some new faces. Start fresh. Maybe be a little closer to the kids?"
Something about his words has Joyce giddy. He's speaking her language, whatever that might be. Starting fresh with Hopper sounds so good. Right when she's about to tell him just that, the door opens up behind them and the bell rings, popping their bubble. She exhales and Hop straightens.
"I like the sound of a lot of that," she tells him quietly, grinning. "Let's pick this back up when we get home."
He bends again to give her a kiss, then places his Stetson back on his head. Hopper said he should probably go be the Chief, and Joyce had agreed then waved him off back to his blazer parked outside. Only when he drove out of view could she let herself breathe properly.
She and Hop, newly engaged and house hunting together. Domestic bliss is so close she can practically taste it. She didn't even know she wanted it so bad until it was within her reach.
"Hi, Linda. Did you find everything okay?" Joyce asks when the shopper comes up to the counter, remembering to flip back into her customer service.
The woman nods, smiling politely. "Sure did. How've you been? Every time I stop by to pick up my meds, I always miss your shift, I feel like."
"Well, you caught me today." She continues to bag her items but her mind drifts almost immediately back to the image that's been occupying her head for the past few days. This secret is starting to eat her alive. She has to tell somebody.
Joyce briefly pauses her work to take a breath, glances up, and just so she doesn't have to be the only one withholding this secret, she says, "I think I'm being proposed to soon."
Everything Hopper's been doing lately has felt like a hint toward that damn ring. Every little lingering look to every physical fake out he does. She can't tell whether it's completely purposeful or not, but either way, it's driving her up the wall. Last night, he dropped onto one knee to tie his shoe, and Joyce's heart nearly gave out.
She's this close to bringing it up to him. She knows she won't have it in her to do it, but damn has he been keeping her on her toes.
He'll get around to it, she's sure, but between summer already slipping from her fingertips and Will's graduation being right around the corner, she's not too sure when he'll get to pop the question; not that she doubts it'll be soon, especially with how he's been acting with her lately.
(Jesus. A part of her wishes she never opened that box. It's all she's been able to think about.)
"Hi."
Joyce leans back against Hopper's chest when he comes up behind her at the counter, smiling softly when he presses his lips to the top of her hair. "Hi."
"I," he starts, rubbing his hands down her arms, "just got us a Saturday night dinner at Enzo's."
Her brow wrinkles; Enzo's is nothing but jam-packed all days of the week, especially weekends. "How?"
"Next Saturday, not this Saturday." He kisses her temple as she ohhh's. She nudges his face away when he lingers there too, pressing his ticklish mustache against her and smiling into her skin. "Hope you're not doing anything that night."
"Yeah. Only going to our kid's graduation, Hopper."
"Yeah, but they'll be done before eight o'clock, won't they?"
She snorts. "You better hope so," she murmurs, and turns around fully in his arms, crossing her own against her chest as she meets his eyes.
"I'm sure Will's gonna wanna be with his friends all night," he continues, bracketing her against the counter with a hand planted on either side of her. "So it'll just be us, anyway. We can have a our own celebratory date night."
Joyce nods. "We really haven't gone out in a while," she remarks, not unkindly, but Hopper starts looking a little like a dog when its sorry anyway.
"I know," he exhales, caressing her arms again before drawing her close. "I've been meaning to take you out."
Feeling him perch his chin atop her head, almost blanketing into her, Joyce can't help but melt a little, too. "Hey, I know you're busy. It's fine, Hop." She cranes her neck back after an indulgent beat. "Really."
"Still," he insists, "'m making it up to you."
The man's gentle persistence makes her back down with a sigh and the shake of her head. He really is a sweetheart when he wants to be. Among the other things she loves about him, it makes it incredibly easy for her to picture herself saying a million times yes to his future question of marriage.
HAPPY GRADUATION, MICHAEL! is what the sign strung outside the Wheeler's house says, painted in blue, blocky lettering. Streamers and string lights are strung around the property, poppy music plays loudly from a boombox by a long, foldable table with at least ten bowls of different snacks, and there's enough balloons that a part of Joyce thinks the whole house might fly away.
"Karen had a heyday at Melvalds', huh?" Hopper teases.
"Looks like it," she agrees, stepping out and shutting the car door behind her. "I dunno how she does this. I'm stressed out by the whole thing and I'm a guest."
He snorts, placing a hand on her back as they start to walk—they'd had to park halfway down the cul-de-sac to even findan open spot, let alone one big enough for the blazer. Jonathan (who's finally back home from school and staying for the week!) and Will left the house only around thirty minutes before they, and she's starting to think that was a smart choice; this growing sea of poorly parked cars might be tricky to get out of.
"She invited half of Hawkins, too," Hop remarks lowly, leaning down slightly. The tone is a little too snarky for polite company, even if the words are just for her.
While she usually entertains the quiet side talk, Joyce rolls her eyes this time and gently nudges his side with her elbow. "Well, we're here for a while, so fix your face."
She's certainly quick to fix hers when Karen Wheeler spots the two of them and hustles over across the lawn with a sweet smile.
"Yay, you two made it!" she cheers, reaching to hug Joyce and give Hopper's shoulder a friendly squeeze.
Within beats, Joyce is whisked away back to the group of ladies Karen had been talking with prior, recognizing some faces and politely meeting the ones she doesn't. She doesn't fully relax into the seat that's pulled up for her until she finally manages to spot Will clustered with his friends after some beats of scanning the crowd, then finds Jonathan a little ways away, too. Only then does she let herself nurse a glass of bad punch and down a Jell-O shot. By the time she's on her second one, she's found the whole production to be surprisingly pleasant. Those initial worries stemmed from the fact of how she hasn't been—well, out in a while, not like this, but she's actually enjoyed getting to catch up with people. Hopper seems to be chatting it up, too.
When Joyce quietly excuses herself to go powder her nose, Karen gets up, too. "I think I'm gonna open a bottle," she says, walking beside her to the front door. "Do you have a preference?"
Already knowing this woman's default pick is red, she only shakes her head with a smile. She'll treat herself; she really hasn't had any wine in a while. "Host's pick. Just save me a glass."
The cool, air-conditioned interior is immediately soothing on her warm skin, closing the door behind her to keep it trapped inside—the incessant chatting and the music seeps in from outside, still noisy from even the bathroom although muffled.
"I've been looking for an out for a while," Karen admits when she reappears in the kitchen, pouring wine into twin glasses. "So thank you."
Joyce smiles softly, comes to perch at the bar stool beside her, and politely takes one of the glasses by the stem, tilting her head down as she clinks it against the blonde's in a cheers!
"Thank you again for putting this whole thing on, Karen," she says after she takes a sip. "Such a nice way to kick off summer for the kids and to have everybody get together."
The woman beams from ear to ear. "I love hosting. If it were up to me and not also Ted, I'd be planning yard parties all summer."
Joyce doesn't doubt that for a beat. "How are you guys, anyway?" she asks, but Karen is already waving her off before she's done.
"That's neither here nor there." When she brings her glass to her mouth again, the scars on her neck strain ever so slightly with the lift of her head. She winces a little at the sight. "My marital life is no topic of conversation for a day like this." She gestures vaguely to the sunny sky out the window, then leans in closer. "How's it going with you and Jim, though?"
A grin touches her lips at the question, taking another sip of her wine. "We've been really good," she says almost boyishly. "I think we're starting to think about moving together, maybe. I'm just really happy."
"Gosh, I'm even happier to hear that. You've been together for what—like, three years? Four?"
"Three, now."
Karen's gaze flicks down to her hands. "And no ring on that finger yet?"
Her eyes widen, unable to stop a coy smile from spreading to her entire expression, accompanied by a blooming pink across her cheeks the longer she sits with the accusation. She draws her lips together in a thin line, instantly brought back to the box in Hopper's nightstand drawer. Of all places.
"What is it?" she asks, frowning and searching her face for answers.
Joyce hesitates. She really shouldn't…
She also really shouldn't have done those stupid Jell-O shots. But she downs the rest of her red wine and slides the empty glass over to her friend.
"…Actually, he–hmm. Karen, you cannot say anything to anybody about this," she giggles, scrubbing her palm down her face to try and regain some composure.
Karen's frown just deepens as she pours another glass for her. "I won't."
A part of Joyce knows that when she's sobered up, she'll regret saying this to the human embodiment of Hawkins's gossip funnel, but she only leans closer to her friend and mumbles,
"I found the engagement ring," against the rim of her wine glass.
Her face brightens instantly, eyes bulging. "You're serious?"
"In his nightstand!"
"Ohhh my–" She hides her face, giggling. "Have you told him? Are you gonna?"
"No, I haven't…should I?"
"Nonono." She shimmies her chair closer. "I think you should just—just let it happen naturally. And then tell him afterwards, maybe?"
"That's what I was thinking, I mean—"
They both lift their heads as the front door opens, the music becoming louder and getting clearer with an influx of rowdy teenage boy chatter.
"Shut the door so you don't let the cool air out!" Karen squawks over it, and Dustin, Lucas, Will, Max, and Mike come into view from the foyer.
Joyce softens at her son, half-heartedly reaching behind her for him with a grabby-hand. "Hi, babe."
While the other four hurry downstairs with a noncommittal Hi Mrs Byers' and Hi Mrs. Wheeler's, Will forks from the pod to pay the toll.
"Hi. I'm gonna ride with Jonathan again tonight," he tells her, and stands behind her chair to briefly loops his arms around her neck and press his cheek against her head in a half-hug.
"Sounds good. Just don't stay out too late."
He nods in understanding and lets her go, giving Karen a friendly smile and wave as he hurries back in his friends' footsteps.
The woman sighs pitifully. "I wish mine still liked me," she groans.
"Oh, he does…"
She shakes her head as if to wave the comment away. "So—"
Joyce starts to flush again, straightening her back idly as Karen's voice darkens back down to the same tone she'd been using when conspiring about her future engagement.
"—do you have any idea of when he's going to ask?"
"I haven't been trying to think that hard about it," she answers earnestly. "I just don't want to get worked up about it, y'know?"
"No, that's fair."
"…he is taking me out to Enzo's after Graduation, though."
"Joyce!"
"I know, I know!" She scrubs a hand over her hair, exhaling. "He's gonna drive me crazy."
"It's any day, now, for sure. Gosh." There's a glint in her eyes, tilting her head and biting on her smile. "You'll probably be engaged in two days."
Joyce buries her hands into her palms briefly at that image, and Karen laughs. Once she recovers, she lets out another deep breath and picks her glass up again. "I really hope I will be."
When the sun starts setting, she and Hopper end up making an Irish goodbye from the Wheeler's with the exception of their sons, and make it back home in time to have a late dinner of leftovers and catch a rerun of Cheers to tune into afterwards.
Already having seen the episode, Joyce slips into the bathroom to shower off the remnants of the day near the end of the segment. Still, all she can think about is that ring.
She shakes her head, rinsing shampoo suds from her hair beneath the shower head. The diamond's glint feels like its still refracting in her iris. She truly hasn't been trying to dwell on the when, but that dinner reservation is just so perfectly set and Karen's words keep attaching to her optimism.
It then dons on her that a part of her should likely be feeling some sort of guilt over this, but she's already figured out that its way too late for her to do anything about it. Her body just feels so light. So happy.
Hopper's only just getting comfortable when she pads into the bedroom, hearing him groan softly as he settles.
"You're off work tomorrow, yeah?" he asks.
Exhaling, she rings out the last drops of water from her damp hair into her towel and nods, meeting his icy eyes before her gaze drifts to that damn nightstand. She turns around to drop the towel in the laundry basket while hiding the beginnings of a smile.
"Will's official last day of high school tomorrow…"
"Crazy." She knows she'll get emotional if she thinks about it too hard, so she doesn't linger in that bittersweet pocket. She'll save her tears for later. "How embarrassed would he be if we both drove him to school?"
He chuckles lowly. Joyce crosses to the bed and lifts up the corner of the comforter to slide her legs beneath it. Like most nights, she's gravitated to the nook of Hop's side when he puts an arm along the pillows, as if to open himself up before closing again, circling that arm around her.
She lets out a hum, getting comfortable, but before she can completely settle, he takes her left hand and lifts it to his mouth to place an all too focused, lingering, perfect kiss to her naked ring finger.
Joyce…stares.
He gives another kiss to her knuckle after, but her heart skips a beat regardless, and an unfamiliar bundle of butterflies blooms to life in her belly; a type of giddiness that might typically belong to a schoolgirl.
"What?"
She blinks, picking her gaze off their entwined hands to Hopper's face and his slow-growing smile under his mustache when she doesn't reply immediately.
This man has her engagement ring. And it's currently two feet away from them.
"What?" he says again, easy and chuckling, only pulling her closer into his side. He looks both genuinely clueless and genuinely enamored.
She scoffs, shaking her head and hiding her smile into his skin. "Nothing," she promises.
In a partially subconscious effort to squash his suspicion, Joyce shifts her weight and straddles his thighs beneath the sheets, pressing her hips against his in a way that makes him sigh as he leans his head back into the pillow. He looks up at her with lidded, narrow eyes and a smirk, hands finding resting places on her upper thighs.
Her own hands come up to his face, touching to touch; she grins, watching him frown before relaxing some, tolerantly letting her drag her nails along his stubble and gently thumb the skin beneath his eye.
"Isn't it weird we knew each other in high school?" she murmurs, and idly squeezes his cheeks together at his dimples.
"Little bit. Knock it off—"
She hums pleasedly and gives up her fondling when he vaguely nudges away. His scowl falls away within a heartbeat or two as she instead starts to card her fingers through his short crop.
"I was just thinking about what might be different with us if we got our shit together sooner."
A bird chirps outside, filling the following beat of quiet. Then, Hopper exhales, and she moves with the fall of his chest. "I don't like thinking like that," he admits.
She frowns. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."
"No, I know." He laces their fingers together, stretching their arms outward. "But I think we ended up right where we needed to be."
The weight of his words don't run her over, but they land unexpectedly. Her heart softens with her expression, warm fuzzies embracing her all over. She pouts behind a smile and he reddens sheepishly, but before she can do anymore doting, he's flipping her onto her back and kissing her neck.
Throughout the hours leading up to their eight o'clock dinner, she forces herself to tuck away her suspicions and reel back her judgment in order to stay present for the other life-changing event today known as high school graduation.
She plays a quiet game of Where's Waldo? trying to spot Will among the sea of other orange caps, and she holds her tears back watching him cross the stage, proud as ever. But as she sits in the audience, trying to listen to the droning faculty speeches, there's an undeniable buzzing undercurrent humming through her body, not unlike the anticipation of Christmas morning.
Joyce gazes up at Hopper, leaning into him when he circles an arm around her shoulders with an affectionate squeeze. Her heart flutters with warmth; she knows she shouldn't be putting her bets on this one night, but at the same time, her sixth sense is yet to prove her wrong.
So, of course, she winds up being correct. Half of her wonders if she'd be any more shocked walking out of Enzo's calling Hopper her fiancé, had she not seen her ring prior.
"God. It's so perfect, Hop," she tells him again as they pad up the porch steps, looking down at the jewel. It's so much prettier on her finger than in the half-second glimpse she'd caved into a couple weeks ago.
Like a gentleman, he unlocks the front door and holds it open to her. "You have no idea how good that is to hear."
"You were that nervous?"
"I'm only just starting to think clearly again," he admits, flicking the lights on, and she believes him; it's clear that he's just now coming down from the high. She doesn't think she's ever felt his anxiety so strongly. Which is funny considering she's the known nervous wreck, most of the time.
"Not that I thought you were gonna say no, or anything," he adds.
Joyce exhales deeply, shaking her head fondly, and tosses her bag to the couch before padding over to the kitchen to close the curtains; doing her nightly sweep of the cabin at a lower-functionality between being tipsy and newly engaged. She still can't believe she's engaged.
"Were you surprised?"
Smirking, she lets him come up behind her to reach for her hand and twirl her back to face him. She doesn't let go of his hand immediately, holding it much like she did while they swayed to their little love song at the restaurant. She presses onto her toes and lazily kisses his clean-shaven jaw a couple times.
"'Cause I was trying to drop hints, or whatever, too."
Her nose wrinkles. "I caught a couple of 'em," she says decidedly, then hesitates.
If her better judgment was still within reach, she might've waited for them both to cool off the honeymooning high before possibly wrecking the whole mood. But her wine-drunken giggles are already bubbling, and Hopper's looking down at her like he already knows he doesn't know everything.
"I sort of already knew," Joyce admits softly, and watches in real time as his eyes shift to something less lovey and more lost.
Hopper frowns. "What 'dya mean?"
She sighs. "I found the ring a couple weeks ago."
"You—" He blanches, brow furrowing, still holding her; not angry, not sad, but somewhere different. "You're serious?"
She tilts her head. "Honey, it was in your nightstand."
He laughs weakly but his frown only deepens. "Why…what? Why didn't you say anything?"
Still, there's nothing accusatory in his voice, nothing that would make her want to pull back from his embrace. "I dunno. I guess I just wanted to have it play out," she murmurs, tucking her cheek against his chest again, right at his heart. "When I found it, I kind of realized that marriage was an option. I wanted to be proposed to. Like, I dunno. That if I told you, it would've happened less officially, or something."
Her eyes close briefly when he rests his face into her head and lingers there, pressing a kiss to her hair. She can practically feel him soften. "'Course it'd still happen." Another kiss before pulling back with a sigh. "Could've done me a solid and told me all that before I started losin' sleep over this…"
Joyce hums, matching his grin, and leans up to kiss him properly, and a strange wave of relief washes over her against his lips.
She's too tired to start thinking about weddings tonight. All she's keen on doing is christening their bed as a new, engaged couple.