Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hands glued together, Hopper went to help Joyce into their ticket out of this hell hole.

“Nuh-uh. Jim first. Unless she’s cool with sitting on my lap-” Hopper shoved Murray’s head back on his way in, seeing what he meant: there was hardly space for two people, let alone three. Sitting in the only remaining space in the rickety death trap, the seconds he spent away from Joyce’s grasp made him feel like his heart was plummeting through his chest. As soon as he was situated, he reached out for her, her for him. “No seatbelts! Just a free tumble over the Bering Sea.” Murray started his statement with his typical snark, but the end tapered off in disgust as if the bastard had just realized the weight of the concept.

“Jesus Christ…” he heard Joyce breathe as he gently pulled her into his lap, planting his feet firmly in place before snaking his arms around her torso and pulling her tight. God, he couldn’t believe he could do that now; feel her body expand with her breaths, her hair lightly brush the tip of his nose, her fingertips nervously tapping against his hands holding her in place, safe.

He got the sense she didn’t feel that way though. As soon as they started lifting from Russian soil (once and for all, thank God… or realistically, thank Joyce), she was tense in his hold. When he reached up to palm beneath her coat over her chest, he felt her heartbeat at intense speeds. He couldn’t imagine she liked flying anymore- Not after what happened, and it was impossible not to find it entirely his fault.

A fucking plane crash. She crashed a whole plane just for him.

Joyce obviously noticed he was worrying and gently took his hand away from her chest. She closed their fingers over one another’s and brought his knuckles to her lips, peppering soft kisses across his skin.

“I’m okay.” He felt her whisper against his hand. The way she proceeded to crush the hell out of his hand bones through liftoff told him otherwise, but he didn’t complain. He couldn’t blame her, either. Yuri’s beloved Katinka was being tossed around like a nothing-scrap of paper in the wind. Every time it felt like they were hurdling down the hill of a rollercoaster, he squeezed her closer to him planting kisses against her temple, sometimes just lingering there with lips against her soft pulse.

“I’m scared too, Jim. What about me?” Murray's voice squeaked from what sounded like miles away in the violent drone of the copter. Hopper retracted from Joyce enough to narrow his eyes at his smart-ass friend (to whom he actually owed quite a lot), but it was hard to be irritated when, 1. Murray actually did look terrified, and 2. He managed to get a genuine laugh out of Joyce despite her current white-knuckled fear.

“Derzhi svoyu zhenshchinu!” Hopper could barely make out what Dmitri shouted back at them, but it didn’t sound promising.

“Hold onto her,” Murray translated loudly over the beating whir of the copter blades. Hopper could feel Joyce’s breath catch in her body as he made sure his boots had traction on the floor, one hand reaching over to grip a metal bar adorning the helicopter’s walls. He used his other arm as a seatbelt diagonally across her chest just as the helicopter was tossed to the side with abandon.

“Mm…” He barely heard Joyce’s whimper reverberate through her body as he strongly gripped her in place. Once again, he snaked his hand beneath her jacket, going even further to go under the collar of her tee to feel right above her heart that was ricocheting against her chest. Hopper nuzzled against the shell of her ear and took a deliberately deep breath against her skin. He felt goosebumps erupt across her skin.

“Breathe, Joyce.” He hummed right up against her ear. He breathed in deep again, this time feeling her body expand with his. With his hand warm against her chest, she followed his lead with a slow exhale. The helicopter “fell” again, tumbling through the abyss before suddenly catching a wind again, sending them soaring upwards all over again. “I’ve got you,” Hop repeatedly whispered against her, unwavering. “I promise.” He did it over and over until he felt the beat in her chest slow.

The skies eventually calmed again, still leaving them shamelessly wrapped up in one another. Every time he exhaled, he felt her hair brush against his face. He liked feeling her goosebumps rise when he planted soft kisses behind her ear. If he didn’t pull himself out of his Joyce-trance soon, she was going to notice. Although, Hopper wasn’t all too convinced that she wasn’t feeling the exact same heat right now. Her chest was rising and falling with dramatic breaths, but not the same as when the helicopter started tossing. They were deliberate breaths that event turned into a soft gasp when he breathed hot air right in her ear. She shifted on top of him and fuck there was just no way she didn’t know exactly what she was doing to him. To prove it further, she let her head fall back to rest against his forehead, his name gracing her lips.

“Hop,” she whispered, just loud enough for him. He twitched in his pants and there was no way she didn’t notice, but he figured they were past that now. Ever since they kissed- finally kissed- there was a heat hanging heavy in the air between them. As if there wasn’t always already.

For now, though, all he whispered back was, “Soon,”

Chapter Text

As soon as they came to a bone-rattling land, he felt a sickening dread boil in his stomach. Even ( finally) on American soil, Hopper couldn’t help but think of every single awful scenario that could still play out. His mind kept running over the memory of making the mistake of thinking he was safe back in that fucking church, just to have every ounce of hope stomped out of him… literally. And everything was different now: so much more gut-wrenchingly terrifying with her here.

Hopper stepped out the copter, his hand never leaving Joyce’s tiny, freezing one. He found his footing on the icy floor, sliding his arms around her to tether himself both physically and mentally. He gave Joyce’s tiny, bundled frame a soft squeeze as she released a shaky breath. 

“Thank God,” She muttered, giving a last glance at the death trap that somehow managed to get them across the Atlantic. Jim pressed a kiss into her hair, feeling some of the tension in her muscles melt away within his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Murray turn and make a face. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a snarky comment. 

There’s nothing like a quiet Murray to tell you that what you just went through was bad.

It's ok. You're safe. She’s safe. She saved you. Joyce saved you. 

And bless her, she was already frowning up at him, big eyes searching his face for clues into his head. He felt his tight features relax into a small smile, her expression following. Without a word, he rubbed his hand up and down her back telling her,

I’m okay. 

But Yuri’s warehouse didn’t offer an ounce of the comfort Hopper had hoped for, the cold unforgiving interior barely separated from the frozen wasteland on all sides. He started to wonder if it would have mattered if it had been a fucking beach house in the Bahamas; would this fear in his chest ever go away, or was it just this permanent leech?

“Home sweet home, yes?” Yuri chirped happily as if he didn’t just nearly get them all killed. The garage door creaked open to a large, clearly lived-in hangar- a visual representation of the madness that was this asshole.

“Don’t drink the coffee.” Joyce muttered flatly, drawing Hoppers eyes to the remnants of a cup and coffee pot scattered across the cement floor. He felt his face get hot, his jaw setting painfully. With the vision of Joyce getting drugged and kidnapped burned into his mind, steely, cold eyes turned up towards Yuri. The man shrunk away as if Hopper had shone a light in his eyes. 

“Heh… You know, a wise man once said a ship doesn't sail with yesterday’s wind.” 

“I don’t LIKE YOU.” Murray plainly burst out in his face.

Joyce slipped out of his grasp and he felt his heart skip nervously at the lack of contact. He resisted the pressing urge to snap out, grab her wrist, and tug her back into him again. Instead, he watches her pointedly make her way across the large space while Yuri continued to “perform” for them, likely trying to cut through the tension of the tables being turned. He was standing in a room alone on US territory, with four people he really fucked over.

Part of Hopper certainly wanted to kill him on the spot. The fucker tried to turn Joyce in- tried to subject her to the same, most likely worse , treatment than Hopper ever experienced. They would’ve fucking killed her. Yuri almost killed her. 

… Why is he still standing again?

Hopper took a deliberate breath, unclenching the fists he didn’t realize were tightening. He couldn’t just snap his neck standing there defenseless… well, he couldn’t snap his neck standing there defenseless in front of Joyce . He was trying to be better, if not for him then for her. For El. For the sake of not letting that hellhole get the best of him and turn him into an equal and opposite monster.

Besides, this fight wasn’t over and despite what Yuri said, they weren’t home yet. They may still need his help to get back to sub-Canada U.S.A.

Maybe then I’ll feel safe. 

He doubted it.

“Please, make yourselves comfy-cozy in Yuri’s place.” He gestured around at all the “grandeur”, slowly taking steps back towards the metal staircase on the wall. “Yuri will go and find some-”

He turned to take the first step up the stairs towards what looked like some kind of loft, but he came face ot face with Joyce who had situated herself firmly at the base. Yuri came to an abrupt halt, sanctioned off from going any further with the way she firmly gripped either side of the rails. 

Of course, could Yuri realistically physically move her? 

Yeah. Most people could. 

Hopper wasn’t worried though. He knew Yuri’s type. He was just another coward that would happily flip a switch from a control room but didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger in the field; another reason Hopper found it hard to give into his primal urge to end the son of a bitch right here and now. 

“Ohhhh, why such sour face?” Yuri cooed at her in way that make Hopper nearly growl. Joyce held her own though, glaring up at him with narrowing eyes.

“You’re not touching that money.” 

Shit. He had completely forgotten to be honest. Clearly, not Joyce. She never let a thing slip through the cracks. 

Hopper was caught in a paradoxical position; he felt his skin start to prickle at the sight of Yuri cocking his head condescendingly down at his… Girlfriend? God, what a weird-ass way to understate things, he couldn’t possibly be thinking of something as ridiculous and admittedly nerve-wracking as labels right now.

The other part of him swelled at the sight of Joyce braced on the staircase, determined crease between two eyebrows knitted together. Her giant, dark eyes were staring up in a way that dared Yuri to try taking another step forward. Hopper knew damn well that she had no plan if Yuri were to charge her, but that sure as hell didn’t affect her poker face. 

And god dammit, just the pure force of Joyce Byers’s 100-foot resilience in a 5-foot body was enough to keep Yuri planted nice and firm just where he was. People could be quick to patronize her, Hopper fully aware that he too was a culprit (but it’s just so hard when she’s always so cute and angry). But deep down Jim never forgot how she could move mountains. Even now, he was seeing right before his eyes.

“Mm… So… You think you can get out of here without me, hmm? Do your big “American secret government” friends know where Yuri’s warehouse is?” 

Hopper and Murray watched, admittedly rather dumbly, the interaction between the unlikely pair. Truth be told, it seemed like Joyce had it handled. Still, Yuri brought up a rather decent point. 

“No! I didn’t think so. Do you know how to get out of here? How not to die in frozen A-byss?”

Joyces eyes flicker to Hopper briefly. He’s sure he’s unreadable as he doesn’t have even a lick of a plan. 

“What if Yuri was to pick up phone? Hit ring? Call… past dialed number?” 

“Hey, you’re fucked too, múdak. Can’t imagine the motherland likes treason.” Murray sounded exhausted and over the whole situation. 

“Pochemu by mne prosto ne ubit' tebya?” Dmitri cut over him in a fury, the first things he’s said in a while. 

Ubit’ tebya… some kind of threat, Hopper barely caught. 

“Kill me, then. Good luck getting to town, many, many miles away.” Yuri’s mustache bristled with a smug smile. Hopper tried sedating the part of him that wanted to punch his teeth out, and closed his eyes, thinking of El. 

Soon, soon, soon… 

“Half.” Hopper’s voice surprised even him, but clearly not as much as Joyce. Her angry eyes locked on him instead as he took a tired breath. His ankle was throbbing into a new and steady pain, his ribs ached with every inhale, and he just wanted to curl up on Joyce and get a semi-decent night’s rest. “Half of the original cut, which, all things considered, is really fucking generous.”

Yuri whipped around to give a face warped in thought.

“ Hopper! ”

Uh-oh. He did foresee this being an obstacle. Joyce’s eyes were wild- so different from how exhausted she looked just a second ago. He forgot how vulnerable he felt when she was mad at him. 

“Yuri accepts.” 

Joyce huffed and shoved past Yuri, sending him stumbling backwards. Within a second, she had crossed the room and closed a small hand firmly around Hopper’s wrist, tugging much harder than he was ready for. 

His dick twitched in his pants. 

Jesus, Jim. He berated himself as she dragged him into a small, adjoining room that took Hopper a while to realize was a bathroom. There was a desk full of papers, magazines, and clutter overflowing onto the floors- enough to nearly hide the dinky toilet in the corner. 

If Hopper lived out here like this maybe he’d go crazy with Yuri too. 

“What are you doing?” She didn’t waste time, arms crossing over her puff jacket. He tried not to show his amusement at the sight before him now. Fucking adorable. 

And somehow also fucking irritating?

“Getting us out of here.” 

“Hopper, he almost killed us all.” 

Through a deep breath and fighting an eye roll, Hop blinked slowly down at her. 

“I understand that, Joyce.” 

“Then why would you even give him the time of day?” He could tell she was just getting more frustrated that he was so calm, not rising to meet her energy. 

“We’ve got two options. Keep him happy enough to never have to see the bastard again, or waste him on the spot. Are you telling me you want the ladder?”

She scoffed and cast her gaze aside. 

“You’re so dramatic with your two options .” She shot back and he actually did roll his eyes this time. Man, it was like he never left. Despite the fact that he didn’t want to be arguing with Joyce right now, he kind of appreciated the feeling. 

“I’m serious, Joyce. You want that on your conscience? ‘Cause I’ll do it right here, no problem.” She huffed an angry breath out of her nose, letting her arms flop to her sides in frustration. She was always expressive, but especially when she was mad. Hopper didn’t know whether or not to push down the contrasting feelings of adoration bubbling in his chest. He had missed her signature pout and the way her entire, little body went rigid with fury. 

“He’s got tons of weird… snow thingies we could just take-” 

“Uh-huh, tell me this. How do you operate a ‘snow thingie’ when you don’t even know what the hell it’s called?” She was starting to break through his facade, frustrating him ever so slightly. He just wanted to go home for fuck’s sake, no matter what it took. “Joyce you’re not thinking straight. You’re just angry.” 

“ YEAH. And for some God forsaken reason, you aren’t for, like, once in your whole life. Nice timing, by the way.” 

He threw his head back in frustration, trying to maintain his composure. “ No, because I’m just tired and want to go home . And I don’t want loose ends coming back to bite us later.”

“Hopper, he’s not getting any of that money.” She finalized with just the slightest stomp of her foot. The fact that she thought she could even have a final say pissed him off.

“Then you kill him!” He offered loudly.

“ Hopper! ” She hissed.

“I’m just trying to get you home safe! I need you to be safe.” Now he was just desperate for her to understand, to stop fighting him. 

“No, this was not you making me safe. This whole fucking thing was me keeping you safe! This is my thing. ”

“Yeah, well… You’re making me say it, but,” 

Her nose scrunched and eyes flared as if to say, I dare you . 

“, it is my money Joyce.” 

“ El’s!” She countered, rising on her tiptoes with emphatic frustration as if all that fury was nearly bursting from her tiny frame.

He could pick her up so easily. 

Pull her onto his lap. 

Feel that rage reverberating through her, kiss her, calm her. 

Stop it, Jim. 

“That is my point, is that you’re just giving away-”

“Joyce,” 

“You can’t just come in after 8 months-” 

“ Oh!? Like I’ve just been some deadbeat Dad for a year?” He surprised even himself, a cord inside him struck hard. They were shouting now, no doubt clearly heard throughout the warehouse. “That’s great, Joyce. I’m not-” 

“DON’T fucking go there.” She stopped him cold, Lonnie’s name still hanging sour on his tongue. “You know that’s not- Fuck, Hop. I’m not watching you hand over half of El’s college fund to the man who almost killed half our family! She’s my daughter too now!” 

He didn’t know what happened, he really didn’t. It took a while to register, and by then, Hopper had her on the desk and was pushed between her legs, stooped down to hold her face on either side, capturing her lips with his. He swallowed the sound of her surprised, little yelp, half expecting her to push him away and continue yelling at him right where she left off. 

Joyce didn’t do that though. She arched her back, pushing her breasts flush against his chest and her center towards his straining crotch. Wrapping a possessive arm around his neck, the other around his waist beneath his jacket, she yanked him closer making him grunt. He felt pain shoot through his ribs, but let it melt under her touch. 

“God, you’re so difficult .” He breathed against her mouth, melting at the way she nipped at his bottom lip. 

“Shhh,” She ordered against his jaw, grazing her teeth against his stubble jawline before sucking the skin right above his pulse. He felt his breath leave his body, terrified at how powerless he was when it came to her.

Fuck , no one’s touched him like this in lifetimes and the fact that it as Joyce Byers (who he was 110% sure was the love of his life), and after she went off on him? For someone worried about the “functionality” down there after the past 8 hellish months, Jim knew instantly he wasn’t going to last long. The feeling of her lips leaving hot-to-chilled kisses across his abused body was enough to send him spiraling, so he couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be inside her. 

The mental imagery of feeling his sensitive length sliding through her tight warmth sent a jolt of pleasure straight between his legs. Hopper growled and gripped her hips, tugging her sharply against his painfully tight bulge and reeling at the way she rutted against him in response. The friction was the single best thing he’s felt in his life, waves of pleasure making his body tremble in want.

“ Hop,” She whimpered, almost like she was begging. He sighed at the sound; Fuck, if this was how things were going to be, he was in trouble.

He thought about all those stolen glances that had him frozen like an idiot. Just watching the way her eyes shyly flitted to the floor when he complimented her; the way her eyebrows would raise and  irises would light up when he surprised her at work. He remembered the first time he realized he was falling madly in love with her (again). In a rare moment of calm after one of Will’s appointments with Owen’s, he said something that made her laugh harder than he’s seen her laugh in a long time. Overtaken by giggles, her forehead fell against his shoulder as they sat side by side, shared cigarette held lazily between her fingers. 

He swore his heart nearly exploded at that moment. 

Ever since then, he’s been thinking about this exact moment nonstop. He only had to go through 8-months of Russian torture to get here. 

On that thought, he swooped her up against him, turning them both to pin her against the opposite wall. He grinded into her like he’s been desperately trying to avoid thinking about for the past four hours… hell, for the past four years . 

She was mewling in his mouth through rough kisses when he used his good arm to reach between their bodies, feeling up to her breasts and palming her over the stupid Hulk Hogan shirt. Theory proved: Joyce can make absolutely anything look hot. He pinched through the fabric of her t-shirt and bra, relishing in the way that he , and only he, made her yelp in pleasure. Her head fell back against the wall giving him full access to her neck to which he took full advantage. 

Attacking her throat and enjoying the gasps she produced, Hopper moved his hand from her breast down to the button of her oversized jeans. He hardly struggled for three seconds before Joyce hastily knocked his hand away, doing it herself in a fraction of the time. He smirked against their skin, softly sinking his teeth into her neck before slipping his hand below her waistband. 

He was dreaming. This was a dream. Even if it were, he sure as hell was going to finish it.

When she says she’s never wanted anyone more, she’s NEVER wanted ANYONE more. It was almost frightening how out of control she felt- how desperate she was to feel him in every way she could. Not to mention, emotions were running at an all time high which was quite the statement for her.

The tense push and pull of their relationship in the past snapping like a rubber band. Surreal disbelief that they were standing in front of each other again. Fear and adrenaline pumping through their veins from the chaos of the past few hours. Anger with one another… why were they angry again?

All of it exploded in deep, sickeningly sweet jolts of pleasure when he finally rubbed his hand against the sodden material of her panties. His fingertips made tight circles over her clit making her gasp and squirm, trapped between Hop and the wall. 

“ Yes, ” She felt the word breathed through her lips like an out-of-body experience; how’d that get there? 

“Joyce…” Hopper pressed his lips to her ear, the word muttered more in warning than anything. She moaned, besides herself at the way he moved his hand trapped between their bodies, stroking her intoxicating need for him. “You need to know I’d do anything to protect you,” Hot air brushed the shell of her ear as he spoke, sending delightful shivers down her spine but bringing her back to their argument. 

Annoying. 

“And El. And the boys.”

His hand ceased as his forehead fell against hers, searching her eyes for confirmation. She rolled them instead. 

“I know ,” she practically whined, trying to rock herself back into his hand. He grunted, unsatisfied but letting her have her way. He doubled his efforts with his hand stuffed beneath her jeans, rubbing her clit until she was a whimpering, trembling mess in his arms. Her face started to get hot, her body tensing. She wasn’t going to last.

“I’m serious, Joyce.” He reminded her warningly, giving light kisses to her temple and cheek while she was lost in pleasure. When he bit her earlobe lightly and breathed hot air into her ear, her back arched off the wall. 

“Ugh… Jesus, just fuck me.” 

He let out a breath of amused disbelief at the sound of Joyce ordering him to fuck her. 

Half-limping to the desk (she wondered what that was all about), Hopper hastily shoved miscellaneous clutter to the ground and laid her down. As soon as her back hit the table, he was on her, yanking her to line up with the edge of the desk. His erection pressed into her center, her clit begging for more. Joyce stared up at him through heavy, lustful, dark orbs as she writhed beneath him, needing more of him and less of their clothes. 

He groaned at her rocking herself into him and she could feel it rumble through his chest that was pressed flush to hers. In fact, she could feel everything . From every flex or every muscle to every breath against her skin; his erection that even through jeans, left nothing to the imagination. Just all… Hopper , with their infinite history just caking on top of their recent brutal separation. 

This meant everything.

Something small and thankfully light suddenly hit Hopper in the side of the head and they both jumped, Jim much more profoundly. She watched his eyes change in less than a fraction of a second; his grip on her tightened to an almost painful amount which she might’ve actually turned her on if they hadn’t been so startled. 

“Hey! You two!”

Murray. 

“When I said you needed to fuck it out, I didn’t mean when I’m alone with two sketchy Russians in the Alaskan wilderness! Keep it the hell together here!”

They were both shocked into silence, frozen in place wrapped up in one another over the desk. As Murray stomped away to let them compose themselves, it was Hopper who gave a short snort of amusement first. He let his body go slack over Joyce, a comfortingly heavy presence all around her. breathing heavily into one another. She felt his heart trying to beat out of his chest and realized hers was doing the same. 

He turned to meet her eyes that looked equally amused and embarrassed as he felt. Getting caught by Murray humping like wild animals truly wasn’t what she was expecting when she dragged Hop away.

“Oops,” She muttered against his lips, so close they just ever so slightly brushed against one another when she spoke. He bumped her nose with his before lowering a feather-light kiss on her lips.

“Couple minutes later would’ve been worse.” Hopper offered. She wanted to ask what exactly he meant by that, but instead chuckled and shook her head. Words were lost on her lips to the blue orbs staring lovingly down at her. That soft smile he had reserved just for her made her feel like she had finally been thawed after 8 months of freeze.

Holy crap, how she’s missed him. 

“25 percent.”

He ruined it. 

 “And the promise I don’t put a .44 in his skull for hurting you.” He kissed her forehead next, then her nose, settling back on her lips. Just the mention of Yuri was enough to completely snuff out the moment.

“Mm…” She hummed, unconvinced. “You know you can’t attack me like that and just expect to get what you want after.” 

“Hey, that’s my compromise!” He defended, shaking his head at her in amused disbelief. “And I sure as hell am going to at least try if you let me .” Hopper mused, bending down to kiss up and down her neck in quick nips. Joyce giggled and tried to push him away from where he tickled her skin. 

“Okay, okay. C’mon. Murray’s gonna kill us.” It killed her to end their overdue outburst right when it was getting so intoxicatingly good, but she told herself it’d make it all worth it later. He’d make it all worth it later. She didn’t doubt it the way he had her up against the wall a second ago; the way he was touching her. Joyce felt herself throbbing at the thought.

“After all that work to keep us alive?” Hopper challenged, moving down to lift the hem of her shirt and plant soft kisses over her stomach before he fastened her jean clasp closed. Joyce used all her willpower not to undo it again, shoving his hand back where she wanted it.

“We owe him.” Joyce realized the weight of that understatement and accepted Hopper’s hand to help her sit up. Once she hopped down to the floor, he began gently running his fingers through her tousled hair in attempts to erase evidence of their “activities”. She swallowed and watched him explore her face with his eyes, as if he was still trying to gather evidence that she was really there.

She knew how he felt. 

Recollections of what they just had to go through to get here flooded in. She felt her throat start to close and he noticed instantly, using a hand at the back of her neck to pull her into his chest. Joyce didn’t think she’d ever quite get used to the weight of his hugs. It was like she had this constant knot of worry in her chest- she’s always been like that since she was a kid. Having Hopper hold her unwound it instantly every time. His arms around her made her forget what pain even felt like. 

“Will we ever get a second alone?” She mumbled miserably into his chest. He chuckled before kissing the top of her head. 

“Soon,” he promised again. 

Joyce and Hopper found themselves awkwardly standing side-by-side before the others, unable to fool anyone about how they’d gone from arguing loudly to suspiciously quiet. 

“25%.” Hopper came with their new compromised offer. 

Yuri didn’t like that, but Joyce could’ve guessed as much. Hopper was right though- she was just mad. There was plenty left for El, but the motherfucking audacity . 

But Hopper didn’t seem to have the patience to wait around for Yuri to accept, especially not when he muttered something, shooting eye-daggers at Joyce.

“[something, something in Russian], little bird,” And Hopper did not like that one bit. In a flash that made Joyce gasp and flinch away, Hop had Yuri on the ground. In a flash, he reached over and grabbed a pipe from a pile of rubble, slamming it down on Yuri’s hand. 

A CRACK resonated loudly along with Joyce’s involuntary shriek of surprise. The entire room cringed at Yuri’s scream. 

“Played the wrong hand, pal. You don’t know how lucky you are to survive another day. Give it up.” 

“Okay, okay, okay. Yuri accepts.” 

The ride in what Joyce discovered was a “snowcat” was quiet. Hopper insisted on sitting shotgun to keep an eye on Yuri who steered with his only good hand. Joyce was squished between the door and Murray in the backseat. She didn’t like the lack of physical contact with Hopper- she still was having a hard time believing he was really here and didn’t want him to magically fade away. 

But from here, she could watch him stew in his thoughts. She felt her heart flutter every time he blinked, not sure if it was because she was just so happy he was alive or just so fucking horny . Part of her felt terrible for jumping straight to that after what he’s been through, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from traveling along his jaw, watching it set and relax along with his thoughts. 

She wanted to kiss him. Feel him. Just be with him for five goddamn seconds without worrying about demogorgans or Russians or fucking Murray. 

Speaking of which, her Starsky nudged her. 

“Your carnal thoughts are deafening.” 

Shocked at him calling her out for her private, and embarrassing musings about Hopper, she elbowed him sharper than intended, knocking him into Dmitri on the other side.

“Hey,” The man (who she didn’t quite trust yet) muttered, shoving Murray back towards Joyce who knocked him out of her space with the briefcase of money that sat safely on her lap. The snowcat jostled with their efforts and Hopper spun around, fear dissolving from his face when he realized they were just being children. 

“Knock it off back there.” He scolded. 

“It was Joyce.” 

“ Don’t .” She shot at Murray who narrowed his eyes on her. 

“Keep your thoughts to yourself.” 

“I was ,” 

“Just radiating desperation,” he muttered under his breath, settling his head back and closing his eyes as if there was any way he was getting sleep in this thing. She scowled at the small smirk on Murray’s face, connecting eyes with Hopper briefly before quickly gazing outside. Even after what they had just done back in the warehouse, he still could make her feel nervous as a lovestruck teenager.

After Yuri drove them to the nearest train station and got his diminished cut, they’d never see him again. Joyce was fine with that. 

For the first time since this whole fiasco of a plan started, they were back in public and drawing in some strange stares from their current appearance. Hopper slid back into his place right by her side, some of the fear that had reemerged in her chest, subsiding. She glanced up at him as he gently took the case from her, giving a light kiss on her forehead. 

They were arguing again within the next few minutes.

“Please, my God Hopper. You’re hardly standing!”

“You seemed to think I was fine a second ago at the warehouse.” He pointed out, receiving a harsh glare.

“And your arm can get infected!”

“You’ll take care of me.” He shrugged simply, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes and admiring her. 

“I’m not a doctor , Hop. We need to go to the hospital.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“ YES.” 

“Joyce…” She watched his resolve start to falter again. Part of her wondered if he’d grab her again, hoist her up against the train departure board in the middle of the station. 

Instead, he just looked tired in a way that broke her heart. He turned his gaze upwards as if searching the air for words. “I just want to lay down, be alone,”

He let his shoulder slump as he swung a shy and pleading glance her way. “, with you.” 

How was she supposed to say no to that?

She felt the smile creep up on her face without her permission, but pushed it down back to a worried scowl. Of course he noticed, taking his cue and prodding her further.

“C’moooooooon, please?” He pushed with a cocky smirk, pulling her into him, their waists coming flush together as he wrapped his arms around her lower back, allowing them to still lean back and connect eyes. He already knew he was winning.

Bastard. 

They found themselves on a passenger train to a nearby town instead, getting confirmation of a small but suitable motel for the night. One train car was just enough space for the four of them to hide from prying eyes. Hopper sat down, sliding over for Joyce, but she jumped in the seat across from him instead. His eyebrow arched ever so slightly and she gave him a reassuring smile, bumping their knees together. 

She just wanted to look at him. 

He seemed to understand, leaning to rest his forearms on his knees to be closer to her. She did the same, their eyes doing the talking for now.

The train started to gain momentum, taking them through the admittedly beautiful Alaskan countryside. She wasn't so concerned with that though- her eyes never left him. They studied each other as if they had to; as if they wouldn’t have much time to commit everything back to memory; like they’d be pulled away again and all of this would be deemed too good to be true. 

The sudden intrusive thought scared her- really scared her. She must’ve showed it, because Hopper reached forward enough to run his fingertips over her jean-clad knee. He was so gentle the way he traced circles on her, his eyes begging for her to let him in. 

She felt herself relax a bit. She just wouldn’t let themselves be separated, Joyce decided. Hell, the way he looked at her, she was positive that he wouldn’t either. 

Relaxing again, she bumped her fingertips against his until their hands were eventually just clasped on her lap. He seemed comforted by the small smile she offered him, breaking into his own. Joyce swore she could recount every single time he’s ever smiled down at her like that. 

 She didn’t know how long they had been softly staring at one another before Murray piped in. 

“God, this is more grotesque than just watching you guys fuck.” 

Hopper and Joyce broke from their bubble fast and irritated. Hopper sighed, the both of them immediately falling back into their seats and shooting Murray a glare. He was already chuckling to himself and turning over to fall asleep against the window like Dmitri, giving them some privacy. 

Hopper huffed a chuckle himself and shook his head at Joyce. She gave him an apologetic smile, leaning back over to resume where they left off. This time, he shifted to the very edge of his seat to be able to drop his forehead against hers, their noses nudging each other. 

Soon, She heard his voice in her head, a promise. 

Soon couldn’t come soon enough. 

Chapter Text

Witnessing Hopper crumble at everyday conveniences was intensely bittersweet. It broke her heart to think of what kind of abuse would make someone nearly fall apart at a shitty hotel lobby sofa. He sunk into the faded green, pseudo-felt cushions with a hand reaching out after Joyce, but she skirted him towards the front desk. His eyes lit up when she returned with a few biscuit-type cookies left out for guests. They were small and probably dumped out from a bag, but it wasn’t… What did he say? 

Moldy bread and maggots. 

Jesus. 

“Fuckin’ angel,” he said, voice saturated with gratitude.  

It made her flush, astounding her that he could still make her nervous after everything they’d been through. There wasn’t another person alive who knew her better than this man, and she still felt her stomach toss and her face go prickly when he looked at her. She reminded herself that despite the overbearing knowledge of the horrors it took to get here, she and Hopper hadn’t ever been… an item yet. Take away the whole being-separated-for-eight-months thing, and it’s still so new . 

She handed him the cookies before falling into place beside him, her body thanking her for once again resting. 

“Mm…” Hopper moaned beside her, mouth full. His body slumped into her, his head falling on her shoulder as he closed his eyes in relief like it was the best thing he’s ever tasted. She kissed his forehead as her throat tightened and tears crept up. 

Keep it together. She scolded herself. If anyone deserved to have a full meltdown, it was Hopper. And somehow, he was managing to hum happily with his stale cookies, curled into her side. She wondered how he was doing underneath all that though. She wondered if he even knew how he was doing. 

“No,” She pushed away his hand, offering her half of the biscuits. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“My stomach isn’t the same. And when was the last time you ate?” 

She wouldn’t tell him it was almost two days ago. 

“Look, I’ve waited eight months for something substantial. I don’t think another hour ‘til we find food will make much a difference. Hence, you’re ridiculous.” He stubbornly insisted, placing the last cookie in her hand. She narrowed her eyes at him, taking a pointed bite. He smiled softly.

“Satisfied?” She asked, finishing the butter cookie. 

“Never.”

She snorted and he kissed her forehead. 

“Hey!” Murray called across the empty lobby. They turned to see where he was checking in with the concierge. “You aren’t gonna like this,” 

Joyce closed her eyes, feeling exhaustion heavier by the second. 

Now what? 

The four of them stood in a small, musty room with two queen beds- the last available room in the entirety of the tiny town. 

“Fuck,” Joyce couldn’t help but breathe under her breath, earning a small nudge from Hopper. So much for fucking their feelings out. 

“Someday,” He sighed next to her. 

Someday!?

She didn’t know if having Dmitri and Murray close-quartered made her schoolgirl nerves better or worse. She was acutely aware of Murray looking for any reason to tease them, of Dmitri’s suspicious presence, of Hop’s inner battle with his trauma. All of it concocted an admittedly tense situation- one that no one really knew how to navigate in their current exhaustion. Joyce had bet on having alone time to reconvene with Jim, but now…

“How much shower time you bargain we each get? 2 minutes?” Murray joked bitterly at the dinky, yellow-tiled bathroom. In actuality, they all agreed to let Hopper take as much time as he needed first, and although Joyce anguished to be near him every second, she didn’t want to smother him. 

“I’ll go with Murray to get some bandages and stuff, yeah?” 

Hopper nodded, his expression tight but unreadable. Her chest tightened. 

“You okay?” 

Another nod. Something was different, or maybe the adrenaline was just wearing off. She felt it too. In the stillness of the aftermath, they had to start facing whatever mental ruin was left behind. 

Hopper remembered the first time he started realizing his weight loss. It must’ve been a couple weeks after arriving at Kamchatka when even just his wrist was looking different- thinner, weaker. From there, it was another couple months before his clothes hung around him like drapery. He doubted anyone would’ve cared if it hadn’t started hindering his ability to work, but it was hard to wield an ax when you were swimming in fabric. The guards downsized his jumpsuit twice since he had been there. 

Now, he was finally able to get a good assessment of the full damage. His self-deprecating joke to Joyce wasn’t really a joke at all- before his so-called “death”, he had filled the hole of his drug habit with that of stress eating. Never would he have wanted to tip this far on the other end of the spectrum, however. Even in the dull flicker of the motel bathroom, Hopper saw the weathering in his face and the gauntness of his stare. He’d never failed to recognize himself to this extent before and it scared him to think that this version of him had to somehow fit back into the life he left at home. 

What if he couldn’t? 

He wondered what Joyce saw when she looked at him; wondered how jarring his appearance was. If it had been jarring, she didn’t show it. He hoped he could keep that first view he had of her- the way her face crumpled immediately when her deep brown pools met blue for the first time in ages. 

She looked at him as if she loved him. Hopper lightly scoffed to himself. As if he’d be so lucky. But with a pang in his chest, he remembered what Dmitri sarcastically uttered days ago. 

“Of course. She saves your life because of friendship.” 

Another quote crept in, one of his own, icing the warmth in his chest. 

“Everyone I love, I hurt.”

He had a hard time forcing the thought from his head. It was only hours ago that Hopper was sure Joyce was gone forever. He couldn’t even allow his brain to think of exactly what that meant- exactly what horrors he had subjected her to. Just the implication alone had Hopper silently begging for a violent demogorgon death. 

That kind of pain and guilt doesn't just disappear instantly. Jim wasn’t sure that he didn’t still completely believe that statement. That horrible “what if” swirled in his head and settled into his gut like a rock. 

What if this was a mistake? What if I was meant to die there? What if I’m a fool for letting myself feel safe? To feel good? 

Dread bubbled in his chest and his heart raced to catch up. The last time he had a silent moment to feel secure, he was nearly beaten to death. The last time he felt like he had finally won, he lost Joyce. 

You thought you lost Joyce. She’s okay. You’re okay. The kids are going to be okay. 

What if they never stopped searching for him? What if he’d lead them right to El? To Joyce? To the boys? What if Joyce never came back from this shopping trip? What if that was the last time he’d ever see her? That reality felt far more believable than the one where he got to be happy. If experience taught Hopper anything, it was that if something seemed too good to be true, it was. 

The room wasn’t spinning before, was it? He felt his lungs shrinking- like he was trapped under that fucking mask again, the corporeal Earth fading and leaving him grasping at darkness.

He had to get the fuck out of this bathroom. He didn’t know where or what he needed from there, but all Hopper knew was that the walls were starting to suffocate him.

Dmitri made his way past Joyce towards the motel hallway. He said something about having friends he needed to call in the lower states, but Joyce wasn’t in a place to believe anything from him. Currently, the only other Russian involved in this whole charade almost killed them all, so she wasn’t in a hurry to make friends with this pseudo-Enzo guy.

“Would you like to accompany me? Say hello?” Dmitri called out when he was halfway to the lobby, swinging a glance back at Joyce who had stared him down the whole way. How’d he know? 

She narrowed her eyes and he chuckled, gesturing towards the motel entrance. He was teasing her suspicions, but the offer made her realize that it may not be a bad idea. No doubt he was fucked when it came to the KGB, just like them, but it still sat weird with Joyce to leave Hopper here with him.

Shooting Dmitri a sarcastic smile, she turned to Murray in a low voice. 

“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” 

She was about to follow the ex-guard to the motel lobby when a hand closed around her wrist. Joyce spun to find Hopper, rigid in his stance but wild in his eyes. He looked terrified . 

“I- I don’t think I-” He glanced behind Joyce into the hallway, eyes glazed over. He was scaring her too. 

“Hey. Hey, Hop?” 

He swallowed thickly and returned his attention to her, 

“I don’t think I can be alone yet,” He admitted, turning his gaze from her like he was ashamed to say so. A sickening pain spread through her chest and she rushed to put a hand on the side of his face. To be honest, she was relieved. 

“Okay, hey…” She frowned up at him, searching the panic in his eyes. “Go sit down.” 

“I can come to the store with-” 

“No, Hop. Sit.” 

He paused and looked at her with hazy blue, apologetic eyes before resigning to the edge of the bed. Joyce opened the desk, swearing under her breath when the drawer caught. Scrawling medical supplies, toiletries, and a few miscellaneous items onto a piece of paper, she ran after Murray into the hall. 

“Are you willing to do me one last favor?” 

“You staying here?” Murray asked, first out of curiosity but then with a sly little smirk attached. “With him?” 

“Not a word.” She responded flatly, handing him her list. He snorted and turned on his heel, heading towards the door. Joyce felt herself soften, running forward before he could make it out the motel. Murray let out a surprised grunt when she flung her arms around him from behind and brought him to a halt. They stood there frozen in the hotel lobby for a moment and Joyce realized this was the first time she actually believed they had made it.

“Thank you,” She whispered against the back of his charred coat, finally feeling his shocked frame shift to pat her arms awkwardly. “See?” He said as she released him, allowing Murray to shoot a glance back on his way out. “I told you he was alive.” 

Joyce felt a smile spread on her face, sparing him the eye roll. “Be careful, okay?” 

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

When Joyce got back, Hopper didn’t even stir enough to look at her. He sat stooped on the edge of the furthest bed, body rigid and head hung. He was staring at the floor but wasn’t seeing; rather thinking, and she was dying to know what of. His whole demeanor had shifted, even the room seeming darker than before. 

She ever-so-lightly slid her fingertips down the side of his face, scared she may startle him. Hopper let his eyes drift close, leaning into her touch. She wanted to ask if he was okay again but felt like it may have been the dumbest question ever. So, they stayed silent. 

Joyce leaned down to press a kiss to his temple before retreating to the bathroom, flipping on the switch and bathing the small, tiled space in a flickering yellow light. Keeping an eye on Hopper through the mirror, she grabbed the tin for ice and filled it with warm, soapy water instead. 

When she returned with handfuls of washcloths, he hadn’t moved an inch. She saw the exhaustion in every breath he took, his body sometimes flinching with the simple effort. He had never looked so small, and not just because they had starved him. Hopper was usually her fortress. When he was gone, she hadn’t realized the day-to-day impact that his immovable presence, (both physically and emotionally) had on her. Like the most cliche tragedy ever told, she didn’t realize what she’d had until she lost him. She didn’t feel like she deserved a second chance, and yet here he was. The yellow Hulk Hogan t-shirt swam around him and she wondered if even he hadn’t realized how thin he’d gotten. She swallowed thickly. 

“Is it hurting?” She asked lowly as if she’d spook him while reaching for the scarf she had earlier wrapped around his arm. He nodded and looked like he was going to say something before resigning to watch her hands instead. She tried to remain level-minded like an actual nurse who should’ve been doing this, but it was hard when she could only think of all the things he may have been through. Eight months was a lot of time. She wondered if he’d ever tell her about it. 

“Ah,” Hopper hissed in a breath when Joyce laid a warm, wet cloth over his demogorgan gash. 

“Sorry, sorry,” She kissed his temple in between each apology, waiting for his body to relax and the pain to subside. “Murray will get bandages,” She told him upon finishing with his forearm. “Can you raise your arms?” 

He grimaced but was able to, letting Joyce remove his shirt. Her breath caught in her throat, eyebrows knitting together almost painfully. His chest and abdomen were darker now, more vibrant colors setting into an already gruesome painting. She understood that these were fresh bruises if they were only now fading in, the realization growing a golf ball in her throat. 

“I’m okay,” he offered unconvincingly, reaching out to gently grab her hips and pull her between his legs. She scowled at him, gently dropping her hands to rest on either side of his head just where his neck met his shoulders. He looked up at her tiredly, offering an empty smile and brushing the pads of his thumbs under her shirt and over her hips. The butterflies were back, quelling the pain her imagination brought on her. 

She leaned into the feeling, wanting him to feel it too. She gently placed a kiss on his forehead, letting it linger to feel his skin warm beneath her touch. He felt a slight tremble in his hands as he kept his nervous grip on her hips, his breath more labored since she was pulled close. 

Joyce relished in knowing she could have any effect on him whatsoever. She just wished she could take all his pain away while she was at it- absorb it through her skin. She gingerly skimmed over his scars, feeling the ridges spelling out terrible memories beneath her fingertips. His breath caught beneath his chest, but he let her continue while she fought off terrible visions of potential abuse. 

His eyes were closed now, his breathing even and through his nose. She let the sound of it wash over her, remembering a biting moment from years ago when she had tried to convince Hop that Will had been breathing on the phone. Never would she have guessed that years later, she’d know his breathing anywhere too. 

He had been silently diligent in taking care of her for years, even before everything happened with Will. Ever since Hopper became Hawkin’s chief following Sarah’s death, he’d made an extra effort to check up on her. She knew it was mostly because of Lonnie- either driving him home from the bar when he created a scene or helping Joyce search over town when he went missing. She hated that that’s how their relationship rekindled, Lonnie being the main reason she’d ever see his face. Until Will, that is. Then, everything changed.

Taking a washcloth that wasn’t already soaked pink with blood, Joyce resumed her quiet exploration of his body, leaving soft kissing along his cheekbone up to his eyebrow. As gently as she could, she wiped away blood from his temple, sighing with relief when the cut revealed to be relatively small. 

“What’s this from?” She was scared to ask but felt the words falling from her lips. She didn’t know what kind of answer she expected, but the one she got was somehow worse than anything her imagination could conjure. 

He shrugged, looking genuinely unsure.

She sighed and removed the last bit of blood and dirt from his forehead, replacing it with another kiss. He relaxed a bit. 

There weren’t any open wounds left on his chest- mostly just nasty bruising that made her terrified of internal bleeding, but he had already won the hospital argument. Still, she kissed across his collarbone, trailing down his sternum until she fell to her knees. She tapped his calf. 

“Off, please.” 

He took a second to register what she was asking. She didn’t know if it was because he was shy, or looking a little flushed after she kissed down his chest. Finally, he shifted off the bed just enough to pull his jeans down, leaving him in his boxers and socks. Joyce was about to try and make light of the situation, asking if this is why he wanted her to stay behind, but her attention was thwarted when she caught sight of his ankle. 

“Hop…” She whispered, reaching a shaky hand forward to remove the blood-soaked material from around his ankle. Why didn’t he say anything? His body tensed all over again as she slowly slid down his sock, revealing… she wasn’t even sure. The blood was still in the process of drying, dark and jagged patterns carved into his leg. Joyce felt her stomach tighten at the violent gouges that surely reached bone. 

“ Hop, ” She repeated, voice strained painfully. Joyce’s eyes stung as his thumb gently ran across her hairline. He gently guided her eyes up to him as her tears finally spilled over, hot on her face. He used trembling fingers to wipe them away, his brow creased in concern at her reaction. At least he wasn’t doing that zombie stare anymore. She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat, letting a few more tears fall. 

What if we could’ve prevented this? 

What if I could have prevented this? 

“Joyce…” He begged, worry thick in his tone.

“Sorry,” She sniffled, hurriedly wiping her face with the back of her hand. She couldn’t stand if he had gone through all of this just to be the one to comfort her . Still, she accepted his hand, helping her stand and eventually be pulled into Hopper’s lap, legs spread on either side of his. He wrapped his arms around her back, tying her body to his. She settled her arms around his neck, nuzzling and taking a deep breath there. 

She felt his lungs expand and contract until he stuttered on an inhale, suddenly squeezing her tighter to him like she was his liferaft in a vicious storm. She moved a hand up to gently run her nails along the nap of his neck, desperate to do anything to make him feel the least bit better. He let out a silent sob into her shoulder and her own tears came all over again. 

She had been expecting a full breakdown; was hoping for it, even. He couldn’t strongarm his way through everything, and next to Sarah’s death, she didn’t know a time he'd been kicked down more than this. He didn’t though, and the two of them just held one another for an unknowable amount of time. Eventually, he loosened his grip and was rubbing her back through the giant yellow t-shirt… Was she really still wearing that? 

“Hey,” He finally whispered, sounding so strained that it must’ve been painful. He pulled back enough to press their foreheads together, his nose nudging hers. She dared to flutter her eyes open, meeting his blue ones bathed in faded red. Yet, he looked at her with a spark of something light- something good. 

“Thank you.” He breathed against her lips, and she realized she was seeing his genuine gratitude. The thought shocked her and she was sure she showed it, frowning and shaking her head at him to say it was less than unnecessary. There wasn’t a single universe in which she didn’t come for him. He ran his hands up and down her back, strong enough to rock her gently against him. She breathed out through her nose, letting her head fall forward against his again. 

God, how she wanted to tell him how much she loved him. This was already so much for him though, and they’d have time , she realized with a flutter of excitement in her stomach. Besides, saying the words felt rather superfluous at this point. She came to Russia for him: Of course, she loved him. 

So instead, she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him against her lips, hoping to show him. This kiss was soft- their most gentle yet now that all the adrenaline was wearing off and reality was setting in. She wiped her thumb along the dampness of his cheekbone while massaging his tongue with hers, hyper-aware of every point of contact between them. Even as slow as they were going, she started to feel herself growing needy below the waist, so she broke their kiss and fell into another tightly wound hug; he still needed that ankle taken care of. 

“You okay?” She asked first, noting the aggressive pounding of his heart up against her chest. He chuckled and ran a hand through her hair, holding her close. 

“Yeah. Just… you.” He admitted, making heat spread to her chest and face. She hummed happily and nuzzled his neck. 

“Dmitri will be back soon.” 

He nodded, his stubble brushing against her forehead.

“I need you to sit on the side of the tub,” She said softly, pulling back to wipe the last of his tears away. He nodded and sighed, drumming his fingers against her ribs. She silently begged him to say something; anything would be more like the Hopper she knew than this ghost before her now. Still, she reminded herself that patience was the name of the game with this sort of thing. There was no way he was getting out of this emotionally unscathed. 

When Hopper was situated on the side of the bathtub, she turned the faucet on warm, not wanting to shock his body with heat before he was fully thawed from months in a frozen wasteland. Meanwhile, she wasn’t going to leave him in his boxers while she was fully clothed. Shimmying out of the yellow tee, Joyce tossed it aside, her pants joining soon after. Hopper heard them drop and turned, looking almost guilty as if he wasn’t allowed to. 

“Goddamn, Joy,” he whispered, reaching a long, hardened arm back to wrap around her torso, pulling her to him. The shade over his eyes lifted in an instant and suddenly he was on the same plain as her again. Thank God. 

“Hop,” she complained through a toothy grin, making a weak attempt to push him off her. He always surprised her when he called her that; just enough for it to make her heart clench excitedly. “We have to take care of that ankle.” 

“Mm…” He hardly acknowledged, peppering kisses across her skin like he was starved. With a pang, she realized that wasn’t just a metaphor. Luckily, his nuzzling of her neck was an apt distraction. Joyce hummed and flinched away when his breath tickled her ear. “Beautiful,” He muttered into her shoulder before kissing across her collarbone. As much as it was making her want to mount him right here on the edge of the tub, they heard the door to the motel room open from outside the bathroom. 

“Shh. Dmitri.” She reminded him. Hopper froze and pressed one more kiss to her cheek before letting her step into the pooling water. 

The way his eyes were raking over her body like he wanted to devour her was a huge distraction. She let his hands roam down her sides and over her hips, pressing his thumbs into the flesh between her hips. The gasp he pulled from her was unexpected and involuntary, heat pooling between her legs quickly. 

She’d roll her eyes at the cocky smirk on his face if she hadn’t been so shocked by the pleasure that shot up her spine. Still, someone had to be the responsible one. She pushed his hands away from her hips before shooting him a fake-angry pout. Maneuvering to her knees in the small, yellowed tub, she grabbed a washcloth and soaked it through. Joyce was acutely aware of him watching her every move, his breathing labored enough to be heard over the roar of the faucet. 

A nearly-naked Joyce kneeling between his legs was a vision. His brain begged him not to, but his eyes didn’t listen as they traveled the curve where her bra met her bare breast, a small extent of goosebumps across her skin. He desperately wanted to run his lips over every valley of her body- taste every part of her. 

The only thing that could’ve distracted him was the searing anguish erupting up his leg when she laid the hot towel on his worst wound. He tried not to show how painful it was- how he swore he could feel the searing heat on his bone. He must’ve not been doing a good job though, because she continued to apologize under her breath, pressing desperate, light kisses to his knee. 

When the pain faded into an aching throb, he released his grip on the side of the tub, his fingers sore. He hadn’t even realized he was doing that. He stretched them out so he could reach forward and brush his thumb across Joyce’s temple. Her eyes fluttered up from where she was working on the cuts on his feet. She met his gaze and leaned into his touch, brushing her thumb over the last spot of dirt on his good ankle. He tensed and shifted above her.

“Am I hurting you?” She frowned, her big eyes questioning him.

“Uh,” Hopper shifted awkwardly, his injured arm falling gently across his lap. “, something like that.” 

Joyce glanced down briefly before color brushed her face. She shot him a knowing smirk, tilting in closer toward where he was attempting to hide his growing erection. He felt his body react accordingly, nearly buzzing with energy the closer she got. Goosebumps erupted over his skin when he felt her breath graze his knee. She replaced it with a kiss, moving into his inner thigh to kiss higher. 

He nearly choked on the air in his lungs.

“Definitely not helping ,” He chuckled, using a shaky hand to run through her hair. Joyce turned upwards towards him, a devilish little grin on her face. 

Holy shit, this little woman between his legs had absolute and complete control of him. 

“American?” An all too familiar and chilling voice came from outside the bathroom door. A few pounds on the shaky wooden frame. “Can I have a towel?” 

Joyce threw Hopper a deflated glance before hopping out of the shower and grabbing a towel from the shelf. Grabbing another to wrap around herself, Joyce hurried to the door, cracking it open like she couldn’t get this over with fast enough. With the near-painful strain in his crotch, Hopper couldn’t agree more. 

“Oh,” Jim heard Dmitri’s voice turn from tired to intrigued at the sight of Joyce instead of Hopper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you two were having… friendly time.” 

Who was he going to kill first? Murray or Dmitri? Hopper sighed and swung his head back to shoot a glare around Joyce. Dmitri met his stare with a mischievous glint. 

“Such good friendship!” he called as Joyce slammed the door in his face. She turned back to Hopper with pink ven more pink in her face, making him chuckle. He reached back for her, pulling her towel-clad body into him and resting his head on her chest to listen to her heart. She automatically wrapped her arms around his head, drawing soft circles with her nails over his temple. They spent another moment frozen together, breathing in the soapy steam and one another. At one point, their breathing even matched up perfectly, their bodies moving into one another in sync. 

“Shower?” Joyce’s voice eventually lulled him back to Earth. He could fall asleep on her happily like this, but the thought of a shower with her was even more enticing.

“...With… Like, uh…” Shit. “Like, with you?”

Smooth. 

Joyce wriggled out of his arms to pull her towel off, hanging it on the towel bar. She shrugged a shoulder and cast a glance behind her- one that sent a jolt straight through his legs. “It’ll save water,” 

His mouth went dry.

“Right,” he rasped, clearly not buying her excuses. She brushed up next to him to lean over the tub, pulling up the faucet tab and starting the shower, pointing the stream away from where he sat. He watched intently as she reached behind her back in a swift motion, releasing her bra and letting it slide to the floor. Hopper didn’t hold back with the stares this time- forget the fact that he hadn’t seen a woman in nearly a year, he still would be stunned into silence by her beauty. He had no idea how she remained so notoriously modest looking like that, breasts full and stooped over her taught stomach. She slid her cotton panties down her legs, allowing him the perfect side view of the curvature of her body. 

“Jesus,” he breathed, his blood boiling at the sight. Her sly glances were quickly replaced with timid looks away, like looking at him was like looking at the sun. This was the Joyce he expected, but he never wanted her to feel nervous around him. He definitely put her on a pedestal, her beauty included. He decided to make it his life’s work to make sure she never doubted her beauty ever again. 

He stood, which upset her instantly.

“Hey! Wait, careful. Hop-” 

“I’ve been sprinting on this ankle, it won’t get any worse now. And goddamn, I can’t- I need- come here,” he had never been so incredibly bad at finding his charisma around a woman. This wasn't just any woman he took home after getting tipsy at the Hideaway: this was her.

She seemed at ease by his stumbling anyway, breathing out of her nose in amusement before stepping forward and pushing his boxers to the floor. They instantly stepped in the tub and wrapped their arms around another, skin again skin. Warm water cascaded around their bodies as finally he felt satiated by the lack of material in between them. He felt her ribs against his arms, her breasts against her chest, his cock against her belly... She didn’t seem to mind that part, even gyrating ever so slightly and pulling a moan from his lips. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her damp hair, reveling in how truly tiny she was. He felt like nearly three of her in size, wondering if he could find a way to envelope her completely. He tried everything not to think of what that meant for being inside her, how tight she’d be… 

Luckily, Joyce pulled back before his cock involuntarily twitched at the thought, going to reach for the soap. He entered a daze as she massaged his chest and arms with cheap motel bubbles, washing away the evidence of the day’s stunts and any old blood. He tried not to visibly flinch away when she touched his scars. It didn’t hurt- it couldn’t with how incredibly gentle she was touching him- he just hated them.

She slid around him to get his back, eventually sliding her arms around him from behind and giving him the lightest squeeze he’s ever felt. He knew she was worried about his ribs, and to be honest, he didn’t feel to great about them either. 

Hopper felt kisses across his back, once again feeling that self-consciousness his wounds created. He eventually relaxed into her though, just in time for Joyce’s fingers to massage soap down his stomach to the soft spots between his hips. Hopper huffed in a surprised breath, feeling his dick jolt up towards her. Her lips crooked up against his lower shoulder blade, her nails scraping across his pelvis. He was nearly shaking now, her fingertips grazing closer and closer to where he needed her. 

And then her hand wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked upward, and he gasped. 

“Fuck,” his head fell back, a hand rushing to brace himself on the wall. He jerked his hips forward, back into her hand without realizing, stunned by how overcome he was. After being paralyzed with pain time after time again, satisfaction from Joyce was a hell of an alternative.

“Can I take care of you?” She asked lowly from behind him.

“Mm…” He moaned at the thought. Still, he didn’t expect anything from her despite the position they found themselves in. “But, you don’t-” 

“I want to.” She frowned, dipping under his arm to peer up at him. Her fingertips flitting across the juts of his hip bones. “I want to make you feel good.” 

He couldn’t even conjure the words from his throat. Hopper merely nodded, eyes watching intently under heavy lids as she slid around to his front again, hip grazing his hard-on. He was stunned in thinking that Joyce, this absolute godsend, was offering to get him off after all she’d already done for him. That she wanted to. 

And then she slid down to her knees , and Hopper swore he almost collapsed. He’s never seen her eyes so big and inviting in the way she nearly pouted up at him, hair wet across her forehead. Her fingers rested at the back of his knees as she started kissing up his thigh agonizingly slow. She smirked against his hip when his cock twitched at the feeling. If he had any control over his body whatsoever, he would’ve rolled his eyes at her teasing. It didn’t last long though, Joyce throwing him one more innocent glance before licking him from base to tip. 

“Ugh, ” he exhaled shakily, his knees nearly buckling. He had forgotten that pleasure that sweet even existed, shooting up his spine and making his fingertips tingle. She gripped him behind his thighs, reminding him to steady himself while the head of his dick disappeared into her warm mouth. Jim thought he’d dispelled any remnants of the cold after stepping into the stuffy little motel, but it wasn’t until his cock was halfway in Joyce’s mouth that he realized that now he was finally, truly warm. Maybe even safe. It helped that every nerve ending was on fire when her lips slid over his sensitive length. 

With a hand wrapped around his base, Joyce started bobbing just enough to make him tremble, his breath catching in his throat. They were already in such a vulnerable place between all the trauma and the newness of their relationship- Despite all Hopper had overcome, he was scared of her, or rather, messing anything up with her. He felt… God , shy? Maybe? 

If he wasn’t frozen rigid with pleasure, he would’ve chuckled at Joyce feeling around for his hand, guiding it to the back of her head. He took the hint not to hold back but still proceeded gently, running his fingers through her wet tangles while the crests coursing through his body got more intense with every slide of her mouth.

He barely caught her glance of warning before she removed her hand and sank down to where his tip was prodding her throat. Hopper whimpered, using every ounce of willpower to keep from thrusting deeper into her. But, fuck this woman was full of surprises. With a reinforced grip on the back of his legs, she swallowed him that bit further, choking just a bit before letting his length rest there at the back of her throat. 

“Oh my god,” He stuttered, chest heaving and hand gripped tightly in her hair. His heart was pounding in his ears and for a second, Hop swore he didn’t know his name. When he came back to planet Earth, she was still wrapped around him, just starting to slide back towards his tip. “Joyce,” He breathed, still in disbelief that it was her name he got to moan. “...’m not gonna last like this,” 

She pulled back to stare up at him, her hand taking over and pumping down his length- gently, but he was working with a hairline trigger. When her wet lips pouted slightly before she murmured, “Come for me,” he came close to spilling himself right there and then. With a little devious smirk that he hasn’t seen since high school, she descended on him again. Hopper felt his eyebrows draw together as his eyes slid closed, head falling back. On top of everything, her hand came up to cup his balls, massaging along with her swallows. Electric shocks jolted through him when he felt himself nudge the back of her throat again, and again, and again…

The knot in his abdomen wound tightly to its breaking point, and with a whimper of her name, he lost himself. 

“ Joyce ,” 

He tried to gently push her off of him as he came, but her grip kept him deliberately in place. The hazy sight of Joyce swallowing him had him cumming hard, one hand deep in her hair and the other braced against the shower wall for support. Warmth erupted in his chest and crotch, spreading all throughout his body and leaving his extremities prickly. His cock pulsated a few more times between her lips, Joyce sliding up and down his slowly softening shaft before giving his hip a kiss. 

God, she took such good care of him. 

“Fuck,” he breathed when he could form a goddamn thought through the dulling pleasure. His skeleton made of jelly and entire body throbbing, Hopper hastily reached a trembling hand down for her to take. “C’mere. C’mere…” He helped her stand again, immediately brushing her wet strands from her flushed face and pulling her in close. “You’re too good to me,” He muttered against her damp hair, pressing lazy kisses there. Joyce hummed happily and wound her arms around him tightly, nearly holding him up. Their hearts tried to jump from their chests to meet one another.

He couldn’t remember a time his body felt this relaxed. He had thought he let all the 8-month tension in his muscles go, but Joyce showed him otherwise. Now, he felt like pure mush, and not in the he-was-just-beaten-to-a-pulp kind of way, either. 

“So, so good.” He whispered into her hairline, moving his hands up her back to massage her shoulders. She nuzzled out from where she was pressed to his sternum in order to look at him. The small, lopsided smile she gave him stabbed Hopper right in the heart. 

He found his mind swirling with the single overbearing thought of, 

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

, but preferred to drop that information sometime other than right after a blowjob. 

A damn good one at that . He shuddered with a small after-wave of pleasure, winding his arms further around her and drawing her lips up to his. Water cascaded over the both of them, the kiss warm, slow and faintly tasting of him. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

“Jesus.” Their rose-colored cloud was brutally torn into, the both of them jumping in each other’s arms. He felt anger bubble in his chest at the scare, wishing he could go back to when he truly believed he and Joyce were the only people on Earth, not just in this dinky motel shower.

“We’d like water, pleaseeeeeee.” Came Murray’s muffled call through the door. Joyce scoffed and let her forehead fall against Hopper’s chest. After taking a moment to let their near-heart attacks fade, Hopper ran his hands up and down Joyce’s arms. 

“Can I wash your hair?” 

She looked pleasantly surprised by the request, cocking her head curiously at him before handing him pink motel shampoo. He gently turned her around, her back falling against his chest as he lathered his hands and ran them through her hair. He wished had the time to fully take care of her- massage the stress of this whole godforsaken trip away while exploring every inch of her body- but the water was starting to go lukewarm, and neither of them wanted to hear about it later. So, each finishing with a quick wash, Hopper stepped out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist and holding another one open for Joyce to swaddle inside. He pulled her warm bundle to his chest again, unable to help himself. 

“Mm…” She sighed into his chest, her warm breath brushing against his neck. “Feel good to get clean?” 

“I’d say it was better than previous arrangements.” He agreed in a large understatement. Getting blown by Joyce in a hot shower was, indeed, much better than being pounded by a firehose in the frigid cold of a Russian winter. She craned her neck to look at him lovingly, swiping a light thumb along his cheek. 

“You look a little more like you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And that’s good?” 

Joyce snorted and lightly hit his arm. “Of course it’s good. I love looking at you.”

It took everything not to blush like an idiot. Trying to distract himself from how gooey she made his insides, Hopper turned her around in his hold so they were both looking into the mirror, intertwined. Just the sight of the two of them finally wrapped up tightly and securely to one another- it put every part of Hopper’s mind at ease. He stooped low to rest his chin on her shoulder. 

“You know this face right here,” he pressed kisses along her jawline, relishing in the way it made her squirm. She was ticklish there, and somehow he’d always known that. Must’ve been a fact he picked up when they were kids. “, is possibly the only reason I’m alive.” 

He watched the mirror as her eyebrows pulled together, gaze wondering curiously to his own. He felt her fingertips start to trace his forearms that were locked across her abdomen. With a shaky breath, he continued. She needed to hear this- to know what she did for him, even before she battled across continents. 

“It would’ve… been easy, to uh, give up.” Hopper selected his words carefully, not wanting to drop the weight of his brushes with suicide on top of an already heavy situation. She seemed to catch his tone anyway, the previous light in her eyes darkening. Still, she listened intently, gaze never leaving his. “But I’d think about the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re suspicious.” 

Hopper watched as she tried everything not to make that exact face at him right there before his eyes. She hummed in frustration at the attention he drew to it, looking away from him and trying to maintain a straight face. He beamed at her sheepishness, attacking her neck with small, soft kisses. The soft chuckles he pulled from her throat gave him life.

“Mm… your laugh. I’d have done anything to hear you laugh again.” He continued, nuzzling her ear and pressing a kiss to her cheekbone. He glanced into the mirror to see sadness glaze her eyes again, staring at him like she was longing for him- like he wasn’t wrapped fully around her entire body right now. He knew how she felt. 

“Or,” he sighed into her hair, feeling her shudder beneath him. “I’d think about how pissed you be if I didn’t at least try,” 

She snorted a short burst of laughter before shooting him a pained look, letting her head fall back against his chest. Her eyes turned upwards, searching for his. Moving his gaze from the reflection to Joyce, Hopper pulled her against him extra tight and exhaled lightly against the crown of her head. She wriggled to reach an arm up, pulling him down to her. She was perfectly short enough for him to kiss her comfortably from behind and above, something he didn’t foresee himself loving so much. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see themselves moving against one another in the mirror. The way she was arched against him, neck craned back to lock her lips against his, she was fucking stunning and impossible not to stare at. 

Hopper couldn’t help but sigh in relief when she firmly pressed her tongue to his, finding that he loved when she gave him temporary ownership of her mouth. His hand traveled up above the hem of her towel, gently pushing it down and revealing pale, delicate skin. His fingers slid underneath further, brushing over Joyce’s left nipple causing her to jolt like he’d shocked her. 

“Ngh,” she whimpered into his mouth, her knee buckling. Hopper yanked her back into place, securing Joyce to his body possessively. She gasped, rubbing back against where he was already starting to get hard again. Just a moment ago, he was looking into this mirror and wondering if everyone was better off with him as demogorgan chow. Now, all he wanted to do was hoist Joyce up on the sink with his head between her legs; see what other needy sounds he could force from her; make her come. 

This day was crazy. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

Joyce and Hopper jumped back into reality once more, shrinking into one another against the incessant pounding. 

“I need to GO , PLEASE.” Oh. Murray was back. Lovely. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

With a stiff sigh, Hopper helped Joyce readjust her towel, giving her a sheepish glance and a quick kiss on the head. Hopper yanked the door open in one swift woosh, cool air rushing into the steamed bathroom. Murray stood centered in the threshold, hand covering his eyes. 

“Clothes on the bed. Food on the dresser.” He informed them in a matter-of-fact tone before stumbling into the bathroom, eyes still covered. Joyce and Hopper mumbled their thank you’s before awkwardly shuffling around the room while Dmitri devoured pizza on one of the beds. 

The fact that they were matching again amused Joyce. Gray sweatpants and an “Alaska: The Last Frontier” graphic t-shirts. She enjoyed watching Hopper eat pizza for the first time in months, more than eating the actual pizza herself. Within the first bite, he was moaning dramatically, looking at the sub-par slice in his hand like it was the 8th world wonder. 

“Bread, cheese, and sauce?” He marveled before practically inhaling another. She chuckled at his giddiness, her stocking feet pressed up against his shins while they shared the bed. He slowed by the third slice, grunting in frustration. “I wish I could still eat the whole box.” 

“Should have tried the potatoes, American. They were to die for.” Dmitir’s dark humor wasn’t lost on Joyce, even though she had no clue what he was talking about. Hopper clearly did, shooting him a glare with a hint of amusement. When he noted Joyce’s confusion, he hesitated to elaborate, searching for cautious words. 

“They had this whole, elaborate feast set up for the guys they sent into the pit.” 

Joyce felt her stomach churn; they were feeding the demogorgon's food. She wondered how many times before Hopper that had happened. 

“Yes, but some chose to drink their meal.” 

“And saved your ass because of it.” Hopper shot back getting a smirk from Dmitri. Joyce felt a smirk crawl up on her as well. 

“So that’s why you tasted like vodka.” 

Hopper looked caught which made her giggle, but the reality of the situation was setting in and her smile quickly faded. You ate to survive. You drank to forget. 

He wasn’t planning on making it out of there whatsoever. He was planning to die, easing the way out. 

Her thoughts must’ve been reading on her face, but Hopper rushed to close his hand around her wrist. 

“Hey, c’mere.” He whispered, gently pulling her into his chest. He was propped up on the headboard, making it easy to wind her arms completely around him. She still stayed weary of his ribs though, the vision of the deep blotches and scars still burned in her mind. Still, she was shocked by how comfortably she fit here against him;  the way her leg rested over his, her heart pressed against his, her arms clocking every breath he took; Joyce felt like she was going get a good night’s sleep for the first time since their Russian misadventures… maybe for the first time in 8-months.

Safe . She thought over and over. I finally feel safe again. 

Joyce’s eyes were getting heavy while she listened to Hopper’s voice reverberate in his chest while he talked to Dmitri. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, intrigued by Hop and Dmitri’s back and forth. Joyce realized they may have gotten closer than she originally thought. Maybe she misread him. If Hopper had someone in that prison making him chuckle like he was now, maybe she even liked Dmitri.

“Joyce?” 

“Mm,” She mumbled into Hop’s collarbone. 

“Is El in school?” 

“Mhm.” She perked up a bit, realizing they were talking about the kids. “With Will.” 

She felt his chest vibrate with his happy hum, a hand playing with her damp hair and tucking it behind her ear. She silently begged for him to never stop touching her.

“She likes History. Struggles a bit with Math.” She was thinking of El now; thinking of her face when she saw her Dad again. It made a sickly sweet tightness in her chest. 

“Just like her old man,” 

“Mhm.” Joyce dreamily mumbled, shifting up to nuzzle into his neck. There were plenty of times she was helping El with her math when Joyce would be hit with parallel memories of her and Hopper. He hated math in high school, getting frustrated and doing anything to distract Joyce from helping him. 

El was the same exact way. The first time she realized this, Joyce had to excuse herself to her bedroom just in time to crumple on the floor and cry into her pillow. 

Now, wrapped around a man who was 8-months dead, she shuddered. Never again; she never wanted to feel that pain of losing him. She couldn’t. Joyce focused on the sound of his breaths entering his body, low and steady, sometimes interrupted by the echoing sound of his voice. The further she drifted into sleep, the more it sounded like they were underwater. Not in a scary way, but rather comforting. Like she was in a swathe of just… Hopper. 

Joyce was just on the edge of sleep when she heard her name mentioned.

“Yes, just as fiery,” Dmitri was saying when she tuned in. “, only… much smaller than expected.” 

Joyce felt Hopper gently shake beneath her, softly chuckling. 

“Yeah,” he droned, fingers gently playing with the ends of her hair. She remained still, using his breathing to keep her lulled in the middle of sleep and consciousness. “It’s scary how easy it is to underestimate her. Not making that mistake again.” 

If every single one of her muscles weren’t so heavy and lethargic, she’d break a smile. When it came to Joyce, no one had ever been a bigger advocate than Hop. He rarely underestimated her; it’s something she’s always appreciated about him. 

She loved the way the expanse of his chest gently rocked her with each sigh.

How’s that for your proof of life?

“Don’t think she likes me very much.” Dmitri continued. She really wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as she tended to think. 

Hopper snorted. “I mean, most of these are from you, asshole.” She felt a surge of anger shake her further awake, eyebrows ever so slightly pulling together. He couldn’t be talking about all of his cuts and bruises, could he?

“You did not tell her this, did you?” Dmitri sounded genuinely panicked. 

“Nah, then you’d really be fucked.” 

Joyce allowed Hopper's gentle petting of her hair soothe her back towards slumber, voices fading away again. The last thing she heard was Dmitri. 

“Not so much a curse after all, American?”

She didn’t like the sound of that, making a mental note to come back to it later. It wasn’t an unfamiliar theme with Hopper- he’s been saying shit like that since he was teenager. 

Fuck you, Charles Hopper. She thought about his Dad bitterly. 

She must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, she was being ripped from a deep but comfortable abyss by a horrible sense of freefalling. She heard the sound of the sputtering plane engine in her ears; saw the icy ground rushing up at her. 

This was it. Her kids would be orphaned. Or worse… Lonnie. 

“ Joyce! Joyce,” Hopper’s voice cut through her sleepy haze, jolting her back to reality. The dull motel lights revealed the stuffy room, much too small for her and the three big guys currently staring wide-eyed at her. “Hey, you’re okay,” She felt Hopper’s big hand slide over her chest, over her heart. It was then she realized it was trying to claw out of her chest. He shifted so that they were both sitting and Joyce made the connection; she wasn’t crashing in a plane, Hopper was just shifting beneath her. 

A much-preferred alternative. 

Calm the fuck down, Joyce. It was basically her mantra. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She breathed, gripping Hopper’s hand over her heart. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” He frowned, shifting so they were both on their sides, facing one another. Behind him, she watched Murray and Dmitri shy away from them, getting ready for bed while giving them some privacy. 

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

“No, God. Please, Joyce. Get some sleep.” He begged, eyes traveling to her hairline where he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. His eyes moved over her face so slowly it started to make her want to flinch away. But Hop looked like he was studying a painting- like every inch of her was more fascinatingly stunning than the last.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered. How could she sleep with him looking at her like that ? 

Time. You have time now. She tried to remind herself. This day with Hopper, finally feeling him against her… it wasn’t the end of their story, but rather a new beginning. If all went to plan, she’d have countless nights just like this one: wrapped securely in his arms. 

He grinned at her comment, giving her those soft eyes that always assured her, “ I hear you. I understand. I’m here .” Joyce reached up to gingerly run her fingertips along his face. She couldn’t help herself, she was desperate to know he wasn’t going to fade away. 

Hopper managed to wrestle the covers from underneath them both, allowing her to shimmy into their own little cocoon. They stayed up as long as they could, even after their “roommates” turned the lights out. Their eyes adjusted before they resumed to gaze into one another, words not needed for this form of communication. Her leg was locked around his waist, one strong hand on her hip, keeping her in place. She could feel him ever so slightly against her pelvis, no longer desperate and needy, but just there. Her forearms rested on either side of his head, comfortably in the place where his shoulder met his neck. She could feel the dull thump of his pulse like this, feel the air enter and leave his body. She needed that. 

His eyes were battling to stay open, his breath stuttering every time he caught himself falling asleep. It made her smile. He looked so peaceful right now- you’d never be able to tell what he’d just gone through when he was softly grinning at her like that. Maybe for a moment, they could forget; a moment, untainted. 

After an unknowable amount of time filled with heavy eyes and light touches, they lost themselves to sleep, together for the first time ever. 

She didn’t know what the nightmare was about, only that it woke her with a small gasp. It shouldn’t have woken Hopper, which is how she knew he had already been awake. He was rubbing her arm before she could even remember where she was; who she was with. Relief flooded into her chest, smelling the motel soap and distinct smell she’s always known as just Hopper . 

The room was pitch-black save for the ray of light cutting through the part in the curtains. She threw a glance over her shoulder and Hopper: they had only been asleep for four hours yet. 

“You okay?” He whispered into her hair. She nodded, wiggling further back into him. They were no longer facing one another, her back flush against his chest and his arms coiled around her abdomen. She wondered how long they’d been like this, how long he’s been awake cradling her. He sighed deeply into her neck, her hair blowing lightly across her skin. She shivered, and he noticed, squeezing her to him and rubbing up and down her arms again. 

She wished she could’ve basked in the moment completely, but thoughts of the kids started creeping back into her mind. With every second spent apart, anything imaginable could happen. Joyce knew all too well- everything could change in a matter of seconds. What was happening to them this second? And this one? And this one?

“We’ll see them tomorrow.” Hopper pressed his lips to the shell of her ear and muttered, reading her body language fluently. She sighed and simply nodded again, trying to steady her anxious heart. It helped when Hopper breathed hot air into her ear like that. 

“Mm…” an involuntary, thankfully quiet moan built in the back of her throat. She was throbbing between her legs again, aided by the growing bulge pressed against her ass. Joyce felt a smirk grow against her ear, Hopper gently biting her there before kissing down the column of her neck. “Hop,” She whispered, writhing back into him. He growled at the contact, grabbing her by the hips and yanking her sharply against him, his hardness pressed closer to her center. They stayed there, slowly but firmly grinding into each other while maintaining as much silence as possible. 

Joyce breathed out through her nose, arching backward when the waves of pleasure inside her stomach started to take her over completely. Hopper gave her hip one last squeeze before snaking his hand under her shirt, grazing over her abdomen towards her breasts. He hovered there for a second, and she arched into him again, giving him permission.

This may have been the one and only thing that could temporarily distract from the kids. 

She jerked in his grasp when Hopper grazed a nipple, then the other. Her short, labored breaths were the only sound save for the hum of the heater in the corner. God , she hoped Dmitri and Murray were fully asleep, but at the same time, she was shamelessly past caring. She needed him. She swore the first time she truly believed he was here was not until his cock was halfway down her throat- she wondered if he’d let her pull him into the bathroom again.

Hopper revealed to have other plans though, securing a hand around her right breast and rolling her nipple between her fingers. While she was blinded with a shot of electricity and heat building in her core, his arm that was wound underneath and around her started to play with her waistband. 

“Can you stay quiet for me?” 

She would do anything for him right now. Joyce hastily nodded, desperate to feel whatever he was going to do to her. They had fooled around once before, sure, but that was when they were teenagers. They were both bumbling, awkward, and young then. This was different; this was layered with so much history- so much hurt, so much joy, so much relief. 

But, she craved even further release. Joyce hasn’t recognized herself since she started to feel that heat in the Russian church. Her parents would have been mortified at what she did in the holy house; what she was willing to do if that fucking phone wouldn't have rung. She was robbed of her and Hop’s much-deserved moment and while the “action” in the shower held her over for a while, she needed to feel him. She needed him to make her cum. 

A flash of heat flooded her face when his fingertips applied pressure to her clit over her underwear, and she ironically prayed to God that she didn't come right there from the contact. A gasp escaped her lips and Hopper rushed to cover her mouth with a strong hand. 

“Shh… you promised.” He whispered into her ear huskily, obviously turned on nearly just as much. He had her locked tightly to him, their breaths moving against one another. She couldn’t move if she tried, and the idea that it was Hopper controlling her made her embarrassingly wet. 

He shifted so his tip prodded against her entrance through her sweatpants. Her eyes rolled back and she exhaled slowly through her nose, trying everything not to moan like she desperately wanted to. Hopper’s fingers rubbed circles into her panties, sweet, hot tingles spreading through her center. She writhed as much as she could in his strong grasp, chasing her high with fervor. 

He smirked against her neck and she had half a mind to elbow him for his amusement, but every thought flew out the window when his hand slipped beneath her underwear and fingers slid over her sensitive folds. 

“Mm!” she squeaked in response, bucking against his hand while feeling Hopper squeeze her tighter, holding her still and quiet. 

“Joyce…” he reprimanded, but clearly amused. “Show me how to make you feel good,” he nipped her ear and gently kissed the spot right behind it. Fuck yes, thinking back, no one had bothered ever simply asking what she liked. Joyce hastily arched against him, wriggling an arm from his hold to slide over his hand. She shakily guided his fingers in place around exactly where she needed him, pressing his touch into her center and showed him how to move against her, her entire body succumbing to electric shocks. She grit her teeth together when he picked up her ministrations, swatting her hand aside to take over. Even she couldn’t pull off these waves of pleasure that he was sending through her. She knew his hands were big, but she wasn’t expecting his expert switching between gentle and firm strokes, like he somehow knew exactly what her body pulsed for at every exact moment. 

She tried not to think about how all the “experience ” he had might’ve had something to do with that. Who cared anyway? He was hers now, and she refused to ever let him go again. Especially with the way he was making her squirm. 

When Joyce’s grinding started to stutter and her hips started sharply bucking, Hopper pressed his lips to her ear again. 

“Joy,” he moaned through a whisper. “You can only cum if you’re silent, okay?” He gently licked up the shell of her ear, pulling a deep but quiet breath from her. She nodded in his hand, knowing full-well she may not be able to help herself. She just needed to get the edge of that cliff no matter the cost. 

“Good girl,” she nearly choked on air at the sound of him praising her like that, not expecting the flash of white pleasure that ricocheted up from the base of her spine. “So good for me, Joyce.” He muttered into her neck, head falling into the crook of her shoulder to graze bites and kissed across her skin. She was getting hot and finding it hard to get the air she needed, her orgasm building fast. When her hips faltered in their movement and her body started to tense, Hop pushed a finger into her, continuing to circle her clit with her thumb. 

That was it for Joyce. She would’ve said fuck it and let herself be as loud as she wanted, dealing with the fallout later with a lame excuse as to why they were waking up Dmitri and Murray. She found herself wanting to do what he said though… wanting to please him. 

Be good for him.

Joyce admitted, she was stubborn. When someone told her to do something, she was inclined to do the opposite. Now, she’d do anything for him. Let him take complete control. She’s never felt like that before, let alone let someone bring her to orgasm only feet from other people. 

What the fuck is he doing to me? Was her last thought before her mind was emptied of them. Her eyes rolled back just as they squeezed shut, Hopper’s hand clamping firmer against her mouth. She arched into him, feeling his length against her throbbing center. His arms held her in place tightly like vines, holding her closely as she shook against him. She managed to keep to the noise to a choked exhale against his hand, a delightful heat reaching every single part of her body. Her heart felt like it exploded in the best way, thumping violently in her ears when the peak of her orgasm subsided. She jolted softly a few times from the aftershocks before Jim’s hold started to losen. His hand fell away from her mouth, allowing her to breathe heavily from the exertion. 

“Fuck, Hop.” She whispered when she could conjure words once again. She felt him chuckle softly against her shoulder, kissing her languidly up her neck until finding her mouth. His tongue pushed into her mouth gently as he pulled his fingers out of her- she hadn’t even realized he had slipped in another. 

“Good?” he asked as he raised his hand to his mouth, sucking her off his fingers before wiping it on an extra pillow and tossing to the ground. He wrapped his arm securely around her again once she turned to face him, hand cupping his cheek. 

“Yeah,” She breathed in slight disbelief. She couldn’t remember a time where she had lost herself so much. “Really good.” 

He grinned, looking adorably prideful before kissing her forehead and pressing his against hers. Her eyes had just barely adjusted to the darkness, locking in on his. He was gazing at her in the same exact way he would when she thought he wasn’t looking at Melvald’s, or Will’s appointments, or when she stopped by his place with stuff for El. 

It suddenly started to calcify as pain in her chest, sinking into her stomach. Hopper frowned at the change in her eyes, hurrying to nuzzle against her cheek. 

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Baby. His baby. 

“I’m sorry.” His eyebrows furrowed further. “I’m sorry, I was… I don’t know what I was, I was… Stupid, before. Scared. Of losing you, and then I did-” 

“Shhh…” he cooed, pulling her into his chest. She sighed into his neck, letting him rub her back until he chased the pain and guilt away. She was telling the truth, she didn’t really know why she kept pushing him away before this whole fiasco. She supposed it was mostly because she was scared, and after Bob, she couldn’t imagine going through the same thing with the best friend she’s ever had. And then, she did. “Don’t you dare apologize for anything. We both were…” 

“A mess.” 

Hopper snorted. “Yeah. We’re here now though. I wouldn’t give that up for shit.” 

Joyce gave him a lopsided grin and kissed him gently above his right eye. “And I’m sorry I was being such an asshole.” He added, closing his eyes peacefully against Joyce’s kisses over his brow. 

“It’s okay,” she murmured against his cheek, placing another kiss to his temple. “You’re kinda always an asshole anyway,” 

“Oh, is that right?” he scoffed, attacking her side and making her shy away.

“Yeah, that’s right.” She giggled as he poked her in the side where she was ticklish. She caught his hand in hers, stilling his loving torture. He beamed at her and she could see his happiness radiating, even in the darkness. She couldn’t help but hum happily back, squeezing his hand tightly. 

“You’re mine , now.” She shot him a warning glance, telling him it wasn’t up for debate. His smile grew and Jim gently raised her chin with his finger. 

“I think I’ve always been yours, Joyce.” 

They were quiet for a good while, fingertips splaying over each other’s skin and gently exploring innocently until eyes started to droop. Joyce felt better now, not only because of the release of the near-painful sexual tension waiting to break inside of her, but also because she had felt awful for leaving things how she did with Hopper. There wasn’t a single day that went by where she didn’t torture herself with the memories of last Summer. 

If only she had done things differently. Maybe never involved him at all. At least shown up to the stupid date, for God’s sake. 

Only now were the biting thoughts beginning to dull, subsiding to the butterflies in her heart and stomach. When she started growing tired while tracing the outline of his facial features, she heard one last whisper from Hopper telling her to sleep. 

Mine. She thought one last time, gazing into his sleepy eyes before falling into his chest in a deeper sleep than before. 

Chapter Text

She was glad to know that she was the first up. While the anxiety about the kids wasn’t so nice, Joyce was worried that Hopper may have not gotten a lick of sleep at all. His presence was heavy all around her though, his exhales slower and steadier than she’s ever heard them. They echoed deep and slow in the caverns of his chest, occasionally accompanied by small stutters. Her heart dipped every time she heard this, wondering if the tiny disturbances in his breathing were inevitable side effects of his injuries, or if it could mean something much more lethal. 

Hospital. As soon as we’re back in Hawkins.

That would be an interesting one- there was no way they were making it to Hawkins Memorial without someone recognizing Hop as Hawkins' very own fallen hero. She hadn’t thought about dealing with Jim coming back into public. This was already so much for him to deal with… 

Hopper shifted behind her, lazily spooning her with limp limbs entwined with her own. He had moved so he was laying just a bit further on top of her, his weight against her side comfortingly inviting. His hips were pressed firmer to hers, the beginnings of a morning erection growing against the back of her thigh. 

Her thoughts wandered back to being bound in his hold last night, completely helpless against her need for him. 

God. Joyce thought, heat rising to her face. With Murray and Dmitri right fucking there. 

She couldn’t deny that may have even had a part in how uncontrollably turned on she was by Hopper’s sudden dominant display. 

Joyce started “exploring” with boys what some may say was early in her life. At least her whole grade thought so when everyone found out and she was labeled as a slut at thirteen. Then, when her first real boyfriend, whom she thought she loved until he left, knocked her up at sixteen, her own mother labeled her a slut too. Not many people knew about that abortion.

Needless to say, all of this had scarred Joyce enough to ward her away from anything sexual in nature. Not that she wasn’t wild in other ways after high school, doing anything she could to prove that she was not, and never would be, her parents. Drugs, sure. Protests, yeah. Parties galore. However, she started dating Lonnie eighteen and after that, she wasn’t with another man until Bob. Truth be told, Joyce has really only been with four guys, none of which she’d call particularly good or “open” in bed.

Hopper on the other hand… had a much different experience regarding sex, one that all of Hawkins practically knew about. Joyce expected that to bother her- before they were together, it surely ticked her off more than she’d like to admit- but now, Hopper’s long history in the bedroom only excited her. Like she had been waiting through decades of a complicated, subpar relationship with sex just to finally get to him. 

And fuck , if she didn’t trust this man more than anyone on planet Earth. Her heart fluttered with the realization while her crotch simultaneously ached at the anticipation of all the things he could do to her. Needing to feel Hopper more before her chest burst with an embarrassing amount of love for him, Joyce intertwined her fingers with the strong hand on her hip, bringing them to her face. Lightly, trying not to wake him, Joyce pressed her lips to his knuckles before kissing his fingertips one by one. She studied the cuts and calluses over his skin, wondering how long it’d be until they returned to Hopper’s usual, surprisingly soft hands. 

When her lips grazed the outside of his thumb, his fingertips flittered over her cheekbone, gently tracing her jaw. She hadn’t meant to wake him, but smiled at the way he pulled her so close that it was hard to get air for a moment. She never thought the feeling of being crushed would be so comforting. 

There was certainly a second where he had no clue where he was. A fraction of that second was spent in the horrible assumption that it was his unforgiving prison cell, but the soft warmth around him quickly dispelled that idea. Then, when he felt her tiny frame encapsulated by him, the memories came back. Hopper chest tightened. 

That’s right… I’m going home. 

And it was all because of this stunningly brave, little thing in his arms. She was already awake, tangling his fingers in her own. Hopper took ownership of his hand back, testing out his touch by gently feeling along her jaw and neck. Joyce flinched away when he tickled her, humming in amusement. 

His arms tightened around Joyce, partly to feel her and partly to stretch. He then realized that he was fully erect and pressed in between the apex of her legs, cock straining against his sweatpants. Joyce wiggled her hips ever so slightly, pulling a content sigh from Hopper’s lips. His hands slid down to grip the jut of her bare hip, tugging her sharply into his tenting pants. She seemed instantly entranced, head falling back and hips rutting firmly against his cock. 

“We’re so bad,” She whispered with the smallest of smirks on her lips. Hopper chuckled, soon choked by a moan as she moved in just the right angle to where his tip was poking right where her entrance was shrouded by layers of clothing. 

“Who could blame us?” He sighed at the sweet pressure building between his legs while nibbling on the shell of her ear.

With shaky hands, she reached back and tugged the waist of her sweatpants down over the curve of her ass, leaving only the thin cotton layer of her panties. Hopper hurriedly unwound an arm to shove his waistband down too, just enough to where his straining bulge could press through his boxers against her. 

With the thinness of the remaining layers, he could feel her warmth radiating against his shaft, her ass rubbing up against him with the perfect amount of friction to coil overwhelming pleasure deep in his stomach. Joyce was breathing heavily now, and even though there was risk of waking the others, he didn’t dare to shush such a gratifying sound. He accidentally released his own grunt of pleasure when she gyrated into him at just the right angle for his sensitive tip to prod against her entrance again. 

Even through his boxers and her panties, he could feel how wet and wanting she was. Wanting him . 

Jesus . Hopper could feel his hot blood pumping through his body, his nerve ending starting to prickle in frustration. He bucked into her lazily, breath heavy and stuttering as his hands traveled up her stomach until they fit the shape of her breasts. Hop felt their weight in his hands before massaging Joyce through her shirt. She jolted into him every time he pinched or rolled a nipple. 

It was a good thing they’d managed to keep their underwear on at the very least, or Hopper knew he wouldn’t have the self control to refrain from slipping inside of her. Just the thought of feeling that wet, clenching warmth on his cock without a shred of clothing in between… 

“Mm…” Hopper sighed against her ear, his dick twitching against her damp mound. Give him a couple more minutes, and he swore he could cum like this. 

It didn’t seem like they’d have that option though, a snore piercing the air and slapping some sense into them. Hopper instinctively held Joyce close to him, feeling both of their hearts slamming into their rib cages. They froze while coming down from their fear-fueled adrenaline spike, listening for any other signs of life from the other bed. 

When it seemed as though the coast was clear, Joyce sighed and turned in his grasp, wriggling around until she was facing Hopper with a leg draped around his waist. Her eyes were amused, her cheeks flushed either from the effort of their shameless humping, or the embarrassment of almost being caught doing it. Whatever the case, she was beautiful this way- hair tousled against the pillow and eyes still soft and tired. 

She ran her fingers along his eyebrow and cheekbone- he realized she’s been doing that a lot, like she was trying to read about his last 8 months through the lines of his face. Even though he felt a hint of shyness, he didn’t mind; it gave him the chance to watch her deep brown eyes flit from one thing to the next, her brow furrowing with her thoughts without her even realizing. 

I love you. Was all his Joyce-riddled brain could think, like an alarm he couldn’t silence. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

“What?” She asked, and his heart stopped. He didn’t say it out loud, did he? She was looking at him curiously, like she somehow knew he was refraining from saying what he was thinking so loudly. He gazed at her, flushed and caught, the words hanging on his tongue. 

Tell her, dumbass. 

He didn’t know why his confidence faltered under her gaze- maybe it was all just still too much to add another element into this thing, or maybe there was part of him that still feared she would reject him. This seemed like a ridiculous notion considering the way they’ve been attacking one another since reuniting, but Jim still couldn’t help but feel like there were a billion ways he could fuck this up. 

So, he shook his head briskly. “Mm-mm.” He refused. 

“Jim! What?” Joyce propped herself up on an elbow, peering down at him through a scrunched brow. He bit the inside of his cheek before shaking his head again, eyes never leaving hers. 

“Nuh-uh,” 

“ Tell me…” she whined with an amused grin painted on her face. Her small hands gripped his shoulders and lightly shook him in frustration. Hopper snorted at her childish pestering, taking her wrists and pulling her to his chest just as a third voice sounded behind them.

“Children, please. Mom and Dad are sleeping.” Murray mumbled into his pillow. Joyce cast a glance over Hopper’s shoulder, a smile growing at the sight of the two men passed out in their own queen bed. Luckily, the unlikely sight distracted her from more prying and he was safe from confessing for a while longer. In the end it didn’t really matter much- Jim was sure he couldn’t last another day by her side like this without spilling his heart onto the table for everyone to see. 

Hopper and Joyce’s alone time came to a quick end from there, the room stirring awake to start getting ready for the travels back East; Murray to Illinois, Dmitri to some “friends” in Wisconsin, while Hopper and Joyce flew straight to Indiana. Hopper just hoped he could keep Joyce’s nerves down until they were able to see their kids again. 

Hopper made sure he was first to the shower, or else he was doomed to hiding beneath the sheets until his hardon subsided. Joyce gave him a side glare of knowing before he bunched up his pile of new clothes for the day, cradled it to his chest and slipped into the amber-tiled bathroom. The air and floor chilled his skin, not to mention the tragic loss of Joyce’s body heat against him. He couldn’t get the faucet going fast enough. 

The roar of the water brought him back to the night before, a situation he much preferred with Joyce kneeling half-naked between his knees. 

Panic shot through his chest as his mind started to try and convince him this wasn’t real again, but then he heard it: her voice from behind the door, muffled but unmistakable. He couldn’t tell what she was saying, but recognized the tone as her bossing someone around. 

Hopper snorted in amusement. He had been dreaming about her- both awake and asleep- but there was no way for him to prepare how her familiar little mannerisms and expressions stabbed him right through the heart. 

And then there were the new Joyce sensations he never would’ve had access to before. Nuzzling himself into the indescribable smell of purely Joyce against her neck… feeling her pulse against his lips as she slept… catching those little throaty moans and whimpers in her sleep. 

Hopper groaned softly as he stepped into the hot spray of the shower, his dick twitching at the thought of his little miracle. He shakily grasped himself in his hand, stroking himself slowly if not to simply assuage the near-painful tension of his arousal. 

Hopper wondered if there’d ever be a day when she fully understood how much he worshiped her. Maybe it was best if that day never did come. If Joyce truly knew what she did to him, he’d be in trouble. 

I’m already in fucking trouble. He thought, ducking his head under the water while thoughts of her wet pout from their previous shower filled his mind. She had been right there- right before him on her goddamn knees … Jesus, he was the luckiest bastard alive and knew he didn’t deserve it, but fuck, after 8-months of hell on Earth, he sure as hell would take it. 

Jim envisioned her hand around his cock instead; she was even softer than he could’ve imagined, small but assertive in the way she pulled at him while searching his eyes with deep brown chasms that could pick apart his mind on the spot, gentle and nonjudgmental.

Then, he thought of them just moments ago, his hands pressed into her lower belly and pulling her tiny, writhing frame into his hardening cock.

“Nngh…” Jim was still shocked at the intensity of his orgasms, wondering if he had just forgotten what abundant pleasure felt like or if she was just driving him absolutely insane. 

Both. He thought shakily as the overwhelming waves subsided, allowing Hopper to drop his head into his forearm braced against the cool shower wall. His whole body slumped and Jim realized he had been tensed up so tightly that he was in a decent amount of pain without even realizing. His labored breaths barely made it to his ears over the spray of the water around him, his heart still pounding in his ears louder than anything. 

And he hadn’t even been inside her yet?

Oh god, he was going to fuck her so good.

The absence of guilt after jerking off to Joyce was a nice alternative. He had done so before probably more than he’d like to admit, and then in Russia… 

Well, times like that were rare, but once he did start to think of Joyce, he’d just get… sad. 

Taking a deep, stuttering breath, Hopper expelled his looming, dark thoughts and reached for the soap. The faster he was done showering, the faster he could see her. 

When he did emerge to find Joyce sitting on the bed, leg bouncing nervously, her eyes found his instantly, a sly eyebrow cocking. He had seen inklings of this painfully nostalgic glance before- when she teased him at Melvald’s or she berated him for saying something dumb. This… mischevious little glint in her eye- it was so reminiscent of their young and often frisky back and forth throughout high school. 

He felt frozen in her gaze, a small amused grin beginning on his face.  

“What?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“Enjoy your shower?” 

Jesus, she’d make him hard all over again. Hopper narrowed his eyes in mock disapproval, shooting Murray and Dmitri a side glance. Thank god they were losing interest in Joyce and his frequent back and forths. 

“Yes. Yes, I did.” 

Murray had forgotten what life was like without a thousand nanograms of adrenaline pumping through his system at all times. The “grandma’s basement” styled motel was the first time he had a second to breathe since Joyce called him. All the shit they waded through to get here (literally and metaphorically) was starting to catch up to him. 

He was fucking tired. 

Murray fantasized about collapsing in his bed at home, falling asleep to Bradbury until that damn bird’s nest outside his window reminded him to water his garden. 

Yeah, that’ll be nice. 

For now though, they were all packed up and waiting around the motel lobby for a call from Dmitri’s friend to ensure that he would be taken care of once landing in Wisconsin. 

“Ya ponimayu, pochemu svirepaya malen'kaya zhenshchina-nerazluchnitsa mogla prygnut' golovoy vpered v etu sobstvennuyu missiyu,” Dmitri sounded from beside him, bringing him back to the reality of the situation. He wasn’t home. He was in Alaska, still not totally safe, and surrounded by an annoyingly familiar sexual tension radiating from, who may be, his only friends.

I understand why Miss Lady lovebird might’ve jumped headfirst into this suicide mission- 

Dmitri had said, finishing with, “Ty, ya ne ponimayu.” 

You, I don’t get.

Murray snorted. “I ya net”

Me neither.

Dmitri didn’t seem satiated by this answer, still cocking his head and curious eyes towards Murray.

“Humans aren’t really my forte.” Murray explained in Russian further, slouching back in his chair and lazily eyeing where the rest of their “party” (as the kids would say) sat waiting. Joyce was doing that thing where she fled planet earth into her own world, eyes just slightly wider and unseeing. Her knee bounced in the embroidered lounge chair, gaze diverted from the rest of them. 

Hopper on the other hand, seemed engrossed in his own game of seeing how many tiny scraps of napkin he could toss in Joyce’s hair without her noticing. Murray wondered what his play was here, seeing as Joyce wasn’t much in the mood for any behavior this morning. Hopper had been trying little things to keep her distracted, but mostly she just sat like this. Murray had hoped he could get a little bit of solace from Joyce’s anxiety monster after they got Jim back, but he was a fool for the wishful thoughts. She was wound so tightly about the kids that Murray was wishing they had all gotten their separate rooms last night to allow those two some much needed “decompression”. 

“I was really good at being alone. Like…” Murray sighed at the lovely memory of peace before the Hopper-Byers tornado blew into his life. Dmitri’s interest was piqued, his new Russian comrade settling back in his chair to listen “, deystvitel'no khorosho.”

Really good. 

Murray watched Joyce wince in her seat as a tiny paper ball hit her ear. She quickly swatted at her hair, knocking more scraps to the ground. She shot a confused glance at her feet, running her hands through her hair and dispelling the rest. Her gaze immediately shot back to Hopper who quickly, and quite conspicuously, looked away. 

“Ass.” She broke into a smile and Murray was surprised to find that he himself relaxed with her. She shoved playfully at Hopper’s head and snatched his half-torn napkin away from him. “You know you don’t have to get my attention like we’re in 2nd grade anymore. You can just ask.” Joyce was berating him, poking at a spot on his side as if she knew exactly where he wasn’t damaged. Hopper chuckled and pulled another shred of paper from her hair, his hand lingering to gently brush her cheekbone, their eyes connecting in a way that had Murray’s eyes rolling back into his head. 

“But,” Murray continued his conversation in Russian, not wishing for these two fools to hear what he actually thought of them. “, despite their incessant… that ,” Murray gestured to where these two fully grown adults were gawking at each other like lovesick puppies. “, they have a way of,” Murray thrust his extended hand forward in one sudden and violent stroke. “, just forcing their way in there,” 

“Ah…” Dmitri nodded. And then in English, “To your heart, yes?” He said with a slight, but not aggressive, mocking tone.

“No, like into my actual place of residence.” Murra watched as Hopper frowned, eyes leaving Joyce’s to scan her up and down. 

“You feeling okay?” he asked the woman, barely half his size.

“Yes,” she immediately came back with, rather defensively Murray thought. Hopper didn’t seem convinced either, hand rushing to her forehead, feeling her cheeks, the side of her neck… Joyce cringed away at the sudden doting, a breathy chuckle escaping her lips from all the poking and prodding. 

“Hop! Hop, I’m fine. I’m fine. Just… worried.” She brushed his hands away when he tried to feel her forehead again. 

“You look pale.” 

“I’m always pale.” 

Hopper shot her a disapproving look, shaking his head and studying her face.

“You better not be getting sick on me, Byers.” He slung an arm around her back, pulling her body into his as much as their separate chairs would allow.

“Hm.” Dmitri was peeling an orange from the motel lobby’s less-than-savvy complimentary breakfast. “Oni vernuli vam nekotoruyu nadezhdu, da?” 

Dmitri was implying that these two idiots somehow supplied him with some sort of hope in people, but watching them bicker about what Joyce managed to eat for breakfast was making the notion hard to believe. Joyce was once again assuring Hopper that she was fine before she huffed and slumped into his shoulder, eyes still distant and knee still bouncing. Jim slid a hand over her leg until she slowed her movement, taking slow and deliberate breaths. 

“Hm.” Jim hummed a light laugh under his breath, his eyes fixated towards the floor. 

“What?” Joyce glanced up at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Your shoes.” 

Joyce looked down and kicked her feet out a bit, just barely reaching the floor in her seat. 

“Yeah?” 

“They’re so small.” Hopper murmured through an amused grin, eyeing the sneakers Murray had picked up for her at the store. Joyce snorted and shook her head.

“Shut up.” 

“Tiny, actually. Joyce-size.” He pressed, seemingly tickled.

“Stop.” She bit her lip to keep from grinning, quite unsuccessfully. 

Jim continued to tease her, either for his own enjoyment or to distract Joyce from her rampant fears. She continued to act as if she didn’t love it. 

Gross.

But what could he say? Murray loved a good story, and while he usually wasn’t one for love stories, this one had been pretty neat to watch unfold. He’d love to say he had any part in making it happen, but it was clear that these two were woven together from the start- just too fucking dumb to make anything happen. He had to admit, being in a room with them nowadays was a lot more enjoyable than last Summer. It was just… better like this, in every regard. 

“So maybe you do like others. And you are just cranky.” Dmitri offered, slapping a hand on Murray’s shoulder before the lobby phone rung. Dmitri stood and made his way over, leaving Murray to watch two people he kung-fu’d across the world for. 

He didn’t know about all “others” as Dmitri put it, but these two were okay. 

“It feels so goddamn good to hear English again.” Hopper told her, watching the people bustle about the train station while sharing a bench with Joyce. She gave him a sadder smile than she would’ve liked, but how could she not when he said things like that? She could tell Hopper was still in awe of the little things, like taking a kid to the zoo for the first time. It would’ve been adorable if the circumstances weren’t so fucking horrific. 

One step closer. She thought, mentally crossing the train station off her list of stops before she could get Hopper home and see her kids. The longer she spent apart from them, the larger the pain in her heart grew. She had been feeling slightly nauseous since the moment she got out of bed, her heart at a constant, worrying rate. She cursed her overactive imagination, in a constant battle against the horrible possibilities that could be playing out in Hawkins right now. 

It didn’t quite help when a mother and her two kids shuffled into the bench next to them. The woman was struggling to strap in her youngest to the strolling while keeping a hold on the waddling toddler. It reminded her of wrangling Jonathan and Will when they were little. They were always good kids, quieter and more observant than most, but Will liked to get distracted or curious before wandering away in the matter of milliseconds. It always had her in a panic taking the kids in public, much like this poor woman packing up her stroller. 

The toddler took interest in the strap of Joyce’s bag, wandering over with little regard to them. 

“Charlie! That’s not yours.” 

Joyce smiled at the curious child lightly, glancing at the mother. 

“He’s okay.” She assured the woman who still fought with her youngest to get the kid in their seat. 

“Do you have kids?” The woman threw a polite look between Hopper and Joyce. She wished she could enjoy the fact that this was the first time they were being called out as a couple in public, but the thought of the kids stomped out any light in her chest. 

“Mhm…” Joyce nodded, clearing her tight throat. “We’re on our way back to them.” Saying it out loud made her feel the tiniest bit better. 

“Charlie!” 

Hopper grabbed the kid by the back of the jacket before he went tumbling into heavy foot traffic. 

“Jesus,” The woman breathed, coming to collect her eldest. “Thank you. Safe travels!” She hurriedly offered while taking the toddlers hand and bustling off with her stroller. Joyce felt Hopper’s gaze heavy on her, searching her face for signs of her reaction. She knew he was worried that the sight of kids would set her off, but…

Wait… 

No, yeah… She was freaking out. 

Hating that he knew her before she knew herself, she tapped her fingers nervously against her knee. 

“I gotta try Karen again.” 

“Joyce,” 

“Jim.” She plainly answered, not having that warning tone he was trying to give her. She made her way to the phone, her chest constricting around her heart. She didn’t know if she’d survive the next few hours without at least one of the kid’s voices. 

He watched Joyce disappear through the crowd of the only train station within 30 miles. Sitting back on the rather uncomfortable bench, Hopper grimaced against the soreness setting into his body. If he was being honest, everything was just slightly on fire at all times and if he stood too fast, he felt woozy. Take that and the gut wrenching fear about the kids away, somehow, Jim was simultaneously on cloud nine. 

Just the way she looked at him, now… Especially when she thought he wasn’t able to see her peripherally. The corner of her lips would twitch upwards just a bit, her eyes soft and water-lined. Of course, today Joyce’s attention couldn’t be pulled from anything but the safety of the kids, so Hopper decided it was his job just to soothe her the best he could until they could get home.

Murray approached, which was enough to scare Hopper out of his Joyce-obsessed musings. He was definitely still on edge, waiting for the moment that another Russian fuck would tear him apart from this current, wonderful fantasy he felt a fool to believe in. 

But this time, it was just Murray. 

“Four tickets. One step closer to putting this all behind us.” Murray slapped a hand on Hopper’s shoulder. He fought the urge to cringe away at the pain that flared up. 

“Mm.” Hopper grunted in false agreement. He had a feeling that he was going to have a bit harder of a time just “leaving this all behind” him.

Murray sat next to him, pulling his bag into his lap and relaxing back with a sigh. His eyes slid closed and his head tipped back. 

“Just a few mere hours,” He reiterated quietly to no one in particular. Hopper shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking down at the ground. 

Damn , he still wasn’t good at this kind of stuff. 

“Hey. Murray.” 

“Hmm?” He sounded distant and uninterested. Perfect. 

“I-” Where does he even start? “I don’t… know how to- to even tell you-” 

“Don’t do this, Jim.” Murray cut in, admittedly a relief. “I know. You’re eternally indebted to me.” Murray said without stirring a single muscle. Hopper glanced at his face, eyes still closed but the beginning of a small smirk on his lips. Jim supposed it wasn’t really breaking news that he was grateful to Murray for innumerable things. Still…

“At least let me thank you for taking care of her.”

Murray did smirk this time, an eyebrow quirking upwards. “I think she did that herself.”

Hopper hummed in agreement, knowing it was mostly true. Nevertheless, he realized they’d both be dead as doornails without Murray. 

“How, uh… how is she?” 

Murray was still and silent for a moment before a shoulder shrugged. 

“She was a mess for a while. Disaster, really.” His eyes finally opened to look at Hopper as if to drive home the point harder. “After Starcourt, she kept calling me at odd hours of the night with all of these new theories, ” Murray thrust his hands around in the air to indicate utter chaos. “The government faked your death, there was an even deeper hideout under Starcourt where they were keeping you, you were in the ‘Upside Down’ or whatever the kids call it…”

Hopper's heart constricted further with every image of Joyce panicking over him. Never in a million years would he have thought all of that “ I will scour the earth for my son” energy would be focused on him. He had been through hell, yes. But when it came down to it, Hopper wouldn’t dare to have switched places with Joyce. If he had to deal with losing her, especially like that… Putting on a brave face, taking care of the kids…

He couldn't have done it. He knew he couldn’t.

“Anyway, I went over a few times when it got bad. She had so much guilt. The first time she just… cried. For hours.” Murray’s eyes were stationed firmly forward, seeing only the memory of him and Joyce following Hopper’s death. The way he spoke without a hint of cockiness or sarcasm sent a chill down Hopper’s spine as his chest sunk low into his stomach. 

Guilt? Why would she feel guilt?

“Yeah…” Murray nodded gravely, still zoned out on the recollection. “Missed Stu Collins.” Murray trampled his dark story with the notion of missing a stupid radio hour. Hopper would’ve replied, but he didn’t know what with, and his mouth had gone dry. He didn’t know why he was a little surprised that Joyce was that upset. While in prison part of him constantly wondered if she was much better without him. Sometimes he’d even wonder if she came to that conclusion too. 

It didn’t seem so. 

“But now? I don’t know. Once they moved to California I didn’t hear from her much. The kids were awfully suspicious when I showed up, that’s for sure.” Hop chuckled, but the mood turned when Murray’s smile quickly fell though, his eyes flitting towards the crowd before them. “Jim…” His tone was tight and alert, his body tensing. 

Hopper’s eyes followed his gaze to Joyce who was already on her way back after an undoubtedly unsuccessful call. Hopper readied himself to try and take on any new levels of her anxiety. He was not, however, ready for her to suddenly slow to a stop in the middle of passenger traffic. The distant, glazed look in Joyce’s eyes should’ve been warning enough for what was about to happen next. All day, Hopper had mistakenly chalked her paled expression and meek responses up to worry. Now, her face was so white it matched the departure board, and Hop was kicking himself. 

Her right knee buckled and Hopper’s heart skipped. He didn’t even realize he was out of his seat until he felt the weight of Joyce’s body slumped against his own. He had made it to her just in time to loop his arms underneath hers, cradling her dead weight to his chest before dropping to a knee just to keep hold of her. 

“Joyce! Joyce?” Her eyes were closed, her face unresponsive, and Hopper wasn’t even quite sure if she was breathing. He could hear the hammering of his heart in his ears, the commotion of the train station around them fading into a deep garble. There was no air left… where was the air? His throat was closing- he felt like he was suffocating all over again.

If he was losing Joyce, then Hopper hoped he fucking was. Whatever was wrong, it was because she was here. It was because of him. A horrible thought twisted his guts: 

I traded her life for mine.

He felt Murray’s presence behind him, tense and unsure. He even heard Murray talking, and wondered if it was to him. 

“...in the last 24 hours?” An unfamiliar voice was interrogating.

“Yes, she hit her head pretty bad. A- a- a- plane altercation.”

“Plane altercation?”

“ Yes! ” Murray was shouting to a man who now crouched beside Hopper, studying Joyce’s face with pinched brows. 

“Position her on her back. Check for anything constricting. Make sure she’s breathing,” The mystery man started guiding Hopper in a manner that told him this was some sort of doctor. In any case, Jim was feeling rather paralyzed with fear, so he’d take the direction where he could get it. 

Hopper tore off his jacket and spread on the ground before gently lying her head back. Still, Joyce didn’t stir, and that fucking terrified him. 

“Hey… Hey,” Hopper tried again, gently caressing her jaw before shaking her shoulder. “Is it- could it be a concussion?” Hopper asked the man blindly, needing something or anyone to offer anything . Luckily her pulse was strong underneath his fingertips. “She’s been pale, and- and- and kind of out of it-” 

“Could be. We’re going to want to have her checked for internal bleeding.”

Internal bleeding?

“Can she fly?” Murray interjected from above. 

“ No!”  

“I wouldn’t at this moment, no.” The doctor and Hopper answered over one another. 

Joyce’s eyes broke open just that moment, dark brown pools dilating against the harsh overhead of the train station. She stirred below him, squeezing her eyes shut before softly blinking them open again. Her eyes wandered before landing on him, her whole demeanor changing. Water brimmed her lower lid as she frowned up at him with a disbelieving stare. It was like she was seeing him for the first time, and that crushed his heart. He wanted to comfort her, but words wouldn’t come through his tightening throat.

“Hop?” she whispered, feather light. He forced a small smile, brushing hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He tried everything to will the water dry from his eyes. Her gaze danced from one thing to the next, taking in the chaotic stimuli of the station around them. Her breathing picked up. “Take it slow, okay? You passed out. Are you hurt?” 

“Mm-mm.” She grunted with a small shake of her head, closing her eyes against the commotion around them. 

“Are you dizzy? Numb anywhere?” The man asked her. She didn’t answer.

“Joyce?” Hopper pressed, fear lining his voice, causing her to rush a response. 

“No, no… I’m fine.” She offered unconvincingly before gripping his jacket to help pull herself into a sitting position. 

“Careful, careful. You may need to lie down for a bit.” Her insistence to suddenly act as though she was fine had Hopper struggling to remain calm. He had no idea what was going on- she could have internal bleeding for God’s sake.

“No, then we’d miss our train.” 

Hopper sighed. This wasn’t going to go well, and he knew it.

“Joyce…” He held his breath. “We aren’t going to the airport.” 

She blinked at him, unregistering. A crease formed between her eyebrows and she shook her head.

“Wh- What? Yes. We’re going to the airport and flying home. To see the kids.” She explained to him, panic rising in her voice. A pang of guilt flooded his chest.

“Joyce, you may have serious head trauma, and-” 

“I said I’m fine , Hopper.” The full strength of her voice returning.She stared at him with sharp eyes. He stared back with apologetic (and mildly frightened) blues. 

“I wouldn’t recommend any big travel until you get thoroughly examined by a medical professional.” The doc diagnosed, earning a dagger-of-a glare from Joyce.

“Who asked you?” 

“ Joyce! ” Hopper exclaimed, shocked (and also not so shocked) by her aggression towards the good samaritan. “Sorry. Thank you.” Hopper offered, giving the man a silent nod of appreciation and releasing him from dealing with her further. Murray gave the man an awkward wave before they were left to their small band of misfits once again. 

Less witnesses to my murder. Hopper thought before treading lightly once again. 

“You can’t fly. Not until we get you checked out.” His voice was low and calm. 

Hers, not so much.

“ OH. Like at a hospital? Like I said in the first place?” 

Hopper’s jaw went slack and his eyes rolled to the ceiling, a frustrated sigh piercing the air. 

“Yes, okay? You were right. Is that what this will take?” 

“There’s no way in hell I’m not getting on that plane.” 

“Joyce-” 

“ No, don’t-” she knocked his hand from her shoulder, grabbing Murray’s hand and using it to stand abruptly. Hopper shot an arm out, grabbing her forearm to stabilize her when she stumbled. He didn’t care if she was pissed at him, he wasn’t having her go down again. Finding her stance, Joyce ripped her arm back from him. “You don’t have to come with me.” She shot, going for her bag. Hopper’s hand firmly grabbed it too though, holding them firmly in place. 

“Let go.” 

“No.” 

“Hopper, let go. ” 

“We’ll get the next closest flight out! I don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal!” 

“A big deal ? Like when I made a big deal about Will being gone, or that thing coming back, or the magnets, or-” 

“The whole goddamn U.S. government has eyes on Hawkins, Joyce! And you weren’t harboring potential brain bleeding then, were you?”

She scoffed as if it were all a ridiculous joke. Joyce was clearly past listening to anything he had to say though, abandoning her bag with a frustrated huff and going to push past him. Jim said a silent prayer for the size he had on her, easily shrouding her path. Joyce’s jaw set and she tried to dodge around him again, actually managing to shove her way past with a surprising amount of force. 

“ Jesus ,” Hopper muttered in angry disbelief, stumbling a bit before spinning to catch her wrist again. She went to tug herself away and Hopper wondered if they’d just continue this back and forth until hopefully, the train left without them. However, their tight game of cat and mouse came to an abrupt end when Joyce’s face went white again, and she swayed. “Joyce!” He jumped forward to instinctively catch her around her torso, guiding her back to the bench. Without much physical strength left to counter, she followed. They needed to get to a hospital now. 

“You’re not getting these tickets anyway, so it’s not worth exhausting yourself.” Hopper said, shooting Murray a glance of warning to guard their train passes.

As she crumpled into her seat, Joyce’s demeanor deteriorated. Her brow scrunched and her hands flew up to cover her face, a sob wracking her body. 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no… 

“ Joyce… Joyce, hey…” his chest exploded, anger and panic dissolving. Hopper rushed to wrap his arms around her, rubbing her back as she shuddered against him. He couldn’t stand to see her cry.

“If anything happens-” She took a stuttering breath. “I left them. I left them, and now-” 

“No, hey… Joyce, none of this is on you.” He cleared his throat, swiping a shaking thumb over the back of her hand. Everyone knew the truth here. The fact that she even thought for a second that any of this was her fault… “If this is on anyone, it’s me.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but at least the panicked sobs were subsiding. 

“That’s not what I meant.” she offered, wiping the last of her tears away. But Hopper didn’t need her to deny his culpability. He’s already been feeling it. 

“Look, these kids need you. You’re all they’ve got. Their mom needs to come home safe , okay? That’s the best way you can help them.” He tried desperately to soothe her, wrapping Joyce’s shaking frame into his arms and gently planting kisses all over her face. 

“Please.” Kiss. “Please?” Kiss. Kiss. “Pleeeease-” 

“Okay,” she croaked bitterly, body slumping in his hold. Hopper didn’t even realize his heart had started anxiously hammering during this whole unexpected roadblock. Murray and Dmitri were awkwardly watching from the adjacent bench, a safe distance from Hop and Joyce’s minor breakdown. They had learned better than to get in between… all that .

Joyce calmed down enough to let the doctor ask her a few questions, testing her eye movements and memory. Hopper tried to reach for her hand but she moved away. He sighed, trying not to let anything she did right now sting. He knew the drill when the kids were in potential danger. 

“I’m going to go give Owen’s guys a call,” Hopper decided. All he got was a small nod of acknowledgment. “Can I trust you to stay here?” Her side-eye shot ice through his veins and Jim decided not to push on it. Clearing his throat nervously, he thanked the doctor one last time before standing by Murray and Dmitri’s bench. 

“Keep an eye on her, please.” He got a nod and a grunt in agreement. “Gotta call for a backup plan.” Murray fished coins out of his pocket and handed them to Jim. “Thanks.” 

He was glad to get someone on the phone relatively quickly, giving the news that they were going to need a later flight back to Hawkins. The answer he got wasn’t ideal and he dreaded having to tell Joyce but made his way back to where everyone sat. 

Except for Joyce. Because she wasn’t there. 

FUCK. Fuck, fuck, fuck… 

“What the hell?” he rushed to find Murray studying his nail beds and Dmitri dozing off. The two men straightened instantly at the alert in Hopper’s tone. 

“What now? What?” Murray stuttered looking around in an attempt to find the source of Hopper’s frustration. 

“Where is she?” 

“The bathroom!” Murray shot back as if it were obvious. Jim felt a lot of things in that moment. Fear of her hurting herself, hurt that she’d tricked him, anger at Joyce, anger at these idiots…

“And you believed her?” His eyes scanned the station for bathroom signs. He’d at least make sure he was right before making a huge deal over losing her. “I told you to watch her.” 

“We thought… for her head, yes?” Dmitri nudged Murray for confirmation, Dumb giving Dumber a hurried nod in agreement. 

“ No , as in she’s a goddamn flight risk.” Hopper muttered, spotting the restroom doors and bounding off with the two other men tight on his heels. Not caring about the stares, Hopper pushed the woman’s door open, revealing a mother and child exiting a stall, but nothing more. 

Dammit. She had been so convincing, little sneak. 

“Alright, spread out. We’ve got…” Hopper craned his neck to see the large clock over the information kiosk. “...five minutes until the train gets in.” He told himself he could only start panicking once that happened. Otherwise, she was still trapped, hiding somewhere in the station. 

Trying to think like Joyce would in one of her panicked hazes, he scanned the hallways for somewhere to start. Heading for what would’ve been their platform to the airport, he kept a diligent gaze for her dark brown waves and even darker brown eyes. 

Jesus Christ, she was actually making him hunt her down. If he weren’t so indebted to her, he’d be pissed. Truthfully, all he wanted was the peace of mind that she wasn’t going to pass out again, or worse. Joyce had a track record of letting things go nuclear before letting anyone know that she’s suffering at all. For all Jim knew, she could’ve been having head trauma symptoms since the moment he laid eyes on her. 

A pang of guilt flooded his chest, but he pushed it down and used that to search faster; keep alert. 

She watched Murray wriggle his way through the crowd of milling passengers, keeping a suitable distance. Joyce’s back was pressed up against a pillar that was plenty large enough to obscure herself behind which came in handy when Dmitri rounded a corner to her left. She shuffled around the solid, concrete structure behind her, making sure to also keep an eye on the crowd for Hopper. 

She felt bad about fleeing, she really did; just not bad enough not to do it. When she attained this level of worry, Joyce wasn’t going to stop at anything. There was only one thing singed into her mind: get back to the kids, get back to the kids, get back to kids…

Hopper could take the next flight back if he wanted, but she wasn’t waiting up for this ridiculous “hospital” notion. She had enough money in her jacket to buy herself another train ticket, and Hopper said that they had plane tickets waiting for them at the airport information desk. Now, she just had to make it out of here unseen. 

Joyce sighed. Sometimes she even shocked herself. 

Dmitri scanned the crowd just as she turned around the pillar enough to be fully covered, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Joyce gripped the strap of her bag over her shoulder, turning to make a beeline down the North Wing hallway towards her platform. 

Instead, she came face to face with Hopper. 

It seemed as though he had been standing there a while, arms crossed and face unamused, but she hurried to hide her ticket behind her anyway, stumbling through a fake-surprise expression. 

“Oh! I was… looking for you.” 

He clearly didn’t believe her for a second, and she couldn’t blame him. Her shoulders sunk, adrenaline deflated, plan busted… Hopper cocked an eyebrow at her, reaching an arm out for her to take his hand. Joyce huffed and pushed it away, pushing at his torso until he spun around. She began to gently shove Hop towards where she saw Murray still scouring the premises. 

“Fine. Fine. I’m right behind you.” 

“Yeaaaaaaah, right.” Hopper spun in time to catch her trying to bolt again, the hand around her wrist gripping painfully. Joyce grunted, yanked back into place by his hold. She was at her last resort now, with no plan but simply needing to get on the train. She pushed at his chest, still mindful of his ribs but trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “Joyce… Joyce! ” 

“I’ll scream,” 

“You’re being such a child.” 

“No, you’re treating me like one! Hop- Hopper! ” He swept her struggling form up in his arms. Usually this would pissed her off to no end, doubling her efforts to writhe and kick her way out, but the barely audible whimper of pain in the back of Hop’s throat was instantly enough to still Joyce’s thrashing. His strong arms were banded tightly around hers, her back pressed firmly to his chest. 

Fucking asshole. He positioned her just so the moment she moved, she’d nudge his damaged ribs. When she begrudgingly stopped struggling, he carried her towards Murray. Luckily, he wasn’t far, because people were starting to stare. Murray caught sight, an amused glimmer in his eye. 

At least someone was having fun.

“You know, Joyce… Typically, on a rescue mission, you don’t leave without the rescuee.” Murray smirked.

She wasn’t in the mood for jokes. 

Jim set her down, hand instantly encasing her wrist again. She’d tell him that she was done trying to fight him- she was tired in general, plus the effort of fighting Hopper had her feeling faint and nauseous again- but Joyce knew there wasn’t a point after the number of times she’d already tried to evade him. She remained tethered by his side, gaze diverted, brow set furiously. 

“Please. We’ll go to the hospital, get us both checked out,” 

Joyce rolled her eyes. She wanted Hopper to get examined yesterday , when they still had time . That’s the last time she’s letting him win an argument. 

“Then we’ll fly out first thing tomorrow, ‘kay?” 

Her cold shoulder approach instantly faltered as she whipped her gaze to Hop’s again.

“ Tomorrow? ” 

“Jesus, Joyce. I’m trying here, cut me some slack.” 

“Anything could happen by tomorrow! We can’t wait that long!”

“They promised the kids are fine and being looked after. They’ll get us to a bigger town down the road… a nicer hotel-” 

“I don’t want a nicer fucking hotel, Hopper. I want my kids.” 

“And I want you not to die! SO sorry if that’s inconvenient for you.” 

“If you think for even a second that you’re getting anything out of me tonight-” 

“Jesus, Joyce. That’s fucking fine. Wouldn’t dream of it!” Hopper threw back. They both diverted their eyes from one another before there was a beat of stressed stillness. Joyce felt the anger coursing through her chest in hot waves, her hands trembling. She forgot how specifically infuriated Hopper could make her. 

“Well…” Dmitri brought everyone back down to planet Earth, his single ticket gripped in one hand as he waited for a window to speak. He turned to Murray, throwing a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck.” 

They said goodbye to Dmitri who was the only one making it to the airport. Joyce would be terrified if she were him- in a foreign country without any identification or credentials, relying on his American partners-in-crime and their admittedly shady connection to a questionable, secret branch of the government. 

Joyce was surprised when Dmitri turned towards her with an expectation of a goodbye. She couldn’t help the intrigue, knowing how much this man had seen Hopper go through, and the fact that this was probably the last time she’d ever lay eyes on him. 

“Pleasure to meet American’s…” he glanced at Hopper briefly with a glint in his eye. “... good friend.”

The small smile that spread on her lips wasn’t quite voluntary but was noticed by the former Russian guard immediately. A cocky smirk showed under his mustache and he reached a hand forward. She shook it, a little frightened when he pulled her forward suddenly. 

“Look after him. He will need it.” He whispered toward her ear. Joyce felt her veins chill before Dmitri stepped back and gave her an affirmative nod. She tried not to look at Hopper despite the fact that he was clearly shooting her with a questioning gaze.

Dmitri gave Murray and Hopper one last pointed look before he was gone on the train that she should be on. Hopper turned to her searching for her eyes but she refused to see him. 

This close. She was THIS close to being with El and her boys. Now, who knew what could happen?

The train began to depart and she tore her arm from Hopper’s grasp, turning and stalking towards the exit. She wasn’t going anywhere- Hopper made that abundantly clear, but she needed air and space from everyone before they called a car to the hospital. Breaking into the cool air shocked her system a bit, which allowed Joyce to try and reason with herself, but most people didn’t understand that even Joyce herself couldn’t make that happen sometimes. The pain in her chest was taking over completely, creating anxious trembles through her fingers and a lack of air to her lungs. Desperate and rushed, she fished out a cigarette from the pack in her pocket. 

This was going to be a looooooooong night.