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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

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Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 13 - Enchanted

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

Walls of insincerity

Shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when I saw your face

On the drive back from the cottage, Joyce stares out the window at the passing countryside and sighs. “Do we have to go back?”

“I thought you were looking forward to starting your new job?” Hopper smiles.

“I am. But…”

“One more year Joyce, then we’re outta here!”

“Yeah?” she states softly, eyes still glued on the passing greenery.

“Yeah. The moment we cross that stage and grab our diploma’s we’ll hop in the car and drive down to the California coast. You can study art at some big fancy school and we can get a house with a view of the ocean.”

“Did you win the lottery and forget to tell me about it?’ she chuckles.

‘I’ve been saving. Besides, with my scholarship money, we’re set.”

“Maybe I should get a job that pays more than the library,” she muses out loud.

“Absolutely not. You were so excited when they offered you that job. Besides, I’m excited to come and visit you at work.”

“You plan on checking out books?”

“I plan on checking you out,” he smirks.

Joyce laughs softly and continues to gaze at the passing land. One more year.

Semi-buried beneath her covers, Joyce pinches her eyes shut as the sound of her parents' voices fill the house. They’d been arguing for well over an hour. About what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she refused to leave her room and get involved.

She finds herself watching the dust dance in the sunlight streaming in through the window. The sun was just beginning to set, painting her walls in a pale shade of yellow that provided her with a strange sense of comfort. Watching the dust flit across the empty space in front of her, she thinks that a life lived in warm yellows must be one of comfort. California would be yellow.

Joyce closes her eyes and dreams of salty air and a house by the sea. She can see it all so clearly. A lone chair sitting near the window bay, the sandy shore stretching out in front of the glass pane, the sun warming up the room and washing over her face, a familiar sense of comfort becomes her.

She’s reading, as she so often does on Sunday evenings. With her book in her lap and a warm cup of tea on the table next to her, she looks around the living room of the house she and Hopper so effortlessly decorated and smiles. A few of her paintings are hung on the wall, something Hopper insisted on doing the moment they were dry. Next to them, his record collection and a few cookbooks. She can hear him in the kitchen, clanging pots and pans as he prepares their meal.

This was their Sunday routine. She would read silently in her corner of the world while Hopper scurried around and made them dinner. Sometimes, no words were exchanged. They moved in tandem, slowly enjoying all that their lives together had to offer and for a brief moment, the world stood still. She never craved the business that came with Friday night football or the weekly grocery trip they took to the market on Saturdays, but she craved the way the world stood still for them on Sunday.

Life was simpler here. People were kind and welcoming. She didn’t have to fall asleep to the sound of her parents fighting, or prove herself to girls she didn’t care about.

She and Hopper had built an entire life for themselves and it was more than she ever could have imagined for herself.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she stares out at the sandy shore and the sunny sky and draws in a deep breath before going to join Hopper for dinner.

The sound of something shattering breaks Joyce out of her daydream. Sadly, she takes in the bland walls of her bedroom and lets herself cry. She cries until she falls asleep, telling herself that she only has one year to go.

Across town, Hopper is working out in the yard when he hears his parents arguing about something through the open kitchen window. He places his weights down on the grass and approaches the window, where it becomes clear that his parents are arguing about the letter he recently received in the mail.

His father had been so proud the day Hopper returned home from the cottage, hoisting the letter into his arms and exclaiming that it was time to serve his country. Hopper, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling in his gut since the moment he was handed that envelope.

He knew he couldn’t not go. He’d been called to serve, much like a handful of his classmates, but the thought of leaving Joyce was killing him. Even thinking about telling her about the letter made him feel sick.

He’d been doing his best to forget about it for the past two days. Senior year started the next day and he would much rather be focused on the football season and his girlfriend.

From inside the kitchen, he can hear his mother explain to his father that he shouldn’t put so much pressure on him about going. He listens as she explains that she knows he’ll have to go and only returns to his workout when he can hear his mother begin crying.

He just wasn’t going to think about it.

Deployment was months away.

For now, he was going to focus on starting his senior year and pretend that the life he and Joyce planned didn’t seem light-years away.

After his workout, Hopper devours a bowl of cereal and stands next to the sink while waiting for his water bottle to fill. The phone rings next to him and he reaches for it with a mouth full of corn flakes on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Joyce’s voice rings through the receiver.

“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s up?”

“I was just thinking about you,” she informs him.

“Oh? What about me?”

“I can’t wait for us to get the hell out of here.”

His heart sinks and he stutters. He could tell her about the letter, but he doesn’t want to hurt her. Just picturing her shattered expression makes his stomach sink and instead he replies, “me too.”

“I just called to tell you that. And to tell you that I don’t need a ride tomorrow,” she says.

“You sure? I can pick you up before practice.”

“It’s alright. It’s our last first day and I want to walk.”

“Can I still drive you home?”

“Only if we can stop for shakes.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Horowitz.”

“See you tomorrow?” she asks.

“See you tomorrow.”

Hanging up the phone, Hopper drops his head to his hands and exhales. He had to tell her about the letter. He couldn’t let her go on planning their future together knowing he was going to be the one to rip the plans away. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, a lose-lose situation.

If he told her, he would break her heart. If he waited to tell her, he would break it more.

The first day back as seniors, Joyce faces a few stares from classmates and freshmen, all likely wondering why someone like Hopper was interested in someone like her. With Chrissy and her minions having graduated, Joyce faced a lot less hazing. Sure, a few of the cheerleaders in her class made faces at her when she passed them in the halls, but most of their gossiping was harmless and she was so genuinely happy with Hopper that she didn’t listen to any of it.

True to his word, Hopper takes her to the diner after school for milkshakes and it becomes their Monday ritual. Joyce would work in the library until football practice ended and then she and Hopper would end up at the diner, splitting a chocolate shake.

She attended every one of his games that fall. Sitting on the bleachers with the rest of the fans, and occasionally his parents, she slowly learned the rules of the game and grew not to hate football. Her favourite games were the ones his father attended because he would explain the plays to her as the game went on and she didn’t have to worry about making small talk with classmates she only saw at the games.

Two months into senior year, Hopper and Joyce had become the couple to envy. They walked down the halls arm in arm and nearly every freshman girl swooned over Hopper.

They were inseparable. He sat at a library table and did his homework while Joyce worked. She smoked on the bleachers while she waited for him at football practice.

Their weekends were filled with nights at the drive-in and once the weather began to cool, they spent nights watching movies in the Hopper’s living room. They spent time with Benny and Helen and soon enough Joyce and Helen became actual friends.

Hopper noticed Joyce was spending less time at home but didn't press her to tell him why. Instead, one night while walking home from a small party at Lover’s Lake, he listens intently as she tells him that her mom hadn’t returned from her latest business trip (one she’d taken a month prior). Hopper listened as she spoke and offered to help in any way he could.

That night after returning home he asked his parents how they would feel about Joyce occasionally spending the night. After hearing more about her situation at home, they agreed as long as Jim’s bedroom door remained open and he was respectful of the house rules. He informed Joyce the next day that she was welcome to spend the night whenever she felt uncomfortable at home and though she was initially mad at him for involving his parents, she eventually admitted she was grateful.

Three months into senior year Joyce spends her first night at his house. They don’t do anything wild, just do some homework and read side by side before bed, but it feels strangely intimate to her.

She doesn’t make spending the night a habit, but on a handful of occasions she finds herself tucked in next to Hopper, wearing one of his flannel shirts.

He’d yet to tell her about his letter because how could he be the one to burst her bubble.

When December rolls around, he asks Joyce if she wants to go to senior prom with him. Initially reluctant to attend another prom, Joyce tells him she’ll think about it. Helen eventually convinces her that she has to join them at prom or it “just won’t be the same” and Hopper tells Joyce that he’ll buy them tickets.

That Tuesday morning, Joyce is lingering near the ticket table waiting for a teacher to unlock the art room so she can grab the notebook she’d left behind the day before. A girl in her class, Clara, spots her and marches over with a fake smile. Clara was tall, blonde, and this year's head cheerleader. She’d never spoken a single word to Joyce, though Joyce always saw her at football games and knew she and her friends often gossiped about her. She hated girls like Clara, who reminded her of Chrissy. Tall, blonde, beautiful and extremely cruel.

“Isn’t Jim buying you tickets?” the tall blonde snarls.

“Why do you care?”

“I didn’t think prom was really your scene.”

“It isn’t. It’s full of mindless idiots. You’re going, right?” Joyce smirks.

“Ugh, whatever. I was just going to tell you that if you don’t go, you should keep an eye on Jim. He’s a hot commodity and someone might just try and snatch him up.”

“Are you threatening me?” Joyce steps towards the girl, who immediately shrinks and steps back.

“Just thought I’d be nice and give you a heads up,” Clara smiles wickedly.

“How kind.” Joyce rolls her eyes, stuffs her hands in her pockets and marches towards her next class.

Girls like Clara and Chrissy were always trying to get under her skin and she’d decided long ago that she wasn’t going to let them. Why then, did she find herself chomping down on the inside of her cheek as she took her seat, fists clenched at her sides? She knew Clara was only trying to get a rise out of her, but for some odd reason, her insult played on a loop in the back of Joyce’s mind. She knew that Hopper wouldn’t care if she didn’t want to go to prom. She also knew that he would never stand by and let another girl flirt with him; she had his heart and that she was certain of. What bothered her was the subconscious thought that kept her awake some nights; Were girls like Chrissy and Clara always going to make her feel like she wasn’t enough for Hopper?

After school that afternoon, Hopper excitedly flashes two prom tickets at Joyce before unlocking the car.

“Got them!”

Unsure of what to say, Joyce wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat and kicks at her book bag.

“Joyce?” he looks over at her with concern, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “everything’s fine.”

“You still want to go to prom, right? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No no. I’ll go. It’s just…”

“Can I promise you something before you continue that sentence?”

Joyce nods.

“This isn’t going to be like all the other proms. I know dances aren’t really your thing but I promise you that this one is going to be different.”

“I don’t know Hop, it’s still a dance.”

“I know it is. But it’s me and you. And if you’d like it can be just us two.”

“Just us two?”

“Just us two. We can pretend like no one else is there. How does that sound? We go together, you let me steal a dance or two and then if it’s horrible we can leave.”

“Hmmm,” Joyce contemplates out loud. “Aright, fine. I’m wearing sneakers with my dress,” she informs him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles.

“And when it’s terrible, we’re leaving.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal Horowitz.”

“Can we swing by the diner for a milkshake?” she asks.

“Of course.”

Joyce decides to forget about what Clara said that morning. She trusts Hopper means it when he says they can leave the dance if she’s not having a good time. Besides, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to have him hold her in his arms while they danced. It was her one regret from the previous dance she’d gone to; not getting to dance with him.

January 13th was senior prom night at Hawkins High. Hopper nervously fiddles with the buttons on his jacket while he paces the length of Joyce’s porch. He told her he would pick her up at 8 o’clock sharp and it was now 8:07 and he’d get to see her.

When he rang the bell, knowing her parents were both away for the week, she yelled back telling him she’d be ready in a few minutes.

Instead of wearing down the soles of his dress shoes, Hopper takes a seat on the edge of Joyce’s porch and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it, takes a long drag and exhales a deep breath.

He was going to make tonight perfect for her. With his deployment date looming closer and their senior year passing quicker than expected, he knew he wanted to remember this night with Joyce forever.

The door opens behind him, bathing the porch in dim yellow lighting and the floorboards creak as Joyce steps towards him.

“Ta-da,” she laughs, holding out her arms to show off her dress. It was a deep red colour, the top hugging her chest tightly while the skirt floated it just below her knees. Not at all what he expected her to wear.

Hopper turns to face her with a smile and takes in the way her curly hair hangs over her shoulders. She shyly smiles back at him and decides to twirl around and show off her dress (and her converse).

“You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she grins. “I didn’t choose the dress, Helen did.”

“You’d look beautiful in anything.”

“Sap,” she laughs, smacking his arm. “Should we get going and get this over with?”

“First,” Hopper scrambles, nervously reaching into his back pocket, “this is for you.” He hands her a small white flower with a silver wristband.

Joyce reaches out and runs her fingers delicately over the edges of the petals. “Hop.”

“I know it’s lame but I just thought…”

“It’s beautiful,” she smiles.

��She extends her wrist in his direction and cocks her head. “Will you put it on?”

He nods and slips the flower on her wrist.

“There. Now we’re ready to go.”

“Actually, I have something too.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small silver flask. “To make the night tolerable.”

“You’re wild, Horowitz,” he shakes his head and takes a sip from the flask. He coughs immediately, “Jesus, what is that?”

“Don't question it, just close your eyes and drink.”

“Shall we?” he asks, extending his arm in her direction.

“We shall,” she giggles, looping her arm through his.

Halfway to the school, Hopper notices Joyce fiddling with her thumbs and reaches over to take one of her hands.

“Hey,” he says softly, “this is going to be fun. Just me and you.”

They drink the contents of her flask in the parking lot before entering the dance and giggling as they make their way into the already crowded gymnasium.

Outside the entrance a tower of balloons welcomes them. The gymnasium is covered in green and white streamers and the dance floor, located in front of the bleachers, is covered in confetti.

“Joyce!” Helen exclaims when she spots her. She rushes over, dragging Benny behind her.

“You guys made it!” she adds.

Hopper and Benny high five and Joyce compliments Helen’s hair which is piled high in her head in a lump of curls.

Joyce looks around the dance and lets out the breath she’d been holding. It wasn’t that bad. The foursome makes their way over to the punch bowl and helps themselves to glasses that are more alcohol than a punch.

A jazz song begins playing and Helen squeals and grabs Benny’s hand. “Let’s gooooo! I love this song.”

She drags him off towards the dance floor, leaving Joyce and Hopper alone next to the punch table.

“Whatcha thinking?” Hopper asks Joyce.

“That if you’d told me during junior year I’d be at senior prom with my best friend I would have thought you were crazy.”

“Joyce, we’re at senior prom together. Still think I’m crazy?”

“Of course you are. You’re dating me.”

“The only kind of crazy that makes me is crazy for you.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at his comment but allows him to snake an arm around her waist and pull her closer.

“You wanna dance?”

“I’m fine here.”

“Come on,” he smirks, taking her hand and tugging her towards the dance floor.

She notices a few of the cheerleaders in her class staring as Hopper leads them to the dance floor and does her best to ignore them. They were just jealous because they would never understand what she and Hopper had. She was beginning to believe that no one would ever understand their connection. It ran deeper than even she knew how to describe, a thought that terrified and thrilled her all at once.

Lucille begins playing as they reach the center of the dance floor. Surrounded by her classmates, Joyce awkwardly sways next to Hopper. He reaches out and squeezes her hand, silently telling her to let go. And she does.

She lets him twirl her inwards and outwards again, laughing as he awkwardly attempts to dip her but fails. The two of them jump and spin and scream along with the song until they’re breathless and in each other’s arms. When the music stops, Joyce leads Hopper away from all the commotion and they take a seat on the bleachers.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks.

“It might have been fun.”

“Alright everyone, it’s time to announce our prom king and queen!”

The announcement echoes through the gymnasium and kids begin to gather in front of the small platform acting as a stage. On it, the class president Veronica stands with the microphone in hand.

Joyce winces and leans against Hopper. She hated popularity contests. It was something she’d battled with all of high school since her best friend was popular and she wasn’t. Now that they were dating things only seemed to get worse. Popularity was a black and white concept at Hawkins High. Hopper was popular, she was not. The girls in her class went out of their way to make sure she didn’t forget it.

She grips Hopper’s arm and watches him watching the stage. He looks down at her and offers her a reassuring smile.

“We had an overwhelming amount of votes this year, and I am happy to announce that our prom king and queen for this year are Clara Samuels and Jim Hopper!!”

Joyce feels like the wind has been knocked out of her when Hopper’s name is announced. Hopper looks stunned but before he can react a group of guys are chanting his name and leading him through the crowd towards the stage. Clara is already front and center, waving in her tiara and sash when he reaches the stage. Veronica has him lean down so she can place a gold crown on his head. He looks for Joyce and locks eyes with her, trying his best to convey an apology.

Joyce folds her arms over her chest and watches as Clara and Hopper are instructed to dance under a spotlight in the middle of the dance floor.

Helen comes up on her left and softly whispers, “you good?”

“Yup,” Joyce responds, popping the “p.”

Hesitantly, Hopper puts his hands on Clara’s hips and they begin to move to the music. He looks uncomfortable while Clara has a smug grin on her face. When her eyes meet Joyce’s from behind Hopper’s shoulder, she smiles and pulls Hopper closer. That’s all Joyce needs to make a beeline for the exit. She can hear the music begin to fade as she marches out into the parking lot, but she doesn’t dare look back.

She reaches Hop’s car in a haste and frustratedly digs around in her bag for a cigarette. Lighting it, she leans back against the car and inhales. She can tell that the music inside the gym has become quick-paced again and wonders how long the king and queen dance actually lasted.

Of course, Clara would be voted the prom queen. It was always going to be girls like Chrissy constantly reminding her that she didn’t belong with Hopper because she wasn’t his traditional type. She knew none of it mattered to Hopper. It shouldn’t matter to her either. Joyce closes her eyes and focuses her energy on her cigarette.

“I thought I might find you here,” Hopper’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Shouldn’t you be taking Royal photos?” Her words come out harsher than intended.

“Nah, one dance was enough. I bet it was a joke that I was even nominated.”

“That crown looks good on you,” she compliments, attempting to cut some of the tension.

He lifts it off his head and places it on hers. “Looks better on you.”

She attempts to remove it but he places a hand in hers and holds it in place. “It’s yours now.”

“I’m not wearing your crown.”

“Please.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll always be my prom queen.”

She blushes and looks down at her shoes. He lights his own cigarette and leans on the car next to her.

“You genuinely believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I love you, Joyce.”

She rocks forward on her toes, plants a hand on his chest and kisses him.

From inside the gymnasium, the soft sounds of a slow song spill out into the parking lot.

“Can I have this dance?” Hopper asks, extending one hand to her.

“Out here?”

“Why not?” he shrugs.

Joyce takes his hand and lets him pull her into his chest. He wraps both hands around her waist and she rests her head beneath his chin.

The crown he placed on her head brushes against his cheek and he smiles.

They dance in silence for a few moments, gravitating towards one another as they move.

“This is exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to the dance,” he whispers.

“It is?”

“It is. Not to sound like a broken record but, I love you, Joyce.”

Looking up into his blue eyes, she feels her heart lurch and she knows that he’s the real thing. He didn’t care about what anyone thought. He saw things the way she did; it was the two of them against the world, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She pulls her gaze away from his and bites on her lower lip, an unfamiliar sensation overcoming her.

“Hop,” she whispers. His hands flatten against her back and he stills them from swaying.

“I - “ she stutters. Looking up, she locks eyes with him and a calm washes over her entire body.

“I love you too.”

A smile settles over Hopper’s face and he leans down to kiss her. On the outside, he allows his facial features to soften and his shoulders to relax, demonstrating to Joyce how much her words mean to him. On the inside, however, he’s a mess. How was he supposed to tell her he was leaving now?

The lingering question kept me up

Two a.m., who do you love?

#stranger things #jopper #AU #multichapter #stranger things 4 #joyce byers #jim hopper #highschool au

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

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Prompt Request!

trying to get the creative juices flowing! Now taking prompt requests!

#stranger things #jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

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Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 12 - Lover

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

“Let me help you with that.”

“I can do it,” Joyce says stubbornly.

“What the hell is in there?” Hopper asks, pointing to Joyce’s duffel bag.

“Clothes?” she replies.

“Why do you need so many?”

“We’re going for two weeks, Hop.”

“The cabin isn’t that far, we can always come back if you need more clothes.”

“But then we have to come back to reality and I was planning on spending two weeks very far away from it,” she smirks.

“You aren’t saying that because there are a bunch of books in that bag, are you?”

“There may be one, ” she admits, “but it’s not what I plan on distracting myself with.”

She steps towards him, drops her bag on the floor next to his feet and runs her palm along his chest. Rocking forward on her toes, she brushes her nose against his and pulls back with a devilish smile.

“Tease,” he calls after her.

Joyce looks back and tosses a wink over her shoulder then reaches for her bag and walks it over to Hopper’s car.

“Jesus son, get her bag,” Mr. Hopper remarks as he comes up behind them.

“She won’t let me,” he tells his father, “I offered.”

“You make sure you take good care of Joyce while you two are up there. And be sure to stack some extra wood so you don’t run out. Remember, you can always come back early if you need anything.”

“Don’t worry dad, we’ll be fine.”

“Joyce, if this one starts causing you too much trouble you make sure to give him hell, yeah,”

“Will do Mr. Hopper,” Joyce smiles.

They arrive at Hopper’s grandfather's cabin just after lunch. The wooden house, surrounded by a wrap-around porch, sat in the middle of the woods near a small pond.

Joyce excitedly leaps out of the car, leaving Hopper to get the bags while she checks out the cottage.

There was an old fabric couch in the center of the room across from a large fireplace, a small kitchen with a yellow fridge and a bedroom and adjacent bathroom off to the side.

Her heart leaps when she realizes there is only one bed, despite knowing that she was going to get to spend every evening curled into Hopper’s side and every morning waking next to him, the reality settles in and makes it all seem so real. They were going to have two uninterrupted weeks together and she was giddy with excitement.

Hopper comes up behind her and drops their bags to the floor, his arms circling around her waist while he drops his head to her shoulder.

“So? What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” she smiles.

He squeezes her, pressing their cheeks together before placing a kiss on the top of her head and moving to the kitchen.

“Why don’t we unpack and stack some firewood before I make us some dinner?”

“Sounds nice.”

He begins to unload the freezer bag, filling the fridge with goodies while Joyce slowly walks around the cabin and admires the art hanging on the walls. A photo of Hopper and a man she assumed to be his grandfather hung over the mantle.

Running her fingers along the throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch, she wanders into the bedroom.

This was the perfect place to spend the next few weeks. Away from the chaos that consumed real life, she could focus on the two of them. Just her and Hop. The world could wait.

Peering out the window over the bed, she smiles at the swans swimming in the lake and moves closer.

“Joyce?” Hopper calls from the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Do you want one burger or two?”

“Two please!”

“Great. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

She’s nervous. Hopper can tell by the way her hands are folded in her lap and her shoulders are slumped. They’re sitting at the two person table located next to the kitchen, enjoying the burgers he prepared for them.

“You’re quiet,” he observes out loud.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” she admits.

“About?”

“How nice this is,” she smiles softly. “The food is good.”

“Joyce,” he says in a near whisper. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m just a little nervous,” she tells him.

“Nervous?”

“It sounds stupid,” she looks down.

“It’s not stupid,” he reassures her.

“What if after this week you decide that you don’t want this?”

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, I was just afraid to admit it to myself,” he tells her, reaching for her hand over the table.

“But what if it’s too much, spending all this time alone together? Doesn’t it just feel so - serious?”

“Come with me,” he demands, standing up and tugging her towards the living room.

She follows his lead curiously, their hands still wound together and she watches as he excitedly brings them towards a stack of old boxes.

He drops her hand and begins rummaging through the cardboard boxes one by one. Triumphantly, he turns back to her holding up a string of multi-coloured Christmas lights.

“Lights?” she says confused.

“We’re going to put them up. Make things more fun,” he explains.

“But it’s summer?”

“So?” he shrugs, “who says we can’t put the lights up whenever we want? This is our house, we make the rules.”

Skeptically, she accepts one end of the light strand and stares up at him. “You really want to put them up?”

“Absolutely! Go grab me that tape in the kitchen.”

When Joyce returns with the tape, Hopper already has three strands of lights stretched out along the floor. She passes him the tape and waits for instruction while noticing he put a record on.

The soft sounds of jazz fill the cabin only ceasing when a crackling sound from the old needle in the vinyl interrupts.

The two work to string up the lights in tandem, Joyce ripping off pieces of tape and Hopper using the pieces to attack the multicoloured bulbs to the ceiling. Only when the ceiling has become a sea of reds, blues and greens do they take a step back to admire their handiwork.

A strange comforting sensation overcomes Joyce as she stares up at the lights with her arms folded across her chest. Somehow, Hopper knew this would comfort her. She adored him for always knowing exactly what she needed.

From behind her, he watches as she marvels at the decorations and proudly smiles to himself.

“May I have this dance?” he asks.

Feeling calm and bold, Joyce accepts his hand and allows him to twirl her into him. She crashes into his chest laughing and smiles up at him while he brushes her hair out of her eyes.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she smiles. “Thank you. You’re always so full of surprises.”

“Speaking of surprises,” he grins and releases her, “I have one more.”

He disappears into the bedroom and re-emerges holding a Polaroid camera.

Proudly, he holds it up and snaps a photo of Joyce beneath the lights.

“Where did you get that?”

“My parents said we could borrow it. Smile.”

Embarrassed, Joyce pulls her arms around her chest and casts her gaze to the floor while he snaps another photo.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says softly, stepping towards her. “You know you’re beautiful.”

The moment she smiles at his compliment, Hopper snaps another photo and lets it fall to the floor. “There’s the smile.”

Joyce gestures for the camera with an open palm and takes it in both hands when Hopper hands it over.

She raises it and snaps a photo of him, allowing it to fall to the floor alongside the one of her.

Hopper scoops both photos up from the wooden floorboard and turns them towards her. In her photo, Joyce looks petite beneath the lights and her smile takes up most of her face, while Hopper has his eyes closed and his nose scrunched in his photo.

“Oh god let’s get rid of that,” she says, pointing to the picture of her.

“Not a chance. This might be one of my favourite pictures of you.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. You look perfect.”

The pair fools around with the camera some more before clearing their dishes and working as a team to wash and dry the plates. Joyce yawns as they work and nods when Hopper asks if she’s ready for bed.

He allows her to go into the bedroom ahead of him to change into her pyjamas. When he joins her a few moments later, he finds her propped up against a pillow in a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt with a book in her lap.

With a childish grin, he snaps a photo of her before setting the camera down on the nightstand and joining her.

“What was that for?!” she exclaims when the flash goes off.

“I just want to remember this moment.”

He slips beneath the covers next to her and uses one arm to pull her closer to his side.

“Do you mind if I read?” she asks.

“Not at all.”

Joyce is fast asleep against Hopper’s arm in a matter of moments. Carefully, he places her page holder back into her book and slides the novel from her hands. Once it’s on the table next to the bed, he reaches for the light switch and turns out the lights.

The next morning, he wakes before her and gently rolls her away from him so he can slip into the kitchen and surprise her with breakfast. He stumbles upon the Polaroids scattered across the floor on his way and decided to put them in a stack on the table.

The final photo he picks up is the first one he took of Joyce, the one she claimed to hate, but there was something about it that made him want to preserve the memory. So, he slips it into his wallet before beginning to prepare eggs and toast.

That afternoon, Joyce trails behind Hopper as he leads the way to the lake behind the house. He places a blanket down on the grass and begins to unpack the picnic basket he prepared while Joyce stares out over the lake.

“It’s so peaceful,” she remarks.

“It was my favourite place as a kid. Still is.”

“I can see why. I don’t think I ever want to leave.”

“Then we’ll stay,” he nods.

“Yeah right. Unfortunately, we have to go back to reality eventually,” she sighs.

“Says who? Who’s to say we can’t just run off and start our adventure out here?”

“Your parents, for starters,” she points out.

Joyce joins Hopper on the blanket he’d delicately laid out for them and folds her legs beneath her.

“Nah, I say we do it. Let’s just be crazy impulsive kids and we get the hell out of Hawkins. It’s not like anything ever happens there anyway,” Hopper says.

He leans back on his palms, legs outstretched between them and pinches his eyes shut. He knows what he’s saying sounds foolish, but a large part of him would love to leave Hawkins with Joyce and never look back. He hadn’t had a chance to tell Joyce yet, but lately, he’d been dreaming of leaving Hawkins more frequently. His father had been on his case about applying to serve and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. While he knew it was the right thing to do, he and Joyce had a good thing going here and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Was it childish to prioritize his teen romance over the duty he had to his country? Absolutely. But despite his father’s claims that he was a man (who should go and make the Hopper men proud) he was young and in love and a large part of him wanted to remain an impulsive, love-sick kid.

“We can’t,” she laughs, “but wouldn’t that be fun?”

“C’mon Joycie. If we don’t leave now, then when?”

Joyce laughs, placing her hand daintily on his shoulder, “One day,” she muses.

“Besides,” she adds, “we have to go back because I start working in a few weeks.”

“Of course, my little librarian in training,” he teases.

“I’m not a librarian in training! I’m helping out for the summer!”

“I’m just teasing you, Joyce, I think it’s great that you’re going to be working at the library.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s literally the perfect job for you. Besides, now you can take me on a date,” he winks.

“Speaking of dates, do we get to eat on this one?” she giggles.

“Of course,” he says, retrieving two wrapped sandwiches from the bag he packed. “Grilled cheese.”

The two dig in and begin making plans for all the things they want to do during the week when the first drop of rain lands on Joyce’s cheek. Within minutes it’s absolutely pouring and the pair scramble to their feet and prepare to take cover.

Hand-in-hand, Joyce and Hopper dodge the raindrops as they sprint towards the cabin. When they reach the back steps, Hopper releases Joyce’s hand and pushes the screen door open to let her inside.

She’s drenched from head to toe. Her cotton t-shirt now stuck to her chest, showing off her pale purple bra, despite her efforts to stay warm by folding her hands across her chest.

Joyce follows him into the main area of the cabin and he shakes his arms and chuckles.

“I didn’t see that one coming,” he says. “Come here,” he calls her over when he sees her shiver. “I’ll start a fire so we can warm up.”

Hair leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor, Joyce makes her way over to the fire where she stands with her palms pressed to her sides while waiting for the fire to start.

Hopper rummages around in the pit, eventually turning back towards her once the flames begin to burn to life. “There we go it shouldn’t be long until it warms up.”

“Thanks, Hop,” she smiles.

With his wet hair slicked back and his shirt pressed to his chiselled arms, Joyce has a hard time tearing her gaze away from him. He catches her staring and she quickly looks away.

Stepping towards the fire, she stretches her palms out and falls to her knees so that she can be closer to the heat. Hopper follows her lead and kneels down next to her. Outside the sky has turned an ominous grey, leaving the fire to be the main source of light inside the cabin.

Joyce shivers again and instinctively reaches for the hem of her soaked shirt and pulls it over her head. She notices Hopper staring as she sinks back against her heels and shyly grins at him.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“You’re supposed to remove wet clothing or you’ll freeze. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

“I might have heard it somewhere,” he shrugs.

Staring down at her petite frame clad in only her jeans and bra, he slides himself closer and reaches for her shoulder with a calloused hand.

Slowly, he runs his thumb along her exposed collarbone and she shivers.

“Are you still cold?” he asks.

“No.”

Gently, his hand glides down her arm and he moves closer, taking up the majority of the space in her orbit.

They lock eyes as his hand falls from her arm before he reaches for the hem of his own shirt and tosses it somewhere behind him.

Her palm settles on his bare chest and Joyce looks up at Hopper through hooded eyes. His heart lurches at the way the fire makes her face glow. She looked absolutely radiant.

“Hop,” her voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Yeah?”

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry, it’s just. Jesus Joyce, you’re beautiful.”

Unsure of how to respond, she leans forwards, placing both hands on Hopper's shoulders and kisses him, hard .

He responds by placing open palms on her bareback and tugging her as close as their knees will allow.

Hands roaming Joyce’s bare-back, Hopper begins to kiss along her jawline and down her neck. She tilts her head back in response, granting him more access.

From where they sit on their knees, their upper limbs tangled, Joyce reaches for the button in Hopper’s jeans and undoes it while he licks along her collarbone. His palm settles on her inner thigh and the soaked material of her jeans suddenly becomes hot beneath his touch.

When kneeling becomes an inconvenience and they are forced to part for breath, Hopper looks over at Joyce with a caring smile and whispers.

“Can I try something?”

She nods in response, a mixture of nerves and excitement.

“Lay back,” he whispers.

He guides her as she lays against the blanket on the floor and slowly slides himself down her body. When he reaches her naval he pauses before looking up and locking eyes with her.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

She nods again.

Wordlessly, he helps her slide out of her soaked pants and tosses them to the side. Leaning down, he places a hesitant kiss on her inner thigh and she trembles.

He reaches towards the elastic waistband of her cotton panties and again pauses to smile up at her.

“It’s okay,” she gives him permission before he has a chance to ask.

Joyce draws in a deep breath as Hopper once again kisses her inner thigh.

Her hands lay limply at her sides but she immediately reaches for his hair when he uses his tongue to lick along her center in one fluid motion.

He smirks as she bucks forward, the hand clutching his hair a sign that she’s enjoying this but he wants to be sure so he asks again.

“Is this-?”

“ Yes, ” she hisses before he can finish asking, the desperateness in her tone something he’s never heard before.

Once again, he leans forward and runs his tongue along her slit, this time following the motion up by teasing her with his index finger.

Joyce tightens her grip on him and admires the way his flexed arms look in the firelight. Propped up on her elbows and sprawled out on a blanket in front of the fire, she closes her eyes and tosses her head back while Hopper’s head bobs between her thighs.

It isn’t long before she’s trembling beneath him, coming undone around his tongue while she whispers his name harshly beneath her breath.

They manage to stumble their way through the dimly lit cabin towards the bedroom afterwards, where Hopper manages to make Joyce come undone yet again.

After breakfast the next morning, Joyce finds herself wrapped in one of Hopper’s flannels while they sit on the back step and watch the sunrise over the water.

With the sky painted a faint shade of pink and the stillness of the water only shifting beneath the ducks that swim across, it felt like a scene from a movie. Leaning her head on Hopper’s shoulder, she reaches for their shared cigarette and takes a long drag.

They sit in silence for the majority of the morning, Hopper occasionally shifting next to Joyce when he reaches into his back pocket for another smoke. She keeps her open palm resting on his lap, where he’s tracing gentle circles with the edge of his thumb.

Before lighting another, he shimmies from beneath her and cups her cheek in his hand, sliding his thumb along the curve of her jaw before his fingers settle on the nape of her neck and he brushes her lips with a gentle kiss. She smiles against his lips, caught off guard by his abrupt, tender action.

He chuckles under his breath when he feels her smile and she demands to know why he’s laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re smiling,” he teases with a grin.

“Well, it’s your fault for kissing me like that!”

“I couldn’t help myself.”

Their laughter fades and Joyce shifts back into her previous position with her head resting on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“How much I love you.”

“No you were not,” she forces a laugh. At this point in their relationship, it wasn’t unusual for Hopper to tell Joyce he loved her. Though she’d yet to say it back, she adored the way he’d become comfortable with saying the words to her. He seemed to like to remind her with any chance he got and she received butterflies in her stomach each time the words rolled off his tongue. She also knew that he wasn’t hurt by the fact she hadn’t said it back. He wanted her to mean it when she said it and she was confident that when the time came, she would. Besides, she was certain that she loved him, she was simply unsure of how to process those feelings.

“I was,” he admits. “I think I’ll love you forever.”

“You can’t love someone forever, it’s not possible.”

“Fine. Then I’ll love you until the clocks stop ticking.”

“What does that even mean?” she challenges.

“It means exactly what you think it means. My heart will belong to you until the clock stops ticking.”

“Hop, the clock is always going to tick, that’s the entire point of time.”

“Exactly. So you know I’ll love you long after we’re both gone too.”

“That’s morbid,” she teases.

“It’s romantic.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

After a few moments of silence, he speaks again. “I mean it, Joyce. ‘Till the clock stops ticking.”

That evening, Hopper invites Joyce to join him fishing but she declines and opts to spend her evening reading instead. After he sets out with his tackle box, wearing a hat Joyce describes as “ridiculously cute” she draws herself a bath and climbs into the tiny tub with plans to finish her novel.

It’s a quiet evening, the only sounds interrupting her thoughts coming from the crickets that begin to chirp with the rising moon. She loses herself in a world of fiction within moments and without a window in the bathroom, there is no way to tell how long she’s been reading. It’s perfect and blissful and everything she never knew she needed.

With a few chapters to go, Joyce places her bookmark between the pages and drops her head back against the tub, pinching her eyes closed as she absorbs the calmness the silence brings.

Moments later, the creaking of the floorboards on the back deck announces Hopper’s return and she finds herself smiling.

“Joyce?” he calls out as he enters the cabin.

“In here!” she yells through the semi-shut door to the bathroom.

The sound of his footsteps gets louder as he nears the door and she hears him come to an abrupt halt just outside the door.

“You can come in,” she laughs in an almost teasing tone. “I was just reading in the bath.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He pushes the door to the bathroom back slowly, the mere thought of Joyce sitting naked already overstimulating his senses. He finds her sitting in a tub with hardly any bubbles, book in hand.

“How was fishing?” she asks without looking up.

“Not bad. Caught a few,” he says, though his focus is elsewhere. “How was your evening?”

“Wonderful,” she beams, “I’m almost done with my book.”

“I’ll leave you to finish it then,” he offers, rocking back on his heels.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed how small that tub is Joyce but I don’t think we’re both going to fit,” he chuckles.

“I meant here,” she pats the empty air next to her. “Sit with me.”

“Alright. Why don’t I read the rest to you?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hopper waddles over to the side of the tub and plops himself down onto the tile floor. With his legs outstretched he reaches for Joyce’s novel, careful not to lose the page she’s on.

He begins to read, pausing every now and then to admire how she crinkles her nose when she becomes invested in a particular sentence.

“Earth to Hop,” she reaches over the side of the tub and waves a hand in his face. “Why did you stop reading?”

“I got distracted.”

“By what? You were literally reading the words off the page.”

“By you ,” he smirks, lowering the book.

Hopper places the novel down on the floor next to him and pushes himself to his feet. With a dopey grin, he grips both sides of the tube and looks down at Joyce. Her eyes widen when she realizes what he’s about to do and a shriek escapes her lips just as he slips into the water, fully clothed. He hovers over her to steal a kiss and brushes her cheek with a soap-soaked palm.

“Turns out we both do fit,” he beams.

“Barely,” she laughs.

Waiting until Hopper climbs out of the tub, his clothes heavy from the weight of the water and pressed to his body, Joyce grabs a towel and dries her hair before stepping out after him. She stands before him in nothing but a tiny towel and smiles shyly.

No words are exchanged. He glides towards her in three large steps and cups her face in his palms. He walks them backwards, towards the door and down the hall while they kiss. They bump into the doorway and two parts of the wall before making it to the bedroom, where Hopper lifts Joyce and carries her towards the bed. She wraps her legs around his centre and allows her fingers to dance through the baby hairs at the base of his neck while he carries her across the room.

After placing her down on the bed, her petite frame still damp from the bath, he looks down at her with hungry eyes.

“I’m not made of glass Hop. I’m not going to break,” she reminds him.

He nods.

Desperately, he moves forward to close the distance between them, greedily gripping the back of her neck while snaking his tongue into her mouth. She reaches for the hem of his soaked shirt and helps him remove it. His belt and bottoms are quick to follow and their damp naked bodies collide once again while their kisses grow sloppier and more desperate.

They tumble to the left and Joyce finds herself in a position to climb on top of Hopper. Straddling him, she looks down at him with wide eyes and grins. In a hushed tone, speaks while running her hands down his bare torso. “Tell me what you want.”

It’s a question while simultaneously a demand and it sparks something animalistic inside of him. He tosses both arms around her waist, tugging her closer while his lips curl up into a massive smirk. He presses them against hers hard, the force of them catching her off guard. Hopper pulls back slightly so that his lips ghost over hers while he speaks and in a deep sultry tone he replies, “I just want you.”

Cupping her chin in his palm, he greedily kisses her before leaning back against the pillows, tugging her with him while whispering, “Come here.”

Sitting on the back porch steps, Joyce passes her joint to Hopper and smirks when he coughs on his initial inhale. After a few hours of trying to convince him to get high with her, Hopper had finally conceded and agreed to split a joint with Joyce. He’d been high a handful of times in the past but was always hesitant when it came to smoking. On the other hand, Joyce enjoyed an occasional joint whenever she could. She found it eased the chaos swirling in her mind and it served as an escape from the hell that was her Hawkins life. She had never, however, been high with Hopper.

She watches as he focuses on his breathing and laughs beneath her breath. It was so typical of him to try and be good at everything; even something like this. As if on cue, Hopper inhales incorrectly and begins coughing.

“Jesus Joyce, how do you smoke this stuff?”

“They are no worse than your nasty cigarettes,” she says.

“They’re way worse! I don’t even think you can compare them.”

“I can and I will. Your cigarettes are ten times worse.”

“Agree to disagree?” he asks.

“Fine. But you know I’m right.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t not say it.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“You find it fascinating.”

“What can I say, you intrigue me,” he admits.

“Does that mean once you get me all figured out you’ll get bored?”

“Bored? Of you ? Not possible.”

“Oh c’mon. You won’t be bored of me a few years from now?”

“I won’t be bored of you a hundred years from now,” Hopper smiles at her.

“Now I know you’re lying,” she half-laughs.

“I’m being serious Joyce. It’s me and you from now on. Come here,” he says, standing up and gesturing for her to do the same.

Joyce slowly rises to her feet and follows Hopper into the cabin. He marches straight towards the support beam next to the couch and fetches a pocket knife from his pants.

“What are you doing?” she asks when he raises the blade to the wood.

“Carving our initials.”

The next forty-five minutes are spent carving their initials into a heart while discussing the exciting future plans they both had.

A day before they were set to return home from the cabin, Benny and his girlfriend Helen drove up to spend the night with them. The day was packed with outdoor activities and by the time the four of them settled around a campfire with some beers, Joyce was absolutely drained. She curls herself against Hopper’s chest, not caring that Benny or Helen may find it odd that she chooses to sit in his lap.

They decide on playing truth or dare. Despite Joyce’s initial protests that it was a childish game, she finds herself having fun.

“Alright Joyce, truth or dare,” Helen asks.

“Truth,” she responds.

“Tell us about your first kiss with Jim.”

Joyce blushes and casts her gaze downwards before beginning to speak. Rather than describe the kiss they shared at her party, she begins describing a party they both attended in the ninth grade.

Hopper nearly chokes on his drink when she begins telling the story, knowing exactly which story it is. All these years and he never thought she remembered that kiss. They were both drunk (her far more than him) and it was never mentioned again. It hadn’t even been mentioned now that they were together, which further convinced him she had no memory of it happening.

“Joyce!” A young drunken Hopper called after Joyce as she sprinted from the party. “Joyce, wait up!”

When he finally catches up to her on the sidewalk, he’s out of breath and panting.

“What is it Hop?” she asks with an exhausted sigh.

“Don’t let them get to you okay? It’s just a stupid game.”

“A really stupid game,” she mutters.

The two of them were attending Randy Smith’s birthday party when a game of spin the bottle broke out. When Joyce refused to participate in such a “childish” game, Randy stood up in front of everyone and exclaimed it must have been because Joyce had never been kissed and everyone laughed.

To prove that she was cooler than everyone else, Joyce downed three drinks and stormed away from the party, leaving Hopper to chase after her.

Hopper knew that this was the exact reason Joyce hadn’t wanted to play. Just a week prior she was telling him that she wanted her first real kiss to be with someone special. She asked if he thought that was stupid and he told her no, in fact, it was sweet.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks, noticing that she’s far drunker than she’s letting on.

“Sure,” she nods.

The pair walks home in comfortable silence, Hopper occasionally offering his arm to steady drunken Joyce on the bumpy pavement. Midway through the walk, Joyce starts rambling about the heap of trouble she’ll likely get in at home and that’s when he knows she’s had far too much to drink. She never talked about her home life like this.

As they’re approaching her house, Hopper asks if she’ll be alright. She looks him in the eye and meekly smiles before replying that of course, she would be, she always was.

Unconvinced, he follows her to the door where he spontaneously wraps his arms around her and makes her promise that she’ll call if she needs anything.

While pulling back, he locks eyes with her and before he has the better sense to stop himself, he’s leaning down to place a brief, chaste kiss on her lips.

Joyce says nothing in response, instead, she offers him a shy smile and a timid wave as she turns towards the front door.

He feels like an ass his entire walk home. She wanted her first kiss to be with someone special and he just took that away from her. With any luck, she wouldn’t remember it and he could carry on as if it never happened.

The next day at school she doesn’t mention it and he thinks he might be in the clear. A month later she tells him all about her first kiss with a boy from her art class and he’s convinced she doesn’t remember that night on her porch.

It was his first kiss too. He never forgets it.

“That’s so sweet!” Helen coos.

“I didn’t know you remembered that,” Hopper whispers to Joyce so that only she can hear.

“You never brought it up. I thought you wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened,” she admits.

“God no Joyce. I was embarrassed and thought you either didn’t remember or if you did you wish I hadn’t done it. We really did suck at communicating huh?”

“You did,” Benny interjects.

In the midst of their confessions, their whispers had somehow turned into a full-blown conversation without them realizing they had an audience.

“Everyone at school has known you two were into each other for years. You’re literally the only ones who couldn’t see it,” he informs them. “I can’t believe it took you two this long to figure it out.”

“But we figured it out,” Hopper smirks, leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on his girlfriend’s lips.

“Gross,” Benny whines, which causes everyone to laugh.

“Alright, Benny, truth or dare?” Joyce asks.

Tossing their bags into the trunk of the car, Hopper leans over and smirks down at Joyce.

“What?” she asks when she catches him staring.

“Remember last night when you were teasing me about being a typical boy that’s fascinated by cheerleaders because of, I believe your exact words were ‘they wear stupidly short skirts’?”

“Yeah?” she replies skeptically, “what about it?”

“Well, it’s not too late for you to join the squad for next year.”

Joyce’s eyes nearly pop out of her head and she swats at his arm to scold him for making such a ridiculous statement.

“You wish,” she scoffs.

“I do wish.’

“Hop!” Joyce exclaims, “stop picturing me in one of those ridiculous little skirts!”

“I can’t help it. You’re already hotter than the rest of the cheerleaders without the skirt. If you wore the skirt I think time might standstill.”

“Oh yeah?” she laughs.

“On second thought, maybe don’t join. When I told you I’d love you until the clock stopped ticking I was hoping that would last longer than the first pep rally of senior year.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to be seniors,” she muses.

“The seniors that everyone wants to be,” he reminds her. “I’m going to go after a football scholarship and you, my genius girlfriend, are going to get into any college you want, I’m certain of it. Then we can get the hell out of this small town.”

“Me and you?” she asks softly.

Hopper closes the trunk of the car, sealing in their bags and smiles over at Joyce, “Me and you."

“‘Till the clock stops ticking,” he adds with a cheeky wink before tossing the keys into the driver's seat and beginning their trip back to reality.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

#jopper #stranger things #stranger things 4 #joyce byers #jim hopper #mutichapter #au #highschool au

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

random jopper musings

“You know what I think?” Hopper turns to face Joyce. “I think you’re afraid of how much you like me.”

“Oh yeah?! You know what I think?” she yells back and pauses for dramatic effect, “I think you’re an ass!”

“Is that really what you think?” he fires back.

“I think-” she begins but is promptly cut off when Hopper steps into her space and plants his palms firmly on her hips. He leans down and steals the words from her mouth with a kiss.

“I think you think too much,” he finishes for her.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #jopper #joyce byers #jim hoppers #one shot

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

random jopper musings without context

“I wanted it to be you!” she cries, closed fist swatting at his chest. “More than anything I wanted it to be you.”

Her voice breaks as the final set of words roll off her tongue and she drops her shoulders with a defeated sigh.

Joyce steps back, slipping out of Hopper’s weak grasp with tear-filled eyes.

“Joyce,” he pleads. He reaches towards her arm but she pulls away. “It is me.”

#stranger things #jopper #one shot #joyce byers #jim hopper #stranger things 4

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 11 - Mrs Americana

Rating: M

Chapter 11 - Mrs Americana

The whole school is rolling fake dice

You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes

It's you and me

There's nothing like this

On Sunday morning, Joyce skips down the driveway and begins her walk to the library. The sun was shining, she had plans to work on a new essay and she was meeting her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend.

Jim Hopper. Her boyfriend.

Because she was dating Jim Hopper.

While nothing had changed, nothing was the same. They had been together for just over a month and she’d never been happier.

She can’t remember why she was ever hesitant about dating Hopper. The two of them connected on an entirely different level and now that they were romantically involved their connection felt unbreakable. They were taking things slow yet each kiss was an absolute rush and the way she was falling was anything but slow.

He drove her home from school every day now that football was over for the season. They sat together and did homework before he had to be home for dinner, or she joined his family for a home cooked meal. Hopper’s parents had always been incredibly kind to Joyce. Now that she was dating their son they often extended invitations to family dinners and insisted that Joyce was welcome at the house any time.

When they weren’t studying side-by-side, stealing not so subtle glances of one another, they found other ways to keep busy. Most of their weekends were spent out at the lake or at the diner where they shared a milkshake and Hopper would whine about Joyce hogging it.

Last night, Hopper surprised her by packing a picnic basket and laying out a blanket at the lake. They spent hours laying, looking up at the stars - talking about nothing and everything.

Smiling, Joyce arrives at the library and finds Hopper waiting for her out front.

“You could have let me pick you up,” he calls out to her as she approaches.

“Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“As if I could ever be sick of you.”

“I wanted to walk,” she informs him.

He tosses an arm around her shoulder and the two of them enter the library. Claiming Joyce’s usual table, Hopper takes the seat next to Joyce and pulls his chair closer.

She chuckles beneath her breath and rolls her eyes at him. “How are you supposed to work from this close to me?”

“I was planning on watching you work.”

“That’s not homework. You said we would do homework.”

“You are going to do homework,” he says.

“And what are you going to do?”

“Watch you?”

“NO!” She smacks his arm. “That’s distracting! Last night I agreed to stay out later because you promised we would get work done today.”

“Fine. But I’m still going to watch you work.”

“Why?”

“I like watching you work.”

“How is that not boring?”

“You have the cutest little face when you focus.”

“I’m not cute when I study.”

“You’re always cute.”

“You’re such a sap… Have you always been this way?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Because I recall you once telling me that you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

“What can I say? You bring it out in me.”

“Open your textbook,” she orders.

Reluctantly, he leans back in his chair and flips open his textbook with a heavy sigh. He pretends to read a few lines while watching her crack open her own book from the corners of his eyes.

A few moments later, she catches him staring and scolds him.

“Hop! You better not be thinking about how cute I look!”

“I wasn’t,” he lies. “I was thinking about chemistry.”

“The kind in the science book, right?”

“Is there another kind?” he asks with a devilish grin.

“You’re relentless,” she shakes her head. She leans over and places a quick peck on his lips before reclaiming her seat and immediately dipping her nose back into her book.

Like a child who was just given candy, Hopper beams with pride and returns to his own reading, pausing every now and then to look over and admire her.

Secretly, she loved the way he watched her work. The weight that Joyce carried around, the nagging thought that whispered “you’ll never be enough” over and over again had been silenced. He made her feel like what she said mattered. When Hopper listened to her talk, he focused on her like she was the only other person on the planet. Maybe he’d always done it, but she was only now noticing the way he looked at her eliminated every nagging, self-loathing thought she had about herself. Being in his presence, she felt safe and important; she felt like she mattered.

It was in these moments, the ones where he insisted on watching her go about life in the way she did everyday, that she realized how fickle life was. She didn’t need to matter to everyone to feel like someone. Hopper was teaching her that without realizing he was doing so.

The way he looked at her, eyes wide and eager; the way he encouraged her thoughts and wasn’t afraid to disagree with her, was giving her an entirely new perspective on life and relationships.

Growing up, Joyce assumed that love was difficult. That one had to do things they otherwise wouldn’t in the name of love. That, much like her parents' broken relationship, all human relationships were doomed to cycles of unpleasant habits and self-abandonment. But that simply wasn’t true.

All the relationships she’d known had been flawed. All except one. Or so she thought. Hopper asked her about Josie, and opened her eyes to the fact that in a short period of time, the girl had forged a meaningful relationship with Joyce and she was someone that Joyce could count on. Of course, Hopper himself showed her that romantic relationships didn’t have to be intimidating. They were taking things one step at a time to ease her into things and she was discovering that needing someone wasn’t the horrible thing she once thought it was.

It felt good to let herself need him.

It felt good to be needed by him.

In a strange sense, Joyce felt as though she could feel herself maturing through their relationship. He was showing her sides of herself she never knew existed, pushing her to be the best version of herself and for the first time in her life, she isn’t afraid to need someone.

They study for another hour before Hopper’s restlessness becomes too much and he convinces Joyce to go for an afternoon drive.

The pair stop at the diner, where Joyce runs in and picks up two soda’s for their drive. Ever since Hopper got his license, they’d spent countless summer afternoons driving around the abandoned streets on the outskirts of Hawkins, enjoying the sunshine and each other’s company.

Hopper waits in the car while Joyce pays the man at the counter for their order, trying to ignore the snickers she hears coming from a tale of seniors behind her. Ever since she and Hopper got together, Chrissy had been relentlessly whispering about her in the school halls, no doubt spreading rumors about her. She did her best to ignore the whispers and lingering glances from Chrissy’s friends. Normally, she would tell Chrissy off but the summer was fast approaching and she couldn’t be bothered getting swept up in petty, unimportant drama.

She was with Hopper and none of the rest mattered. Let the town talk. Let the rumors run wild. She was happy and she didn’t care what anyone had to say about it. In her eyes the only people who had any right to critique or discuss her relationship with Hopper were her and Hopper.

Stuffing her change in her pocket, she grabs the drinks off the counter, flashes a fake smile at the table of giggling girls and exits the diner.

Tuesday night Hopper manages to convince Joyce to join him for a movie at the drive-in. As he’s getting ready to leave the house his dad stops him. “Where are you headed so late?”

“I’m taking Joyce to the drive-in.”

“Ahhh that drive-in. One of the first dates I took your mother on was at a drive-in,” his father smiles at the memory.

“Really?”

“Really. She loved it. Have a good time son. Make sure Joyce gets home safely.”

Initially hesitant, Joyce is surprised to discover how excited she is when she spots his car pulling into the driveway to pick her up. Her parents were both out for the night so she grabs her bag, tosses her jacket over her arm and heads out through the front door.

“Front door today?” he grins as she hops into the passenger seat.

“No one was home so I figured why not.”

“Quite the rebel,” he teases.

“Says the one who suggested we go to a movie on a school night.”

“School is practically over, why not live a little. Besides,” he smirks, “the drive-in is much more fun than the theatre.”

Joyce shivers at what his statement implies and fastens her seatbelt. She’d never been to the drive-in theater before. Located a town over, the drive-in theatre became a popular date spot amongst Joyce’s classmates who had cars. She’d heard her fair share of locker room gossip about what usually happened.

In her haste and uncertainty about their last minute plans, she hadn’t given herself time to be nervous about what being here with Hopper might mean.

“What movie are we seeing?” she asks.

“You’ll see.”

Nervously, she fidgets with her hands in her lap and stares out the window.

Observing her nerves fidgeting, Hopper takes one hand off the wheel and reaches over to take her hand.

“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?”

She considers lying but something about the way he’s looking at her pushes her to tell him the truth.

“I’ve never been to the drive-in,” she admits.

“I know,” he grins. “That’s why I wanted to take you. I think you’ll love it!”

“But I’ve heard about what usually … happens… at the drive-in.”

Hopper’s face pales when he realizes what she’s implying.

“Jesus Joyce- that’s not … that’s not why I asked you to go I just …” Flustered, he releases her hand and drags his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Jesus I want to, I’ve thought about it alot but I wasn’t trying to imply that tonight we should…”

For some reason his flustered reaction calms her and a smile settles across her lips. With an amused expression she looks over at him. “Hop?”

“Yeah?” he answers, relieved she interrupted his pointless rambling.

“Stop trying to explain. I believe you.”

“Alright, good. I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m expecting anything. I just really like the drive-in and I wanted to be the first one to take you.”

Reaching across the car cabin for his hand, she pulls it back into her lap and interlocks their fingers. “Sorry,” she says softly. “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you were expecting anything.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

It was a strange relief to hear that he hadn’t invited her to the movie expecting something to happen between them. Not that she believed he was the type of guy to do such a thing, she just knew he’d slept with past girlfriends and she hadn’t ever slept with anyone. She’d come close a few times but it hadn’t happened for her yet. As foolish as her peers may find it, she wanted her first time to be special.

While she and Hopper had yet to sleep together they’d come close a few times. She wasn’t opposed, she wanted to be with him physically. Their intimate connection was unlike anything she’d ever experienced and she was certain when the moment felt right she wanted him to be her first.

“You’ve thought about us… being together?” she asks shyly.

“Is that okay?” he blushes.

“Yes. I’ve thought about it too,” she admits.

He squeezes her hand and then releases it to roll down the window and pay the attendant at the gate they’ve pulled up to. Once past it, he backs the car in next to a speaker and cuts the engine.

Joyce follows Hopper around the back of the car and watches with silent amusement as he pops open the trunk. She’s surprised to find the inside lined with pillows and a few blankets.

“What do you think? Will this do?”

“It’s perfect,” she beams.

“Come on, let’s go and grab some popcorn before it starts.”

Taking his hand she follows his lead to the snack bar where they order two bags of popcorn. Hopper holds the snacks while she gets comfortable in the back of the car and then climbs in next to her, passing her a bag of popcorn.

He slings one arm over her shoulder and pulls the blanket up over their laps as the movie begins. Midway through it, she puts her popcorn aside and drops her head to his shoulder. He mirrors her action, placing the half-full bag of popcorn beside him to pull her closer to his side.

When she nestles into his neck he leans down and places a kiss on the top of her head.

In response, Joyce tilts her head up and steals a kiss. One stolen kiss quickly becomes two, two become three and three becomes tangled tongues and roaming hands.

Joyce’s hands roam across Hopper’s chest as she turns to face him. His hands their place holding her hips and he tugs her towards him. She whimpers into his mouth when one of his thumbs brushes a bit of exposed skin between her t-shirt and jeans. Unsure, he pulls back and looks at her in question. She nods, giving him silent permission and then tugs him forward and deepens their kiss. Joyce moves her attention to his jawline, peppering it with kisses while he allows one hand to settle on her side beneath her shirt.

She inhales sharply when she feels his calloused thumb move up her side and sucks on his pulse point. Hopper’s hand slowly makes its way up her body until it settles over her bra and his thumb runs along the edge of it delicately.

“I’m not going to break,” she whispers into his ear.

He hoists her into his lap so that she is positioned between him and the movie screen and cups her breast over her shirt with both hands while she leans down to kiss him.

His hands continue to explore her body over her t-shirt and their jeans clash when she grinds further into his lap with each kiss.

“Joyce,” he whispers against her lips.

“Yes?”

“I thought you wanted to see how the movie ended?”

“Mhmm.”

Neither of them catch the end of the movie, instead they spend time exploring one another and making out in the back of Hopper’s car.

After fixing her post-make out hair, Joyce helps Hopper pack up the car when the movie ends and they drive back to Hawkins with his hand on her knee.

“So, how was your first drive-in experience?”

“It was perfect,” she smiles.

“Perfect? Damn I might have set the bar too high for future dates.”

“Hop, we could hang out and do absolutely nothing and I would still enjoy it.”

“Alright it’s settled from now on we do absolutely nothing.”

She laughs and playfully rolls her eyes in his direction. ‘You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you’re dating me for some strange reason.”

Hearing him say the words “you’re dating me” sends an excited shiver down her spine and she beams. “I like spending time with you, that’s why I’m dating you.”

“Is that all?”

“You’re a decent kisser,” she chuckles.

“Decent?! I’m an incredible kisser. You take that back right now Horowitz.”

“Guess you’re just going to have to prove me wrong,” she flirts.

Without warning he swerves and pulls the car to an abrupt stop on the side of the long country road that leads back to Hawkins. He leans over and kisses her, gently tugging on her lower lip before promptly returning to his seat and continuing to drive while she’s left speechless.

“Decent-ish,” she mumbles beneath her breath.

“Yeah, that’s why you’re all tongue-tied.”

“I am not!”

“You are. It’s cute.”

“I hate you,” she laughs.

“You don’t.”

“I don’t think I ever could,” she admits.

“Good. It would break me if you ever did.”

He drops Joyce off and waits until she’s safely inside, before returning home in a great mood. He’s surprised to find his dad waiting up for him in the living room and quietly waves over to him as he comes in.

“Hey son, how was the movie?”

“It was good.”

“How did it end?”

“I don’t remember,” Hopper shrugs.

“That’s my boy.”

“Hey, what are you doing after this?” Benny asks Hopper in the locker room after practice.

“I’m not sure. Joyce is waiting for me.”

“Do you two wanna join a few of us at the diner?”

“I’ll ask her,” Hopper says. “What?” He adds when Benny smirks.

“Nothing,” Benny lies. “You guys are a good couple.”

“You think?”

“I’ve always thought you’d make a good couple. You two are the morons that took forever to realize that you should be together.”

The pair exit the locker room and make their way to the parking lot where Joyce is leaning against Hopper’s car waiting.

“Hey,” Hopper smiles, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

Joyce blushes and leans into his touch, “Hey Benny.”

“Hey Joyce. Do you two want to join us at the diner?”

“Hop?” she looks up at him.

“Up to you,” he tells her.

“Why not?” she smiles. “Can I drive?”

“Fine,” he nods. He holds the keys above her head and laughs as he pulls them away when she tries to reach for them. She moves for them a second time, caging his body between the car and hers while she jumps and just barely grabs the keys.

“Ha!” she boasts.

“Do you need a ride Benny?” Joyce asks.

“I’d say no if you want to make it there in one piece,” Hopper warns him.

“Hey! I’m a great driver.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I had a great teacher,” she flirts, allowing her hand to settle on his chest.

“As much as I’d love to third wheel this,” Bennt gestures between them, “I’ll meet you guys there.”

Stealing a kiss, Joyce twirls around Hopper to the driver's side door and climbs in with a victorious smile.

They stroll into the diner with Hopper’s arm draped over Joyce’s shoulder and find Benny and a few of his friends sitting at a table near the window.

“Did you two get lost? You left before me,” Benny jokes.

“We got … distracted,” Hopper admits with flushed cheeks. He slides into the booth next to Joyce who greets Benny’s girlfriend, Helen who she’d recently become friends with.

The group orders; Hopper and Joyce both request a large chocolate milkshake and exchange smirks.

“So, what are everyone’s summer plans?” Benny asks.

“I’m spending a few weeks visiting my aunt on the West coast,” Helen informs them.

“Yeah, she’s leaving me for two whole weeks,” Benny pouts.

“What about you Joyce?” Helen asks.

“Honestly, I haven’t really thought about it much. I’ve just been focusing on finishing up exams.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something exciting,” Helen smiles. “What about you Jim?”

“Just spending time with my girl here,” he smiles, arm falling around Joyce’s shoulder. He gives her a small squeeze and leans down to place a kiss in her hair. Joyce jokingly rolls her eyes at his ridiculous display of PDA, but her insides are fluttering. My girl.

“Oh god,” Benny groans. “Are you two going to be this obnoxiously cute all summer?”

“Hmmm,” Hopper strokes his chin, then leans down and gives Joyce a short peck on the lips, “probably.”

“Helen change of plans, I’m coming with you.”

Everyone laughs and Hopper pulls Joyce in a bit closer when she reaches up and takes the hand that's laying over her shoulder. She strokes the back of his palm with her thumb and leans into his touch.

The group discusses potential plans for their senior year, Hopper and Benny were both hoping to be scouted this season while Joyce was planning on applying to several colleges and Helen planned on getting a job at the sewing shop her mother worked at.

Josie comes in to pick up an order and briefly stops by the table to talk to Joyce. After getting together with Hopper, she filled Josie in on all the details and the two made plans to hangout by the lake once school let out. Her friendship with Josie, as surprising as it was, was the one good thing to come out of her near fall-out with Hopper.

When Josie excuses herself, Joyce moves the straw from her empty glass to Hopper’s half-full milkshake.

“What are you doing?”

“Sharing?” she smiles innocently.

“No way! This one is mine. If you want more I’ll order you another one.”

“I don’t want another one.”

“Then why is your straw in my drink?”

“I just wanted a little bit of yours.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“We’re dating now. That’s totally how this works,” she reminds him.

Benny watches with amusement as the two bicker back and forth. It was refreshing to see that while they’d become the type of couple that couldn’t seem to keep their hands to themselves, they were still the Hopper and Joyce he’d known for years.

“Is that so?” he cocks his eyebrows.

“It’s so,” she replies smugly, leaning forward to take a large sip of his drink.

“I think Helen and I are going to get going,” Benny announces. “We’ll leave you two to this lover’s quarrel.”

“It’s not a lover’s quarrel,” Hopper snaps.

“Right,” Benny laughs. He and Helen slip out of the booth and he leads her to the door.

“Lover’s quarrel,” Joyce chuckles to herself, “what a strange phrase.”

“Agreed,” Hopper nods, snatching his milkshake back.

One look at the pout on Joyce’s lips and the wide-eyed look she’s gazing at him with and he resigns, placing the glass back on the table between them with a sigh. “Fine. But I’m only sharing this time.”

Propping her elbows up on the kitchen counter, Joyce watches as Hopper attempts to flip grilled cheese sandwiches without having them fall apart.

“Alright, we’re headed out,” Mrs. Hopper announces as she enters the room. “Jim try not to burn the house down.”

“Woah! I’m an excellent cook!”

“I don’t know, you’ve been struggling to flip that for a long time,” Joyce giggles.

“He didn’t put enough butter and now it’s stuck to the pan, isn’t it?” his mom asks Joyce.

“Yes, but he’s too stubborn to admit that he messed up.”

“Men, they’re all the same. Take note dear, if you ever want something done right you’ve got to do it yourself.”

“Hey! I don’t like you two teaming up on me,” Hopper whines.

“Looks like we’re going to have to team up more often,” Mrs. Hopper smiles at Joyce.

“I’d like that,” Joyce smiles.

While she’d known Hopper’s parents for years, she’d never spent as much time with them as she had over the past few weeks. Joyce had to admit, she was envious of how supportive his parents were. They sat down for family dinners every night at 6 pm and they were always asking Hopper how his day at school was. It was completely different from what she grew up experiencing.

His parents had always been nice to her, but now that she was dating their son they went above and beyond to ensure she always felt welcome.

“Is that my wife I hear in the kitchen?” Mr. Hopper calls down.

“We’re in here!” she replies. “Just lecturing Jim about making sure he turns the stove off when he’s done.”

“Good idea. Don’t burn the house down son.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Hopper smiles.

“Now, if you two don’t mind, I have to get my beautiful wife here for dinner. You make sure that Joyce here gets home safely later, alright?”

“Yes sir,” Hopper nods.

“Have a nice night,” Joyce smiles as the Hoppers head out hand in hand.

Once the front door closes, Joyce looks over at Hopper and smiles.

“I like your parents.”

“That’s good because they like you too.”

“Are you sure? I mean I know how much they liked Chrissy and I-“

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for her hand over the counter, “stop. They love you.”

“Okay,” she smiles.

“Now, what do you say we take these sandwiches into the living room and watch a movie while we eat?”

“That sounds nice.”

They settle down on the sofa in the Hopper’s living room and eat their meal while chatting about what they want to watch. In the end, Joyce’s choice wins and she happily cuddles into Hopper’s side while it begins to play.

Snuggled into his side, she wraps one knee around his center and drops her head onto his shoulder. Hopper places one hand on her head and strokes his fingers through her hair.

Looking down at her through lust-filled eyes he whispers, “I want to do this forever.”

“Play with my hair?” she jokes.

“Be here with you.”

“Sap,” she whispers.

“I prefer to be called a romantic.”

“It’s strange for me, seeing this side of you,” she admits.

“What do you mean?”

“I just never pictured you as the romantic type.”

“Because we weren’t romantically involved,” he says, bopping her on the nose.

She crinkles her nose in response and retaliates by sticking her tongue out at him.

“Still. You never seemed to be like this with other girls.”

“You’re not like other girls.”

“You’re right. I’m better.”

“I like your confidence.”

“I like you,” she smirks.

“Gosh listen to us. We’re so lame.”

“Maybe dating has made us go soft,” she laughs, clutching on to him a bit tighter. “Or maybe not.” She cocks her eyebrow at him when she brushes against the strain in his jeans.

Blushing, he shifts beneath her weight and mumbles something about it not being his fault that he was so attracted to her.

Joyce shifts so that she’s straddling his lap and smirks down at him. Leaning in, she captures his lips with her own and allows her hands to slowly roll down his chest. Clothed bodies rubbing together, Joyce kisses her way down his neck, pausing when she reaches the collar of his shirt.

Hopper’s hands greedily roam up Joyce’s back, clutching her against him. He uses his thumb to angle her chin up towards him and eagerly kisses her. His tongue slips past her lower lip and plunges into her mouth, an action that elicits a soft whimper from Joyce. She rocks forward, supporting her weight on her knees while she deepens their kiss. Tossing her hair back, she moves to kiss along his jawline when the clock behind them catches her eye.

“Damn it, is that the time?” Joyce squeaks. “I should get home.”

“Or you could stay?” he asks hopefully.

“I want to, but I shouldn’t.”

“You’re right. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

The ride back to Joyce’s house is quiet, neither of them quite ready to say goodbye for the night. When they arrive, Joyce slowly unbuckles her seatbelt and turns towards Hopper.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asks.

“I’ve got it from here,” she smiles. She leans across the cabin of the car and kisses his cheek.

“Goodnight, Hop.”

“Goodnight Joyce” he says as she walks away.

Joyce skips up the stairs to her bedroom and slips out of her jeans and t-shirt into an oversized shirt she’d “borrowed” from Hopper a few days before. She crawls into bed and slips beneath the covers, hands resting behind her head with a happy sigh. They only said goodbye a few moments ago and she already missed him.

Tonight, she’d grown certain of two things. First, that Hopper was the greatest thing in her life and second, she was willing to go all the way with him. She discovered that she was disappointed things stopped where they had and after giving it a lot of thought over the past few weeks she knows that she’s ready.

She considered telling him but she wanted the moment to just happen. It needed to be spontaneous and just feel right. Closing her eyes, she imagines the feel of his hands on her body and she shutters.

Thwack.

Her eyes fly open and she looks around her darkened room. It’s empty, save for a few stuffed animals sitting on her dresser and the art that lined her walls. Unsure, she pulls the purple and white striped comforter closer and once again closes her eyes.

Thwack.

Her feet are on the floor in an instant and she makes a beeline for the light switch. Once illuminated, she looks around her room for the source of the noise but doesn’t find the culprit.

Thwack. Thwack.

Suddenly, she notices that the sound is coming from outside. Slowly, she moves over to the window beside her bed and peers outside. Hopper is standing beneath her window, lobbing pebbles at it.

With the shake of her head, Joyce opens the window and calls out to him, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye,” he replies.

“Well,” she smirks, “are you coming up here or are you just going to throw rocks at my window all night?”

He wastes no time climbing the trellis along the side of the house, crossing the roof the way he’d seen Joyce do it countless times until he’s at her window and shimmying his way inside.

“Couldn’t stay away?” she teases him as he crawls through the window.

“Can you blame me?”

Once he finally manages to wedge himself through the window, he stumbles forward and catches himself near the edge of her bed. He looks up at her with a dopey smile and shakes his head. “Nice shirt.”

“I wasn’t expecting any visitors,” she informs him sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest and pacing the length of her bed.

“It looks good on you. You should keep it.”

“I was already planning on it,” she laughs.

He looks around her room; her drawings plastered over the walls, the plushie he won at the fair for her, a handful of school photos and a mess of clothes. “I’m not going to get you in trouble for being here this late, am I?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure my dad passed out in his chair. The usual,” she huffs.

“Joyce,” he says softly, reaching for one of her hands.

She turns to face him, giving in to his touch and she wordlessly squeezes his palm. “I know,” she nods.

“Will you stay a while?” she adds.

Nodding, he pulls her by the hand towards him and she crawls onto her bed and sits next to him. Silently, he shifts and lays against the mattress and wraps his arms around her center while nuzzling his head into the crock of her shoulder.

They stay in the same position for a while, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. She shifts against him a few times, moving closer until her back is pressed as close to him as the clothing between them will allow.

Joyce flips around so that she’s facing Hopper and steals a kiss. With his arms still wrapped snugly around her waist, he tugs her closer. He kisses her then. Slowly at first, then with eagerness she can feel in her toes.

She hums into the kiss, every nerve ending in her body responding to his touch. He runs his hands up her back, his fingers greedily roaming amongst the cotton fabric.

When they part for air, Joyce sits up and raises her arms to help him remove his shirt. She tosses it to the side and watches as his jaw falls open slightly and he takes in her naked frame. There’s no bra standing in his way, so he hesitantly reaches out and cups her breasts in his hands as he kisses along her jawline. With each touch, she craves more of him.

In a haste, she reaches for the hem of his shirt and impatiently sits back and watches while it joins hers on the floor. He returns his attention to her lips, their seated position causing her breasts to brush against his bare chest when she leans in to the kiss. Things escalate quickly. Hopper takes her breasts in his hands before kissing down the center of her chest. With each kiss, she grinds down against his lap, the satin of her panties meeting the cotton of his boxers.

She places both hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress before climbing over him and straddling his lap. She looks down at him, a knowing grin settling over her face as she reaches his belt buckle.

She tugs at the latch, undoing it and pulling the leather band from the loops. Once the belt is gone, she reaches for the button and pulls down the zipper. He raises his hips and helps her by shimmying out of his jeans, another item added to the pile on the floor.

With a devious smirk, Joyce reaches for the waistband of his boxers with two fingers. Hooking them inside the elastic, she frees him of the fabric in one swift motion and sits back to take him in his entirety.

He stares back at her with wide eyes, gulping visibly. She has a look in her eyes that tells him exactly what her intentions are. He’d be lying if he said he was excited. He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he cared to admit.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she nods, biting her lip, “I’m sure.”

Hopper hooks his arms around her thighs and flips them over, hovering over her body that is now only concealed by her panties. Propped up on his elbows, he leans down and places an open mouthed kiss on her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. He sucks on her lips, the friction between their bare upper bodies causing his skin to burn with a sensation that is so powerful it is almost unbearable.

Her hands trail from his shoulders down his back, digging into his skin as he nips on a spot above her collarbone. His movements are slow and deliberate, while hers are rash and urgent. She finds herself fascinated by what incredible shape he’s in.

Joyce leans over and kisses him, her left hand wrapping itself around his hardened length. She pumps her hand up and down a few times; Slowly, then with more purpose. He bites on his lower lip while she continues to stroke him, then reaches down and hooks his thumb in the waistband of her panties.

“Yeah?”

She nods, releasing her grip on him to help him to remove the last of her undergarments. He smiles at her softly, running the back of his palm across her cheek, an action that makes her shiver. He allows himself to put some of his weight on her, their naked chests colliding once again. He kisses her, flicking his tongue into her mouth in a manner that causes her to whimper.

Her hands find their place on his back again, her legs parted so that his legs can be placed between hers. As he moves upwards to deepen the kiss, the head of his cock brushes against her center and she bucks beneath him. He presses himself against her harder, their kiss becoming sloppy as their bodies grind against one another.

His cock rubs against her clit and she groans into his mouth. Her hair, drenched in sweat, is plastered across her shoulders but he manages to drag a hand through it.

“Hop,” she whispers. “Do you have a condom?”

“I- I don’t actually,” he sighs. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay,” she reassures him, kissing him before he can apologize like she knows he’s about to.

He tumbles over her, pulling her sideways all the while never breaking their kiss even while she giggles at the swiftness of his action. They’re laying side by side now, legs a tangled mess. He runs his hand lazily down her side from her shoulder to her hip and moves to kissing her neck. She slips one leg between his and his hardness brushes against her bundle of nerves, this time repeatedly rubbing against it.

She leans up and gently tugs on his ear lobe, causing his entire body to shutter.

“Damn it,” he hisses, “I can’t believe I didn’t bring a condom. It’s just, we’ve never talked about this and I didn’t want to assume.”

She flashes him an amused smirk and she leans back to look him in the eye before she speaks.

“I know we’ve never really talked about it, but it just feels right. Doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he smiles. “Wait!” he exclaims, jumping up and reaching for his discarded jeans. He grabs his wallet from the back pocket and holds up a small tin square in triumph.

“Bingo,” he smirks, flicking the package between his fingers.

She checks him out as he walks back, the muscles of an athlete drawing her focus to his upper arms. She notices he’s still hard and she gulps.

He pauses at the edge of the bed and studies her face. “If anything is uncomfortable, promise you’ll tell me?”

“I promise,” she smiles, “Now, get yourself back over here.”

He rips open the condom and slides it over his erect length before climbing back onto the bed. Joyce lies back and allows Hopper to once again climb over her, where he positions himself near her entrance. With his hands placed on either side of her head, he leans down and begins kissing her, picking up almost exactly where they left off.

He gently rocks forward, his length teasing at her entrance. She’s already wet from the fooling around they’d been doing. He teases her again, this time rocking forward a little further.

“Hopper,” she says, both a warning and a plea.

He breaks the kiss, balancing himself on one arm while using the other to position himself once again. He locks eyes with her and their silent conversation tells him that she’s ready. He pushes into her gently, first just the tip accompanied by a small kiss on the cheek. She nods, an indication to keep going so he rocks into her a little further. He waits until she adjusts to his size before pushing into her all the way.

She gasps, his hardness filling her up and making her feel complete in a way she never knew she could be completed. The way he was looking down at her with so much adoration in his eyes makes her heart pound.

He gives her a moment to get used to the intrusion, and within seconds her nose goes from scrunched to relaxed.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles.

He pulls back slightly then, sliding himself in and out slowly. He finds a steady rhythm she appears to enjoy, not quite fully thrusting into her but thrusting enough that it’s pleasurable, he slips his hand between their bodies and runs his thumb over her clit.

She immediately moans, the sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt. Hopper buries his face in her shoulder as he continues to pump in and out of her. Her knees are bent, brushing against his outer hips as he moves and she slowly begins to shift beneath him, matching his movements. The first roll of her hips catches him off guard and he whimpers her name. He knows he isn’t going to last much longer, but he continues to stimulate her bundle of nerves, wanting this to be as pleasurable for her as possible.

Her hands work their way down his back, and once he feels himself getting close, his pace becomes sloppy, he loses his rhythm and his breathing grows heavy.

She clutches at his lower back, her thighs squeezing his hips.

“Joyce, I’m going to—“ he begins to explain before abruptly pulling himself out of her. She keeps her hands in place on his back as he spills into the condom.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to— I can, we can…” he stutters.

“Hop,” she breathes, holding his face between her palms. “That was incredible.”

“But you didn’t finish.”

“Hey,” she locks eyes with him, their foreheads brushing, “that was everything.”

“Now why don’t you toss that thing away and come lay here with me?” she adds.

He does as she suggests and discards the condom into the trash can next to her bed before crawling into bed next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Are you alright?” he whispers.

“I’m with you, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t regret doing that, do you?”

“Not even slightly,” she smiles and kisses him.

They fall asleep in each others arms and wake to the sound of chirping birds as the sun spills in through the open curtains. Joyce lifts her head from Hopper’s bare chest and slowly opens her eyes. Looking around she notices their pile of discarded clothes before her gaze settles on the clock on her nightstand.

“Shit!” she exclaims, jumping up.

Hopper grumbles from beside her and lazily lifts his head. “What?”

“Shit. We fell asleep!” she informs him. “You have to go before my parents realize you spent the night here!”

In his sleepy-deprived daze, Hopper gets dressed and gathers his things before walking towards the door. Before he can reach the handle, Joyce scolds him. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

“Home?” he asks, confused.

“Not that way. Window,” she points.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Hopper slides back the window and sticks one leg out before walking back over to Joyce, planting a deep kiss on her lips and telling her he’ll see her for lunch.

She watches as he climbs down the side of the house and walks back to his car, which is parked a few houses up the road. Once he’s gone, she flops back onto her bed wearing a massive grin. Last night was everything she hoped it would be and more.

She’d heard from Josie that the first time could be awkward but that wasn’t her experience at all. Last night was just as much as an emotional first as it was a physical one for her. She felt safe with Hopper and she had no doubt that the way they connected last night was something special.

All week he’s been trying to find the best way to tell her - he loves her.

Not in the puppy love kind of way either. He loved her like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Sometimes, the feeling overwhelms him in a shocking way. How had it taken him so long to see what was right in front of him? He’d always known he loved her in a platonic way, being that she was one of the only people he felt comfortable enough to be to himself around. If he had realized sooner, would he have fallen as hard?

He silences the pointless questions rattling around in his mind and tries to focus on the question at hand. How was he going to tell Joyce that he loved her?

Class ended in a few days which meant they would be receiving their junior yearbooks soon. It was cliche but he could write it in her yearbook. He debates telling her over the phone but decides he wants to see her face when he informs her of how deep his feelings for her run. Hopper thinks about all the ways he can tell her, running through each scenario in his mind for countless nights before drifting off to sleep.

On Thursday afternoon, Joyce excitedly bounds up to Hopper and brags that she’s finally free of exams.

“We made it! Summer break here we come,” he grins down at her. “I have another surprise. I picked these up for us.”

He passes Joyce a copy of the yearbook, a cartoon tiger draw on the cover that reads Hawkins High 58’.

“Yearbooks?” she asks.

“Wanna look through them?”

She nods and climbs onto the hood of his car. Kicking one leg over the other, she props herself up and slides over to make room for him.

Hopper places one arm on the hood behind Joyce and they each dive into their yearbooks.

“Here’s me!” he brags, pointing to a shot of him on the football field.

Joyce silently browses through the pages of her book, staring at the faces of her classmates and smiling. She notices a few of the photos of her and Josie at the dance but decides not to point them out to Hopper. He’ll probably notice them on his own and she didn’t want to remember the way she felt about him and Chrissy that night.

“There you are with Josie,” he says as if he can hear her thoughts. “You looked so beautiful.”

“You think so?” she blushes.

“You always look beautiful,” he tells her.

Leaning back against him, she allows him to kiss her temple. “You’re such a sap.”

“You pretend to be tough but you love it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You forget I know you better than anyone.”

With a silent smile, Joyce returns to flipping through her yearbook. She spots several more photos of Hopper and his teammates and even manages to find herself in the art club photo. When she reaches the end of the book, she closes it and asks Hopper if he’s ready to get going.

“Don’t you want me to sign your yearbook?” he asks.

“Why?” she laughs, “It’s not like we’re going to lose touch.”

Hopper swallows hard and tries to think quickly. I want to write in it so I can tell you that I love you.

“I know but it’ll be a nice keepsake.”

“I guess,” she shrugs, handing him the book.

“I think I left something in my locker, do you mind waiting while I go and grab it?”

“I’ll be right here,” he tells her.

Joyce climbs down off the hood of his car and with a small hop heads back into the school. He watches as she walks away and once inside he grabs her yearbook and flips to the blank back page.

He takes a pencil out of his back pocket and twirls it in his hand.

Bringing it to the page, he raises the tip to begin writing her name then pulls back with a heavy sigh.

He could do it. Write down that he loves her but then he won’t get to hear it out loud the first time he says it. He wants everything about the moment to be perfect and he was realizing now that this wasn’t the way he wanted to do this.

Joyce returns holding a book and tells him she’s ready to go. Hopper returns her yearbook and slides off the car with a grin.

“Well, did you sign it?”

“Nah, you were right. It’s not like we’re going to lose touch.”

“Exactly. Like it or not you’re stuck with me,” she says.

“Seems like a pretty decent problem to have.”

“I think so,” she laughs.

“So, how do you want to celebrate finishing your last exam?” he asks.

“What if we went swimming?”

“Swimming?!”

“Yeah, you know that thing that people do in water?”

“You told me you hated swimming.”

“I lied. I just didn’t want to get my hair wet that day.”

“We’ve known each other for how many years and you’ve let me believe you hated swimming for all of them?!”

“Yes.”

“What the hell! We could have gone so many times.”

“Well, now we can start going,” she smiles.

“I’m going to hold you to that when we visit my grandfather's cabin this summer.”

“Wait, your parents agreed?!”

“They did. It’s our for two weeks,” he replies. “Just you and me. Our own cabin for two entire weeks.”

He steps towards her and grins down at her. “We can have lazy mornings,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“And we can sit by the fire.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And now we can go skinny dipping,” he smirks.

“What happened to plain old swimming?”

“We can start with that,” he says softly.

“Hop-“

“Yes?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

They head to the lake, Joyce complaining about Hopper’s music choice the entire way. Staring at her as she signings along with the radio, his heart swells. He was going to tell her he loved her, it just had to be perfect.

“I can’t believe I ruined it,” Joyce pouts over her ruined pot of pasta.

She was making dinner for the two of them and insisted she didn’t need his help. Only, she forgot she put the pasta on to boil and it had now boiled over and was stuck to the bottom of the pot.

Helping Joyce clean up the mess on the floor, Hopper looks up at her and says, “it’s fine we can just make it again.”

He moves to the opposite side of the kitchen and discards the clump of burnt pasta, then props himself up against the counter and watches as she refills the pot with more water.

“I can’t believe I screwed up something so simple,” she whines. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

“It already is. Even if you burnt our dinner to a crisp,” he laughs.

“It’s not funny.”

“Joyce, it’s hilarious.”

“I’m going to get it right this time,” she says in a determined voice.

“Do you want some help?” he offers.

“No. I can do it.”

“Alright, I’ll stay out of your way then.”

From across the room, he watches as his tiny but determined girlfriend reads the instructions on the back of the pasta box for a third time. With her hair pulled back and pinned on the top of her head and her arms folded across her chest she looked like a force to be reckoned with.

That’s when it hits him. A vision of their entire life together. Her sitting in an armchair near a large south facing window, book open in her lap, sun streaming across her face. The room would be filled with comfortable silence and they would spend most Sunday afternoons like that; sitting in their respective corners just enjoying the presence of the other. He would steal glances of her while she was lost in a world of fantasy- a world that he would try so desperately to provide her in reality.

He wanted to give her everything. A house with a large wrap-around porch and a front lawn where one day their kids would play. A place where she could work on her art free of the stress life brings. A place they could both call home. One that was far from the small town of Hawkins, Indiana.

He sees it all so clearly. The two of them and a life grander than anyone from their small town can even imagine.

Watching her prepare dinner from across the room, her determined smile demanding his attention, he realizes he will likely never love someone the way he loves her.

“Hop, can you pass me that spoon?” she calls out to him.

“God, I love you,” he replies as he snaps out of his daydream.

She freezes, blinks slowly and then stares up at him cautiously.

“W-what?” she stammers.

“I love you,” he repeats, this time louder. It wasn’t the perfect way he planned on telling her but it was perfect because he finally told her. Even if they were standing in the middle of his kitchen on a random Tuesday evening.

“You do?”

“With everything in me,” he admits. “Is that okay?”

His nerves suddenly kick in and he realizes he hadn’t thought about how she would react to him declaring his feelings. Joyce had always been a cautious person, never one to let people in easily and he panics and realizes despite the fact he was ready to tell her how he felt, she may not have been ready to hear it. He never expected her to say it back but he momentarily waivers on his decision (though the words just sort of tumbled out on their own anyways) to tell her.

“Yes,” she nods.

“Look Joyce, I didn’t mean to just spring that on you. You don’t have to say it back or anything,” he says quickly. “I just-“

He pauses and drags his hand through his hair. “I just have been feeling this way for a while now and I wanted you to know. I thought you deserved to know. But you don’t have to say it back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her smile slowly grows and he can tell the magnitude of what he's just admitted is hitting her in full force and her reaction is everything he hoped it would be. Her cheeks turn a deep shade of rose and her nose crinkles when she steps towards him.

“Hop?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you hand me that spoon?” she asks again.

“Oh yeah, of course,” he laughs. He hands her the utensil and drops his tensed shoulders.

“One more thing?” she half-asks, half-states.

“Yeah?”

“Say it again?” she blushes.

He walks towards her and places his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her he smiles, “I love you.”

Joyce rocks forwards on her toes and grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down to meet her for a kiss.

Laying across Hopper’s bed, Joyce has her sketch pad open as she works on her latest piece; a black and white drawing of a bird.

From where he’s perched on the opposite side of the headboard, he watches as her nose crinkles with concentration. They only had a few hours to spend together before he had to go and help his dad with some chores and he loved spending them watching her do something she loved.

When they first met, Joyce was hesitant to show him any of her work. Over the years she slowly began to open up and show him some of her finished pieces. Now that she invited him to watch the work in progress, he felt as though he was viewing something intimate. He got to witness her at her most vulnerable, working in a creative safe space to design something out of nothing. And she was damn good at it.

“You’re staring?” she says without looking up.

“Admiring. That’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she blushes. “It’s just simple.”

“Nothing about that is simple Joyce. That page was blank before you made that.”

“Drawing isn’t that hard.”

“You clearly haven’t seen my art skills,” he laughs.

“I’m sure you’d be great at it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong sweetheart. I’m not one of those people who’s good at everything.”

“And I am?”

“I mean, you get good grades, you can draw, you’re kind, beautiful… ya, I’d say you qualify as one of those people.”

“Aren’t you always complaining about how people like that are intolerable?” she asks him.

“Yes.”

“And what does that make me?” she smirks. She’s toying with him, he knows it but he plays into it anyways.

“Infuriating. Stubborn. Infatuating.”

“You’re infatuated by me?”

“You know that I am, or you wouldn’t be trying to do that thing you do with your eyes.”

“What thing?”

“You know.”

“Do I?”

“You’re impossible.”

“I thought you enjoyed a good challenge?”

“Only if I know I’ll enjoy the prize.”

“Did you just objectify me?”

“Yes,” he blushes, “but you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then in what way did you mean it?”

Through the midst of their conversation he’s gravitated towards her and her art supplies have been pushed aside. He’s hovering over her now, his smirk growing as he moves his lips closer to hers, ghosting, but never touching allowing them to make contact.

“I mean you were worth the wait.”

“Here I thought I was the one waiting for you,” she whispers.

“Let’s agree to say it was mutual pining and call it a day,” he grins. He finally moves in for a kiss but is shoved away by one of her tiny hands.

“I was not pinning for you.”

“Please, you were.”

“I don’t do that. If I wanted you, you would have been mine.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t want me that night you were in his arms?” his breath tickles her ear as he speaks and it sends a chill rippling through her body.

“No,” she admits. “I wanted you.”

“Exactly.” He nuzzles his head against her shoulder and peppers her neck with kisses.

“Jim?!” His fathers voice rings out from downstairs.

Untangling himself from Joyce, he sits up and replies, “yes dad?”

“Do you have some time to give me a hand now?”

“Ugh,” he looks down at the strain in his jeans and gulps, “I’ll be down in just a minute.”

“Do you guys need any help?” Joyce offers.

Hopper hoists himself off the bed and stretches his arms above his head. “It’s alright. You stay, draw. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He leans forward and gives her a quick kiss before leaving her in his bed with her sketchbook.

The following week, Joyce is sitting in her room reading when she hears Hopper’s car pull up. She looks out the window and waves him up and within moments he’s standing in the open doorway leading to her room.

He grins and proudly holds up a tape. “Look what I made.”

“You made me a mixed tape?”

“I made us a mixed tape. For the summer.”

He crosses her bedroom and marches over to her stereo, where he pops the tape in and presses play. A familiar jazzy tune fills the room and Hopper begins to dramatically say side-to-side.

“Fever? Really Hop?” she laughs.

“This is a great song,” he informs her. “Come dance with me.”

“No way,” she laughs. She crosses her legs beneath her body on the bed and watches as he makes a complete fool of himself dancing around to the music.

“C’mon Horowitz, you can’ leave me hanging I’ll look like a fool.”

“Too late,” she teases.

He sways over to her and extends his palm. Reluctantly, she accepts his hand and allows him to pull her up and towards the center of her room, where he dramatically twirls her away from him before tugging her back in towards him.

She laughs and he does a ridiculous twist of the hips that makes her laugh harder, her arms on his shoulders. He lifts both arms and attempts to spin her inwards but she stumbles forward and crashes into his chest, causing them both to erupt in laughter.

Holding her while they laugh, he shakes his head and smiles.

“What?” she smirks, noticing a strange look in his eye.

“You’re my best friend,” he beams. “And you can’t dance.”

The pair fools around, dancing foolishly around Joyce’s room, stealing kisses and allowing touches to linger, for the rest of the afternoon.

That night, laying in her bed and staring up at the ceiling, Joyce thinks back on her day.

She thinks that she loves him.

She isn’t sure, she’d never really understood what it meant to love someone, but the unfamiliar sensation that overcomes her when she so much as thinks of him makes her believe it could be love.

Growing up, her parents never told her they loved her. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about her, they just never expressed emotions with words. Her father hadn’t always been the way he is now and there was a time she remembered when her parents got along. But they never looked at each other the way the Hopper’s did. There was something missing between them.

Joyce had never been one to believe in the type of romance they sold in books and movies. Those types of relationships were simply that, fictional words made up to make you feel something. A work of the imagination. People didn’t actually feel that way about other people. Time didn’t stop with a kiss and the act of making love was more a physical thing than an emotional one. Why then was she starting to believe in fictional concepts?

She thinks she must love him.

It was the only logical explanation for why she feels the way she does. The excited flutter she feels in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of him and the way they connected through both touch and language was a raw and powerful feeling. He made her feel like she was the only person in the room when he listened to her speak. When he kissed her, time stopped. It wasn’t logical, or even physically possible, but she swore that for a moment, the universe stood still when their lips collided.

Then again, she’s never been in love. Maybe this was nothing like what love felt like? Perhaps she was mistaking closeness for romantic love.

Either way, until she’s certain she’s not going to tell him. People had a habit of walking in and out of Joyce’s life. Impermanence. A word she liked to use to describe nearly everything she had. The world was moving quickly, life ebbed and flowed and no one ever chose to remain a constant in her life. Her mother avoided spending time at home, and Joyce didn’t blame her for it. Her father was a living terror and she never let herself have close friends for fear they would abandon her the way her parents had.

Hopper was the first and only person in her life she didn’t think of as impermanent. He was her lighthouse in the storm that was the teenage years of her life and she would forever be grateful to him for saving her from herself.

He makes her feel alive. He reminds her to take herself less seriously and enjoy life and above all else, he loves her.

He loves her like a best friend and more.

And that terrifies her while it thrills her and she thinks that they can really be something together.

Because he loves her.

And though it’s against her better judgement, she might love him too.

We're so sad, we paint the town blue

Voted most likely to run away

With you

#stranger things #jopper #multichapter #highschool AU #AU

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 10 - Paper Rings

Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night

Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

The Hideaway was one of the few places in Hawkins that Joyce rarely frequented. Being a minor, she wasn’t allowed in after-hours but she wasn’t a huge fan of the grungy atmosphere the establishment presented anyway. She could count on one hand how many times she’s been here in the past decade, tonight being one of those times.

Hopper had picked her up after her parents were asleep, signalling the usual way and watching from the car as she slipped out her bedroom window. Earlier at school, he insisted that they needed a night out to make up for lost time and Joyce, though initially she put up a fight, gave in and agreed to meet him.

They hadn’t talked about what happened (or almost happened) at the fair, but she could feel things beginning to shift between them. Today, they ate lunch together beneath the bleachers and laughed like they hadn’t laughed since they were kids. They agreed to move past all the bullshit and drama from the past month and move forward with their friendship, but neither of them forgot about what almost happened between them. Hopper made it clear that his feelings for her extended far beyond platonic, and she knew he was waiting for her to indicate that she was on the same page before jeopardizing what they almost broke, again.

He‘d surprised her by telling her he made arrangements for them to play pool in one of the back rooms of the Hideaway. Initially, she didn’t believe him when he told her that this was where they were going. They were underage and it was far past the hour when the bar opened, but he’d somehow managed to convince the manager, an old friend of his fathers, to hold a table for them.

“You ready to get your ass kicked, Horowitz?” he smirks while he adds chalk to the end of his pool cue.

They’re the only two people in the room, dimly light and buzzing with the faint sound of the neon signs lining the battered walls. The green felt-lined table lay beneath an old red and blue glass light fixture, surrounded by walls covered in random newspaper articles in pale wooden frames.

Hopper hands Joyce a cue and moves to rack the balls. Dressed in her leather jacket and a dark pair of jeans, she fits in with the bar aesthetic and he momentarily envies the way she naturally exists anywhere.

“I’m pretty good,” she fires back. She walks a few paces around the edge of the table and waits for him to remove the plastic triangle from the corralled balls.

“When have you ever played pool?” he asks.

“Josie taught me.”

He gets quiet, her reference to the time when they weren’t speaking rendering him momentarily speechless. He hated himself for letting her slip out of his life so easily.

“Can I break?” she asks.

“Be my guest,” he gestures towards the table.

Leaning forward, one hand wrapped around the wooden cue, thumb propping up the edge, Joyce sends the white ball flying towards the others, which scatter across the table. She sinks a solid and follows up by sinking another before resigning to Hopper.

“Holy shit,” he remarks after her first turn.

“I told you. Get ready to lose,” she winks.

She takes the first game but loses the second and the third not-so-graciously. She whines that Hopper’s cheating when he takes the lead in the third game, even though they both know he isn’t.

Partway through their fourth game, Joyce loses interest and finds herself sitting between the corner and side picket, legs dangling from the edge of the table, while Hopper continues to practice around her.

“Aren’t you bored yet?” she pouts, leaning back with both palms on the table.

“Practice makes perfect,” he grins. On the opposite side of the table, he hits the red ball off the orange and sends it sailing towards her.

He rounds the table and stands in front of her, her body preventing him from continuing.

“You know you’re in the way, right?” he smirks down at her.

With doe eyes and a flirty smile, she stares up at him and tilts her head slightly to the left, “What if you’re in my way?”

“That’s not even possible. You’re just sitting there.”

“I’m studying the game,” she lies.

“Oh?” he plays along with an amused grin. “And what are you learning?”

He takes a step closer to her and her feet brush against his shins.

“That you’re not very good,” she laughs.

“And yet, I kicked your ass two, no three times.”

“The last one doesn’t count. We never finished.”

“Because you gave up,” he reminds her. He takes another step towards her and towers over her while he reaches around her and encompasses a ball with his palm. His cheek grazes hers as he lunges forward, launching the ball into the side pocket with a self-satisfied grin. Without realizing it, he’s standing with both of his feet planted between where her legs dangle off the edge of the table.

Pulling back, their chests graze and Joyce gulps. Rather than step away once the ball is no longer in his grasp, he leans down and uses his thumb to raise Joyce’s chin until their eyes lock.

“What?” she chuckles softly.

“I feel like I’m going to kiss you,” he admits.

He sees no sign of hesitancy in her eyes and closes the distance between them by planting his lips on hers with impressive force. She reacts by instinctively urging him forward with her heels, her hands settling in his hair.

His upper lip brushes against hers softly and unlike their previous kiss that was desperate and passionate and rushed, this one is slow and explorative. He takes his time with each movement, determined to memorize the curve of her smile and the way she tastes. Kissing her, it was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. Something lit up in him and made every nerve ending in his body rejoice. If he were to compare it to a physical action, the only thing that would come close would be the swell in the air in the brief moment between the crackle of thunder and the crash of lightning.

When they finally part for air, he rests his forehead against hers and traces the outline of her lower lip with his thumb. Before he allows it to slowly roll off the center of her lip, she catches him off guard by biting down on it and raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Hopper reacts instantly, lunging forward once again to kiss her. She tumbles back with him this time, leaning back on her elbows while plunging her tongue into his mouth. Hopper’s knee rests on the edge of the table and he uses it to balance himself as he hovers over her.

The moment is broken when someone breaks a glass in the bar and the shattering sound echoes through the kitchen. Embarrassed to have let himself get so carried away, Hopper climbs off Joyce and extends a hand to help her up while using the other to straighten out his shirt.

“We should… um… I should get you home,” he mumbles. He drags a hand through his hair and tries to calm himself down with a few deep breaths.

“Yeah, we should,” she agrees flustered.

They gather their things and Hopper leads Joyce out to the car, his hand guiding her from its place on her lower back.

The ride home from the Hideaway is comfortably silent. Joyce has her feet kicked up the dashboard, one arm hanging out the window flapping up and down with the cool evening air. Hopper’s gaze flicks from the road to Joyce and back again, forcing a blush to settle over her cheeks.

Neither of them says anything but words aren’t needed. Everything felt like it was falling into place and words were a form of communication the pair never needed. Joyce smiles at Hopper and continues to stare out the window at the passing town while she wonders where this metaphorical road will lead them.

There was no going back, that much she knew, but it felt like the relationship she and Hopper had was progressing naturally towards something bigger and she was bursting with anticipation just thinking about it.

When they arrive at Joyce’s house, Hopper offers to walk Joyce to the door. She politely declines his offer, knowing that she’ll be far too tempted to resume the wordless conversation that begins at the bar. Hopping out of the car, she tells him she had a nice time and waves before beginning her climb up the side of the house towards her window. He waits for ten minutes after she’s tucked away in the safe confines of her bedroom and then begins the journey back to his own house, all the while smiling like an absolute fool.

While he was glad that he and Joyce managed to fix their friendship, he couldn’t help but notice that it was evolving into something more. He knew he made the right decision when he told Chrissy that his friendship with Joyce was too important to walk away from, but tonight, he realized that it wasn’t his friendship with Joyce that he was choosing. It was the hope that they could explore what this inevitable spark between them meant.

Joyce hadn’t exactly told him that she wanted to pursue the possibility of them, but if the way she kissed him was any indication of how she was feeling, he was positive that they were on the same page.

He knows it might be too soon, but to hell with precedent. He wanted to show Joyce what she meant to him by taking her out on a real date.

He was tired of pretending he wasn’t ready to fall head over heels in love with his best friend.

Joyce hadn’t seen Hopper since their steamy kiss at the Hideaway, being as he had an early morning workout with the football team and she spent the morning working on an essay in the library. He bounds into science class with a massive smile on his face and gives her a two-fingered wave as he takes his seat.

The bell rings and the lesson begins promptly, leaving no time for the pair to have a conversation.

Midway through the lesson that Joyce is only semi paying attention to, she feels a folded-up piece of paper land on her arm.

Amused, she looks over at Hopper, who she finds is staring back at her with wide eyes and childlike amusement. Shaking her head at his antics, she stealthily unfolds the note beneath her notebook and reads it.

Go to the dance with me? -H

She doesn’t outwardly acknowledge what it says, instead choosing to slide it under her notebook and force her focus to be on the lesson. She can feel Hopper glaring at her from his seat across the aisle but she doesn’t dare look over at him.

Was he serious? Did he want to take her to the dance? He had to mean as friends, didn’t he? She’s a mess of what-ifs and is tingling excitement at the possibility that perhaps he meant what she wanted him to mean. Maybe he meant what he’d been telling her and his infatuation wasn’t just because he couldn’t have her. Joyce hates herself for being so hopeful, but he’d given her so many signs, how could she not hold out hope. Besides, just because she wanted him to be interested in her, didn’t mean that she trusted that this was something he actually wanted. It could have been a personal challenge to see if he could acquire what was unattainable.

When the dismissal bell rings, Joyce gathers her books, tucking the note between her middle and index finger and marches herself over to Hopper’s desk.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” she remarks, returning the note to him.

“I wasn’t joking,” he admits.

“Yeah right. Hop. Be serious.”

“I am. I’m being dead serious. Come to the dance with me?”

“I hate dances,” she reminds him. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather go with your friends or ask some girl you have your eye on now that you’re single?” She makes sure that her words don’t come out harshly so that he knows she doesn’t mean to be rude by reminding him of the recent change in his relationship status.

“I did just ask the girl I have my eye on,” he admits.

Her draw drops open slightly, “oh.”

“I know that the note was kind of lame but I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about this - you and I, I mean, and I really wanted to ask you.” He nervously runs his hand through his hair and chuckles. “As my date.”

Joyce is silent for a moment while she attempts to process what he’s just said. She wants to say yes, to believe that they can be something together, but… for whatever reason, she can’t bring herself to trust that this is real. That it isn’t too good to be true.

Years of people letting her down had taught her that nothing was ever as good as it seemed and despite her knowing Hopper, the entire situation with Chrissy makes her doubt even how well she knows her best friend. He’d become a different person when he was with the blonde, what if he thought he wanted this and then changed his mind? It would leave her with nothing.

“Joyce?” The sound of his voice interrupts her thought.

“You know I don’t dance,” she rolls her eyes. Lacing her arm through his elbow, she leads him to the door of the classroom. “What do you say we skip next period and have lunch under the bleachers?”

“I wish I could but I promised Benny we could toss the ball around at lunch. Later this week, alright?”

“Alright,” she smiles. She waves as he heads off towards the football field and lets out a long breath, grateful he hadn’t pushed the dance subject.

The next day after school, Joyce finds Hopper waiting at her locker.

“I thought you had practice after school today?” she questions him.

“I do. I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the lake later?”

“Hmm. I’ve got some homework to do. What time?”

“I was thinking I could pick you up around 8?”

“I’m not sure Hop. I shouldn’t.”

“Joyce. It’s a Friday. Live a little,” he smirks and pokes her.

“Fine. But pick me up at 9 o’clock instead.”

“As you wish. See you at nine!”

Wearing her sneakers and leather jacket, Joyce flings herself into the front seat of Hopper’s car and immediately reaches for the radio dial.

“Hey! I was listening to that,” he whines as he begins to back down the driveway.

“We both know you like this song better,” she beams. He shakes his head because as always, she was right.

He can tell by the way she’s fidgeting in her seat that she’s in a good mood and it makes him smile. He adored seeing her happy.

He drives down the old country road that leads to the lake and appreciates the way he and Joyce can sit in complete silence without things feeling tense. She was the only person on the planet that he was content to sit in silence with. With anyone else, he felt the need to strike up a conversation, but with her it was simple.

Admiring the way the moonlight illuminates the side of her face, his focus shifts from the road to the girl riding shotgun. With her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her lips painted what was becoming a familiar shade of red, she was radiant. The way her lips curve up into a slender smile and crinkle the skin at the edges of her eyes reminds him of a time when they were kids and he would spend hours trying to make her laugh just to see her smile. Her smile was like a drug to him; he was addicted and couldn’t get enough.

Joyce is staring out the window when they pull up at a red light and Hopper takes the opportunity to admire her. She has her elbow propped on the window, chin resting in her open palm while she leans forward through the open window and looks at the corner store across the road.

An impulsive thought urges Hopper to lean across the center console and kiss her. He doesn’t. He wants to but knows it would be irrational and impulsive. Joyce was not the type of girl that deserved impulse, she deserved a whirlwind romance and well-thought-out action.

He swallows hard as he swallows his sudden need to kiss her and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

Joyce turns towards him and catches him staring, an action that forces them both to blush.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just looking.”

“At me?”

“At you,” he nods.

The light turns green and Hopper presses the gas pedal, moving the car through the intersection and in the direction of the lake.

When they arrive at the lake, they decide to stay seated in the car so they can listen to music and Hopper retrieves a bottle of Whiskey from the backseat and pops it open. He takes a large swig before cocking his head and offering the paper-bag-clad bottle to Joyce.

She kicks her heels up on the dashboard and crosses her ankles while mirroring his previous action and downing some of the alcohol. She sputters when it first touches her lips and Hopper laughs.

“Jesus Hop. That’s terrible!”

“That’s why you need to drink more, so it begins to taste better.”

“That is terrible logic,” she giggles.

“But you have to admit it makes sense.”

“Maaaybe,” she replies. She takes another sip and passes the crinkled bag containing the bottle back to him.

“So,” he begins nervously. “Have you given any more thought to what I asked you?”

“I agreed to come to the lake tonight, I thought that was the answer?”

“The other question. The dance,” he reminds her.

“Oh,” she replies, “I told you. I don’t do dances.”

“Not even with me?”

A beat passes without either of them saying anything. “I’ll have to think about it,” she finally responds.

While she wanted to agree to go out with him, a huge part of her was holding onto the fear that Hopper’s invitation was lust-driven. It was childish, but for selfish reasons, she needed him to prove that he really wanted this. Her. She needed reassurance.

“That’s not a no. I’ll take it,” he smiles.

They fall back against their seats and once again give in to the comfortable silence, wordlessly passing the bottle back and forth while staring out at the still waters of Lover’s Lake.

“Joyce,” he says, staring straight ahead.

“Mhmm?”

“I haven’t had the chance to tell you how much I like the whole red-lip thing.”

“Thanks, I like how you’ve been styling your hair lately,” she tells him.

Feeling impulsive in her own way, Joyce reaches across the car and rests her palm on his right knee.

Hopper stills beneath her touch and his pulse begins to race. He forces himself to relax and he asks her how her afternoon of homework went. She begins to explain the concept of the essay she’s working on and excitedly waves her arms around when she describes her stance on the topic.

He smiles and nods, doing his best to ask appropriate questions and listen to what she’s saying.

“Gosh I’m so sorry I’m rambling. You don’t care about my stupid essay,” she says.

“Joyce, I care about everything you have to say,” he tells her.

Smiling, she shifts herself close to the center console separating their seats and allows for her hand to shift up his thigh. Her thumb gently swipes across his upper thigh and she gives his leg a slight squeeze.

He looks down at her hand and gulps. Covering it with his own hand, he stills her thumb and they lock eyes.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns her in a hushed tone.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” she flirts. She maintains eye contact with him while she speaks.

Hopper reaches across the car and runs his calloused hand along Joyce’s jaw line and up to cup her cheek, pausing to drag his thumb over her lower lip. Time moves slowly while his thumb rolls off her lip and drops down into the charged space between them. She gazes up at him through hooded want-filled eyes.

He leans closer, breathing laboured and closes his eyes. Lips hovering mere inches from hers, he breathes her in and prepares to close the gap between them. In the distance, a car horn blares and causes both Joyce and Hopper to jump and pull apart.

Joyce fiddles with the ends of her hair, twisting it through her fingers while she waits for Hopper to say something.

“Ugh,” he stutters, “maybe we should…”

“Head home?” she finishes for him.

“Yeah. Since we’re going to have to walk, I’m afraid I’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“A walk sounds nice to me,” she grins.

They begin the walk back to Joyce’s in the dark, travelling along the edge of the gravel path that’s faintly illuminated by the yellow-tinted street lights.

Joyce swings her arms at her sides, the warmth of the alcohol and the adrenaline of what almost happened in the car making her giddy with excitement and confidence.

She takes another sip from the bottle and passes it back to Hopper, trailing one heel behind the other as she playfully walks the line between the grass and the road.

“What’s better, time travel or flying?” he asks.

“Time travel.”

“Agreed.”

“Space or the ocean?” she asks in return.

“Space. The ocean terrifies me.”

“I know,” she responds. “Me too. It’s too big.”

“Space isn’t too big?”

“It’s a different kind of big. It’s mysterious in a good way. The ocean just reminds me of something that contains too many secrets.”

“And it has squids,” Hopper adds. “I hate those things.”

Joyce’s laughter rings in his ears and she takes a few staggering steps towards him and reaches for their shared drink.

“Squids? That’s the scariest part of the ocean?”

“You can’t make fun of me, you’re afraid of spiders!”

“They have so many legs!”

“So do squids!”

“Let’s just agree to stay away from anything with eight legs?”

“Deal.”

“How was your week?” Hopper asks her.

“Not too bad. My mom joined us for dinner last night.”

“That’s good. Right?”

“It was strange. She’s never home for dinner.”

“Maybe she’s trying?”

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up,” she admits.

“What about you? Is your dad still bothering you about a football scholarship?”

“Only every day. I doubt I’ll get one.”

“You don’t think you’re good enough?”

“I know I’m not. I love the game, but I don’t think it’s how I want to spend my life.”

“And how exactly do you plan on spending it?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I figure I’ll just wait and see how things go next year. Wait until all the pieces fall into place.”

“I like how that sounds. I think I’ll do the same.”

“Well then, here’s to letting the cookie crumble,” he toasts, raising the bottle to his lips and then passing it to Joyce.

Without warning, a crackle of lightning flashes across the sky and thunder booms.

Quickly, Hopper takes Joyce’s hand and tries to run for shelter but she pulls her hand away and stays rooted in her spot in the center of the street.

With arms outstretched she stares up at the sky and lets the rain drops drench her face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he calls out to her from a few feet away.

“Living.”

“You’re crazy,” he calls back, laughing as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe,” she smirks. She raises her arms and twirls around, allowing the puddles forming at her ankles to splash up onto the edge of her jeans. “Maybe I’m out of my mind,” she giggles.

“Well?” she smiles over at him. Her hair is now completely soaked and stuck to her face, while the raindrops roll off the sleeves of her leather jacket. “Are you coming?”

He stares at her, completely wonderstruck and shakes his head. Stepping towards her, he reaches for the paper bag containing the bottle and takes a large swig.

“This is insane,” he tells her.

“Aren’t all the best ideas?” she replies.

“They are,” he nods, extending a hand to her.

He places the bottle down on the road when she curiously places her palm in his and lunges forward to scoop her up and hoist her over his shoulder.

She squeals when he lifts her and laughs as he struggles to adjust and balance her on his shoulder.

“Put me down,” she laughs.

“Nah,” he smirks. He twirls them around, splashing through a massive puddle.

“Jim Hopper put me down this instant,” she demands. The rain had soaked its way through his shirt and the cotton fabric was now clinging to his muscular shoulders beneath her. She pretends not to notice but her palm falls on his opposite shoulder as she tries to wriggle free and it’s nearly impossible to pretend she’s oblivious to his physique.

“As you wish,” he replies, helping her down and directly into a puddle.

He keeps his hold on her once her feet are planted in the puddle and pulls her body into his. The rain makes the space between them misty and flattens Hopper's hair onto his forehead.

It’s raining even harder now, making it nearly impossible to hear without screaming despite their close proximity.

“Ready?” Hopper yells down at Joyce.

“For what?” she calls back.

He raises their intertwined fingers above her head and twirls her beneath their connected arms before tugging her back towards them and dramatically dipping her and clutching at her waist.

Her laugh, deep and real as she dips back and her long dark hair nearly dips into a puddle, sends shock waves through him that make him want to dance in the rain with her until the day he dies. It was raw and magnetic, her laugh. He wants to make her laugh like this all the time.

He twirls her outwards once again, revealing in the way her laughter gets louder with each twirl. On the final spin, he attempts to bring her back towards him but the rain causes his hand to slip and he loses his grip on her. She spins back into his chest with impressive force for someone who was hardly 5’4 and places both hands on his chest which is hardly covered by his wet shirt.

With wide eyes and a massive smile, she looks up at him and blinks through the rain. The energy between them shifts from light-hearted and fun to electrified and unknowing in a matter of seconds and it sends an excited chill down Joyce’s arms.

Instinctually, he leans down and cups her cheek in his hand. He presses his lips against hers, using his palms to anchor her against his body while she rocks forwards on her toes to meet him halfway.

They stand there, embracing, in the center of the street illuminated only by the misty dull light shining down from the lamp post up ahead. The rain continues to come down hard, but it makes no difference to either of them.

Standing on her toes, Joyce leans into Hopper, whose hands hold her petite waist while their lips softly graze against one another’s.

She was right, she thinks to herself as she kisses him. All the best ideas were insane. This, standing in the middle of the road kissing her best friend in the rain, was insane.

But it was everything.

This moment would be etched in her mind until the end of time, she was certain of it. Dancing in the rain beneath the streetlights, it was the type of thing you saw in movies, not something that happened in real life. And yet, it was happening. She was living in a moment that was too good to be true.

He made her feel like she had everything.

With each gentle brush of his lips against hers, her stomach flutters and she grows more convinced that maybe they did want the same things.

Pulling back, she blushes and looks away. She needed to be sure of his intentions and that was something that shouldn’t be decided on during a heat-of-the-moment kiss. If she wanted to, she could let herself fall for him. It would be terribly easy to fall for a man like Jim Hopper. But she would fall hard and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to pick herself up if he decided not to stick around to catch her.

She loved him. Unmistakably. Undoubtedly. But she needed to be sure that this, that she was it for him before she truly let herself fall.

“We should get you home before you catch a cold,” he says.

“Alright.”

“Wouldn't want to give you any more excuses to not go to the dance with me. Seeing as we just proved that you can dance.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we.”

“Does that mean you’ll go with me?” he asks hopefully.

“No,” she laughs. “But nice try.”

“I’m going to keep trying.”

“I hope you do,” she tells him. It was the truth, she hoped he pursued their love story.

“Alright, grab that bottle and let’s go,” he smiles. Joyce walks back a few yards and retrieves their paper bag bottle. When she returns to Hopper, he takes her left hand in his and they begin the walk back to her house in the pouring rain, swinging their intertwined fingers between their bodies.

“You’re late,” she smirks when she spots him ducking beneath the bleachers. “Mr. Cooper was just over here lecturing me.”

Sitting with her back pressed against the concrete, she dangles a cigarette between her teeth and slides over to make room for him. He takes a seat next to her and plucks the cigarette from between her teeth, taking a long drag.

“I was in class. Like you should have been.”

“I thought we agreed to skip fifth and sixth.”

“We did. But I had to run back to my car and grab something.”

“Oh?”

“This,” he says passing her a book, “is for you.”

She accepts the novel and turns it over in her hand. It was an old copy of one of her favourites, but he knew she already owned multiple copies of it and the gesture confuses her.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” he instructs.

Turning back the cover page, she notices he's placed two tickets for the dance inside the book.

“Hop,” she semi-groans and semi-smiles.

“Let me take you to the dance.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she flirts. “But try again.”

She pushes the tickets into his chest and steals her cigarette back.

“You’re cruel.”

“Just trying to stay true to myself,” she reminds him.

“I love that about you, you’re you.”

“I try to be.”

The bell rings indicating the start of the next period and Joyce pushes herself to her knees.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a class to get to. It’s not my fault you took so long to get here.”

“Skip it.”

“It’s English. I like English.”

“Lame.”

“I’ll see you later. Thank you for the book,” she tells him. Leaning forward on her knees, she presses both palms to his chest and leans down to capture his lips in a surprise searing kiss.

When she pulls back and stands up, she notices he’s still rooted in his places, staring off into space completely dumbfounded.

“Bye Hop,” she winks.

He slips the tickets into his front pocket and stays sitting beneath the bleachers chain-smoking until school lets out for the day.

The following afternoon, Joyce brings her homework into the backyard and props herself up on her usual branch to read.

She notices a pack of cigarettes next to her usual spot and picks them up to examine them. Turning them over in her palm she realizes that they must belong to Hopper. He was always smoking these god-awful unfiltered ones.

She wasn’t the biggest fan of them, often choosing to nag Hopper about his choice of smokes, but decides to light one while she reads and take advantage of the fact that he must have left them behind the last time he was up here.

When she opens the package to retrieve one, a note falls out along with a ticket to the dance. Shaking her head with a chuckle, she picks up the note and unfolds it.

He was persistent, she had to hand it to him.

Leaning back against the bark of the tree trunk, she lights a new cigarette and places it between her teeth before she picks up the note and begins reading.

Joyce,

There are a million reasons I think you should come to the dance with me, one of them is because I am absolutely crazy about you, but I’ll leave you with just this one reason.

I know you’re afraid that if this doesn’t work out our friendship will be ruined, but I promise you, we’re worth the risk. It’s like in that cheesy movie you made me watch a few months ago, where the main guy is trying to tell the girl that they should be together. You know at the end when the guy tells the girl that from that start, he just knew. I’m that guy, Joyce. I look at you and I just know. We’re meant to be together. You and me, we could be something.

So, this is me officially asking you to the dance. Not as my friend, but as my date. Because I want to date you.

Take the ticket and meet me outside the dance at 8:30 if you agree this is worth trying. I really hope to see you there.

Hopper

Dropping the note to her lap, she pinches the bridge of her nose and reminds herself to breathe. In. Out. She’d never know Hopper to be a romantic, but this note and the words he’d crafted could only be described as such.

We’re worth the risk.

She hears the words over and over again in her mind, the tone of his voice that she’d conjured up in her head soothing.

We could be something.

Breathe in. Breathe out. They could be. She knows it. If she let herself love him the way she knew she was capable of, she knew that nothing else in her life, no other connection, would ever compare.

Because I want to date you.

She gulps, fiddles with her thumbs and smiles. She wanted that too. As terrified as she was of taking this risk, Hopper’s ability to put himself out there, time and time again just to prove to her that he meant each word he said, gave her faith that she could push past her own fear. If he was willing to go through all of this just to show her how much she meant to him, shouldn’t she be willing to give him, them, a chance?

She wants to. My god, she wants to.

Give him a chance.

Give them a chance.

She wants more than anything to have the same amount of faith in herself that Hopper had in her.

If he was willing to go through so much effort to show her that he was serious about them giving a romantic relationship a chance, she should be willing to overlook the personal demons that plagued her and do the same.

Reading over the note again, she smiles to herself. This was really happening. They were going to give this a shot.

Nervously, Hopper paces the length of the entrance. His dress shoes slap the battered pavement as he marches back and forth, hands pinned behind his back.

He felt absolutely ridiculous in his powder-blue monkey suit with his hair groomed back. In one hand, he holds a cigarette. The other holds a box containing a corsage.

This was stupid. She wasn’t going to show up and he would be left standing out in the parking lot holding a box with a small flower, dateless.

Classmates arrive and enter the gym door behind him, some wave and tell him he looks nice but he doesn’t hear them. He’s too preoccupied wondering if she found the ticket he left for her. If she didn’t find it, would she show up?

School dances had never been Joyce’s scene but this was different. He knew she was tempted to agree to go with him when he asked her the first time and again when he asked at the lake. He can’t blame her for being afraid. She didn’t have many constants in her life.

He intended on remaining one of those constants.

Something in him told him to have faith that she would come but with each passing minute his faith waivers. He wasn’t good enough for her. That much he knew. He was holding out hope that she was willing to give him a chance to try and be a man worthy of dating her.

He knew they were on the same page with their feelings. Though she hadn’t outright told him, he knew. It was written in her smile when he made her laugh, broadcast when she wrinkled her nose ever-so-slightly after kissing him and on full display whenever they accidentally touched.

Joyce had been jealous of Chrissy for all the reasons Benny once mentioned and had every right to be. He was an idiot for failing to realize what they had. Now, he just had to hope that he hadn’t realized too late.

He leans back against the wall next to the door, kicking his heel up to steady himself as he takes a long drag and exhales towards the sky. Pinching his eyes shut, he lets the sensation overcome him.

“I hope you have a flask,” her voice rings through the parking lot. Hopper opens his eyes and finds Joyce standing a few feet in front of him. “Because I can’t do this shit sober.”

She’s wearing a deep blue dress. It’s simple. Semi-puffy sleeves and a skirt that falls just below her knees, paired with her converse, of course. Joyce has her hair pinned back behind her ears where it falls over her shoulders. With red painted lips, she grins up at him and beams.

“You look surprised,” she smirks.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he admits.

“I considered staying home but someone left this,” she holds up the ticket,” for me and I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

“Right,” he chuckles. Nervously, he steps towards her and reveals the box containing the corsage.

“I thought you didn’t know if I’d come?”

“I didn’t. I was being hopeful,” he tells her. “This is for you.”

He opens the box and reaches for the small pale pink flower. Joyce extends her hand and lets Hopper slip the elastic band over her wrist.

“I wasn’t sure what colour your dress was but the women at the store said that this one was perfect for someone special.”

“It’s beautiful,” she smiles. In awe, she stares down and admires it. No one had ever given her something so pretty.

“Should we go in?” he asks.

“After you,” she beams, linking her arm through his elbow.

Arm-in-arm, Joyce and Hopper enter the school gymnasium which is covered in streamers and balloons. Though less extravagant than the prom set up, it looked nothing like the everyday gym and Joyce tenses at Hopper’s side.

“Hey,” he smiles down at her reassuringly, “this is going to be fun.”

The pair set off to the punch table where Hopper pours them each a glass of the clearly-spiked punch. They claim seats on the bleachers located on the far side of the gym and watch their classmates dance as they enjoy the bitter taste of vodka and powdered juice.

“So,” Hopper nervously claps his hands.

“So,” Joyce echos.

“Is this awkward?”

“The dance? Or?”

“Us… being here together,” he explains.

“A little bit,” she admits.

“It doesn’t have to be weird. We can just act like we normally do.”

“How do we normally act?’

“Like us,” he beams. “Hopper and Joyce.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs, “those are our names.”

“You know what I mean. Come on,” he says, getting up and extending a hand to her.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here. This is extremely lame.”

“Oh thank god. This is painful,” Joyce snickers. She places her palm in his and the two of them exit the gym and march back into the parking lot, hand in hand.

She notices a few of their classmates turn and stare while she and Hopper weave their way through the crowd towards the exit, no doubt whispering about their intertwined fingers but she doesn’t care. Let them talk, she thinks to herself. In fact, she would give them something to talk about. With a self-satisfied smile, she reaches over with her free hand and places it on Hopper's bicep with a squeeze. He leans into her in response and quickens the pace to the door.

“Where to?” she asks once they’re outside.

“Let’s start with a few of these,” he says, holding up a pack of cigarettes. He leads them through the parking lot to his car and leans against the hood while passing her an unlit cigarette.

“People are going to talk, you know,” she tells him.

“About what?”

“This,” she gestures between them. “Us. Being here together.”

“Screw em. Let them talk all they want.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“If it means I get to do this,” he smirks and reaches for her waist. In one swift motion, he tugs her towards him, effectively trapping him between her knees and the car. “Then they can say whatever they want.”

She shudders with anticipation and drops her cigarette when the last words roll off his tongue in a low, sultry tone.

“You were right,” she whispers. “It doesn’t have to be weird. It’s just the two of us.”

“Exactly. Only now, I get to kiss you too.”

“I don’t think we ever had a rule that said you couldn’t kiss me before,” she teases.

“Joyce,” he hums, drawing her in closer.

“Mhmm?”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you.”

He leans down, hands planted on her hips, and brushes his lips against hers. Rocking forward on her toes, Joyce lets her body crash into his, anchoring one hand on his shoulder, the other on the car next to where he’s semi-seated. When Hopper reluctantly has to pull back and catch his breath, he rests his nose against hers and closes his eyes, desperately trying to remember everything about the moment.

Joyce initiates the next kiss and quickly their kisses grow sloppy and desperate. The gym door creaks open and a stream of students pour out into the parking lot, forcing the young couple to pull apart. Joyce props herself up against the hood of the car next to Hopper and asks him for a new cigarette, which he lights and hands to her. They joke about some of their clearly intoxicated classmates who have stumbled out of the gymnasium and Hopper places his arm around Joyce’s shoulders. When he’s certain the rowdy bunch hanging out near the door have returned to the dance, he leans over and steals another kiss.

“What was the for?” she laughs.

“Because I can.”

“There you are!” Benny’s voice rings through the air. Hopper pulls his gaze away from Joyce and finds Benny staring at the two of them with a smirk.

“Oh, hey Joyce.”

“Hi,” she waves.

“I wasn’t interrupting, was I?”

“What do you want, Benny?” Hopper asks.

“Just wanted to see if you two wanted to join us for something to eat,” he informs them. His stare drifts down to where Hopper’s thumb is caressing Joyce’s shoulder and he adds, “unless you had other plans.”

“I promised I would get Joyce home before curfew,” Hopper lies.

“Right,” Benny smirks, “Next time then. You look nice Joyce.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“You make sure to take care of my boy here,” he tells her.

“She always does,” Hopper says on her behalf.

“I’m sure she does,” Benny mutters beneath his breath. The comment earns him a glare from Hopper but Joyce doesn’t appear to have heard him.

“Anyways, I’ll let you two enjoy your night,” he waves. About damn time, he thinks to himself while he walks away.

“Hop, no one’s home. I don’t have a curfew?” Joyce looks at him confused.

“I know, but I don’t want to have to share you with anyone tonight. Now, you owe me a dance before we get out of here.”

“I never said anything about a dance.”

“One dance?”

“Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

Back inside the gym, Hopper leads Joyce to the dance floor and places both hands on her hips. Following his lead, she clasps her hands behind his neck and lets him move them to the music. She’s vaguely aware of her classmates staring and buries her face in his neck to avoid their stares.

Their dance is far more intimate than anything Joyce has ever experienced and the feeling frightens her. As soon as the song ends, she panics and asks Hopper if he can drive her home. He nods and doesn’t press her for the reason.

He can tell her mind is racing on the drive home. She’s suddenly distant, staring out the window and fiddling with her thumbs. He reaches for her hand and gives her palm a gentle squeeze, his silent way of telling her that whatever it was that was bothering her wasn’t worth it.

When they arrive at her house, he cuts the engine and leans over to kiss her. Instinctually, she withdrawals and he pulls back looking hurt.

“Joyce? What’s wrong? What happened?”

She’s quiet for a moment before she softly speaks.

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asks.

“Why do you want this, me, so badly?” She’s voicing her insecurities and a huge part of him is grateful she feels comfortable enough to do so.

“Because I know you don’t want to believe this but you’re everything to me.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He nods.

“Yes,” she says after a moment.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll be your date to the dance.”

“Are you feeling alright Joy? We just came from the dance.”

“In your note, you said that you wanted me to agree to go to the dance with you because you wanted to date me,” she explains. “Doesn’t that mean if I agree to go with you I’m agreeing to dating you?”

“But you already went to the dance with me,” he laughs.

“Well then now I’m agreeing to the second part.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hop?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking before I change my mind.”

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

#stranger things #Jopper #Multichapter #au

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Photo

they occupy my mind as of late 🤧

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

random Jopper

She’s doing the dishes with Hopper hovering behind her when the sink starts to leak and she asks him to pass her a towel. From behind her, he reaches over her and shows her how to fix the small leak with it and she smirks back at him, “Remember that time you told me playing pool was the only time to hit on someone by showing them what to do?”

----------

“Women aren’t interested in men who fix things up around the house. They want a guy to show them how to play pool or something cheesy like that.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he sighs.

------

He just kind of studies her face and raises an eyebrow at her, hand still holding hers over the faucet.

“Are you trying to make some type of point?” he asks.

“I’m trying to make several.”

“The others would be?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” she whispers. She’s in his space now, the energy between them charged.

They crash into each other. It’s a chaotic mess of limbs and friction, tongues battling for dominance.

#stranger things #Jopper

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

random jopper things that live in my mind

He drunkenly leans against the wall and stares down at her, amused by the sound of her laughter.

“I love you.”

Nervously, he leans back and drags his hand through his hair. He redirects his gaze to the ground and laughs beneath his breath as he repeats himself, “I love you.”

Shaking his head he mutters mostly to himself, “ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

#stranger things #Jopper

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 9 - You Are In Love

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Saturday morning, Hopper wakes when the sun streaming in through his window forces his eyes open. He'd hardly slept an hour, tossing in turning for the majority of the night and he groans while burying his face beneath his pillow.

After attempting to fall back asleep for nearly an hour, he gives up and carries himself to the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee. His parents are already enjoying breakfast at the table and wish him good morning while he pours coffee from the already brewed pot into a mug. His mother teases him about his bed head and jokes that he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks before he excuses himself to enjoy his drink in the privacy of his own bedroom.

He downs the coffee in four large gulps stretches his arms up over his head with a dramatic sigh and forces himself to put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel. He knew what he had to do this morning, he just wasn't sure how it was going to go.

He decides to walk, procrastinating while also enjoying the crispness of the morning air. What if she wouldn't listen to him? She would. Something in him just told him that she would. But, what if she wasn't there?

Hopper crosses the street and marches through the field behind Joyce's house, where he spots her sitting on the platform of their childhood hangout spot. A semi-tree house located in one of the trees that had been struck by lightning in Joyce's backyard during a massive storm years prior.

She's too focused on the novel she's reading to notice him enter the yard and he watches her with a smile. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple white tee, she had her hair pinned back and her glasses on while her feet dangled from the low platform and her back rested against the splintered trunk of the semi-fallen tree.

He knew that after their argument outside the diner last night, he would find her here. This had always been a safe place for Joyce. When things got heated at home or whenever she needed time to herself, this is where she came. Part of him feels bad that today, he's the reason she's seeking a safe place but he came here to apologize and he has no intention of ever abandoning their friendship or making her doubt him ever again.

As kids, he and Joyce would spend hours playing in this tree. It wasn't anything fancy, just a few wood planks nailed to the trunk to create a floor and walls, but they loved it. As teens, they stopped spending as much time out here, instead opting to hang out near the lake or go driving around town, but Hopper knew that Joyce came out here without him and that what was once their imaginary pirate ship had become her sanctuary. Once, when he came to pick her up for a movie and found her drawing in the very spot she was now sitting in, he joked that it looked like she was royalty sitting in her castle, just waiting for him to come by and rescue her. She replied by making it clear that she wasn't the type of girl that needed rescuing, but the "Castle" comment stuck and Hopper had been referring to it as Castle Joyce ever since.

As he crosses the yard, he steps on and snaps a twig which forces her to withdraw her nose from her book and look up at him. She watches as he crosses the yard and easily swings himself onto the platform but doesn't say a word.

Plopping himself down next to her, Hopper playfully nudges her shoulder and smiles, "truce?"

"Truce."

They sit in a comfortable silence, side-by-side, staring out over the yard. He hadn't expected her to welcome him up so easily and isn't sure how to proceed with his apology.

"Look-" he begins, "I'm sor-"

"I'm sorry," she says at the same time.

"Wait, what on earth are you sorry for?" he asks. He turns his body towards her and watches as she closes her book and folds her hands in her lap.

"Last night. Just everything," she sighs. "I should be more understanding of you spending time with Chrissy. Maybe I can try and be nicer to her."

"I don't think that's going to be necessary," he replies.

She stares at him quizzically.

"Chrissy and I broke up," he explains.

"Oh Hop. I'm so sorry."

"Are you really though?" he teases. He's desperate to keep the conversation light and push through to his apology.

"No," she admits. "But I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," he reassures her, reaching out to clasp her hand in his. "It wasn't right between us. She didn't make me happy."

"Look," he adds, "I'm so sorry that I let my relationship with Chrissy come between us. It was stupid of me and I will never, ever, let something like that happen again. You're so important to me Joyce and I need you to know that I feel horrible about everything that's happened. I was a total ass and I'll completely understand if you can't forgive me."

"Hopper," she says softly but he continues rambling.

"Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me and I would love it if we could go back to being best friends?" he asks.

"You're an idiot," she giggles.

"Is that an 'I forgive you even though you're an idiot' smile, or a 'get out of here, you're an idiot' smile?"

"The first one," she nods. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

He notices her shiver and wraps her arms around her torso and instinctively slips his flannel off and passes it to her. Wordlessly, she accepts and puts it on. She's swimming in it, the arms dangle on the other side of her wrists and the body encompasses her nearly to the knees. He's smitten. She looks adorable tiny in his shirt, sending a fleet of butterflies lose in his stomach. Doing his best to ignore the way seeing her in his shirt makes him feel, he stretches out and cracks his knuckles before folding his hands in his lap.

Wrapped in his shirt, Joyce breathes in and is instantly comforted. The shirt smells like him and while it keeps her physically warm, it brings back a sense of home that she hadn't felt in weeks. She felt safe with Hopper. He was the one person who remained still and calm as the world stormed around her and for a moment, she truly feared she'd lost him.

She'd done a lot of thinking last night. About her. Them. What she wanted. She'd decided long before Hopper entered the yard that she wanted to apologize to him. She knew she didn't need to, she'd done nothing outwardly wrong. But she cared for him and she hadn't exactly made it easy for him to date Chrissy.

As for what he said last night, she wasn't sure she believed he actually wanted her. Convinced that it was a conversation fuelled by lust and the desire to have what he couldn't have, she decides to let his words fall on deaf ears and pretend that the conversation never happened. Unless he brought it up, she was content to mend the bridges that bound their friendship and forget about the confessions and the daunting reality of what could-have-been.

Is she curious to know what a romantic relationship with Hopper would be like? Absolutely. But if the last few weeks taught her anything, it was that she needed him in her life and she wasn't willing to risk their friendship for something that wasn't a sure thing.

If he brought it up, she would discuss it with him. Tell him that despite the tingling feeling that skirted across her bare skin every time they touched, she thinks they're better off as friends, even if a large part of her knows they'd be better off as more. Lucky for her, he doesn't bring it up and she doesn't have to navigate the word mine and let him down easily without showing that it's her fear and insecurity causing her to have to do so.

For now, she was happy with this. Just them. Joyce and Hopper.

She slides closer to him and leans on his shoulder, drawing in a deep breath now that her world seemed whole again.

"Do you have plans today?" he asks.

"Not really," she admits, "I was just going to hang out here, avoid my dad."

"Joyce."

"It's fine. He was drinking last night so he wasn't in the greatest mood today."

"Where's your mom this weekend?"

"Visiting my uncle," she says.

"Let's go," he encourages, hopping down effortlessly from his seat on the plank. He didn't always know what to say when Joyce didn't want to talk about what was going on at home, but he knew he could do the next best thing and offer up a distraction.

"Where are we going?" she calls down to him. Slowly, she climbs down the platform until she reaches the lawn. She wasn't nearly as tall or coordinated as Hopper and never trusted herself to jump down.

"Celebratory milkshakes," he explains.

"What on earth are we celebrating?" she asks. He just broke up with Chrissy and in the past, he was notorious for pouting for days after a breakup. Today he seemed to be in an extremely chipper mood, leaving her to wonder if he cared for Chrissy as much as she thought he did.

"Life," he laughs, raising his arms in a dramatic shrug. He holds up his car keys and lets them dangle off his thumb while he waits for her to catch up.

"Can I drive?" she asks while they walk towards where his car is parked on the road.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?!" she whines.

"Because we're celebrating life Joy, we need to be alive to celebrate life," he smirks.

"I'm a great driver!" she exclaims.

"Just get in," he tells her, "I promise you can drive later."

Joyce and Hopper settle down at their usual booth at the diner and immediately order two chocolate milkshakes. While they wait for their drinks, he notices Joyce staring at a table across the aisle. Two girls are huddled together, whispering and giggling in their direction. Chrissy's friends.

"Hey," he says, placing his hand down on the table beside hers. "Ignore them."

"We don't have to stay here?" she suggests, "we can go-"

"Nowhere. We're not going anywhere."

"But-"

"But nothing. Ignore them. Let them whisper. Who cares what they think anyway. You and I were friends, doing things like this, long before Chrissy came into the picture. If they have a problem with us spending time together, they can confront us directly and tell us." His voice carries and Joyce knows that the girls are aware they're talking about them and she blushes.

"Hop. I wouldn't want a rumour to ruin your reputation," she admits shyly.

"I know I may have been a little lost these past few weeks, but I'm back Joyce. It's me. I could care less about what anyone thinks, let alone Chrissy's minions. And I never want you to worry about what anyone thinks, all that matters is this," he gestures between them with his index finger, "me and you."

"Besides, what's happening here has nothing to do with what happened between Chrissy and me so let's just enjoy our shakes and pretend we're the only people here, alright?"

"Alright," she nods, reaching for his hand. She places her palm over it and gently squeezes his wrist and just like that, the tension slips from his jaw because he knows she's alright.

Joyce grabs the milkshake the waitress just placed on the table between them and plops a straw into the drink. She doesn't ask what he means when he says "what's happening here" for fear that he'll tell her she knows exactly what he means. Instead, she takes a sip of her drink and smiles across the table at him.

"You know I'll always be there for you, right?" he asks out of nowhere.

"Where is this coming from?"

"I just… need you to know. I'll always be here Joyce. Even if you think I'm not. I'm here."

His words strike a chord and her entire body stills. It was an unspoken agreement they had, but hearing him say the words out loud, it meant something to her. It was such a personal sentiment and she knew he meant it with his entire heart. Part of her knew that even when he strayed with Chrissy, he would have been there had she needed him. She thought she would - need him, but surprised herself and found that she was stronger than she once believed herself to be. Still, it was nice to know that despite everything he would always be in her corner.

Rather than let him see how much his words mean to her, she smirks over at him and says, "God, you're such a sap today."

"Maybe I'm just trying to be a nice guy," he laughs.

"You're always a nice guy," she reminds him.

"Now who's being a sap," he teases.

Beneath the table, her knee collides with his and she draws back in her seat. Once she's regained her posture and sits back up, he moves his knee to touch hers again. She studies his face but he doesn't acknowledge his action. Instead, he begins to tell her a story about Benny tripping over one of the drill cones at practice the week before and they end up talking about Benny's new love interest. Hopper fills Joyce in on how the pair met at her party, though he awkwardly stumbles through the part about the party, carefully selecting his words about the evening in an attempt to not ruffle any feathers.

They talk and laugh and as the afternoon sun dips down and streams in through the diner windows, their knees are pressed together beneath the table. They order dinner and Hopper whines when Joyce steals more than half the fries on his plate after insisting she didn't want to order any. To get her back, he takes a massive bite out of her burger when she isn't looking but immediately feels guilty and insists that she let him cover the bill and buy dessert.

"I guess we should get going," he says after the bill is paid and there is no longer any natural light outside.

"You go ahead," she says, "I might stick around a while longer."

"Joyce," he says softly, "you can come over if you want?"

"It's fine. Really," she insists.

"Tell you what, why don't we hang out a while longer and then I'll drive you home?"

"You don't have to stick around Hop. I'll be fine to walk home."

"Have to, don't you mean get to?"

"You're ridiculous," she laughs.

"That may be true, but it made you smile so I'm going to call this a win."

Nearly two hours and another round of milkshakes later, Hopper pulls into Joyce's driveway to drop her off at home.

He follows her out of the car and up onto the front steps.

"Are we good Joyce?"

Their day was exactly like it had been pre-Chrissy, but he needed to be sure that things were moving forward and today wasn't some twist of fate one-off.

"We're good, Hop."

"You know you're my best friend, right?" he asks as he pulls her in for a side hug. They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in one another; a long-awaited reacquaintance after their feud.

"You're mine too," she smiles when she finally pulls away. He watches as she climbs the steps of her porch and waves, swallowing the lump in his throat as the realization that he was in love with his best friend washes over him.

He stammers back to his car and climbs into the front seat but doesn't put the keys in the ignition. Kicking his boots up onto the dashboard, he leans back and watches as the lights in Joyce's house slowly flicker to life as she makes her way to her bedroom. When the light in the front-facing window glows, he allows himself to sigh and close his eyes. He would wait out here for a while until he was certain that her father wasn't going to lose it on Joyce for being out all day. Sitting in his parked car was something he'd gotten in the habit of doing a few years prior, after receiving a call the moment he got home from dropping Joyce off asking him to come back and get her.

Now, on days when he knew her father was in a bad mood, he waited at least thirty minutes - just in case. He's not sure she knows that he does it, and there has never been a time when she needed him but doesn't need her to know; he does it because he cares too much to ever let anything happen to her.

Eyes pinched shut, feet kicked up, he replays the moment over and over in his mind. The moment where he watched her walk away and realized he was terribly in love with her. Unlike the last time this thought entered his mind, he doesn't need to process or overthink it. He just knows, he's in love with her.

Head-over-heels in love with his best friend. Perfect.

Inside, Joyce manages to make it to her bedroom without running into anyone else and changes into a pair of fresh pyjamas. She completely forgot she was wearing Hopper's flannel the entire time they were at the diner and suddenly the gossiping between Chrissy's friends makes more sense. It wasn't abnormal for Hopper to give her one of his shirts or jackets, just like it wasn't strange for one of them to grab the hand of the other, but she understood how it looked to everyone else.

Once in her pyjamas, she slips her arms back into the oversized sleeves of the flannel and crawls into bed. She pulls her arms around her chest and smiles as she closes her eyes and begins to fall asleep, surrounded by the warmth of her comforter and the familiar scent of her best friend's flannel.

Today was a good day. The first day in weeks that felt normal. The only problem was she wasn't sure she could just forget about everything that happened between her and Hopper. After discovering she was interested in him romantically, she wasn't sure that she could ever go back to looking at their relationship the same way. Especially after his lust-filled confession telling her he felt the same way.

She knows they don't have to forget about it all; that they could face the facts head-on and deal with the ramifications but still she isn't sure that she trusts his feelings are true. Plus, his friends idolized Hopper for dating someone like Chrissy, what would people think if he started dating someone like her?

In the eyes of their peers, she knew someone like her would never be good enough for someone like him and she knew that despite his desire not to be, Hopper was the type of person who cares about what other people thought. His entire relationship with Chrissy had proved that.

What she wants is to see what they can be, but she can't be selfish and in the long run she believes that what she wants doesn't matter.

In the end, she decides to do nothing because in the back of her mind there's a nagging feeling that Hopper will change his mind and leave her again. Everyone was always abandoning her, she just lived life assuming that Hopper wasn't everyone. She refused to be let down and didn't want to find out that the man she put on a pedestal above everyone else was no different from everyone else that walked in and out of her life.

Over the next few days everything seems to fall back to normal. Aside from the glares Joyce receives from Chrissy and her minions and the few classmates that stop to greet Joyce in the hall, it was as if the entire feud between her and Hopper never happened. Joyce still enjoyed her lunch with Josie and Eli, but she and Hopper walked to and from class together and he drove her home after school. She hadn't spoken to Lonnie since that night she bailed on him at the diner but assumed he'd

he'd given up on pursuing her after he heard the rumours that were circulating about Hopper leaving Chrissy for her.

The rumours weren't true, but that didn't make them less of a hot topic. Joyce was approached by several people she'd never spoken to before and asked if it was true that she was dating Hopper. She told each of them the same thing; she wasn't. They were just friends. Even Josie had asked her if something was going on between them. Unlike her other classmates, Josie was the only one who seemed to believe Joyce when she claimed that nothing was going on.

Everything was back to normal, with the only noticeable difference being the shift in energy between her and Hopper. She knows it has something to do with the unresolved feelings they both silently agreed to sweep under the rug and she isn't sure how to deal with it. Things between them seemed tense at times, like each of them was waiting for the other to make a move or mention the unmentionable. Neither broke.

She wasn't willing to risk their fragile relationship and he wasn't one to overstep when it came to Joyce. They were at an impasse and neither of them was ready to make the moves necessary to move forward, so instead, they sat in a stalemate, just friends.

On Friday afternoon after final period, Joyce finds Hopper waiting for her at her locker.

He leans on the locker next to hers and watches while she puts her books away with a massive grin.

"Okay, what?" she asks, slamming the locker door shut.

"What?" he shrugs innocently.

"You have a look on your face."

"A look?"

"Yes. It's like you're up to no good."

"I'm always up to no good," he boasts. "But I thought of the perfect thing for us to do tonight."

"Well," she waits for him to continue, "what is it?"

"You and I are going to that fair a couple of towns over," he beams.

"A fair?"

"Yeah! You know, the one that's on all the flyers outside the gym."

"I don't know…"

"Oh c'mon Joyce! It'll be fun. I hear that a lot of people are going. Plus, if you ask me really nicely, I might even let you drive."

"Fine. I'll go. But I'm not asking nicely and you're letting me drive."

"You drive a hard bargain, Horowitz," he smiles. "I've got to get to practice but I'll pick you up at 7. Be ready!" he calls out to her on his way towards the locker room.

True to his word, Hopper shows up to pick Joyce up at 7 o'clock on the dot. He notices her mom's car in the driveway, something he hadn't seen in weeks and Joyce uses the front door instead of the window when she jogs out to meet him in her leather jacket and a dark pair of jeans. She immediately walks around the car to the driver's side and waits for Hopper to remove the keys and climb out of the car. Reluctantly, he does, clucking his tongue while he passes her the keys and begins on his way to the passenger's side.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" he asks. She tosses her hair into a messy low ponytail and adjusts his seat before climbing into the cabin and putting the keys in the ignition.

"I'm sure," she flashes him a smile.

"Alright, just… go slow while you back out."

"I wasn't planning on flooring it," she rolls her eyes.

The drive to the fair takes twice as long as it should but Hopper doesn't mind one bit. It's adorable how focused Joyce looks when she drives and he has a full view of the determined smirk plastered on her face since her hair is pinned back. He coaches her through the difficult turns and only panics once when she nearly runs a stop sign in a suburb near her house.

When they pull into the packed gravel parking lot on the fairgrounds, Joyce proudly shuts the car off and hands him the keys.

"Told you we'd make it here in one piece."

"You were right," he smiles.

"You can drive us home though," she tells him.

"How nice of you to let me drive my own car home," he jokes. "Seriously though, you're getting much better at driving."

"I have a good teacher," she tells him, making him blush.

The fairgrounds are composed of the largest fields Joyce has ever seen. On one side, the open space is filled with stalls and vendors selling produce and products, on the other, the night sky is being illuminated by a sea of colours flashing off of different temporary rides. She'd heard about this fair, it was a local thing that this town did yearly and something that the town of Hawkins was trying to start doing as an annual tradition; though she'd read in the papers that Hawkins planned on holding their fair in the summer instead of the spring.

The grounds are packed with people of all ages. Children tug on their parent's hands and giggle as they munch on large clouds of cotton candy while many of her classmates are in line for the rides and games. She and Hopper begin to make their way through the crowd as they look around.

Stride for stride, she walks next to him through the sea of unfamiliar faces. Hopper waves to a few people and asks Joyce what she wants to do first.

"Honestly, I have no idea. There's so much to do."

"Why don't we start with that?" his eyes light up when he looks in the direction of a giant bell. Joyce watches as the man standing next to it raises a comically large hammer and drops it down on a target, causing a small medallion to raise up the post and ring the bell.

"Yeah, right," she laughs. "Have you seen me? I'm not exactly the strongest person here," she informs him.

"Come on. I'll win you a prize," he tells her. He extends his palm and leads her through the crowd towards the game. She spots Lonnie with a group of his friends on the other side of it and considers waving, but he looks away when he notices her and Hopper.

Stupid rumours, Joyce thinks to herself.

Hopper pays the man at the booth and picks up the giant hammer with a massive grin. He manages to ring the bell on his second try and the booth attendant hands him a small brown bear with the tiniest green bow in its chest.

Joyce watches from the sidelines and pretends not to notice the bulge in his arms when he raises the hammer above his head and swings.

"Here," he says when he walks back over to her. "This is for you."

Joyce accepts the bear and hugs it against her chest. "Thank you," she blushes.

"What are you going to call him?" he asks her.

They begin to walk towards the rides and the back of their palms brush as he swings his arm between them, sending a jolt through him. He notices she withdrawals her hand and a deep red has settled in across her cheeks. She must have felt it too. Testing his theory, he walks closer to her and lets the back of his hand graze against hers, this time for a few seconds longer. She flinches but doesn't pull away and for a moment he considers taking her hand in his. He doesn't. It's too big of a risk and he doesn't want her to think he doesn't care about their friendship.

What he doesn't know is that a huge part of her wants him to take her hand and make the first move.

"Chester," she answers him. Holding up the bear, she nods, satisfied with her name choice.

"Chester?" he repeats back. "Why Chester?"

"I don't know, I just like the name. If I ever get a dog I think I'll name him Chester."

"It's a good choice then," he beams.

"So, where to next?" she asks. She puts Chester in her bag so that she doesn't lose him.

"You choose."

"Well, I know you hate rides so…"

"I don't hate them," he clarifies, "they just make me woozy."

"Hop, you've hated them since we were kids."

"Fine. I hate them. But I wouldn't hate that," he says, pointing to a funhouse with a neon sign that reads "Tunnel of Love."

"Oh god," she groans, "that is soooo cheesy."

"Doesn't make it any less fun. Come on," he waves for her to follow him.

"Maybe you'll change your mind and we can go on one ride after?"

"Doubtful."

"Please?"

"We'll see."

The tunnel of love was a two-story playground made out of pink and red plastic pieces. The ceiling of the first floor was covered in strange oval-shaped light bulbs in white and red that flashed in time with the music that played over the small speakers lining the floor.

Hopper purchases a handful of tickets and cashes two of them in exchange for hand stamps allowing both him and Joyce access to the attraction.

They begin with the mirror maze and Joyce nearly doubles over with laughter when Hopper walks face-first into a mirror and stumbles over. They take their time going through the rest, hands extended forward after Hopper complains that his coach will kill him if he gives himself a concussion in a funhouse mirror maze.

Joyce takes the lead and guides them to the second obstacle, swinging bean bags that are suspended from the ceiling.

"This is much more my thing," he brags. With a swift right hook, he swings the first bag out of the way for Joyce and then does the same for himself and trails after her.

Joyce bats at the second bag but it hardly moves and it remains in her path.

"Allow me," he says, smacking the thing clear out of the way.

"For the record, I only did that so you would feel better about the mirror thing," she lies.

"Sure," he winks.

The rest of the first floor is fun and simple, leaving Joyce and Hopper to joke around while they work through each of the mazes. As they approach the end, a large sign painted on the wall tells them that the Tunnel of Love is next. Up ahead, Joyce can see a large spinning tunnel that's been painted in a pale shade of pink.

"I don't get the whole tunnel of love thing, why not just call it a tunnel?" she asks.

"It's part of the theme. I guess some people buy into all that crap," he responds.

"Did you know that according to Greek mythology, soul mates are real?" she asks.

"You don't believe that, do you?"

"No. But I read a book on it once. According to the legend, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Apparently, Zeus feared their power and split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves."

"That's insane."

"I agree. Imagine thinking there's someone out there that's meant for you," she laughs. "People who believe in things like that are total suckers. I'm not even sure I believe in love."

"Yeah," Hopper says, studying her face. He swallows hard and nods, but says nothing else. Instead, he watches as she continues through the tunnel of love, completely oblivious to the way he's staring after her. Yeah, he thinks. I don't believe in it either.

"Come on!" Hopper insists, tugging Joyce towards a row of arcade games.

"What are we doing, aren't these kid's games?"

"No, they're just games," he insists. "I'll win you something. Which one do you want?"

He points into a claw machine that is filled with small plastic spheres, each containing a different prize. Joyce peers over and ducks beneath his shoulder so she can get a better look at the items inside the machine.

"You don't have to waste your money on this," she informs him.

"It's not a waste of money, I want to win something for you. Choose."

She scans across the lot of prizes and smiles, secretly she adored how adamant he was on winning something for her. She already had the bear, she didn't need anything else, but she knows how stubborn he is and tells him to aim for a small plastic ring. The ring was a cheap silver and had a small blue gemstone stuck in the center, but it struck Joyce as simple and beautiful.

Four coins and several frustrated sighs later, Hopper pounds on the machine with his fist and curses. "Damn it!"

"Hey," she smiles up at him, placing her palm on his arm reassuringly, "it's okay."

"It's not okay. The machine totally ripped us off!"

"There's always next time," she tells him. "Plus, it was just fun watching you play."

"I'm sorry Joyce. I really wanted to win that little ring for you."

"What the heck am I going to do with some silly little arcade ring anyways? Besides, you already won me a bear and I love it."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. You won it for me," she grins. "Now, what do you say we find some snacks?"

"I say lead the way."

Walking away from the arcade booth, Joyce and Hopper practically walk face-first into Chrissy and her friends who are hovered around the exit. In an absolute panic, Hopper grabs Joyce's hand and tugs her towards the nearest ride with no line; the Ferris wheel. She follows without question, knowing how awkward he must feel. The rumours at school still hadn't calmed down and despite the two of them knowing that Hopper didn't leave Chrissy for Joyce, everyone else believed it which further alienated Joyce. Somehow, it made Hopper even more popular amongst his classmates. Apparently, the only thing cooler than dating a senior was breaking up with a senior.

From what Joyce had seen, Hopper was doing what he always did and ignoring the rumours but she also noticed he'd been avoiding Chrissy. Whenever they saw her in the hall he quickly ducked and looked the other way. When she asked him why he was avoiding Chrissy, he told her that Chrissy was livid with him and he didn't want to cause a public scene.

The two of them step onto the next available ride car and are fastened in with a metal lap bar.

"You alright?" she says. It's a statement, not a question and Hopper purses his lips.

"Yup."

She doesn't ask what that means; mostly, for selfish reasons. If she knew he missed Chrissy, she'd feel guilty for the things she was thinking. But he didn't care and now here he was by her side and the thoughts plaguing her mind were within reach, making them far more frightening than they were when he was unavailable to her.

During the first rotation they sit in awkward yet comfortable silence. Joyce takes in the full view of the fair and is in awe. It was much prettier from above than from the ground. She can feel how tense Hopper is next to her and does her best to remain light.

"I thought you hated rides," Joyce remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

"I do."

"Then why…?"

"Go on one with you? You said you wanted to. I just wanted to make you happy, see you smile."

"You do?" she whispers.

Suddenly, she forgets that Chrissy was the catalyst for this adventure. There is no one else. It's just the two of them, sitting on a tiny metal bench and spinning around in circles.

"I like your smile," he blushes. He's aware that her hand is dangerously close to his on the safety bar, so he rocks the car forward and uses the motion as an excuse to brush his pinky against hers.

"Oh."

"If that's alright with you?" The words roll off his tongue in a whispered tone, and he's leaning in close enough that she can practically feel them. His eyes scan hers, his palm settles on top of hers and uses his thumb to angle her head up towards his. He locks eyes with her and leans in but the ride lurches forward and tugs Joyce back. She reaches for Hopper's hand out of fear and links their fingers.

When the ride steadies and resumes, she attempts to pull her hand away but Hopper clutches onto it.

He speaks in a hurry, the sound of his voice, gruff and hushed, "Joyce."

"I-" he whispers, he closes the distance between them, lips hovering just above her ear, his body pressed against hers as much as the tiny plastic seat will allow.

"Yes," she breathes.

"You consider us friends, don't you?"

"Obviously," she responds.

"But…"

"But," she whispers, her lips ghosting over his with extreme patience that requires all of her attention.

He's about to give in and allow his lips to capture hers in a searing kiss only to be interrupted by the older man running the ride who yells, "next."

He lifts the bar and allows Joyce and Hopper to step off the ride.

The moment she steps off the ride, she sees Josie excitedly waving at her. Her friend calls her over but Joyce only has eyes for Hopper and turns to him before she acknowledges Josie.

"To be continued?" he asks.

She swallows hard and nods.

"Go on," he tells her, "we'll find each other later."

Joyce watches as Hopper wanders off to find his football buddies and then joins Josie for a few more rides. The entire time, she replays their moment on the Ferris wheel over in her mind. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him. No, she wasn't just going to let him, she wanted him to. She still wanted him to.

She thinks about the way he spoke in a low and purposeful voice before they parted ways. Did he mean what she thought he meant when he said to be continued?

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

#Jopper #stranger things #au #highschool au #Multichapter

6 notes · View notes

hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 8 - August

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then cancelled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all

What a loser , Chrissy thinks to herself as she and Karen leave Lonnie Byer’s table. No wonder he was interested in someone like Joyce, they were both strange . It made total sense that they would find each other. What didn’t make sense was her boyfriend's infatuation with Joyce.

What she initially thought was a pointless friendship she’d soon discovered ran much deeper and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why Hopper was friends with someone like Joyce. They were complete opposites, yet, Hopper was constantly talking about things they did. It didn’t matter what they were doing, it seemed as though he always found a way to tell her a story about Joyce and she hated it. She loathed their friendship. Chrissy normally didn’t consider herself a jealous person but there was something about the way Hopper was addicted to staring at Joyce that made her doubt herself more than usual.

Why was he always staring at her? Even after she’d made it crystal clear that their relationship should take precedence over his friend, he was always looking at her . It was baffling. Joyce was plain-looking with her dark brown hair and petite frame. She wasn’t as developed as Chrissy was and she certainly didn’t put the same amount of effort into her appearance. Besides, she was a senior and Joyce was only a junior. Chrissy knew how much weight that carried with a jock like Hopper. Image was everything and she and Hopper were a picture-perfect couple.

Tonight, when she could tell he wasn’t listening to a word she said, she decided she needed to take matters into her own hands and make it clear to both Hopper and Joyce that she wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.

It was bad enough that she interrupted some type of moment between them after the game, but now her boyfriend was ignoring her to stare at someone that was sitting with someone else. It was mutiny. She planned on finding Hopper and giving him an earful, but first, she seizes the opportunity to make Joyce pay for stealing her boyfriend's attention away from her by dragging Karen with her to talk to Lonnie Byers.

“Why did we just waste time talking to that guy?” Karen whispers as they head back to their table.

“I just needed him to know what a waste of time it is to pursue Joyce.”

“Is it true, what you said?”

“Oh totally. She’s like, obsessed with him.”

Karen shrugs and rejoins the group while Chrissy hovers near the edge of the table, her back turned to them. She draws in a deep breath and does her best to muster up an enthusiastic smile, though she felt anything but happy. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. The team won the game and she was out celebrating with her friends and boyfriend. Only, her friends were boring and her boyfriend was missing in action.

And what was it with the comment the random junior who’d joined their table made? There was no way Hopper was with Joyce at her party. She drove him home from that party and he was all over her. Wasn’t he? Come to think of it, he was acting a little strange when she found him wandering down the street towards his house. What if something did happen? No. That was crazy. She was being paranoid. James Hopper was in love with her, she was certain of it. Joyce was nothing but a minor inconvenience that could easily be dealt with.

She rolls her shoulders back and tells Karen that she’ll be back after she checks on Hopper.

Pushing through the front door of the diner, Chrissy looks around for Hopper. When she doesn’t spot him, she sighs and paces a few yards into the parking lot.

She’s rattled by his sudden disappearance and is just about to give up on him for the night and retire to her friends when she spots his shadow in the narrow alley beside the restaurant.

“There you are,” she calls out as she approaches him.

He’s slumped against the wall, puffing on his cigarette with both hands stuffed in his front pockets. When she approaches him, he pinches his eyes shut and sighs under his breath.

“Hey,” he greets her.

“Everything alright?” she asks. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

“I just needed a minute. Long day and all,” he lies.

She looks around the quiet alley, the only light illuminating their faces provided by the neon signs out front of the diner and an old street lamp on the far side of the parking lot.

She thought Joyce would be out here smoking with Hopper and considers asking if he’d seen her but chooses not to. She wanted to avoid all conversations that involved Joyce if she could. All that mattered was that the brunette appeared to be gone.

Hopper seemed tense. His shoulders were hunched, knuckles clenched and his jaw was tensed. He was in such a great mood before he came out to smoke, now he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

She waits for him to pull the cigarette from between his teeth before she asks what’s bothering him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?

“I’m fine!” he barks.

Chrissy shrinks down into the shadows next to him and purses her lips. She lingers silently near his side, unsure of how to react to his quick-tempered comment. Hopper wasn’t the type to yell, she knew that but sometimes he spoke rashly and she wasn’t in the mood to argue with him tonight.

He peers down at her and his features soften, eyes widening while the corners of his lips curl upwards.

“Hey,” he says softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

She nods, accepting his apology without speaking.

“Should we go back inside?” he asks.

“Sure.” She nods and takes a few steps back towards the diner, but Hopper calls out to her before she gets too far.

“Chrissy,” his voice is deep and low. She turns to face him and catches the lustful look in his eyes. It sends a chill rippling through her body and she walks back towards him.

He reaches for her palm and pulls her flush into his chest while leaning down to press his lips against hers.

He deepens the kiss, but something isn’t right. It’s as if he’s kissing her physically but his mind is someplace else. Kissing him back, she nips gently on his lower lip and notices he doesn’t respond the way he normally does. Instead, he’s cold and rigid against her; moving through the motions on autopilot.

She breaks the kiss and wordlessly takes his hand, leading him back to their friends.

Back at the table, nestled between Benny and Karen, Chrissy watches as Hopper listens to the story being told while absentmindedly munching on fries.

The table Lonnie Byers was sitting at is now empty, leaving her to wonder if maybe he and Joyce went somewhere together. A large part of her hopes that he left alone. If Joyce insisted on ruining her relationship with Hopper (even if she wasn’t aware that she was ruining it) then she shouldn’t get to run off into the sunset and be happy. Even if the happily ever after was with a loser like Lonnie. Joyce didn’t deserve it.

“Everything okay?” Karen leans over and whispers to Chrissy.

“Of course,” Chrissy replies in a fake cheerful tone.

She refocuses on Hopper, who is engaged in a conversation with Benny. Looking less than enthused, she observes him as he blinks slowly and cradles his chin in his hand, which is resting on the table.

He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the diner, which was unusual. Hopper had always loved the tradition of hanging out with his teammates after games. Ever since they started dating she noticed it was when he appeared to be happiest.

Mingling with his peers and riding the high that came with winning a highschool football game always raised his spirits. Tonight, she hardly recognized him.

She was certain the damper on his mood had something to do with Joyce. She’d never seen her at a game before, it couldn’t be a coincidence that tonight, the night that Joyce showed up to watch him play, Hopper was miserable.

Watching him, she considers reaching for his hand to cheer him up but doesn’t want to risk public rejection. Instead, she decides that maybe she’ll propose they leave and attempt to cheer him up by flirting with him on their way home.

Hopper beats her to ask if he is ready to leave and leans over to ask her if she wants a ride home.

“I was thinking of heading out, do you want a ride?”

“Sure,” she nods.

She gathers up her things and says goodbye to a few of her friends while Hopper settles their bill. When she exits the diner, she finds him leaning against the hood of the car, cigarette dangling between his teeth.

“You know, those things will kill you.’

“So I’ve been told,” he mutters. He puts it out and rounds the car to open her door before climbing behind the wheel and starting the car. That was one thing she loved about him, he was always such a gentleman.

She fiddles with the radio while Hopper backs out of the parking lot, and settles on a station playing soft jazz. She considers asking him what happened when he went out to smoke. Obviously, he and Joyce had some type of interaction, his mood was clearly a direct reflection of Joyce’s presence tonight.

She contemplates asking him what was going on between them but decides she doesn’t want to know the answer. Instead, she feels the need to regain control of the situation and decides the best way to do so is to distract him from Joyce and all the issues associated with her. Batting her eyelashes, she turns to face him.

“We could always swing by the lake?” she suggests in a flirty tone.

“Not tonight,” he sighs. “I’m exhausted.”

“We wouldn’t have to stay long.”

“I just want to get home, it’s been a long day.”

“Alright. What’s wrong?” she demands. Enough was enough.

“Huh?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks, louder this time.

“Something is wrong with me because I’m tired after playing in a football game? You’re being a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t raise his voice but he sounds irritated by her line of questioning so she presses on.

“You’re acting...off.”

“Must be because I’m tired, ” he insists.

“Fine. The lake is lame anyway,” she shrugs, trying to save face by pretending she no longer wanted to go. “Pretty soon we’ll be out of this shitty little town and we’ll have plenty of better options for how we want to spend our nights.”

Content with herself, and the way she pretended she didn’t care to stop at the lake, Chrissy leans back against her seat and looks out the window. The town was passing in a blur, rows upon rows of similar brick houses, each looking more miserable than the last. This town was so bland. She couldn’t wait to graduate at the end of the year.

In an attempt to keep the mood light and remind him of how great they were together, she smiles and softly states. “Just think, we could have it all in just a few years. A huge property and a house with one of those wrap-around porches.”

“What if that’s not what I want?” he sighs.

“Well then, what do you want?”

He stares out the window and lets out a long breath, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel.

She knows what he wants. She doesn’t want to admit it, but deep down, she knows. He’d made it clear this evening that although he may want all of the things she’d just brought up, he doesn’t want them with her. It stings, knowing that his heart has been claimed by someone else while he’s supposed to love her, and she lets some of her hurt out by snapping towards him with a snide remark.

“You want her , don’t you?”

It’s accusing and uncalled for, but she doesn’t care. She’s angry and his feelings are written all over his face. He was interested in Joyce Horowitz and was stringing her along -- for what? She wasn’t exactly sure.

“I never said that.”

“You haven’t denied it either,” she snaps.

He continues to drive down the street, the street light illuminating the edge of her driveway now visible. Chrissy folds her arms over her chest and sinks down into her seat. She half expected him to deny it now, but he remains silent and that’s all the confirmation she needs. They pull into her driveway in a complete, all-consuming silence and she flings open the passenger side door with impressive force.

She retrieves her bag from the floor of the car and slings it over her shoulder, the pleats on her cheerleading skirt whirling as she rashly moves.

“Nice James. Really nice.”

“What the hell did I do now?!” he cries, throwing his arms up as he follows her out of the car and up the lawn towards her porch.

“You aren’t even going to try and deny that you have feelings for her?!” she flares her nostrils up at him. She quickly pivots around and charges towards him.

She stops just shy of him and stares up at him, “Well, say something!”

She considers swatting at his chest to force a response from him but instead takes a step back so she can look him in the eye.

“You can’t do this to me!” she screams.

“Do what to you?”

His words are softly spoken and she can’t tell if he’s given up or if he’s trying to keep her calm. Regardless of his intentions, she’s anything but calm and his relaxed tone only angers her more.

“Be with me while you have feelings for her. Pick. Me or her.”

“You don’t want to make me do that, “ he admits while shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Why not?”

“We both know I’ll choose her.”

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose

#stranger things #jopper #AU #highschool au #Multichapter

6 notes · View notes

hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 7 - White Horse

Stupid girl, I should’ve known

That I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale

I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet

When Hopper and Chrissy arrive at the diner, the post-game celebration is already in full swing. Every booth in the small neon-lit establishment is packed with students from Hawkins High and a few of them rise to pat Hopper on the back as he and Chrissy work their way to a table full of his teammates in the far corner.

Going to the diner after the game was a long-standing tradition that Hopper adored. There was always such a positive vibe in the atmosphere and everyone, from the jocks to the nerds participated in the festivities. He settles into a plush leather booth between Benny and Chrissy and orders himself a Coke and a plate of fries.

“Good game man!” a senior student smiles at Hopper from across the table.

“Thanks.”

“That last catch, phew, I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s because he has me to make him look good,” Benny brags.

“Always so humble,” Hopper laughs in Benny’s direction.

The waitress returns and passes Hopper his drink and that’s when he sees her, cuddled up in the corner booth with Lonnie. She has her body angled towards the other man and she's laughing. Genuinely laughing. It bothers him. He wants to be the one making her laugh.

He’s drawn back into the conversation at his table when Chrissy links her arm through his and lays her palm over his hand. She leans into his shoulder and flirtily flits her eyelashes at him. Smiling at her, he tunes back into what’s being said, but every once and a while he finds himself looking over at the corner table.

He zones out when Benny starts rambling about his favourite plays of the game, instead opting to focus on Joyce. She was drinking a chocolate milkshake, her favourite, and twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She wasn’t wearing the red lipstick he’d seen her wear recently, and it reminded him of how naturally beautiful she really was. He thinks that maybe, before everything fell apart, he should have told her how breathtaking she was. She deserved to know.

He watches with envy as her arm brushes against Lonnie’s and the hand located beneath Chrissy’s clenches instinctually.

He vaguely registers that Chrissy is telling a story, but he has no idea what she’s talking about. It was likely about something he’d done. He’d discovered that Chrissy loved to tell their friends about the quirky things he did when they were alone; he didn’t love that she shared intimate details of their personal life and recognized that she did it as a means of boasting about their relationship status. He’d never said anything to her about it, but he found it unnecessary and cringe-worthy.

Chrissy turns and notices that Hopper is staring across the room and tightens her grip on his arm.

“ James, ” she hisses, “are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I’m listening,” he lies.

As Chrissy continues her story, Hopper grows restless and pulls his hand from beneath hers. He stretches his arms up over his head and excuses himself to use the restroom. Alone, he makes his way down the aisle, past Joyce’s table and to the restroom. He can feel Chrissy glaring at him as he passes Joyce, but he doesn’t linger nor does he make eye contact. In the restroom, he groans and splashes himself in the face with cold water. When the water does nothing to aid his anxiety, he decides he needs a cigarette.

Hopper goes back to the table and retrieves his jacket while telling Chrissy he would be back after his smoke. She nods and continues on with her conversation with Karen Wheeler, who had joined the group and claimed Hopper's seat while he was gone.

On his way out he watches as his peers laugh and celebrate and he feels incredibly disconnected. Everyone at their table was hollering and engaged in exciting conversations but all Hopper wanted to do was head home and crawl into bed. He should be in the mood to celebrate. He should be thrilled to have Chrissy here with him, bragging about what an incredible boyfriend he was, yet, he was pouting because his best friend was here with someone else.

Pushing through the door to the diner, Hopper whips out a cigarette and lights it, allowing the immediate rush on his first inhalation to numb the way he feels.

Typical. It was absolutely typical of Hopper to order a plate of fries while everyone else ordered only soda. Not that she was watching him, she just happened to notice while she was looking around to see if she recognized any of her classmates who were at the diner to celebrate the football team's win. Only, that was a lie because she didn’t know any of these people and she’d been keeping an eye on Hopper since he and Chrissy strolled in.

She and Lonnie were sitting in the far corner of the establishment giving her a perfect vantage point and view of Hopper and his pals. Her intention was to have Lonnie drop her off at home but she felt unsettled after her conversation with Hopper and wasn’t ready to head home just yet. So, when Lonnie asked if she wanted to join him, she accepted his offer and here they were, tucked away in a small two-person booth watching as their classmates celebrated. She’s trying to focus on the story she’s being told, something about the latest car Lonnie and his father were working on restoring; she’d recently learned that he spent nearly every weekend with his father, working on restoring cars, but her attention is split between the words he’s saying and the way Chrissy has her arm linked through Hoppers.

More than anything, she wants to give Lonnie her undivided attention. He was nice enough to offer her a ride and she felt like she owed him; seeing as she was stringing him along (though he wasn’t aware of that fact). But she’s preoccupied with the words left unsaid on the field and she needs to know what Hopper’s next move will be. She felt as though she’d made it clear that the ball was in his court. The note was the first step to mending their friendship and rather than accept her offer to forget and move forward, he just had to go and complicate things, therefore, it was on him to uncomplicate them.

Lucky for Joyce, the waitress drops off the milkshakes they ordered just as Lonnie asks her a question that she only hears the second half off. She thanks the waitress and immediately takes a large gulp of her chocolate shake.

“Chocolate, huh?” Lonnie remarks. He takes a sip of his own vanilla milkshake and smiles.

“The best kind,” she states.

“Okay, don’t find this weird, but I’ve never tried a chocolate milkshake.”

“What?! You have to try,” she insists, sliding her milkshake towards him.

He takes a sip and pauses before his lips settle into a smile and he pushes the glass back towards her. “Alright. I see what all the hype is about.”

“I can’t believe you never had a chocolate milkshake,” she scoffs. She plays around with the straw in her drink and grins, caught up in the memory of one of the first times she discovered that chocolate was the best kind of milkshake.

“Why on earth did you get the strawberry?” Hopper asks.

He leans back against the booth and scolds Joyce for her milkshake selection. It was freshman year and he and Joyce had decided to check out the diner that all of the senior students went to before it got too busy with the evening crowd. The pair were sitting across from each other in a booth lining the front window. Joyce was pleasantly surprised with the homey feeling in the diner and commented several times on how much she loved the neon lights on the edges of the window.

“I don’t know, it looked good.”

“You always get the chocolate, it’s an unwritten rule of ordering a milkshake.”

“You can just share yours with me,” she suggests. With a smirk, she leans over the table and clasps his straw between her lips before he has the chance to slide the glass out of her reach.

“Hey!” he protests. “Get your own!”

“Will it really kill you to share? I’ll share mine and we can have one of each,” Joyce beams.

“Excuse me,” Hopper calls out to the waitress. “Could we get two more straws?”

“More straws?” Joyce whispers.

“If I’m sharing my milkshake with you, we’re getting two straws so that you can’t hog the entire thing.”

“I’m not going to hog the entire thing!”

“Oh really, because it’s already on your side of the table,” he raises an eyebrow and looks at where the two milkshakes are positioned in front of her.

“You put that there!” she giggles as she pushes it back to the center.

“Why would I put my milkshake there?” he teases her.

“To bother me.”

“I would never,” he laughs.

“Oh please Hop. Your favourite pastime is bothering me.”

“You secretly love it,” he winks.

The waitress returns and hands Hopper two straws then smiles between him and Joyce. “It’s so nice to see a young couple so in love,” the older lady remarks before walking away.

“Oh we’re not…” Joyce attempts to correct her, but it’s no use, she’s already back at the counter.

An awkward silence falls between them and Joyce fiddles with her thumbs while she waits for Hopper to add the new straws to the drinks.

“Can you believe that she thought-” he begins with a forced chuckle.

“Gosh no. How crazy would that be?”

“Totally crazy,” he sighs. They each sip a milkshake and eventually the awkwardness falls away and Hopper is once again teasing Joyce about hogging the chocolate milkshake.

Lonnie resumes telling his story and Joyce continues to pretend to listen, but she isn’t. She notices Chrissy place her hand over Hopper’s and feels queasy. A strange realization overcomes her and she suddenly panics. The fate of their relationship was in Hopper’s hands but she would never be like Chrissy and she worries that maybe she’s allowed herself to become disillusioned with what could be.

It was stupid of her to assume that Hopper would ever choose what he didn’t have with her over what he did have with Chrissy. They were perfect. The cheerleader and the jock. Everyone said so. Perhaps she was stupid and naive for believing that she was the type of girl that Hopper would want to sweep off her feet. They may live in a small town, but there were plenty of girls that were better suited for Hopper than she was and he had to see that. She never should have let herself realize she had feelings for him. That was her first mistake.

Before then, she was fine to live in her oblivious bubble. Obliviousness, though not ideal, meant that she wasn’t at risk of getting hurt. Now that she was standing here, in the crosshairs of what could have been and what could be, she would give anything to go back and remove the possibility of getting hurt.

It was too late now. Too much had happened and she knew it was foolish to think that they could forget everything and move past it but if that meant they could save some of their friendship, she was still willing to give it a shot.

Lonnie is still talking though all Joyce hears is white noise. She excuses herself and heads to the ladies' room where she splashes her face with cold water. When the water does nothing to calm her, she reaches for the pack of cigarettes in her pocket and returns to the table where she informs Lonnie that she’ll be back in a few moments. He nods and tells her he’ll be at the table waiting.

She doesn’t notice that Hopper is no longer sitting at his own table.

With Hopper gone, Chrissy begins talking to Karen Wheeler, a fellow senior member of the cheerleading squad. The girls are giggling about a mishap that one of the younger members of the squad had during the on-field performance when Benny asks Chrissy where Hopper ran off to.

“He went out for a smoke,” she informs him. “Or maybe he went to go make eyes at a certain brunette where I can’t see him doing it.”

Her second statement has some bite but Benny ignores the maliciousness in her tone and nods.

“Their friendship is strange, isn’t it?” Karen remarks obliviously.

“I don’t understand why he wastes his time with her,” Chrissy huffs.

Benny, who’s listening in on them, just rolls his eyes and sits silently. He knew exactly why Hopper “wasted” so much time with Joyce and he had an odd feeling it was only a matter of time before his friend and Joyce discovered that reason for themselves.

“Wait,” a younger boy Chrissy doesn’t recognize interjects, “are you talking about the guy that just left here?”

The guy was in a few of Benny’s classes and was a member of the junior class, but Chrissy can’t be bothered to ask his name. He seemed like a total stoner and if she was being honest, she was already bored of this conversation.

“Yeah, why?” Karen answers.

“Oh man, I feel so bad for that guy's girlfriend. I saw him totally making out with the girl that threw that party last week.”

“ I’m his girlfriend.” Chrissy hisses.

“Oh shit . My bad.”

Chrissy looks across the table at Benny, who seems amused by what he’s just been told and she scowls.

“You must be thinking of someone else,” she fake smiles at the kid.

Chrissy doesn’t give the kid a chance to refute her remark and instead whips around to look at where Joyce was previously sitting with some punk rock-looking loner from school when she and Hopper came into the diner. She is irritated to find the male sitting at their booth alone. Joyce, and her boyfriend nowhere to be seen.

Angry, Chrissy gets up and smooths down the edge of her skirt. She gestures for Karen to follow her and marches over to the table where Lonnie Byers is sitting alone.

“Can I help you?” Lonnie asks as the two cheerleaders approach his table.

“Hi,” Chrissy smiles down at him. “I’m Chrissy, this is Karen.”

Following Chrissy’s lead, Karen waves at Lonnie and half-heartedly twirls one of her curls through her fingers.

“Lonnie,” he says skeptically.

“That’s a nice shirt,” Chrissy says, referring to his beaten-up band tee.

“Thanks?”

“How’s your night going?” Chrissy pries.

“Fine. Is there a reason you came over here?”

“I just wanted to see how things were going with you and Joyce.”

“I didn’t realize you two even knew each other,” Lonnie says.

“Hop introduced us.”

“ Right ,” Lonnie says dryly.

“So your date is going well?”

“Who said it was a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“What do you want Chrissy?”

“It’s too bad really, that Joyce will never actually date you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just think it’s a little pathetic. And too bad really.”

“What’s pathetic?”

“How obsessed she is with Hopper. It’s getting ridiculous, she practically follows him around and stalks him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? She has a total stalker-like crush on him. It’s actually a bit sad. He only hangs out with her because he feels bad for her. Anyways, I just thought you should know.”

Giggling, she links her arm through Karen’s and the two girls head back to their table. Lonnie states after Chrissy and Karen in a daze. He thinks over what he’s been told and glances towards the diner door, where he catches sight of Hopper following Joyce to the side of the building.

He knew Joyce and Hopper had a complicated relationship, but maybe it was far more complicated than he initially thought.

Joyce exits the diner in a hurry, swinging the glass door open and stepping out into the cool evening air with a large sigh. She’s too preoccupied with fishing her pack of smokes out of her bag to notice that Hopper is leaning up against the wall next to the door, watching her.

He stares down at her, one foot anchoring him to the wall, cigarette loosely dangling between his chapped lips.

Upon spotting him, Joyce quickly swivels on her heel and marches away from the front of the diner, rounding the building and choosing instead to stand in the alley between the building and the parking lot.

“Joyce,” he calls after her. She can hear the crunch of the gravel beneath his boots and knows that he’s following her but she doesn’t slow down.

“Joyce! Please stop,” he yells. He sounds defeated and it tugs on something within her and forces her to stop stalking away. Standing rooted in her spot in the alley, she whips around to face him, messy hair falling across her face as she spins around. “What?!” she snaps.

“Can we finish our conversation from earlier?” he asks sheepishly.

“I think it’s best we don’t.”

“Look, I’m sorry that we were interrupted. But don’t shut me out.”

“Don’t be sorry. After all, she’s your girlfriend , she had every right to interrupt the conversation we were having.”

“Joyce,” he sighs. “Can we not talk about her right now? This is about you and I.”

Hopper takes a step towards her but Joyce stubbornly holds her ground and squares her shoulders to show that she isn’t affected by their close proximity. It’s an act, she’s insanely affected, but she refuses to show him what he does to her.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she shrugs, doing her best to act neutral.

“There’s plenty to talk about.”

Another step. She’s standing between him and the wall of the diner, and though they’re outside it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

“You want to talk? Alright, fine. Why? Why can’t we just forget about everything that’s happened and move on?” she demands to know. Her eyes scan his but she finds no sign that he’s going to shy away from answering her.

“Why?” he growls. He leans towards her and forces her back to collide with the brick while he leans down and allows his nose to hover near hers. Their breath mingles and they both gasp before he speaks in a hushed, tortured tone, “Because it’s taking everything in me not to kiss you again right now.”

He leans in and allows his lips to hover near her ear, sending a shiver rippling through her body.

“Joyce, I want-”

“You think you want,” she corrects his unfinished statement. Finding her strength, she snaps out of her Hopper-infused haze and decides she can’t lose herself to lust when they needed to talk this out.

“What?” he blinks. He leans away from her and stares down at her with confusion.

“You think you want me Hopper. You like the idea because you can’t have me. But you don’t actually want me. Not like that .”

“I-” he stutters, “I’ll prove that that’s not true.”

“How?” she whispers. She knows what she’s asking of him is impossible but her guard is up and she needs him to help her tear it down.

“What if Chrissy and I were to break up? Would that fix things between us? Then will you believe me when I tell you that I care about you and that I don’t want to forget about what happened in the garden.”

“Leaving her won’t fix anything!” she yells in his face. With a sad sigh, she looks up at him with tear-filled eyes and continues in a lower, calmer voice, “I don’t even know who you are anymore Hop. You bail on our plans, you care about what other people think…”

“I’m still me Joyce. Can’t you see how I feel about you?”

She needs him to say it, to break down the wall she’d so delicately built by telling her she mattered to him, but he stands, inches from her face with his mouth hung open, unable to tell her what she needs to hear.

He wants to, desperately. But something prevents him from telling her his feelings for her are far from platonic. He’s afraid. Afraid she won’t feel the same way, though he’s almost certain she does. Afraid that things will change between them and worst of all, he’s scared to screw up and lose her.

“I know that you know. You know me, Joyce. You know me.” His eyes are pleading, but ever the stubborn one, Joyce pushes against his chest and frees herself from the man-made compound between him and the wall, and she begins her walk home, leaving a stunned and confused Hopper alone with his unsaid feelings.

This is a big world, that was a small town

There in my rear-view mirror disappearing now

Now it's too late for you and your white horse

To catch me now

#stranger things #jopper #au #Multichapter #high school au #joyce byers #jim hopper

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 6 - The Last Time

TW: Abusive Parents

All roads, they lead me here

I imagine you are home

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Hop, We need to talk. Meet me on the field after the game tonight. Joyce

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The week following the party, Joyce finds herself in a strange place. She hadn’t spoken to Hopper, she was being actively pursued by Lonnie Byers and she found herself waving to a few of her peers in the hallway, something she never would have done a few weeks prior.

Joyce never bothered with getting to know her classmates. She had Josie and Eli to enjoy her lunch with and she had Hopper. Now that she and Hopper were no longer speaking, she assumed she would just muddle through on her own. She was surprised to discover herself instead making friends. She isn’t sure she enjoys the concept, but she figures it’s worth pursuing until she decides she’d rather be on her own. For now, she didn’t mind having to say hello to a few of her classmates.

Lonnie Byers was another story. He was clearly interested in her and while Josie had been right and there was a certain spark between them, it just wasn’t right. She was interested in her best friend. Even if those feelings went unreciprocated, she wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else. This was one of those problems, she decided, that could also be put off until it absolutely needed to be dealt with. In the meantime, she would keep him around for some fun.

She knows she should probably cut him loose, yet something about the way Hopper’s jaw clenched when he saw them together prevented her from telling Lonnie she wasn’t interested. It was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself from wanting Hopper to feel the way she did when she saw him with Chrissy.

Ever since her party, Hopper had been skipping out on science class, which initially annoys her but later she decides that it’s probably for the best. She has no clue what she plans on saying to him the next time she sees him. As more time passes, she begins to regret slapping him.

Their kiss left her feeling confused and upset, but more than anything, being with Hopper reminded her of how much she missed spending time with him. After much deliberation, she decides that she can’t stand losing Hopper and that she is willing to forget about everything that happened between them if it meant they could be friends again.

She valued her friendship far more than her anger, which is why on Friday, she decides to leave a note in his locker asking to meet him after the game.

And now, here she is, standing on the bleachers in her acid wash jeans and leather jacket, cheering for the Hawkins High football team. She feels out of place in her dark coloured clothes. It seems the students around her are all dressed in some type green and orange spirit wear and she wonders if it was some kind of unwritten rule that you wore school colours to the game. She hopes not, green was not a colour suited for many people.

Though she and Hopper had been friends for all of high school, she’d never once attended one of his games. Sometimes, after the game ended, he would come over and tell her about his favourite parts, though he never pushed her to come and she had no interest in standing on the bleachers with a crowd of unfamiliar faces.

Even tonight, she debated not showing up. She wasn’t sure he’d received her letter, or if he would bother meeting her and her father had just about lost his mind when she told him that she was going out.

After checking herself over in the mirror and fixing up her red lipstick, Joyce grabs her bookbag and heads for the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” her father barks from where he’s seated in a recliner opposite the stairs. He’s facing the television, and not her, but she can tell by the heaviness in his voice that he’s been drinking.

“Out,” she tells him, offering no details.

“Out where? You have a curfew.”

“I’ll be back before curfew,” she lies.

He stands, slowly, places his bowl of chips on the overcrowded side table, sending an assortment of newspapers scattering to the floor and he approaches her.

“Where?” he demands. “Where did you get that? No doubt your mother taught you how to do that,” he says, pointing to her red lips, “No daughter of mine is going out looking like a whore.”

She considers telling him that it’s only lipstick but instead opts to wipe it off on the back of her hand. It leaves her knuckles stained red and she wishes she’d packed the tube of lipstick in her bag so that she could reapply it once she left. She did steal it from her mother, who was conveniently out of town for work. Joyce doubted she would even know it was missing.

“Where ya off to anyways?” her father demands to know. He stays leaning on the back of the recliner as Joyce edges closer and closer to the door, desperate to get going and escape his nonsensical line of questioning.

“There’s a football game at the school,” she explains.

“You don’t even like sports,” he huffs.

“I’m meeting some friends.”

“I doubt anyone would miss you if you stayed home and vacuumed.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I promise,” Joyce tells him. Before he has time to make another remark, she slips out the front door and slams it behind her. She knows he won’t follow after her, he’s too lazy. Instead, he’ll mutter to himself about how disrespectful she is and he’ll plop himself back in the chair that she’ll find him asleep in when she returns home.

“They’d miss me,” she mumbles to herself as she begins her walk to the school. She wasn’t exactly meeting friends, but if she was, they’d miss her. She was certain they would. She liked to think that she was the type of person that would be missed. Some days, she believed that no one would know if she vanished. Other days, she was determined to believe that even she would be missed.

She wipes the red from her hand onto her bag and curses at herself for not packing the lipstick.

Watching the crowd around her, Joyce feels a sense of calm and belonging. Everyone was chanting and waving, excitedly jumping up and down as the cheerleaders lining the track wave their pom-poms in the air. Joyce spots Chrissy and her heart sinks. She’s dressed in her tiny pleated green skirt and matching crop top, with her curly blonde hair pinned back in a green hair tie and she has sparkles on her eyelids that make Joyce cringe. Chrissy catches Joyce’s eye and smirks before joining in on the ridiculously over peppy song being sung by her peers.

No wonder Hopper was interested in her. Her uniform was practically non-existent.

Joyce leans back against the wooden plank making up the bleachers and pulls out a cigarette. Mr. Samson had scolded her for smoking in the stands when she first arrived, but he was long gone and she needed a cigarette if she was going to make it through this game. Besides, she and Hopper sometimes ditched fifth and sixth period to share cigarettes beneath the bleachers all the time, she didn’t see what was so different about smoking on them.

After relaxing a bit, Joyce watches the commotion unfold around her as the team takes the field. She recognizes Hopper by his jersey number, 11, and follows him as he crosses the field in a slow jog until reaching his teammates on the sidelines. Crossing one ankle over the other, she stays seated while everyone around her erupts in cheers and prays that football games are short. Mr. Samson returns to scold her for smoking twice during the first quarter, but each time she rolls her eyes and pretends that she can’t hear him over the roar of the crowd.

In the locker room before the game, Hopper places his shoulder pads over his head and fastens the strap around his side.

The team was buzzing around excitedly, ready to take the field and face their opponents in the final game of the season before the play-offs began. Boys chant and holler while getting ready, but Hopper is silent. He’s trapped in his own head, not as focused on the pending game as he should be and it’s all Joyce’s fault. He hadn’t spoken to her since she cursed at him and told him to leave her party. He’d spent countless hours replaying the events of that night, and all of the ways it could have gone and after much deliberation concluded that what happened was possibly the worst thing that could have happened.

He wanted Joyce to know what she meant to him, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her. And then there was Chrissy and the fact that he was still dating her. Two things became clear after kissing Joyce. First, that he was a fool for ever believing he could cut her out of his life, and second, that he wanted to kiss her again. Only, he was certain she hated him for kissing her and he wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to him again, let alone kiss him again. He’d been avoiding her since that night, unsure of what he would say to her. He’d even gone as far as to skip class because he wanted to sort things out in his mind before he made an even bigger mess of things. And now she’d gone and left him a note saying they needed to talk and he had no clue what she meant by it; only that she was probably at the game tonight. She’d never once come to one of his games and his stomach lurches with the need to impress her.

He’s angry, but also confused and now both Joyce and Chrissy were going to be staring at him while he played; the fact that Joyce watching him excited him more than Chrissy in her tight little uniform rattled him to his core.

He decides to channel his anger and confusion into the game and excitedly claps his hands before proceeding to get ready.

“Why do you look so cheerful?” Hopper asks Benny, who is getting ready at the locker next to him.

“I’m meeting Helen after the game,” Benny smirks.

“Things are going well I see.”

“Honestly, they are. Thank god for Joyce’s party,” Benny laughs. “Oh, wait! I never asked where you ran off to the other night at the party.”

“I told you, I had too much to drink and Chrissy picked me up and drove me home,” Hopper says.

“I mean before that.”

“Oh,” he pales, “I had to talk to Joyce.”

“And yet, you two still aren’t talking,” Benny remarks sarcastically, “Am I missing something here?”

“We’re talking,” Hopper grumbles. They weren’t. He hadn’t spoken to her since that night and he was now ditching science class so that he wouldn’t have to face her. Why was Benny so concerned about his relationship with Joyce anyways, he thinks to himself. Well, based on her note, maybe they’d be talking after tonight.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” Benny asks.

“Why would something happen between us?!” he snaps.

“Woah, take it easy man. I was just asking if you’re fighting about something besides Chrissy.”

“We aren’t fighting about Chrissy.”

“Then why aren’t you talking?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It really can’t be that complicated,” Benny sighs. “Look, I’m worried about you man. You and Joyce have been inseparable since the day I met you and I haven’t seen you together in weeks.”

“It’s fine, Benny. Maybe we’re just growing apart.”

“We both know you don’t actually believe that bullshit. Talk to her.”

“Why are you suddenly so invested?”

“It’s my job as one of your best friends to make sure you don’t do stupid shit that you’ll regret one day. Chrissy might be hot, but Joyce, she’s something special.”

“Benny, how many times have I told you, it’s not like that with us.”

“Isn’t it? You care about her, no?”

“Well, of course I do.”

“Don’t smack me when I say this, because I’m planning on needing this arm for the game,” Benny smirks and jokingly steps away from Hopper to defend himself, “but I’ve seen the way you look at Joyce, and it isn’t how you look at Chrissy. Hell, it isn’t even how my parents look at each other. There’s something there.”

“Benny-”

“Alright,” he tosses his hands up, “no more from me. I’ll never bring it up again, I just had to tell you what I see. Now, let’s get ready to go and kick some ass!”

Hopper continues to get ready and does his best to ignore what Benny has just said, but the thought is paralyzing. He knew how kissing Joyce made him feel, but were his feelings really so obvious to everyone else? And if that was the case, why weren’t they obvious to Joyce?

In the third quarter, the Tigers are leading by 10 and Joyce is surprised to find herself clapping along with her peers, invested in the game. Hopper scored the team's second touchdown, bringing the crowd to their feet, including a shocked and excited Joyce. She wasn’t going to make a habit out of coming to games, but she had to admit, this wasn’t so bad.

Between the third and fourth quarter, the cheerleaders take the field to perform and Chrissy once again catches Joyce’s eye. The cheerleader laughs and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, while Joyce pretends to be distracted by something on her shoe.

The cheerleaders line up across center field and begin their performance. Joyce tunes out while they chant about spirit but notices Chrissy flick her skirt up and wink at Hopper, who is watching from the sidelines. She expects him to be drooling over the performance being put on for him, and instead finds him staring up at her in the stands. She swallows hard and forces herself not to wave, instead offering him a shy smile. He doesn’t look away after she notices him, choosing to stare at her instead of the show being put on at center field. When the whistle blows indicating the start of the fourth quarter, he snaps his helmet back on and takes the field. Chrissy remains oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend hadn’t watched her show and flashes a satisfied smirk in Joyce’s direction when she returns to the far side of the field.

Joyce tries not to read into what’s just happened but Hopper being all over the field and the crowd chanting his name as he scores yet another touchdown forces her to focus on him.

Someone holds up a sign that reads, “#11 on the field, #1 in our hearts,” and Joyce just laughs. She had a front row seat to the Jim Hopper show tonight, there was no escaping it.

Once the game comes to an end and the teams graciously shake hands, Joyce lingers on the bleachers until the field is clear and she can effortlessly climbs down onto the track. She leaps over the chain-link fence and leans against the post nearest to the men's locker room while she waits for Hopper. Luckily, the cheerleaders had also vacated the premises and it looked like most of her classmates were headed off to party’s or the diner to celebrate the team's big win, so she has the field all to herself.

She rolls her head back and stares at the scoreboard with a smile. Maybe football wasn’t the worst sport. After tonight, she understood why Hopper loved it so much. As she waits for him, her nerves begin to get the best of her and she wonders if this is the best idea. What if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say? Or worse, what if he hadn’t got the note, or did get it and decided to stand her up? Before she begins to spiral out of control, she takes out another cigarette and twirls it between her fingers.

Joyce notices the locker room door creep open and spots Hopper peak his head out and look around. When he spots her, a smile breaks out across his lips and he makes his way over to where she’s been waiting for him. Beneath the flood lights illuminating the field, his eyes look a neon shade of blue and she’s tempted to fix the messy curls left in his sandy hair by his helmet. She resists the urge and instead stuffs the unlit cigarette in her pocket. He’s still wearing his grass-stained jersey and shoulder pads, which makes her feel smaller than she usually does when settles in front of her.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.”

“I got your note,” he smiles. “I’ve missed you.”

“Look,” she begins, awkwardly holding her hands together behind her back, “I’m sorry that I slapped you.”

“Joyce-”

“No, please let me finish,” she begs. “I’m sorry I did that. I miss you too and I would really like to just forget about everything that’s happened and be friends again.”

Hopper purses his lips and folds his arms over his chest, “Huh?”

He was certain that she had feelings for him, but now she was telling him that she wanted to forget about everything that happened and while he was on board with fixing their friendship, he didn’t want to forget everything. Things changed when he kissed her. He knows she felt it too. She must have.

“Joyce,” he begins. He was going to get through the speech he rehearsed this time around, he’d screwed up enough, this was his chance to right his wrongs. “I don’t want to forget about it.”

“W-what?” she blinks.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” he states more definitively.

“You don’t want to be friends again?” she asks meekly.

“That’s not what I said. Of course I want to be friends again. Hell, I’ve missed talking to you so much these past few weeks Joy. And I’d love for us to forget about our stupid feud and move on, but… it’s just… I don’t want to forget about what happened at the party.”

Caught off guard by his own admission, he runs his hand through his hair and looks down. It was true, he wanted to mend their friendship, but he couldn’t forget about the way being with her made him feel.

“You - why?” she stammers.

“Look, I hate to ask this but Benny thinks that maybe you were upset with me because you’re jealous of Chrissy. Are you?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“If I am, it doesn’t mean anything,” she admits.

“It matters to me,” he says. Surprised they’d even made it this far into the conversation without her getting upset with him for accusing her of being jealous, he takes a deep breath.

“Why? Why can’t we just forget about all of this and go back to the way things were?”

“Because,” he pauses and steps towards her. He reaches down and softly lifts her chin so that she’s forced to look at him. “Joyce, that kiss.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, and we both know it.”

“You felt something?” she asks in a whisper.

He nods.

Overwhelmed, Joyce tries to pace away a few steps but Hopper is quick to place a hand on her waist and instead pulls her half a step closer to him. “Didn’t you?” he breathes.

“Hop-” she squirms out of his grasp and he drops his hand as she steps back. Tears flood the corners of her eyes and she shakes her head.

“Tell me that I’m wrong and we’ll forget it all happened. But, we don’t have to. I know you felt it too.” His words come out as a plea and she pinches her eyes closed to try and not give in to the desire to launch herself into his arms and tell him that of course she felt it. She needs to stay focused. He was with Chrissy and he wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t want her. Not really. He may be fascinated with the idea of her, but the lust that clouded his mind would fade away and their friendship would be left in ruins. She wanted him to be saying this because he wanted her. All of her. She needed to know that he wanted this for the same reasons she did; that she wasn’t just a passing phase.

“If I tell you that I did, how would that change things between us? You’re with Chrissy. Nothing good will come of me agreeing with you. It’ll ruin everything.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“If I tell you that Benny was right, or that I felt something when you kissed me, it won’t be enough. I want more.”

Her voice breaks and she gasps. Hearing herself admit what she wanted aloud for the first time is overwhelming yet calming. “I need more,” she sighs. It’s a vague statement, she knows, but she doesn’t completely know what she means and is hoping his interpretation will tell her.

“What do you mean, more?” he asks. He’s staring at her with such intensity that she feels the world around them has vanished.

“There you are!” A third voice interrupts their moment and Joyce knows that their conversation will remain unfinished while he’s still dating someone else.

Chrissy flits over to them, the pleats of her green skirt bouncing as she glides effortlessly across the track and launches herself into Hopper’s arms the way Joyce wishes she could. Joyce steps back and away from Hopper, giving his girlfriend room to toss her arms around his neck and kiss him in a far from PG manner.

An uncomfortable look settles over Hopper’s face as he helps Chrissy find her footing back on the ground. His eyes remain trained on Joyce, even while Chrissy attempts to deepen their kiss, and he awkwardly clears his throat with a cough.

Chrissy steps to his side and hooks her hand through his arm and smirks at Joyce.

“Chrissy, you remember Joyce, right?” Hopper says awkwardly.

“Of course! I just love your jacket,” Chrissy responds with the fakest complement Joyce has ever heard.

“Nice to see you,” Joyce whispers. She stuffs her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and shrugs. “Anyways, I should get going. Um, good game Hop,” she says, smiling half-heartedly at him.

“Do you want a ride? We’re going to the diner,” Hopper calls after her.

He can feel Chrissy glaring at him for inviting Joyce, but he isn’t done with their conversation and he desperately wants her to agree to the ride.

“I’ve got one, but thanks,” she waves. Joyce turns and makes her way to the parking lot, racking her brain with what to do next. She was hoping that she and Hopper would have resolved things and he could have given her a ride home, but with their conversation ending where it did, she wasn’t keen on climbing into a car with him and Chrissy and she really didn’t want to walk home.

That’s when she spots him, leaning against a beat up old car with a cigarette dangling between his teeth, and the idea strikes her.

“Lonnie,” she greets him as she approaches. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you at a football game.”

“Yeah well, something to do. I could say the same about you.”

“It’s not my usual scene,” she admits.

“I was going to head to the diner, you want a ride Horowitz?” he offers. He puts out his cigarette by aggressively stomping his heel into the dirt.

“I’d love one,” she beams. She steals a glance over her shoulder and notices Hopper is watching while he and Chrissy walk towards his own car. Desperate to show him she’s unphased by Chrissy, she leans over to Lonnie and presses a kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?” he smirks when she pulls back and rounds the car so that she can climb into the passenger's seat.

“Consider it a thanks for the ride,” she winks.

She makes eye contact with Hopper as she and Lonnie back out of the parking lot and she notices his fists are clenched at his sides. She knew it was wrong and childish, but she can’t help herself. She put her heart on the line tonight, it was Hopper’s turn to make a move and prove that he wanted her as more than just a best friend.

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong

This is the last time I say it's been you all along

#stranger things #Jopper #au #Multichapter

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