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"You Can't Hurry Love"

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

You've got to trust, give it time

No matter how long it takes

- The Supremes

El was practically bouncing up and down on the seat with excitement. It was the youngest, happiest, most natural Hopper had ever seen her, and he was grateful to Joyce all over again for her proposal that they all get together.

He pulled the truck up in front of Joyce's house, seeing Joyce's car, Jonathan's car, and the pile of bikes that said the other kids were all here already, too. They had timed it so they would be the last to arrive, just in case any other parents decided to drop their kids off.

Practically as soon as he cut the engine, El was out of the car and flying up onto the porch. Joyce came out to greet her, and they hugged for a long time. Hopper sat and watched them, thinking with a pang that El needed a mother as much as she needed a father, and enjoying the bond between his two favorite girls. At last they broke apart, Joyce taking Eleven's face in her hands to look her over, and then sending her inside.

"Hop! It's freezing out here. What are you waiting for?" she called to him, and he got out of the car, bounding up onto the porch, and slung an arm around her shoulders.

"She was afraid we were going to miss everything."

"They've all been waiting for her." They went inside, watching El hug everybody. The red-haired girl, Max, was there, as well, and the two girls nodded at each other coolly from a distance.

Hopper leaned over, asking quietly in Joyce's ear, "You know what that's about?"

"If I have my gossip down properly, Eleven thought that Max liked Mike. Or that Mike liked Max, really. Now that Max is with Lucas, and Mike is definitely with El, they should be able to break the ice sooner or later."

"Good. She needs a girl friend."

Joyce looked up at him and smiled. "Too much helpless crushing going on at your place?"

He rolled his eyes. "God, were we ever that bad?"

"Bad? We were worse." She grinned, a hint of wickedness in her eyes. "Maybe you're just too old to remember."

He frowned and poked her in the side and Joyce laughed, moving away from him just as things were getting interesting. "It could be worse, you know," she told him. She tilted her chin toward the kitchen, where Nancy and Jonathan were setting out plates and opening pizza boxes, the task taking forever because they kept stopping to look into each other's eyes.

"That bother you?" he asked Joyce.

"No. Not really. I like her, and she's good for him. Drives Will nuts, though. So does that." She gestured this time to the group of kids—Mike's arm was over Eleven's shoulders, and Max perched on the arm of the couch next to Lucas, his shoulder against her leg. "He's mad that it's girls now instead of D&D."

"I don't blame him."

Joyce rolled her eyes at him again. "You were exactly like them, and you know it."

"Maybe. How is he, anyway?"

The smile faded from her face, replaced with the familiar worried look as she studied Will, thinking about the answer. "Better. He wants—he wants to go back to a time before any of it happened, and … well, none of the others do. It's hard for him."

"He'll get there."

"I know. I mean, I'm sure he will. I guess—" She turned her face up to Hopper. "I just can't seem to stop being afraid for him."

He squeezed her shoulder gently. "That's understandable. He's been through a lot. So have you. It'll pass."

"I guess. I hope so." She shook her head.

"Joyce. If you need anything—" He caught himself before he could say more, hearing the huskiness in his own voice betraying how much he wanted to be the one to fix things for her and hoping she hadn't noticed.

But she had, at least enough to change the mood, and she ducked away from his hand. "We should take care of the pizza before it gets cold."

He followed her to the kitchen, helping set out the pitchers of lemonade and water and the two-liter bottles of soda.

"Hi, Chief," Nancy said cheerfully, brushing past him for a stack of napkins. He liked that she was completely unphased by his size or his title. She reminded him of Joyce.

"Hey," he said back, and directed a genial "How's it goin'?" at Jonathan, who mumbled hello in return and got back to piling pizza onto the plates.

"Food," Joyce called, and the tiny kitchen was suddenly overrun with gangly kids, all legs and arms, grabbing plates and pouring sodas and talking over one another.

Over their heads, Hopper saw Joyce in the middle of it all, yelling to be heard, laughing with them, nearly the same size as they were, and he had a moment's vision of what it could be like if they were together, if this was their family, the two of them and her boys and Eleven and all the kids' friends, and he wanted it more than he thought he had ever wanted anything in his life.

One of the kids shut the refrigerator door and he saw the picture of Bob on the front of it. "Bob Newby, Superhero". She needed more time, he reminded himself. But … maybe someday. If he was patient.

Joyce looked up at him, her eyes alight, laughing at something Dustin had said, and he smiled back. For now, he would take what he had. Seeing her like this was enough.