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