Work Text:
"It's past lunchtime," Flo shows up at the door. "You're not hungry?"
"Not really. I'd rather stay here -"
"Nonsense," she walks in his office. "You need to eat, get some air. Staying at the station all day in front of the fan, smoking your boredom away, is no good. C'mon," the woman motions with her hand towards the door, "off you go."
Hopper groans as he gets up from the cushioned chair, shirt sticking to his back due to sweat – today's weather is like dog's breath, hot and moisty. Flo pretty much pushes Hopper out of the station's doors, much to his reluctance. He pulls his cigarettes pack out of his pocket – great, just one left...
Out of the places he could go to to buy cigarettes, he of course, had to go to Melvad's General Store. Joyce is busier than usual – the recent heat wave had caused people to flood the small retail shops, in hopes of buying anything cold that can help them get through the day. Hopper walks in, looks at her and simply nods before venturing down the corridors. He shows up by the checkout counter shortly after with a pack of non-filtered Camel, a single can of Rheingold, and donuts. He lets everyone go ahead of him so that he can be the last person left at the store. Joyce notices it and rolls her eyes, a small hint of a smile tugging on her lips. He's such an idiot.
"Looks like you've been busy," he says, looking at the front door as someone walks in.
"Yeah, the heat wave’s been good for the business. But, good thing is, I get to leave earlier today."
"At least someone's lucky."
"You can come over later tonight, if you'd like. Maybe you can get lucky too." Hopper blows out a breath of air; not quite a laugh but close. "If you want, you can also come over for dinner. Will's been asking me to make spaghetti and meatballs for a week now and I always seem to make enough of it to feed a football team."
"Alright, then I'll just have one or two of these," he taps the donuts package, "to make room for dinner."
"Wait, is this your lunch?"
"Oh God, not you too." Hopper quickly pulls out of his wallet, throws a note over the counter and scoops the three items in arms. "Keep the change."
"See you later then?" Joyce asks when Hopper's just about to leave.
"Be there at seven."
Yeah, he's an idiot.
Hopper arrives a little after seven, and instead of stepping out of the Blazer and knocking on the front door, he walks around the house to find Jonathan and Will running around the yard, playing with water guns.
“Hey there, kiddos.”
The two stop running to greet Hopper, “Hi, Jim.”
Will is completely soaked, drops of water running from his hair down his face, whilst Jonathan only has the bottom part of his T-shirt and his shorts wet – their height difference makes all the difference in the game, Hopper quickly realizes.
“Can I join you, boys?”
Jonathan shakes his head, “We only got two guns.”
Hopper looks down at the garden hose, “I’ve got mine right here.”
The boys let out a shriek of laughter and even bump into each other as they desperately try to seek cover. Hopper very calmly picks up the hose and inspects the spray gun, regulating it to shoot softly – he doesn’t want to bruise the kids with a powerful jet of water.
Jonathan peeks from behind his hiding spot – the garden shed, “If you miss us three times, we get the hose.”
“I’m the Chief of Police,” he aims at Jonathan and wets him, “I ain’t gonna miss.”
Hopper does intentionally miss the kids in all of his attempts just to make them happy. Will immediately gallops towards him to seize control of the garden hose. Hopper doesn’t make it far; Jonathan laces his arms around his waist and tries to tackle him down, key word: tries. He’s not successful, but he does manage to slow him down. Will, hysterically laughing, points the spray gun at Hopper and gives him a bath.
Joyce watches them through the kitchen window. At first, she smiles, the sound of her children’s laughter making her happy. But then she starts crying. It’s a long time since someone other than her had made her boys laugh that hard. Once the first tears roll down her face, the rest follows in an uncontrollable cascade – she’s ashamed, hates herself even, for unintentionally forcing her kids to grow up too fast.
“Hey, truce, truce, truce!” Hopper pleads, completely wet by now.
The boys obviously don’t stop, laughing their heads off, so Hopper resorts to pinning them down and tickling them. It somehow turns into a wrestling match of sorts, the two boys jumping on Hopper’s back until they tire him and leave him sprawled on the ground.
“Ok, stop it for a minute now,” Hopper says breathlessly, “I mean it. Old Man needs to rest.”
Jonathan lays his head down on Hopper’s chest and works on recovering his breath, laughter slowly subduing. Will, on the other hand, straddles Hopper’s stomach and squeezes his face around to make him look funny. He accidentally knees Jonathan in the face and things just don’t escalate into a fight because Hopper intervenes, fearing he’ll be the one to be kicked, slapped, kneed or bitten if the two of them start fighting literally over his body.
Joyce, now calmer, continues to watch them. Despite his tough, cold exterior, Hopper is softhearted and affectionate; he feels more than what he lets on, feels a lot more than what he expresses. Joyce wants to let him – he’s good with the boys, good with her – but there’s always that something in the back of her head that tells her that she’ll never be happy. And she definitively doesn’t want to put herself and the kids through another trauma – especially Jonathan, since Will’s memories of Lonnie are rare if not inexistent.
She wipes her tears, heaves a long sigh and steps out into the backyard. “What happened here?”
“Just boys being boys,” Hopper says.
“Well, boys, I’m not letting any of you sit at the table all wet like that. C’mon,” she walks to them, scoops Will up under the arms and hoists him onto her hip, and then bends down just enough to pick Jonathan up as well – Hopper stares, wide-eyed like holy shit, “you two need a bath.”
Hopper gets up, dusting off his jeans, “And me?”
“Dry yourself somehow and keep an eye on dinner.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he walks in ahead of Joyce, opening the doors for her.
Dinnertime is as calm and neat as it can be with two little boys at a table. Will has spaghetti sauce smeared all over his mouth and fingers, and Jonathan tosses a meatball into the air and tries to catch it in his mouth but it ends up on the floor instead. Hopper tells them not to play with the food (Will, very offended, claims that he didn’t do anything) while Joyce cleans up the mess. After dinner, the two boys move to the couch, eating a Popsicle each and watching The Bugs Bunny Show, while Hopper tries to help Joyce with the dishes – she shoos him out of the kitchen and he simply obeys, joining the kids in the living room.
Joyce does the dishes, picks up after the mess the kids left in their bedrooms, making them a little presentable, and then hangs to dry an Everest-like heap of newly-washed laundry in the clothesline. When she reenters the house, she finds the three of them napping – Jonathan curled up against Hopper’s side, and Will sleeps tightly in his embrace. Joyce stares for a while – the three of them look precious, sleeping so peacefully.
Let him in.
She first carries Will to his bed, cuddles him with his long-eared white rabbit and then returns to the living room, to get Jonathan as well. The older boy grumbles in his sleep as she picks him up in arms which awakes Hopper up. He lets out a snort and quickly looks down at his lap, then at his side, and then he looks up, at Joyce.
“What time is it?”
“Past the boys’ bedtime.”
Hopper stretches his arms over his head – a bone cracks and he grimaces. “Guess it’s time for me to leave then.”
Let him in.
“You can stay,” Joyce adjusts the sleeping Jonathan in her arms. “If you want.”
Hopper gets up to turn off the TV and then closes the distance between them. He places a soft kiss on the side of her neck, “I do.”
Joyce smiles and blushes, something that didn’t happen in years.
She puts Jonathan to bed and when she enters her bedroom, Hopper is there, waiting for her. He gently closes the door and she smiles the second he presses his lips on hers.
Yeah, she can be happy.