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Pancakes and Camels

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Jim Hopper's tires screeched as he slammed on the brakes in front of the Byers house. He jammed the gear into park and practically ripped the keys out of the ignition. He stormed up the porch to the front door and began pounding on it so hard that the whole house shook. "MIKE! EL! THAT'S ENOUGH, LET'S GO!" he bellowed.

Joyce Byers was in the kitchen scrubbing the mess Will made on the stove trying to cook breakfast that morning. He was a sweet boy, but he was still only thirteen and not exactly great at paying attention to tidiness. Not when it came to cooking, at least. But he'd wanted to make pancakes, so he made way too many and Joyce had scarfed down some of the reheated leftovers before getting to work on the stove.

But her cleaning spree was interrupted by Hopper practically mauling her front door.

She hurried to open the door before he broke it down. "Hop, what the hell is going on?!"

He had a wild look in his eyes. His mustache was unkempt, and the rest of his face hadn't been shaved. And he wasn't in his uniform. His short sleeved blue shirt was half untucked from his jeans. In short: he was a mess.

"Where are they, Joyce?" he demanded, ignoring her question to him.

"The kids aren't here!" she shouted. He wasn't even looking at her, just over shoulder (over her head, really) to try and catch a glimpse of the kids. She smacked him in the chest. "Hopper!"

That snapped him out of it. He looked down at her big, dark doe eyes. She was looking worried. But Joyce was always worried. Even so, her concern gave him pause. "El and Mike," he explained. He wasn't yelling anymore but his voice still had an aggressive edge. "Where are they?"

"They're at the Wheelers'! Karen just called me half an hour ago to let me know Jonathan and Will are staying for dinner along with El and Max and Lucas. And you know Dustin is still at his summer camp," she told him in exasperation. "And why would you think El and Mike are here? Everyone's always in the Wheelers' basement."

Hopper scowled. "Your house is closer."

Joyce rolled her eyes. "I cannot believe you. You're so worried about your daughter and her boyfriend but you come here instead of going to the boyfriend's house because that's too far of a drive for you?"

"Well, I don't know! I got back from the grocery store with more fucking Eggos and my damn cabin is empty and my kid is nowhere to be found, I come to the nearest possible place!" he shouted.

She shouted right back, "You don't drive up half-cocked and insane, you pick up the goddamn phone! Jesus, Jim!"

"Well shit, Joyce!"

And then she was in his arms. Joyce had no idea how she got there. She didn't remember moving toward him, but she must have. She didn't think she'd thrown her arms way above her own head to wrap around his thick shoulders and neck. And yet here she was, somehow pressed against the wall next to her front door with Jim Hopper's tongue in her mouth. Tasting like coffee and Camel cigarettes.

Hopper was practically crouching to reach her. God damn, why was she so small!? But he wouldn't have it any other way. Shit, she tasted good. Like pancakes and syrup. It was a heady feeling, kissing Joyce and feeling her soft, lithe body pressed up against his as he practically smothered her against the wall with his big, hulking form.

But this was no good. He couldn't do this. His whole body was buzzing with adrenaline. He was still pissed off about the kids, but he really couldn't tell you why. And what was he doing here with Joyce?

He pulled back, unhanding her and trying to gulp some deep breathes. Hop rested his hands on the wall behind her, just above her head. Their bodies were still pressed together. He couldn't help that. He also couldn't help the way the beginnings of an erection was stirring in his pants.

She slid her arms away from him, pressing her palms on the wall on either side of her hips. She was breathing hard, too. "What was that?" she asked. Her voice was soft and unsure as her dark eyes gazed up at him in question.

Hop was about two inches from her face. Could just tilt his chin down and kiss her again. Wanted to. Almost did. But he was too messed up right now to even see straight. "I feel like I'm either gonna fuck you against this wall or put my fist through it," he said. Probably a little too blunt, but there you go.

Joyce's sweet lips twitched into a smirk. "Well, I've had enough holes in my walls, so how about that first option?"

Hopper didn't hesitate. He slipped his hands up the hem of her baggy shirt at the same time his lips reclaimed hers. For all those big clothes she wore, she was a tiny thing. And even still, after two kids. He'd like that about her before, that she was small and delicate and made him feel big and strong. Now, though, he knew damn well there was nothing delicate about Joyce Byers. She was tougher than he'd ever be, and he loved her for it.

Fuck, where did that come from!?

Pushing that thought aside, Hopper growled into her mouth as he deepened the kiss. His hands found her tits encased in probably the most boring old bra anyone had ever seen, but he didn't care. She whimpered as he massaged her, feeling the soft weight of her against his palms, sensing the way she shivered when he touched her just right.

Joyce was starting to get impatient. The tingling in her belly was causing an ache between her legs. It had been too long since she'd had sex. Well, not really too long. But definitely too long since she'd had sex like this. Rough and passionate and out of control. God, she wanted to be out of control. All day, every goddamn day, Joyce had to be on guard to provide for her kids and protect them. She did the best she could, but she was always dropping the ball somewhere. But it was always all up to her, and she wouldn't have it any other way. And she needed this. Needed to be cared for and needed to have all that control taken away from her for just a few blissful minutes. She needed to get laid, and Hop was gonna give her exactly what she needed.

She pushed him back just enough so she could pull her top off and unbutton her jeans. Hop took it from there. His lips attached themselves to her neck like a fucking Hoover, and he made quick work of her bra. His mouth moved down her throat to her tits, but the angle was too awkward. Throwing dignity aside, Hopper got down on his knees. His hot mouth was at the exact right height. Joyce cried out wantonly as his teeth grazed her nipple and then moved to the other. And then somehow her pants were at her ankles, followed very quickly by her underwear. She was completely naked three inches from the front door and his shirt wasn't even unbuttoned.

Time to fix that. Hopper needed to feel her. Feel all of her. He felt like a man possessed. He stumbled as he got back up onto his feet. He tried to kick off his boots at the same time he undid his jeans. Joyce helped, thankfully, yanking up the few inches of his shirt that had been tucked in. He hadn't worn an undershirt today. It was hot for June. And now he was glad he got a little sloppy today.

As soon as his shirt was open—not even off, just open—and his pants were at his ankles, Hopper leaned forward and hoisted Joyce up into his arms. She yelped in surprise but quickly got her bearings. God, he was strong. Big and strong and big, oh god! She could feel his hardness pressing against her, making her even wetter. Their kisses were messy and hurried and desperate. There was a weird clamminess to the wallpaper against her back as Hopper braced her against the wall. She tried to shift away from it slightly.

Hopper must have gotten the hint. He wrapped his arms around Joyce and readjusted her in his grip and at the same time slid right inside her.

She gasped at the sudden fullness, the way he stretched her. "Oh god, Hop," she moaned.

"Yeah, baby," he groaned in response.

He held her tight in his arms, holding her up without even using the wall for leverage. And then his hips pulled back and pushed back into her. He set a rough, quick pace, and it was perfect. She twisted herself to meet his thrusts and increasing the friction between them. Their rhythm was intoxicating. Joyce felt the tension deep inside her grow and grow. She was about to snap like a rubber band. Begging words fell from her lips, and she hardly knew what she was saying. Her phases were swallowed by his hungry kisses as he continued on and on and on.

Hop was close, but he didn't want it to end. God, he would give anything to be able to just keep on fucking her forever. Ever since he'd taken on the task of being a father again, he'd given up his womanizer ways. Unfortunately, that had been his only real form of exercise, and the booze and Eggos were catching up to him. He couldn't get the right angle with Joyce like this thanks to his big belly in the way. But thankfully he was well enough endowed that it wasn't too much of a problem. Oh shit, was he getting a cramp?

Their movements got more and more erratic the closer they got to finishing. If they'd gone about this in a different way, Hopper would have pulled out and put Joyce on the bed (or couch or kitchen table) and gone down on her and gotten her off before he finished and passed out. But that wasn't what they were going to do today. This whole thing had been crazy from the start. He hardly knew how it started or how it happened. It didn't matter right now.

Joyce's body clamped down on his cock like a goddamn vice grip, and she whimpered and moaned, running shivers straight through him. Hopper pulled out quick, coming fast and hard and making a mess against Joyce's belly. He had to brace her against the wall to keep from dropping her. His knees were shaking.

After about half a minute of trying to catch their breath, Joyce tapped his bicep. "Hop, put me down," she requested.

"Sorry," he apologized hoarsely. He let her go, and she landed ungainly on her feet.

It was in his mind to apologize again, for this whole thing, but the words caught in his throat. Joyce leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing gentle kisses all over his chest.

Hopper stared at the wall behind her head, wanting to gaze at her in awe but not daring to move for fear she'd stop.

"Come on," she whispered finally looking up at him. "We oughta take a shower."

He followed where she led, taking off the rest of his clothes and carrying them with him. His boots were left by the door, and Joyce made a damn pretty show of bending down to pick up her discarded clothes. It didn't escape him that she used her shirt to wipe off her stomach.

Neither of them spoke a word as Hopper's whole huge body filled Joyce's tiny bathroom. He was patient while she turned on the water and got that damn cold tap twisted just right so they wouldn't have ice water beating down on them. He held her hand so she wouldn't slip stepping over the edge of the bathtub.

After the wild time they'd just had, it surprised her to find him suddenly quiet and sweet. He soaped up her body and ran his big hands all over every inch of her, pausing only to drop gentle kisses to her lips and nose and eyes and cheeks. Joyce indulged in washing him in return, tracing her much smaller hands over his enormous body. He had put on some weight. It was hard to ignore. But it didn't detract from how attractive she found him. Another man wouldn't carry it so well. Then again, there was no other man who was Hopper.

When they finally got out of the shower and dried off, Hop's stomach growled. Joyce giggled. "Put your clothes on and come to the kitchen. We can have leftovers."

He fished the carton of cigarettes out of his pants pocket after he zipped up his jeans. "You got a light?" he asked, entering the kitchen where she took a plate out of the microwave.

Joyce tossed him the lighter she kept in the drawer next to the fridge along with rubber bands and extra bits of twine.

Hopper grunted in thanks and lit up. He took a long, comforting drag before Joyce took the cigarette out of his hand. She inhaled and starting coughing a little, just like always.

"You taste like Camels," she told him. "When we first kissed. You tasted like Camels."

He smirked, resting his elbows on the table and taking the cigarette back from her. "You taste like pancakes. I can see why."

Joyce had reheated the rest of the pancakes from that morning, smothered them in syrup, and put them on the table for she and Hopper to share. "Well," she proclaimed, "here's to pancakes and Camels."

Hopper rested the cigarette in the ashtray so he could take a bite of pancakes. "Damn, these are good," he said with his mouth full. He chewed and swallowed and added, "Nice to have syrup on something that isn't fucking Eggos."

They shared a laugh and the pancakes and the cigarette.