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Assistant: Title: clandestine meetings
        Author: blanketcocoon blanketcocoon 
        Chapter: 1/1 
        Summary: Her day to visit him is tomorrow, technically, and it’s not like she hasn't seen him recently. (Barely) four days have gone by since her last stop by the cabin but they've been long days. Almost torturously so.
Or, a work based on that one Jopper BTS pic.
        Contents: Summary:
            
              
  Her day to visit him is tomorrow, technically, and it’s not like she hasn't seen him recently. (Barely) four days have gone by since her last stop by the cabin but they've been long days. Almost torturously so.
Or, a work based on that one Jopper BTS pic.
            
        

        
  Notes:






    (See the end of the work for notes.)



  





    
        
          Her day to visit him is tomorrow, technically, and it’s not like she hasn't seen him recently. (Barely) four days have gone by since her last stop by the cabin but they've been long days. Almost torturously so. Will and Jonathan are never not good company, (even though neither of them seem to care much about spending time with their mother when they see her everyday) and Karen’s been kind and so, so generous about this whole situation they've all found themselves in. It’s been nice, rekindling an old friendship, but nowhere near does it fill the ache in the core of Joyce’s heart. It hasn’t been all that long since she got Hopper back. She can’t help missing him when he's not around. So, she drives out, ruffling Will’s overgrown hair—jeez, he needs a trim, she notes idly—and gives Jonathan shoulder an affectionate squeeze before reaching for her old jacket on the rack. “Where’re you going?” Joyce looks over her shoulder at Karen, finding her leaning against the stair railing as a quizzical look splays on her features. “Quick drive,” she says, sliding her arms through the coat sleeves. “I just wanna clear my head.” She leans down to step into her ratty old shoes, smoothing a hand over the frizz in her hair and roots around for her keys in the bowl before noticing how quiet the other woman has gotten. Joyce glances up. “I’ve got my radio, I won't be long.” Wordlessly, Karen tilts her head. Her arms are folded beneath her chest, mouth twitching into something near a smirk. Her eyes flick down to the tupperware in her hand of leftovers. There’s a knowing arch in her brow that makes Joyce flush. “‘Kay,” she sighs, running her fingers through her golden curls that she, even through apocalyptic circumstances, still manages to maintain. For Joyce, it’s been a whole lot of half-hearted brushing and cutting out knots with Holly’s craft scissors when she can’t find the kitchen ones. “Just be careful, alright?” “I will.” The blonde gives a small smile, then, “Tell Jim I said hi,” she adds, and Joyce can't bring herself to do anything but blush and bite back her grin as she reaches for the doorknob. There’s no real short cut when you're heading from Karen Wheeler’s house to deep Southeast Hawkins, but she takes the quicker way, shaving a couple extra minutes off her drive by the time she finds herself parking just outside the thicket of trees. Branches crunch beneath her feet, sounding loud against the otherwise quiet scene. She imagines there’d be birds chirping high in their trees in any other, more mundane scenario, where maybe the world wasn't crumbling beneath their steps. It only takes a couple knocks before the door unlocks, and Joyce’s eyes widen vaguely as it creaks open on its own. It’s as if somebody were pulling it by a string from the inside, but when she presses it open, she doesn't see any string. She finds a young girl curled up on the couch, knees to her chest as she takes her gaze off the TV set to look over at her. “You’re not supposed to answer the door like that, y’know,” Joyce admonishes, shutting it behind her, but there's nothing behind her words. She crosses over to stick the tupperware in the refrigerator. “What if I was an intruder?” El shrugs. “I knew it was you, though.” She wipes the red tricking from her nose with the back of her hand, smiling up at her. Joyce crosses over to the girl, leaning over the back of the couch to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Hi, baby.” “Hi. I thought you were coming tomorrow?” She leans her head back against the couch cushions, peering up at her with those big, brown eyes.  Her lips quirk, brushing her thumb over El’s forehead. “I think I might go crazy if I’m around anymore smelly teenage boys today,” Joyce teases, and the girl giggles. “Speaking of, where’s your dad?” “Napping.” She gestures over to the curtain with the vague nod of her head. “I don't think he sleeps good at night.” Joyce tries not to linger on that little comment, exhaling softly as she gives El’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll be quiet.” She gives a small nod, focusing her attention back on the TV set as Joyce moves away, crossing over to the bedroom in a few quiet steps. She bites her lip, pushing the curtain aside, then draws it closed behind her after slipping inside, and there he is. Hopper’s laid back across the top of the bedsheets, dozing peacefully as the lamp he forgot to shut off spreads a soft orange glow on his face. His hands, clasped over his chest, rise and fall slowly with each breath, soft snores falling from his parted lips, dead to the world. Joyce watches for just a couple beats, fond and God, she missed him. She moves further into the room and crawls onto the bed, jostling the old mattress just so as she kneels beside him first, blinking slowly as she gazes down at him. Her hand comes up to settle atop his own, leaning to feather a kiss to his temple. Then below his left eye, then his scruffy jaw. He stirs under her ministrations, brow twitching, and she kisses his cheek. Something sleepy tumbles from his throat. “Mmm?” “Just me,” she whispers, ghosting over the corner of his mouth, but then he lazily tilts his head up to press his lips against her own. Joyce elicits a soft little sigh, letting her mouth linger there as she moves to swing her leg over his thigh, half-straddling his lap. A pleasant warmth coils in her stomach as his hand cups her face, the other moving around to move her hair off to the side before it finds her waist.  “What’re you doin’ here?” Hopper croaks. She moves to press a kiss to his other cheek before pulling away, watching as he blinks slowly up at her, focusing his eyes as his mouth curls into a tired smile. “I brought food,” Joyce teases, but his eyes light up anyway. “Yeah?”  She nods, leaning in into his hand. “Karen made lasagna last night. Not bad at all.” “What is this, my birthday?” Hopper mumbles, and she only gets out an amused hum before he’s kissing her again, and Joyce melts into him like it’s the easiest thing she’s ever done. This is something she could get used to—gentle wakeups and breathing the same air. The idea of cramming all five of them into this tiny cabin is a logistic nightmare, they both know that, but it doesn't stop her mind from wandering, anyway. This is what she's been needing. Her hips give a little roll, muffling a faint sigh against the corner of his mouth. “‘Missed you,” Joyce breathes, trailing kisses down to his neck, mouthing at the stubble as he holds a hand at the back of her neck.  Hopper blows out a noise, something between a grunt and a sigh, and right when he begins to make a non-committal attempt at tugging at her jacket, the wooden panels of the floor creak from somewhere outside the bedroom. She freezes, wincing just a little as El’s presence sends her crashing back down to reality. “Can you, like, get a door?”  He snorts, petting over her hair. “Can I get a door?” he echoes. “You need one.” Joyce lifts her head, sluggishly moving off of him with a pat to his chest. “Badly.” Hopper follows her upward, groaning as he moves to lean back against the headboard. She scrubs her hands over her face with a sigh, tuning into the talking from the TV for just a couple beats before she feels familiar hands move her hair out the way again, leaning to kiss her throat. “You could stay the night,” he says, and he sounds almost shy. Joyce hums, tilting her head over to the side before she can give it any real thought. Her eyes flutter closed. “I wish. You think I wanna be squatting in Karen’s guest room?” “When you could be shacking up with me in a three room shed?” A grin crawls onto her lips, reaching up to thread her fingers through the soft thatch of his hair. “Yeah,” she breathes, falling quiet for a couple beats. Then, “You better knock that off, Romeo.” Hopper only squeezes her hips, nipping at her neck. She can feel him smirking against her skin, not doing much of anything to help cool himself down. To help cool herself down.   He starts kissing at the spot below her ear, and everything in her body is telling her to have him continue and let him finish unbuttoning her flannel, but she sighs and nudges him away. “Handsy.” “‘Handsy?’ You drove all the way down here to come ‘n rile me up—” Joyce doesn't give it anymore thought before reaching up to grab his face in her hand, promptly shushing him with her lips. It works, miraculously. “I came to bring you food,” she corrects, pulling away, even though they both know she’s lying. She doesn't really know what her plan was. All she knows is that she was missing him and his warm hands and his voice, because it's nowhere near the same over a radio through a sh@tty signal. Hopper chases her lips for more when she moves back, just barely missing. He surrenders with a muted groan as he lets his head thunk back against the headboard again, still watching her with bleary, warm eyes that make her feel like she's sixteen again. Like she’s sneaking through a bedroom window after lights out. Joyce shakes her head vaguely, redoing the buttons he’d undone. “How’s El doing?” she asks softly, voice steadier now. “I mean…” He scrubs over his beard. “For somebody that’s on the run from the fuzz, she’s doin’ okay, I think.” She smiles weakly. “You’re both kinda in that same boat.” Hopper grins, too. “Yeah. ‘S not really what I had in mind when I said I missed daddy-daughter time.” He goes quiet for a beat, twining his hand with her’s. “She’s been talking about you a lot.” Her brow raises a little. “Good things, I hope?” “What d’you think?” he teases lightly. “She thinks you hung the d@mn moon. She’s already getting bored of me, askin’ when you can stay over.” Joyce blows out a breath, shaking her head fondly. “I wish I could more often,” she says, tone falling to something more solemn. “I hate this. Being away from you both.” Her gaze flicks down to their joined hands when he doesn't answer immediately, watching his thumb caress the side of her colder one. He’s quiet for a long moment, brow furrowed in a soft way, and then a small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. It’s barely there, but she can see it in his eyes. “Maybe when…y’know. I’m not being hunted by Soviet Russia and I wipe El’s slate clean–”

Her lips quirk, brow raising just so. “–and we’re not in the middle of Hell anymore, I just…I dunno. Maybe we score some place up on Maple, or something. You, me, El. The boys.” His eyes are unfocused, averting her’s like he’s nervous to say it all. Joyce doesn’t think she’s ever been so fond. “Are you asking me to move in permanently?” That’s when Hopper looks at her, searching her face. The ounce of nerves in his eyes gets washed away as he registers the grin at her mouth. “I mean…” He lets out a sheepish laugh. “Maybe I’m just thinkin’ out loud, but–” Joyce, again, doesn't let him finish, and as she leans to press her mouth to his, it–again–works. “You really know how to make a guy shut up,” he murmurs, lips parted and eyes heavy when she pulls away. She bites her lip. “Only when you're being stupid.” “Was I being stupid?” Hopper grabs at her hips, urging her back in his lap and, she doesn't bother doing anything to stop him. “Yeah,” she whispers, nose nudging his, “‘cause you already know the answer.” His mouth parts against hers easily, and a slow, warm heat starts to build between them again. She cups his face in her hands, pressing her figure closer as she nips at his bottom lip. It draws out a shuddering exhale from his nose. Joyce starts kissing down his neck again, burying her face in his shoulder as she pops open the top buttons of his flannel. Screw cooling down. “...Is that a yes?” Hopper barely says. She snorts. “Jesus Christ, Hop.”   Joyce gets back at the Wheeler’s when the sun’s gone down and most of the lights are off; much later than she’d promised, at least. She closes the front door behind her soundly, doing her best to not make her presence known to the rest of the quiet house. Karen spots Joyce before she spots her, and the look on the blonde’s face makes her blush like a teenager when she spots her in the kitchen. “Good drive?” she asks, voice a little too low and a little too knowing to be comfortable, but Joyce fights a smile, anyway. She sheepishly smooths over her disheveled hair. “Yeah.”'
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