Summary: Joyce and Hopper smoke and catch up after high school. (Commission for @fanficsandfluff! Here’s my commission info. Also, this one got a little angsty, apologies. Content warning for marijuana use.)
It was a few years after high school, but Joyce and Hopper were still close.
Neither of them had strayed far from Hawkins; Joyce had a job in town, and Hopper was training to join the police force locally, leaving them plenty of time to hang out, now with the freedom of adulthood.
Hopper got an apartment that was just a block away from Joyce’s apartment, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to head over there after work.
“Are you sure we can smoke in here?” she asked, nervously eyeing the front door to the apartment, knowing Jim’s landlady lived right across the hall.
He chuckled. “Please, she’s practically senile. Besides, whatever brand of cigs she’s smoking stink up the whole floor, so she’s got no room to talk.”
Joyce allowed herself to laugh softly at that, and she relaxed against his beat up couch, after shedding her work vest and boots so she could get truly comfortable. Hopper sat down beside her, having just finished rolling them a joint, and he passed it to her with a smirk.
“First hit for my guest,” he offered.
She rolled her eyes. “So polite,” she replied, taking the joint and pulling out her lighter from the pocket of her jeans. She took a generous drag before pulling back, passing it to Hopper as she held the smoke in her lungs before blowing it out, only giving one light cough.
“So, how’s the hardware store treatin’ you?” he asked before taking his own hit.
Joyce shrugged. “It’s alright. I mostly just stock shelves and work the register, so it’s pretty easy. What about you, mister policeman? How’s the academy?”
Hopper blew out his smoke, giving a content sigh as the first wave of relaxation came over him. “It’s fine. A fuckin’ pain in the ass, I won’t lie. But I’m the best shot in my class, so I’ve got bragging rights over the other guys,” he grinned.
Joyce laughed. “Of course that’s what you care about,” she said, but her tone was fond.
Hopper just shrugged, but his eyes were twinkling with the same child-like mischief she remembered from high school, when the two of them smoked under the bleachers and ran from teachers.
There wasn’t much small talk to be had, since they had long since achieved a level of comfortable silence with one another. Hopper got up to put on a record, and Joyce hummed along to the familiar song.
The joint passed back and forth until there was nothing left to smoke, and the conversation reached an uproar again.
“And Bob the Brain is at college out of state,” Hopper said. “Something to do with radios, I think.”
“His name is just Bob, yknow,” Joyce scolded. “Aren’t we too old for stupid nicknames?”
Hopper grinned. “Not at all.”
Joyce scoffed and gave him a punch to the shoulder, making him gasp in mock-offense. “Jeez, I didn’t realize you were in love with Newby,” he teased.
Joyce’s cheeks turned pink, and she glared at him. “I am not! I just don’t think he deserves all the shit you give him. He’s nice.”
Hopper laughed. “No, you’re right, Bob’s nice. You have way worse taste in guys. Who’s the one you’ve got your eye on? Byers?”
Joyce avoided his eye. “Yeah, Lonnie Byers.”
Hopper saw the way her demeanor changed and figured it was best to not pick on her too harshly for it. Still, though, he couldn’t resist seeing her blush again. “And how’s that going, hm?”
Joyce shrugged. “He comes into the store sometimes.”
“And?”
“And that’s it! Jeez, Hopper, I didn’t realize you were so obsessed with who I’m seeing,” she said, but there was no bite in her tone. “Didn’t you mention a girl last time? Diane?”
Now, it’s Hopper’s turn to blush, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, I might have mentioned her.”
Joyce lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “Jim Hopper, are you blushing right now?” she asked.
“No!” he replied, but he could feel the color burning on his face.
“Oh, you absolutely are. This is too good,” she teased, scooting closer to him on the couch. “Tell me about her!”
Hopper groaned, burying his face in his hands.
Joyce giggled. “Oh, c’mon Hop!” she whined, jabbing her fingers into his side.
Hopper twitched away from the touch with a sharp intake of air, and Joyce’s brown eyes went wide.
“No fucking way,” she said. “You’re ticklish?”
“No,” Hopper replied, but the way he scooted away from her on the couch said otherwise.
She pounced. He had no chance, even though he was bigger and stronger, he would never want to get rough with her, and even so, the weed had left him pliant and giggly, so her hands barely needed to touch his sides for him to start laughing.
“This is gold,” Joyce breathed, mostly to herself.
She scribbled her blunt nails against the thin material of his t-shirt, and Hopper wriggled beneath her, unable to stop the stream of laughter that poured from his mouth.
“How did I never know this? How many years have we been friends, and you didn’t tell me?”
Hopper’s laugh rose in pitch when she switched to his stomach. “It never came up in conversation,” he replied, giggles lacing his words.
Joyce grinned. “Not a good enough excuse, Hop. I’m your best friend, I deserve to know these things!”
She used both hands to attack his stomach, then moved to explore his ribs, hips, and neck, too.
“Joyce, please—”
“No begging is getting you out of this.”
Why was Joyce so good at this? Hopper hadn’t been tickled in years and the weed in his system had to be heightening his sensitivity, because he didn’t remember being this sensitive. It was unbearable, but strangely fun at the same time.
When hands prodded their way beneath his arms, he snorted, something Joyce knew he did when he laughed too hard, but apparently it was twice as funny when the laughter came from tickling, because Joyce dissolved into her own fit of laughter, nearly tumbling off of his lap and onto the floor, until he caught her by the forearms and pulled her into his chest.
They both caught their breath there, pressed against each other on his ratty old couch, and something shifted.
They weren’t just friends. They never had been. But it felt too late to acknowledge it, then. Even stoned out of their minds and breathless from laughter, they knew that. There was Lonnie. Diane. And life was moving on.
Joyce moved off of his laugh, still grinning, and Hopper felt his heart sink at the loss of contact.
81.“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.” Jopper
Joyce x Hopper — evening wear
Joyce was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, applying hairspray to her simple up do. She wasn't quite content with how the look of her hair had turned out tonight, but it was to late to change it again. She applied a bit of red lipstick, listening to the sound of rain heavily hitting her bathroom window. She didn't have to care about her hair, it'd be drenched within ten seconds anyway.
Suddenly, she heard the front door open and close, heavy footsteps entering her house. "Hey, Joyce?", she heard a familiar voice say, Hopper was on time, it was 7.30 on the dot.
Hopper's colleague was turning forty, and he was throwing a garden party, a themed one, dress code evening wear.
When Hopper had asked Joyce to be his company, she had panicked - evening wear? She wasn't sure if there was something in her closet for that.
"Yeah, I'm in the bathroom!", she yelled, quickly checking her looks again, searching for her blush and quickly closing the zipper of the plain, black dress she was wearing now. It was nice, not too fancy, but it did fit her figure at least. She was barefoot still, having forgotten her only pair of pumps in the drawer by the front door.
She quickly washed her hands again. Hopper was probably in suit and tie. She hoped she could match the dress code, and she secretly hoped he'd find her beautiful, but she didn't dare to be sure he would.
Suddenly, she heard the record player in the living room being turned on. Weren't they about to leave? What was Hopper doing? She had to hurry up before he'd get too comfy.
"You okay in there?", his voice asked and he was now obviously close to the bathroom door as she could hear him loudly and clearly. She closed the window, it was still raining like crazy — the garden party wouldn't work out too well, she guessed.
Then, she opened the door and there he stood - tall, broad, wearing a dark grey suit and a matching tie. She couldn't help it, her jaw dropped.
"God, Hop, look at you.", she whispered, her voice somehow horse and flirty. "I've been trying to get ready for like... an hour and a half because I knew you're going to look so good, and I had to try and match up. But this... Is... more than I expected.", she laughed nervously.
He grinned, and pulled her closer, pressing a light kiss to her lips, careful not to destroy her lipstick as he pulled her as close as possible.
"My shoes are by the door.", she whispered as he slowly pulled back, admiring her aswell.
"Joy, have you taken a look outside?", he asked.
"Yeah?", she replied, looking puzzled.
"Callahan called me over the radio, when I was already on the way over to your place. The garden party is cancelled. He'll try to schedule another date for it, next weekend or something.", Jim explained.
"Are you kidding me? I've been trying to get ready nearly half of the day and now we're not going anywhere?", Joyce asked, giggling desperately. She couldn't believe it, she had put such an effort into her look and desperately wanted to show it off.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Joycie.", Jim added as he saw that she was really a bit disappointed.
"But...", he continued. "Listen, I've put some music on.. And I thought we'd just have our own dance.", he said with a sly smile on his lips, pulling her into the living room.
"Here?", she asked and looked around, music was playing, there was a bottle of red wine on the coffee table, next to a lit candle. Hopper, Hopper - good at improvising.
She blushed a little as he went to switch off the lights in the living room and there they were, embracing each other on the carpet next to the television in the dim candle light, rain pouring down outside while they were in the warmth of her home.
She let her head sink onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, and they slowly started moving from one foot to the other.
Joyce and Hopper were slow dancing in her living room, and after a few minutes, the garden party was long forgotten. All she could think about was his arms holding her, and to breathe in his scent as he gently guided her movements.
When the song ended, and a faster one came up, he playfully spun her around, before they fell down onto the sofa, exhausted and happy. Joyce felt carefree as he poured her a glass of wine, observing his face in the dim candlelight. She needed no fancy clothes or garden parties, she needed Jim.
_____
Thanks for the ask anon, and excuse the tooth rotting fluff 😉💯😂
“Ouch! Damn – I mean – careful, Joyce,” Jim Hopper swore when his diminutive dance partner tripped forward and trampled his right foot with her left.
Joyce pulled away with a gasp, covering her face with her hands. “Quick, step on mine!” she squeaked, sliding one well-heeled foot in front of her on the dance floor.
Jim regarded his wife of three hours with wide-eyed incredulity. “What?”
“Gently though, please,” she added, reaching out a hand to grasp at his and pull him forward. He jerked his hand away.
“For Pete’s Sake, why?” he glanced around. Several wedding guests had paused from their dancing to observe the scene. Amused smirks were visible under masks and through Halloween makeup.
“Because I agreed to get married on Halloween, I don’t want to tempt fate by stepping on your foot without you returning the gesture.” Joyce lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s bad luck.”
Jim threw his head back and laughed suddenly. He had known this woman for years and years and not once had he realized she was superstitious. It was… adorable really. Regaining his composure, he gently pressed the toe of his black leather dress shoe against the pointed toe of her red satin pumps. “Happy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied with a shy smile that didn’t leave her mouth, even when bent low to kiss her tenderly.
