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It’s been some time since she last woke up in such quietude, such calm. There is no startle this morning, no slightly unnatural noise reaching her ears as an alarm. This morning, all she recognizes is the feeling of an empty bed, colder than usual, colder than what she’s grown used to in the last few months.
Joyce scrunches up her nose as her eyes adapt to the early morning, treating herself to five more minutes, hand moving towards Hopper’s side of the bed more than once in the short meanwhile. A sigh; it just wasn’t the same by herself, not as easy to slip back into sleep on her own. Half defeatedly she decides to get out of the bed, grabbing a beat up red cardigan from the chair near her vanity and throwing it on top of the shirt she wore as a pajama.
As she walks out of the room and towards the kitchen, rubbing her hands together for warmth, Jim’s absence in the house has her fidgeting. Though as she approaches the hall, quietly stretching her neck to check outside, her eyes reach his figure on the porch, resting against the wooden pillar, shirtless, surrounded by the smoke of a cigarette Joyce couldn’t spot from inside.
She frowns at the thought of the cold air against his skin, but proceeds to the kitchen nonetheless, careful not to wake up any of the kids or disturb him altogether. It’s a good feeling, the quietude, and Joyce’s learned to appreciate it more and more over the years. Mornings like this, where she could seize some time for herself - even if only for the few minutes she waited for her coffee to be ready, resting assured her kids slept peacefully next door - quickly became a moment to look forward to. And so she leans against the counter as the kettle does its job, taking a look at some of the drawings Will had left on the table last night, smiling at the realization that they were nothing but make-believe creatures from their campaigns this time.
Joyce fills a metal mug with some coffee, adds a few spoons of sugar to it and grabs a blanket from the couch as she exits the front door. Though Jim had been standing with his back turned to her, she figures he must have heard her moving inside, as he simply turns his head her way as she arrives.
She’s greeted with a sweet smile, but flinches at the cold breeze.
“Gosh. You really couldn’t have picked a warmer morning to wake up early?” and leaves the coffee on the porch fence before propping the blanket on his shoulders, standing on her toes to properly reach his frame.
“I just wanted a smoke, didn’t mean to get carried away out here.” he offers, leaving a kiss on her flushed nose as she approaches him, a now covered arm reaching out to keep her close. “Sure didn’t mean you had to get out of bed, too.”
“It was your choice to leave me to freeze in there,” Joyce chuckles, reaching out for the mug, holding its warmth between her hands before taking a sip of it. Finally, she offers the man a sip, which he gratefully accepts, only to gulp with a frown.
“...Shit. Is that why you decided to give me diabetes?” he grins, handing her the mug once more, already expecting the offended mask that would cover her features not long after.
“Oh, right. Bitter coffee for a bitter man…” she sighs, giving Jim a pair of narrowed eyes that spoke in the right amounts of tease and drama.
“Oh, okay! Is that how it’s gonna be?” Hopper laughs, willingly surrendering to whatever game Joyce decided to play. “You know, you’re sweet, but that coffee’s just somethin’ else, Joyce. Actually…” and his hands move further to hold her figure, reach her waist, cut short the distance between their bodies. His lips capture hers on a slow kiss, delicate, tasting of sugar and smoke and leaving her breathless. “Nah, you might still be sweeter.”
Joyce whimpers against his lips, properly melting against his figure, trusting her instincts to find the porch where she leaves the mug once again, ready to forget about it. Jim turns her around, her feet stumbling at his moves, allowing her figure to be carried a few inches closer to the fence where he presses her back.
“Hmm,” she breathes out, flushed by the sudden and much welcomed attention, “I thought all of this was about you not being much of a sweet tooth, Chief,” an arched brow points out, arms resting on his shoulders as one of her hands treads through his hair.
“You’re the one to blame, Joyce. Can’t help it,” he offers, defeatedly, leaning down to trace the length of her jaw with his lips. She’s contently surrendered to his touch, head falling back as eyes rest closed, when the floor behind them creaks, deep inside the house.
Their heads snap straight up in a split second, waiting for the noises to come closer, only to hear nothing more. Hopper gives her a genuine look, having lost track of time ever since he stepped out. “How much longer ‘til they’re up and running?”
Joyce gives him a suspicious look, analyzing the possibilities. “Anything between twenty seconds and two hours,” rolls down her tongue, arched eyebrows insisting for him to do with that information as he will.
“Gonna take the odds on those two hours,” he grins, leaning down again, wasting no time before kissing her in a much less delicate fashion. Joyce can’t say she doesn’t appreciate it, failing to pay any mind to the cold against the warmth of his embrace. As one of his hands holds her by the curve of her waist, the other undoes the single button in front of her cardigan, caressing her body from the inside of it before slipping under her shirt. Joyce shivers at the touch, of his fingertips and of the cold breeze where it kisses her stomach, and whimpers into his lips as he smirks into hers.
Even among mindless whispers and kisses, the woman sees that her hands hold him close, fingernails marking his shoulders under the blanket, one leg propped up against his thigh for support.
“Mom!” Will’s voice has them snapping into place, as the boy opens one of the front windows of sudden. “Where did you put my knee pads?” he doesn’t seem to notice having interrupted anything, or simply didn’t mind it, already heading back into the house as his mom laughed at a startled Hopper, whose head rested defeated on her shoulder. “You remember we’re going skating with Max, right?”
“Yes, sweetie. They’re somewhere in the shed, and so are El’s.” she announces, seeing as her son marches back and disappears into the kitchen. Joyce pats Jim’s face lightly, having him look into her eyes, offering a sympathetic smile. “It’s for the better. I was about to freeze my tits out here, anyway,” she chuckles, lowering her voice at certain points of her sentence, biting her lip at the sight of his face.
“Not if I could help it,” he grins, holding her chin up until his lips grace hers with a light kiss.
She pulls him by the blanket back inside, Hopper grabbing the forgotten coffee last minute, closing the door behind him and picking up his coat from the hanger by the door as Joyce eloquently made her way up to the kitchen as well.
“You better grab an extra sweater and coat, sweetie, it’s freezing outside. I don’t want any of you guys sick before the holidays.” she’s already maneuvering through plates and mugs, smiling at El’s attentive eyes as she takes a mouthful of cereal. “Is Jonathan taking you guys there?”
“Not today, mom, Nance needs help with something for the paper. Can’t miss it,” her older son answers, giving Joyce a knowing look as he barely stops by, seemingly trying to fix something on his camera on his way towards the door. “Sorry,” Jonathan adds, though she offers him a smile and quickly places an apple in his hand, silently reminding him to take it easy.
“Tell our future Pulitzer winner I said hi,” she replies promptly, kissing his cheek before he hurries out the door. When she turns back, Hopper is already rummaging through the kitchen, preparing a cup of coffee to his taste and finding himself a seat. “Okay, you guys will wrap up here and prepare your backpacks. Hop won’t be waiting forever to take you to Max’s.”
“On it!” Will exclaimed, swallowing all of his chocolate milk on a single gulp, laughing as El nervously tried to pick up his pace, and Joyce could swear they finished up their plates in the span of five seconds before running back to their rooms.
“Jesus… Be careful!” she chuckled, turning to Hopper with an amused face, only to find him seriously watching her.
“Who’ll be taking them to Max’s?” he questioned, one eyebrow up, elbows propped on the table as his mug steamed in front of his face. Though she could sense there was no madness behind his words, Joyce instantly approached him with a pleading face.
“Oh, come on… You’d be way too mean to make me leave the house today, Hop.” she adds, dramatically gesturing before closing the distance between them, one hand resting on the back of his neck as she hovered near his chair.
“Hmm, I don’t know.” Jim replies, as if he ever had it in him to not comply with Joyce's wishes. “I mean, why should I leave the house?”
Joyce holds his chin up in a similar fashion to what he did not long ago, brushing their lips together before replying, “‘Cause I’d be warming up in the bathtub when you came back, Hop, and I’m pretty sure I could use a little help...” her sentence's cut right up, already enough for him to chug down his breakfast as quickly as the kids, and stand up in a determined rush. “Oh, okay.” Joyce laughs to herself, left behind in the kitchen with the promise of a long make up for it.
She fishes a few cereals from the box and eats them, taking a seat by the table, laughing at the way the kids ran as they packed and trying not to drown in anticipation for the next hours. She’s surprised to see Hopper emerge fully dressed from their room before the kids are even done, clearly ready to take them and make his way right back as quickly as possible.
Joyce gives him a satisfied look; something tells her the wait will be worth it.