Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

We Belong

"We Belong"

We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under

Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better

We belong, we belong, we belong together

- Pat Benatar

When they had finished their meal, the woman from Hawkins Lab met them outside the diner. She had piles of clothes with little baggies full of toiletries stacked on the hood of her car, passing them each a bundle. "I'm afraid this place is rather full," she said, frowning toward the motel as if she couldn't imagine why. "So there are only two rooms."

Joyce glanced at Hopper then away, trying not to look at him, and definitely not looking at their two companions, who were grinning like idiots. "That's fine."

"Okay." The woman from the lab had no reaction. She simply handed Joyce a key, and another one to Murray. "I'll pick you up here in the morning. Get some sleep."

"No problem," Murray said.

Joyce couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. That was a bad sign—she must be tired if her Murray radar was on the fritz. She carried the clean clothes and the key past Hopper, not lifting her eyes.

He followed her, waiting behind her as she unlocked the door. Two beds. Okay.

"Do you, uh, want the shower first?" Joyce asked, setting her clothes down on the dresser just inside the door.

God. A hot shower. He could barely remember what that felt like. "No, you'd better. Once I get in there, the entire state of Alaska might run out of hot water."

"Okay." Clearing her throat awkwardly, she picked up the baggie of toiletries, shedding the filthy red white and blue coat and kicking off the oversized boots on her way.

Hopper busied himself while she was in the shower turning down the beds and looking through his pile of clothes, trying very hard not to imagine Joyce in the shower.

She came out still wearing the yellow Russian t-shirt and the too-large jeans, her damp hair falling down her back. "All yours."

"Right." Hopper waited until she was clear of the door before he went inside.

Once the bathroom door had closed behind him, Joyce shucked the jeans and hurriedly got into the bed, pulling the covers up over herself. She thought she should probably wait until he got out of the shower; they needed to talk, after all. But her eyes were so heavy, and the bed was surprisingly comfortable, and ... She blinked once, then twice, and then slept.

Hopper stepped into the shower, moaning aloud in pleasure. Whoever had invented hot showers was a Goddamned genius. Moving gingerly, his ribs still hurting, he soaped and rinsed and then just stood there letting the water run over his shorn head and drip down his face.

When he got out, he put the Russian jeans back on. Like Joyce, he wanted to save the clean clothes for the morning. Opening the bathroom door, he stepped almost shyly through, then stopped to look at her sleeping. She was so beautiful there.

Hopper considered sleeping in the other bed, but ... he wanted her in his arms. Whatever else might or might not happen, he wanted to be able to hold her, to touch her, to reassure himself that she was real. He eased himself into the bed behind her, moving the covers gently so as not to disturb her. He wrapped an arm around her and relaxed into the bed, closing his eyes. It was the first time he'd been in a bed in such a long time. It felt sinful.

Sighing, Joyce snuggled back against him, and he felt her take his hand. Her warmth against him, the softness of the sheets, the mattress, the pillow ... He was asleep in moments.

Unaccustomed as he was to such comfort, Hopper woke sometime in the middle of the night. Joyce had turned in his arms so she was lying on her back, and it took him a few moments to realize she was awake, too.

It was hard to believe he was really here, lying in a bed in a cheap motel in the United States with this valiant, strong woman in his arms.

"Hey," she whispered into the dark.

"Hey."

"What're you thinking about?"

"You." His voice came out huskier than he'd intended.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. My knight in shining armor," Hopper added. He found her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingers.

She laughed softly. "I'm pretty sure you were the one with the sword."

"I don't—" In the daylight, he could never have said this, but in the darkness, it felt like he had to. "Joyce, I don't think I deserve ... any of this."

"Of course you do."

"You've saved my life more times than I can count, and all I've ever brought you is pain." His voice cracked on the words.

"You saved Will," she reminded him. "More than once. And you—you believed me. When everyone else thought I was crazy, you believed me, and you brought me back my son. We saved each other, Hop," she whispered.

He felt her hand on the back of his head, pulling it down, and she kissed him. Softly at first, but ... God, how much he wanted her. He gathered her into his arms, kissing her.

Joyce's small fingers were working their way down his chest now, across his stomach. They hooked into the waistband of his jeans and his breath caught in his throat. He held absolutely still, waiting, but she took her hand back.

"What is it?" he asked. "Do you not—"

"No! No, I do. But you—you've been injured so much. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care."

"I do."

Bending his head, he kissed her again, then he climbed out of bed and took off his jeans. Taking a deep breath, he got back under the covers. Joyce had pulled off the t-shirt while he was gone, and the press of body against body was delicious.

Hopper couldn't have said where they were or how much time had passed. All that existed for him was the sweetness of Joyce's kisses, the touch of her hands on his skin, the warmth of her, the sighs in his ear as they moved together.

He held her close when it was over, his face in her hair. And there in the dark, he started to cry. He cried for El, and for Will, and for everyone in Hawkins, and for Diane, and for Sara, and for Joyce, for that dumb stupid kid who had gone off to Vietnam all that time ago. And Joyce held him the whole time while he sobbed.

"It's okay, Hop," she whispered when the flow of tears had stopped at last. "I'm here."

Hopper had no words left, no tears, no energy at all. He closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder, and surrendered to sleep.