Jopper's Holiday

Treatment for a cold

December third

It is unusual for Hopper to arrive late when invited to dinner. Heavy snow has been falling all evening, and as the roads get messier, Joyce grows more anxious. After watching his mother pace between the front window and the kitchen for the tenth time, Jonathan suggests that Hop was probably just scared off by the half-burned chili he was fed last time. Joyce shoots him a dirty look. "That was an accident. I was distracted." Jonathan rolls his eyes, and gives his mother a knowing grin. He remembers exactly what distracted his mother that night, as he was the one to walk in on Hopper kissing Joyce while urgently pressing her against the bathroom sink.

"He's here!" Will calls, spotting headlights in the driveway.

Joyce moves to the door and opens it, struggling for a moment to see anything but darkness and snowfall. Soon she glimpses Jim approaching the house, illuminated by the porch light. Something is wrong. He's unsteady on his feet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks, "I'm sorry, Joyce. I thought I could do this...but I need to go home." She's convinced that he's drunk, until he starts to cough his throat raw.

When Hopper reaches the front step, Joyce puts her hand to his chest, feeling a dry rattle as he tries to catch his breath. "Hop, you're not going anywhere. Don't try to talk, just come in." She steers him into the house, calling to Jonathan to put on the kettle. Will is so alarmed by Hopper's sickly appearance that he brings his mother a blanket without even being asked.

"Joyce. I'm fine," Hopper rasps. "You and the boys go have your dinner, and I'll just get my contagious ass out of here."

"Are you kidding? I could listen to this new, sexy voice of yours all night," Joyce smiles, helping him out of his coat. She takes his hand and leads him to the couch. "Let me take care you, will you?"

Hopper collapses onto the sofa with a wheezy sigh of relief, and Joyce kneels down to remove his boots. He raises a lascivious eyebrow at the sight of her on the floor between his legs, a subtle reminder that while he may be sick, he's certainly not dead. As Jim stretches out on the couch, Joyce covers him with a quilt. The kettle is whistling. "Stay right here, okay?"

"You're a hot nurse, you know."

"Shut up."

Joyce returns to the living room, sets a plate of buttered toast on the coffee table and hands Hopper a warm mug of tea. Taking a sip of the steaming liquid, he groans with pleasure at the exquisite combination of whiskey, honey and lemon. "Christ, Joyce, I don't deserve you." He fixes her with his expressive blue eyes, and it takes all of Joyce's willpower to resist climbing under the blanket with him.

She wanders into the kitchen and eats dinner with her boys. By the time the dishes are being cleared away, Hopper's snore can be heard reverberating off of the living room walls. Will and Jonathan exchange amused looks. Joyce shrugs and leaves the dining room to check on her "patient." The toast and hot toddy have been devoured, and Jim has discarded his sweater on the back of the couch.

"Hop, let's get you to bed," she says softly, tugging back the quilt and touching his arm. He squints up at her, smiles and mutters "sexy nurse" before nodding off again.
Joyce lets him be.

She wakes briefly in the wee hours of the morning to a strong arm hugging her close around the waist, and a familiar voice whispering, "Being near you is the best medicine." Joyce isn't even sick, but the warmth of her lover's body still makes her feel better.