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Hob hasn't been very public about his sexuality. Not that he hid it, but he didn’t walk around the streets with flags either. However, he knew all of his students unanimously agreed that their teacher was bisexual. Is it really that obvious?
He had good relations with his students. He loved his job, enthusiastically gave lectures on history and literature, tried to make them and seminars as memorable and interesting as possible. Students parsed his jokes into quotes and, not surprisingly, with this approach, attended his classes with great pleasure. And absolutely everyone was amused by the teacher's dislike for Shakespeare.
Although Hob tried to maintain a strictly professional relationship, for every group he has ever taught, he has been "one of the lads". During the classes, topics could go into some personal ones, Hob was happy to help kids with their problems, gave advice to everyone who turned to him. For them, he was almost a psychologist.
During a 30-year belated meeting between Hob and Dream at The New Inn, the friends sorted things out and their quarrel in 1889 no longer weighed heavily on Hob's heart. Dream told him his name and his nature, which made Hob happier than he could ever feel.
Hob recalls this reunion with warmth in his heart. It's amazing how much has changed between him and Dream since that meeting. Much more than 600 years. Now Dream called him with pride not only a friend, but also a lover. Even though Hob was used to this status, it still sent chills down his spine when Dream said the word in his deep, velvety voice.
Dream was interested in Hob's life. He made no secret of his delight in simply watching Hob do everyday things: cooking, marking tests, reading. There was something intimate for Dream in these actions. He would like to look at his man endlessly.
Dream hesitated for a moment. He was insanely interested in how Hob conducts classes, how he tells history that he literally saw with his own eyes. The temptation was huge. He gave in to it.
It was maybe the fourth lecture of the day, but Hob looked more alert than the first. Looking at him, it was hard to tell if he was tired at all. Hob paced the audience, actively gesticulating, throwing in his jokes. When it came to some historical figure, when listing her shortcomings, he added that all this can be safely attributed to Shakespeare. The students listened to him, laughed, commented, entered into a lively dialogue with their lecturer, and no one was bored sitting at their desks.
Dream looked at Hob from the open door, standing in the hallway. A lot of students noticed him, but not Professor Gadling, who was too engrossed in his story. Dream leaned his head against the doorframe and thought how delightful the man had chosen him as his companion.
Dream didn't control his emotions like he usually did. A slight smile bloomed on his face, barely noticeable, and his gaze, full of adoration, didn't leave the teacher for a moment. Dream didn't even blink.
The students began to whisper. Someone pointed at the intruder with a pen, someone just looked askance, and some found it hard to take their eyes off him.
It wasn't until Hob stopped his tirade at the head table for a few sips of water that he noticed him. The corners of Dream's lips turned up as their eyes met, and Hob couldn't help but smile at him. Everything inside Hob fluttered at how enamored Dream looked.
The buzz in the audience got louder. Clearing his throat, Hob still struggled to return his attention to the students. There were fifteen bloody minutes left, and he needed to finish this lecture as soon as possible in order to talk to his lover.
Hob tried to come to a conclusion as least suspiciously as possible, but it turned out, frankly, badly. He somehow turned the topic around and quickly dictated the task for the practical lessons, after which he announced loudly that the lecture was over and everyone could leave the audience. There were chuckles among the students, and they were packing things unusually slowly, making Hob nervous.
Dream crossed the threshold, finding himself inside the classroom, and moved back to the wall so as not to prevent people from leaving. His hands were hidden in the pockets of his coat, to put them at least somewhere. Throughout the lecture, he had an incredible desire to touch Hob.
There were fewer and fewer people, however, several students approached Hob, stealing his precious time before the next class. Usually, on the contrary, he encouraged the students to approach him, ask questions or just talk, but now he quickly figured out how to drive the young people away more gently.
"Guys, let's discuss this at our next meeting, okay? I have very little time now." Hob smiled at them kindly, forcing himself not to look at Dream. Instead, three of the five students who crowded around the teacher turned to look at the mysterious man.
“Then good luck in your... business, Mr. Gadling." grinned the blonde, one of Hob's best students, and left the audience with the rest, finally slyly grinning at Dream, as if she personally held the candle at their last sexual intercourse.
When the auditorium was empty, Hob breathed a sigh of relief and sat down at his desk. Dream finally slowly moved closer to him, and on his face again played the smile that Hob simply adored.
"It was an excellent lecture." Dream gave his assessment, stopping close enough to Hob.
“If the King of Dreams himself liked her, then I really am a genius in my field." Hob grinned, looking up at him, "why are you here?"
"Wanted to see you in action."
"Is that all? Is this the only reason? Is this why you left your kingdom?" Hob raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Dream chuckled softly, knowing full well what kind of words the man was trying to get from him.
“Can’t the king of dreams grieve from being separated from a human?" Dream teased him in the same way that he made Hob hide his embarrassment behind a laugh. The reddened tips of the ears betrayed him with giblets.
“I missed you too."
Hob put his hands on Dream's waist and pulled him closer to him. Dream leaned in for a kiss, and his hands finally touched Hob's face.
Hob couldn't even imagine what a stir would happen in the group chat of students after this visit.
«I can't believe Gadling has such a gorgeous boyfriend!!!»
«Maybe he's just a friend or colleague»
«Friends don't look at each other like that, idiot»
«I don't know who I envy more»
«Who would have thought that our Shakespeare hater has a taste for emo boys»
«Guys, I swear I saw them kiss when I walked past the classroom!»
«If they are friends, then with privileges»
«Let's bet whether he will appear again»
«Oh fuck, I hope so»
In the following classes, no one asked professor Gadling anything about his special audience at that lecture, although Hob could see the desire in their eyes. Hob didn't know if he wanted to discuss this with anyone at all or not. On the one hand, his personal life should not concern anyone, this is his small island of peace and happiness, on which spectators are not provided. On the other hand, fuck, he would like to brag at least once in his life that Morpheus himself kisses him, the most beautiful man in existence. He is literally a dream.
Dream enjoyed watching Hob teach and wanted to see it again. He appeared at the university again a week later.
Hob was waiting in the classroom for the practice lesson, and Dream kept him a good company. They talked about the nightmares that had suspiciously stopped haunting Hob since he met Dream again 130 years later. Dream, the sarcastic bastard, shied away from answers, gave incomplete explanations, but didn't deny anything.
Hob was sitting in his teacher's chair, with Dream sitting very close to him on the edge of his desk. Even sitting unusually relaxed, he still looked regal, as if the table were his throne.
When the bell rang, Hob couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't want to let Dream go at all. His hand rested too well on his favourite thigh, but the students began to enter the class, directing their curious glances at the teacher. Hob removed his hand, Dream got down from the table and in his eyes Hob also noticed the reluctance to leave.
"I have to work." Hob tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but the smirks of some of the students showed that he didn't succeed in doing this.
"Sure." Dream already took a small step towards the door, but stopped, thinking about something. Then he turned back to Hob, unsure how to ask his question.
"What?"
“Hob, can I…” Dream looked at the students who were watching them as if they were in a theater.
"Stay?" Hob chuckled. Dream nodded as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to be here, "Of course. As long as you don't distract my students."
"Distract? Me?" Dream let out a chuckle that made Hob beam.
Dream sat on one of the last desks and pretended not to notice the grinning students whose eyes were directed at him.
"My friends, I'm here, the lesson has begun." Hob snapped his fingers, drawing attention to himself.
Hob thought that perhaps Dream's brother, Destiny, was having fun by sending one of those classes that were closest to him at this particular hour. The group consisted of 15 people, and each of them had some kind of story associated with professor Gadling. At the first desk sat the same blonde, Alison, who almost stole priceless minutes after the end of one of the last lectures. It was from her Hob once learned that the entire university calls him bisexual.
"We settled on the Renaissance, if I remember correctly." Hob scanned the lesson plan, clapped his hands, and jumped up from his chair.
The faces of his students became even more cunning, but so far no one said anything.
Hob briefly recalled what he was talking about at the lecture, and gradually the class began to liven up, entering into a dialogue with his teacher. Dream sat quietly, as if he wasn't there, he didn't even move, and his blue eyes were riveted to his man. Hob could feel his gaze, and it took him an incredible amount of effort to ignore it.
When it came time to enumerate the great poets of the era, the class was already very excited.
“Mr. Gadling,” a young man with shaved temples raised his hand, “you forgot to mention Shakespeare."
There was a rather loud "woo-hoo" going through the office, and Hob looked at the student as if he had just insulted him.
Dream tilted his head in interest, like a cat, and Hob didn't even need to look into his eyes to know that a cunning light flashed in them.
“Never call Shakespeare a great poet in my presence." Hob replied threateningly, but his words didn't produce the desired effect, the whole group laughed.
"Why don't you like him so much?"
"Why? Oh, yes, of course, your textbooks have the perfect biography. I know they tell you about him in other subjects, but trust me, you wouldn't want to know him in real life. Maybe there is something in his works, and then not in all of them, maybe only in a couple, but as a person he was a complete bastard. Narcissistic, obsessive, extremely loud, goofy, with a terrible sense of humour, rowdy..."
“You already said that, Professor."
"I'll say that ten more times. He was really very loud, pestering everyone in a row to listen to some of his drama. In addition, he liked to interrupt all sorts of dates and turn all the attention to himself."
Hob realized too late he had said too much when he heard a chuckle. No one but him heard it. Hob swallowed and looked from the students to his main spectator, who wore the most contented and sly grin he had ever seen on his face. He felt himself blushing and stopped for a bottle of water, trying to calm down.
Perhaps Dream guessed the root of Hob's dislike of Shakespeare, but Hob comforted himself with the word "perhaps." And now he himself, in front of fifteen of his students, admitted that back in 1589 he was jealous of his immortal friend for this idiot.
"Does your friend also dislike Shakespeare so much?" Alison asked, and all the students, as one, turned to Dream. Hob almost dropped his soda from his hands.
“I have nothing against Shakespeare's work,” Dream replied, and the students held their breath at his voice, “as well as at his personality. However…” he looked into Hob's eyes, causing him to freeze in place, “I have to agree with some of Professor Gadling's statements."
This bastard is teasing him. He specifically says something that will cause a whirlpool of feelings and confused breathing.
"Mr. Gadling, you didn't say you like emo." giggled the student from the first desk, and Hob heard her hit Alison's five under the table.
"Let's not digress from the topic." Hob cleared his throat, trying to salvage his humiliating position.
Luckily, the students didn't put pressure on him, even though they really wanted to. Yet they respected him, for which Hob was very grateful.
Turning to the discussion of works of art, the favourite part of the class began — the discussion. The students argued with Hob and with each other, trying all the time to prove something, sometimes turning into screams, like Hob himself. But it wasn't a scream of anger or irritation, but a raised voice when overexcited from interest in the topic.
Dream saw something fascinating in this. The way Hob talked about what he was interested in, with what fervour he argued about this or that work, defending his point of view. Hob was fascinated, his emotions overflowing. Dream wanted to kiss his reddened face from the incessant flow of words. Dream has seen many worlds and beings, he has seen the beginning of the universe with the first dream of the first living creature, he will see the end of this world through the eyes of the last living being, but he has never seen or will see anything or anyone as beautiful as Hob Gadling.
Dream urgently needed to touch this magnificent creature. As if hearing his thoughts, a bell was heard announcing the end of seminar. The students hummed in frustration, and Hob took a deep breath, feeling the lack of air in his lungs after the fiery speeches.
The students began to put their things away, but Dream didn't want to wait. He stood up and approached Hob, too close for a normal friend.
“You never cease to amaze me, Hob Gadling."
“You like to say my full name, don’t you?” Hob smiled, and the return smile was his answer.
"Excuse me, professor, can I ask you a few questions about the project?" Half of the group crowded around the teacher.
Hob looked up at Dream, clearly regretful. As a teacher, he couldn't refuse them.
"I'll wait." Dream told him.
Hob nodded and made a gesture with his hand, thus giving permission for questions.
Dream promised to wait, but he apparently overestimated his strength. Hob was standing close, talking to other people, it was nothing to touch him right now. The memory of his Shakespeare monologue caressed the Endless's ego, even though he knew that after his departure from the aspiring playwright, out of jealousy, Hob forever pissed off at the now legend of human art.
Dream looked around at the students for a moment. He knew everyone who spoke to Hob, he saw and created their dreams every night. He was well aware that at least a third of all Hob's students at least once dreamed of being fucked by him.
This knowledge made Dream feel a kind of pride. This attractive and too charismatic person was his.
Standing a little behind Hob, not preventing him from talking to young minds, Dream suddenly put one arm around his waist. Hob immediately fell silent in mid-sentence, blushing with surprise.
"Continue. Pay no attention to me." Dream whispered so that only Hob could hear him.
Swallowing, Hob continued to speak, carefully pretending nothing had happened, as if Dream's chest wasn't pressing against his back, as if the Endless's breath wasn't burning his ear. The students couldn't help but notice this gesture, as well as Dream's peaceful face, burying his nose in the professor's hair.
When the class was empty, Hob turned around in Dream's arms to be face to face with him.
“You just marked me like that in front of my students?” Hob asked softly and raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, did I?" Dream replied with a question, not without a grin. It took a lot of effort for Hob not to laugh.
“You are the biggest bastard in the world, Lord Morpheus."
"Perhaps."
Hob exhaled unevenly. He loved that sarcastic ass so much that he couldn't help kissing his lips and touching his palate with his tongue.
«You won’t believe what happened when we approached him to ask about the project»
«Those who left are the biggest losers in the world»
«What was there? Has Gadling expelled someone for reporting on Shakespeare?»
«I TOLD YOU THEY'RE DATING»
«They're so gay LMAO»
«The emo boy hugged him so possessively that I felt embarrassed»
«Are we going to keep ignoring that in the beginning he called him Hob? Who even abbreviates the name Robert like that? What century is this guy from?»
«Oh my god, our teacher hooked up with an emo vampire»
«Waiting for Gadling paired with emo eyeliner and in a My chemical romance T-shirt»
«Now I owe Alison a ten. She kind of knew our Mr. Don't Talk About Shakespeare was sleeping with a man.»
«It's a sin not to sleep with such a man, bro»