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Hob rubbed his eyes in an attempt both to clear his blurring vision and chase away the headache that had been building for the last 20 minutes. He reread the paragraph he had just written and sighed. He was no Shakespeare, a treacherous internal voice reminded him.
“Come to me.”
That voice was also in his head but it definitely did not belong to him.
“I can’t, Dream,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m busy.”
“You are exhausted and your head aches.”
“Yes,” Hob acknowledged to the empty room, “and that doesn’t change the fact that I need to convince university administration not to cut the history department’s budget.”
“What does it matter? You said yourself that you only have a few years left in this place.”
“It matters,” Hob grumbled around the catch of annoyance in his throat, “because it’s not about me. It’s about some kid who has their eyes opened to the context of the problems of the world because of a well-taught history class. It’s about a kid who decides to devote their life to making the world a better place because their history professor inspired them.”
“All the more reason, then, for you to tackle this when you’re better rested.” Dream’s tone had gentled. “Come to me.”
Hob heaved a deep sigh and waited, but did not feel the familiar change in the atmosphere that signaled when Dream had crossed into the waking world.
“You’re not coming to ‘Sandman’ me?” he asked after a moment.
“I will if you like, but it seems unnecessary. If you go to bed you will be asleep in minutes. I will be waiting.”
Hob heaved another sigh, then turned off his computer and went to brush his teeth.
Hob felt like he had just closed his eyes when a thin white hand was reaching for him. He took the hand in his own and felt himself being pulled, both towards Dream and into a deep sleep.
And then he was in Dream’s arms, his face pressed against his lover’s chest. Dream smelled of cold night air, and his skin was cool as always, but his solidity was a comfort.
“I am glad you came,” Dream said softly.
Hob looked up at him, and then up some more. Dream’s physical manifestation always varied in the Dreaming. Tonight he was well over six feet tall, skin gleaming white, black hair floating wildly around his head, and eyes of midnight shining with twin stars. Hob smiled up at him and was met with an answering smile that was incongruously warm on such an imposing figure.
Dream cupped Hob’s cheek in his large hand and ran a thumb gently under his eye.
“I do not like it when you suffer,” Dream said.
Hob chuckled. “This isn’t suffering, love. I’ve been through suffering. This is just a headache.”
“I do not wish for you to be in any amount of pain.” Dream frowned. “And this… budget cut… has upset you.”
Hob turned his head to kiss Dream’s palm, then smiled up at him. “I’m starting to think that I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”
He blinked as Dream shrunk down so that they were once again the same height.
“I intend to make sure of that,” Dream murmured as he leaned forward to kiss Hob’s lips.