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What exactly does one say after six hundred years of comfortable platonic dating and now a first romantic one?
The Endless glided beside the immortal, quietly basking in his presence as Hob led the way down the park path. Anyone giving them a casual glance probably wouldn't give them a second one; only seeing two men, one potentially sickly and scowly and the other just one's average ray of sunshine. With everything else in the world (heroes, villains, metahumans, monsters, etc.), they were... nothing special. Extraordinarily ordinary.
Dream liked that. Despite his haughty, icy demeanor, he liked it a lot.
"You know," Hob began, snapping Dream out of his inward spiral. "I have no idea how to walk you home."
Morpheus was well-practiced in keeping outward expressions of his emotions in check, but there was no hiding anything from Hob Gadling. "You do not. The Dreaming is not a place you can travel to."
Hob snorted. "What? Do I need to go lie down on that bench over there so I can go right to your door?"
This... this human!
"It is not necessary. We have always merely parted ways before."
They walked in silence for a while, Hob's giddy smile brightening their way. Dream shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to look anywhere but him. His heart was beating so fast that it almost hurt.
"Stranger?"
"Hm?"
He stopped beside Hob, following his gaze skyward.
"This is a date," the immortal mused.
"Yes?"
Hob met his eye abruptly. "Then I would very much so like to kiss you."
Morpheus only blinked. "Oh."
The human stared at him expectantly, expression open and honest as it had always been. The eons felt a little heavy around Dream's shoulders.
"Ah... sod it!"
Dream froze as Hob gave him a quick peck, the weight lifting ever so slightly.
"God, that was rubbish," Hob snickered. "Sorry. Leapt before I looked."
Was the Endless turning pink? Nah. Trick of the streetlamps.
"I..."
"'S alright. I don't plan on dying and you're you. We've got boatloads of time for me to get better," steamrolled Hob. "First one's always the worst. You'd've thought I'd learn something in half a millennium."
Dream untangled his left hand from his pocket as Hob moved away, hooking around his last two fingers, falling into lockstep.
"It was not the worst."
"Nah," said Hob. "You're a godawful liar, Stranger."
Dream wrinkled his nose. "I did give you my name, Robert Gadling."
Hob shook his head. "True, love, but... been calling you that in my head for six hundred years. I like your name, but I'm lousy about change."
"Then I am happy to be your Stranger."
"Oh, I like that," chirped Hob. "'My Stranger.' Makes it a bit official, doesn't it?"