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1.
It had started recently, either that or he’s only just noticed it. Ever since Dream came back to the New Inn that day, a soft smile on his face, and declared them friends, it felt like Hob’s life started all over again, well, his days seemed a lot brighter anyway. Though their meetings were sporadic in the beginning, Dream popping in at random times was a shock he easily got used to, Hob couldn’t help the thrill of excitement shooting up his spine when he woke up, wondering if that day he would be meeting Dream, and six times out of ten, he was right. Long story short, their friendship developed into something else.
One night, the pair were relaxing ion the couch in Hob’s flat above the Inn. Dream had made himself comfortable next to him, which meant he shucked his coat and shoes, and Hob, the Victorian woman he was, found himself blushing at the sight of pale forearms. He had to mentally slap himself for having such thoughts. He had just gotten Dream back into his life, declared them friends, and actually spent time with him as a friend, he wasn’t about to ruin it with his stupid, lustful thoughts. But then, just as the clock struck ten, Dream, barely touching shoulders with Hob, set down his tea, barely touched, tucked his legs under him, and turned to him,
‘Hob…Can I ask you something?’
Hob had never heard his friend sound so unsure, about anything,
‘Course you can, duck,’ then cringed mentally, the term of endearment had slipped out. Dream said nothing for a moment, the stars in his eyes glowing brighter,
‘I …have thought long and hard during…during my…incarceration,’
Hob nodded quietly. It was only last week he discovered the real reason why he missed their last meeting, and it broke his heart. He couldn’t help himself from embracing Dream, who sat ramrod straight in the couch, but he didn’t miss the way his hands gripped him tightly, that was ok, Hob shed enough tears for both of them.
‘And I realised…some things,’ Dream continued, ‘Things I have been too…prideful to admit at the time.’
As he said this, Hob’s gaze flicked to their hands, resting tantalisingly close to each ither, he watched with baited breath as Dreams slender hand crept forward slowly, and settled atop Hob’s broader palm.
‘There are things that I wish I hadn’t said…things I should have said, and I-,’ he paused, pink tongue flicking out to to lick his bottom lip. Hob watched the motion hungrily.
‘I do not have many I can call friend, you are the first, Perhaps, the only one, and I-,’ he bowed his head, ‘I thought perhaps, well, I assumed that…perhaps…,’
His hold tightened on Hob’s, holding it like a lifeline. He knew what he trying to say, and his heart leapt at the realisation. Carefully, so Dream had plenty of time to back out, he leaned forward, until they were nose to nose. His gaze flicked from those starry eyes to those pink, inviting lips.
‘Dream,’ Hob whispered, ‘Can I-,’
‘Please,’ it almost sounded like a whine. Hob closed the distance, locking onto the lips he had imagined tasting for centuries. It was better than any of his fantasies. His lips were soft, softer than silk, and he opened up eagerly, greedily drinking him in, and Hob was just as greedy.
And that had been the start of their relationship, or courtship as Dream preferred to call it. Six months of dinners, museum outings where both pointed out inaccuracies, and, perhaps his favourite, warm, cuddly nights where the only thing he had to complain about were Dream’s cold feet. He never did.
The rocks on the other hand, were more confusing than anything. He was finding them in the most random of places, in his sock drawer, his shoes, even atop his desk at work. They were no normal rock, that much was obvious, though at first glance they could have been mistaken for lumps of coal, they held a shine unlike anything he has ever seen. All the rocks were roughly the same shape, fitting in the palm of his hand like a chicken egg, but it weighed like ten. He held the first one he found between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light. The sparkle took his breath away, it glittered like the night sky, or a certain someone’s eyes. Hob already knew the answer, carefully putting in his pocket.
Later, when he returned to his flat, he knew Dream was already there. It was a buzz in the air, like an oncoming storm. He didn’t have far to look. situated on the couch, cocooned in blankets, looking like the cat that owned the place, was Dream. he was laying still, eyes closed, resembling a corpse. At the sound of the door closing, he lazily cracked open an eye,
‘Hello, love,’ he leaned over the couch, kissing his feathery soft head. He hummed, leaning into his touch,
‘So, you finally decide to come home?’
‘Yes, love,’ Hob chuckled, ‘I told you six,’ he quickly checked his watch,
‘And as you can see, it is two minutes past,’
Dream hummed again, rising from his nest like an ethereal beast. Hob watched, enthralled, thinking how lucky he was that a being like this cared for him.
‘By the way,’ Hob asked, dragging his gaze away, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask,’ he reached inside his pocket, pulling out a familiar shape,
‘Does this have anything to do with you?’
Dream paused his stretching, arms high above his head, muscles tense, he cracked open an eye,
‘Are they not to your liking?’
‘I like them plenty, just wondering what they are,’
Dream took the stone form his hand, at his touch the rock came to life, glittering and shifting between shades of blue and green,
‘This is a stone plucked from the plutonian shore,’
‘Plutonian? Like Edgar Allan Poe?’
Dream nodded, ‘It is a realm favoured by my ravens, I accompany them in my raven form,’
‘No way?!’ Hob couldn’t help exclaiming, ‘You can turn into a bird?’
Dream levelled him with a look, ‘I am Lord Shaper, it goes without saying that I can turn into a raven’
‘Ah, right, forgot.’
He gently brushed a knuckle against the otherworldly stone, it seemed to respond to his touch as well.
‘And you brought one for me as a… souvenir?’
‘I would prefer to call it a courting gift,’
That got his attention. Hob looked up just in time to catch the faint dusting of pink on Dream’s cheeks. He recalled something he read ages ago about birds and their courting rituals, finding the shiniest rocks, and gifting them to potential mates. His own cheeks heated up,
‘Dream,’ he took the rock back and held it to his lips,
‘I love it.’
Then, he saw a much more wonderous sight, a smile, almost imperceptible to the human eye, but Hob saw.
2.
Hob was not a smart man, smart enough to live six centuries in anonymity, smart enough to get a degree, yes, but he was not smart enough to know when to stop. It was the staff night out, all heads from each department were out on the town, and it is a well-known fact that academics love to party.
Smythe from the science department was on her fifth daiquiri and flirting with Davis from the art department, who was under the table and trying to draw over everything. Hob knew he was gone when he was arguing with his reflection, and still, he accepted another pint. Being immortal did nothing for his tolerance and he knew the hangover would be hell, but at least he didn’t have to worry about liver damage. His reflection in the amber liquid seemed to agree, therefore, he downed another whiskey.
The night began with eight well spoken, cultured academics, now they were five down, and the rest were under the scrutiny of the pub staff, already they had to stop the math head from climbing onto the counter four times. Hob was proud to say he only tried to climb it once.
‘Another round?’ Smythe joked, he hoped it was a joke, he couldn’t tell which direction she came from.
‘Naw,’ Hob answered, his voice distant to his ears, ‘I think that’s it for me.’
He didn’t wait for a response, or it went over his head, he stood up from his chair, knocking over his empty glass as he did.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he reached out a hand placatingly, he patted someone’s head.
‘Do you have a lift?’ Smythe asked,
‘Yes, yes,’
Did he? He walked here, didn’t he? He fumbled for his phone, making it for the door.
‘You better not be thinking of driving,’
‘Naw, naw,’ Hob called over his shoulder, still patting his pockets, ‘I got a lift-got a friend…’ he swayed as he stood, trying to think of a coherent thought. The world tilted and before he could collide with the floor, a hand gripped his shoulder,
‘A friend?’ a deep voice intoned, ‘Is that all I am?’
Hob spun, making himself dizzy, but it was worth it to see Dream’s lovely face, a tiny smirk played about his rosebud lips. He felt his own face break out into a grin,
‘Duck!’ he all but screamed, he practically fell forward and planted a sloppy kiss, in his drunken state he missed and collided lip first with his shoulder.
‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ his words muffled by Dream’s coat, his arms snaked around the slender frame. He stiffened at first, then awkwardly patted his back,
‘You are intoxicated,’
‘No, I’m Hob,’
Dream sighed louder; he never heard him sigh in such a short amount of time. Pride surged within Hob, making him nuzzle into his shoulder. He smelled of petrichor and warm, inviting beds, Hob let out a little pleased sigh. He earned another pat to the head,
‘Come have a drink with me, love,’ Hob pulled at his sleeve but it was like trying to move a wall,
‘Hob, don’t you have a class tomorrow?’
‘Not until afternoon, now, come have a drink with me.’
He tried walking away, the world shifted as he did, turning upside down, until his vision nothing but floor.
‘Wha-?’ he eloquently said. His senses slowly kicked in to gear, until he realised he was over Dream’s shoulder, hefted up like a bag of potatoes. Hob felt the blood rush to his head, not only because of his position, but because he was inches away from Dream’s ass, even under the coat he could tell. He focused on that, instead of his being manhandled. With a quick goodbye to his co-workers, and a pinch of sand, the pub was gone, replaced with Hob’s bedroom. Even upside down he recognised his carpet,
‘Come, Hob, you will feel better after sleep.’
Hob drunkenly giggled as the world righted itself,
‘You would say that.’
In the dark, Dream’s eyes glowed like a cat, he found himself entranced. He reached out, seeking a cold hand, and brought it to his lips,
‘You are a marvel, Dream,’ the softness of his lover’s hand hypnotised him, rubbing it along his cheek, ‘I truly am lucky to know you.’
He couldn’t be sure in his inebriated state, and the lack of light, but it looked like a dark flush appeared on Dream’s cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to take off Hob’s coat, all while Hob lay there, giggling,
‘You have to be more careful, Hob, another drink and you would have fallen headfirst into my sister’s realm,’
‘I have never drunk myself to death-yet.’
‘Not that one.’
Hob just giggled, Dream sighed, but after a moment, he placed a chaste kiss to his forehead, and Hob felt his eyes grow heavy, letting the darkness claim him.
3.
Hob fell through his door, kicking it behind him with a grunt. The pain hit him full force as revenge. He could barely hold back a curse as his knee throbbed evilly. It hit him out of nowhere, well, the twinge came when he was pulling on his trousers this morning, that should have been enough warning, but, because he is an idiot, he ignored it. Just an ache from sleeping wrong he thought. It’s been 600 years and he still hasn’t learned. Throughout the day, the ache was just an afterthought, lingering at the edge of his awareness. Like a predator lying in waiting to strike. It attacked in the middle of his lecture. His most occupied one.
Just when he was in the middle of his groove, spouting facts, to eager students who ate up his words, and the pain reared its ugly head. It knocked the wind out of him, cutting off his words. Whatever he was saying died on his lips. He blinked, shifting his weight carefully. Pain shot through his knee, sharp and biting, he all but collapsed in his chair. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. He spouted off more facts, hiding his discomfort by typing on his laptop. He managed to muddle through another hour, and splurged on a taxi.
And now, he was finally home, and he could fall into bed. Except, his passage was blocked by a mountain of dirty clothes. Hob swore. His past self’s laziness coming back to bite him in the ass. He was so fed up, he was tempted to just curl up in his balled-up clothes, but his knee cried out for painkillers. He hobbled over the mess, straight into the equally dirty kitchen. He filled a glass of water, ignoring the greasy, congealed dishes, popped some pills, and turned towards his bed, only to walk face first into Dream of the Endless. His cry of surprise was drowned out by the clatter of his cup. It was plastic, thankfully, and didn’t shatter. He dreaded to think how Dream would have reacted to breaking glass.
‘Oh, Christ!’ Hob exclaimed, Dream just looked at him, patiently waiting for his shock to pass,
‘Sorry, love, ‘he attempted to kneel to clean the growing pool of water, his knee screamed out in protest.
Dream merely blinked,
‘My fault entirely, Hob,’ he said in his melodious voice,
‘I should have made my presence known,’
Hob smiled, ‘You never make your presence known. You know, I’m starting to think you do it on purpose,’
Dream raised an aristocratic eyebrow, ‘And why would I do that?’
‘Because you get to hear me squeal like a baby.’
Dream said nothing, his eyes sparkling like stars,
Hob’s smile grew wider, ‘You’re a trickster,’ forgetting his pain for a moment, he leaned over and kissed his cold cheek,
‘Hi, Dream,’ he whispered against alabaster skin, ‘Good to see you,’
Dream hummed, ‘Even when I startle you?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less from the King of Nightmares.’
This time, Hob was rewarded with a tiny, imperceptible smile.
‘Sorry I got your boots wet,’
‘No matter, I can ‘poof’ it away, as you so elegantly phrase it,’
‘Nonsense, I don’t want you cleaning up my messes when you’re here,’ he gestured to the couch,
‘You sit down, I’ll clean this up and put the kettle on.’
He tried to kneel to clear away the puddle of water, his knee chose that moment to scream.
Unable to hold his weight any longer, his knee buckled, and collided with the cold, unforgiving tiled floor. Pain exploded throughout his leg; his vision went white. Hob, in too much pain to even swear, could only wheeze. He willed the pain to fade, to ease, if only for a moment so he could catch his breath, before Dream noticed.
‘Hob?’
Shit.
He glanced up, finding those shiny blue eyes aimed down at him. Hob hadn’t even heard him move.
‘Hey, duck,’ he said, nonchalantly, like it was a normal mortal thing to be kneeling in a puddle of water,
‘Are you well?’
‘Well enough,’
Dream tilted his head, ‘Why are you on the floor?’
The cold was seeping into his knee, aggravating it like a hammer to a sore head, it was becoming difficult to think,
‘Well…why aren’t you on the floor?’
Hob cringed at his words, Dream blinked,
‘I…I do not know.’
Had it been any other day Hob would have felt a small thrill at stumping the Prince of Stories, instead, he was more occupied biting back a pained groan, not wanting to worry him. In the blink of an eye, as if sensing his torment, lowered himself to Hob’s level.
‘You are hurt.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘No, not really, I just pulled something,’
‘Hob Gadling. Do not lie to me.’
With two hands on his shoulders, Hob was forced to meet his blue eyes, shining now with concern. Hob never wanted to make him worried.
‘Hey now,’ he said softly, ‘I’m alright,’
Dream frowned, ‘You are on the floor, and your hands are shaking’
Are they? Hob glanced down, his hands were gripping his thighs, tight enough to make his jeans squeak, and they were trembling, as more and more pain radiated up from his leg. Carefully, he raised a hand, Dream caught it like a wayward butterfly, holding it close to his chest.
‘You are in pain,’ he frowned, ‘And you lied to me’ though his eyes were narrowed in a glare, there was no real heat in his voice,
‘It is your knee again, isn’t it?’
What point was there in lying anymore? Slowly, he nodded,
‘I woke up with just a twinge, and I ignored it, of course-,’
Hob stopped, suddenly feeling weightless as a pair of arms cradled him close. Hob couldn’t help but gasp,
‘Dream, what are you doing?!’
‘I thought it obvious,’ he wasn’t even out of breath, ‘I am bringing you to bed,’
‘Oh?’ Hob raised an eyebrow, ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to do most of the work,’
Dream huffed out his little laugh,
‘Though your enthusiasm is to be admired, I hardly think now is the time for that,’
Hob shrugged, he was beginning to like being carried around, he hoped it wouldn’t evolve into anything else,
‘I don’t know, it might take my mind off of my knee,’
‘Yes, or do you further damage,’
‘Give me some credit, Dream, these bones may be old but they aren’t filled with dust.’
He was rewarded with another huff of laughter; the sound almost made him forget his knee. Dream entered Hob’s bedroom, ignoring his dirty laundry, and placing him in the middle of his bed. Though he was more than gentle, he couldn’t help wincing as his body was jostled. Dream whipped his head up at the sound,
‘I’m fine, love, I’m fine,’ he reassured, patting his shoulder,
‘It’s just that stiff stage where even the slightest movement hurts,’
Dream nodded, shucking his shoes and trousers in the blink of an eye, Hob gasped as the air hit his bare legs,
‘Is there anything else I can do to help?’
He couldn’t help noticing the way Dream’s eyes travelled up and down his legs, savouring the view. Hob didn’t even have the energy to be flattered,
‘No, not really,’ he let out an exhale, blowing hair out of his face, ‘Not unless you can take away knee pain.’
As soon as the words left his mouth, warmth blossomed on his skin, just above his swollen knee, immediately, he felt the pain easing. Hob didn’t bother hiding his surprise, or the ungodly moan of relief. He looked up at Dream, he was hunched over his legs, arms bare for once, and with his hands pressed to his bad knee. Dream, through some Endless power perhaps, had turned his hands into mini heat pads. Better than any store-bought ones, the heat didn’t just stay in one place, it travelled through his muscles, soothing his aching back, even ridding him of the migraine looming in his temples.
‘Oh, sweet mother Mary…How are you doing that?’
‘You forget, I can change my form at will,’ Dream explained, keeping his hands fixed to his hirsute knee, ‘What you are feeling is simply the rising of my eternal temperature,’
Hob lay back against his pillows with a sigh, he closed his eyes but evaded sleep, he wanted a little more time to live in this moment. The feeling of his lover’s touch, artist fingers achingly tender against his rough battle scars, if he were a poet he would be soliloquising.
‘Wait, you could always do this?’ Hob asked, opening his eyes a crack, ‘And you still steal my jumpers?’
Dream frowned, ‘Is that an issue?’
‘No, not really,’ a light bulb went off in his head,
‘Course, you could always come to me for extra warmth,’
Dream huffed another laugh,
‘And force you to endure my-what was it you said? My ice-cold toes,’
‘I don’t mind,’ Hob chuckled, ‘Honestly,’
Dream looked at him, something else shining in his blue eyes, something soft, as he gently massaged his knee. It made Hob’s heart skip a beat.
‘And thank you, love, for taking care of me. It’s…It’s been a long time since anyone bothered,’ he chuckled, the sound came out wetter than he meant. Dream blinked, raised one hand from his knee, and gently touched his cheek, his thumb wiping away moisture he didn’t feel.
‘Do not thank me, my beloved,’ his touch turned feather soft, like an artist lovingly putting the final touches on a masterpiece,
‘It is an honour to care for you.’
To seal his words, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Hob’s scarred skin, soft as a butterfly. Somehow, Hob doesn’t know how, he held back the sudden onslaught of tears.
4.
Hob had a full day ahead of him. Four classes, three meetings that should have been emails, and if that wasn’t enough, he had to skip breakfast. His alarm never went off, he had a sneaking suspicion that a certain Dream king switched it off to get a few more moments of cuddling in the Dreaming. He wasn’t annoyed at him, it was typical cat behaviour, he just wished he had time for a slice of toast before rushing off to work. He quickly pulled on a button up shirt, and a jumper, shoving papers into his satchel as he searched for his keys. He didn’t find them.
Instead, he found Dream in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, and a flowery apron the only colour in his otherwise black ensemble. The morning sun coming through the window gave him a golden outline, Hob thought he was still dreaming, until he caught the smell of eggs.
‘You are awake,’ Dream said, not looking up from the pan, ‘Would you like a coffee?’
Hob blinked, trying to restart his brain, ‘Hang on, am I still dreaming?’
Dream huffed, pouring out a fresh cup, ‘You have known me long enough, you should be able to tell the difference.’
Hob didn’t know how to respond to that, he accepted the steaming mug with a nod, bringing it to his lips, and taking a sip, never taking his eyes off the miracle in front of him. The coffee was perfect, of course.
‘You’re-?’ he sniffed at the air, ‘You’re making breakfast?’
‘Yes,’ Dream expertly flipped something, then paused, ‘Is that alright?’
‘Alright?’ Hob closed the distance between them, not sparing a glance to the mountain of dishes, or the gelatinous blob in the bin (failed attempts no doubt), and pressed his lips to Dream,
‘It’s more than alright,’ affection and love surged through him, warming him up better than the coffee, he wrapped his arms around him,
‘Thank you, love.’
Dream hummed, basking in the attention, he returned his kiss tenfold.
‘It’s the least I could do, it is my fault you’re running late, I was too-,’ he waved the eggy spatula, struggling to find the word, ‘Enthusiastic.’
‘Oh, is that what you’re calling it now?’
Dream huffed but accepted another kiss. Hob glanced into the pan, anxious at what he would find, situated in the pan, was a normal looking omelette. It looked fine. Hob should have known, especially with Dream’s penchant for omelettes.
‘I have also taken the liberty of preparing you a packed lunch.’
Hob looked to where he pointed, on top of the counter sat a plastic lunchbox, decorated with stars. He found himself smiling, he didn’t comment on it though, knowing how Dream preferred to keep his cool emo demeanour. A demeanour that was slightly ruined by the spontaneous burst of flames.
5.
Her face shifted in and out of sight, one moment it was there, then it was just a blob, only the dark hair framing her face told him who it was. Eleanor. It had been so long since he dreamed of her. Though he loved to reminisce, he couldn’t stop the grief from twisting in his chest like a knife. Each visage of his wife faded away as he drifted, he didn’t know where, he only had eyes for his El. His sweet, blank faced El. He reached out, hoping to feel that familiar, soft warmth, but there was nothing. With sound like a soft exhale, she was gone, fading away like mist.
Before Hob could gather his thoughts, the scene changed. It was blurred like his vision was clouded, despite this, he knew exactly where he was. it was embedded in his soul. The feeling of kneeling on the cold, rough wooden floor, holding his son for the last time. His poor face was unrecognisable, swollen, and purple from whatever wretch had done this to him. The sticky warmth of Robyn’s blood, drenching his stupid doublet, the same one he used to impress his stranger. For how much it cost, it made terrible bandages. The sound of the tavern faded, replaced with the sickening death rattle of his boy. Then his arms were empty, and somehow, that was worse.
He dipped in and out of fragmented scenes, shivering and starved in a snow-covered street, hunched over in pain from dysentery during a war, don’t ask him which one, but it was the memory of the shipyard sickened him. One that haunted him every day since he left the 17th century. Just the sight of those haunted, traumatised eyes was enough to shock him awake.
He shot up out if his bed, and ran straight to the bathroom, emptying his stomach as the memory assaulted his senses. He sat there, long after his stomach stopped convulsing, gripping the sink until his knuckles matched the colour of the porcelain. He waited for the burning in his throat to pass, only for it to spread to his eyes. the tears spilled over, thick and fast, it was too late to stop it. sobs wracked his body until he couldn’t manage a single breath. The cold time came up to meet him, sliding down the bathroom wall, before he could completely curl up into a ball, a pair of arms embraced him.
Hob looked up, bleary eyed, into the solemn face of Dream. neither said anything, Dream curled around him protectively, Hob melted in his hold, hiding his face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent, letting it ground him. Dream didn’t ask, he didn’t have to, he just uttered a strange noise that came form the back of his throat, almost kike the purr of a cat. Had Hob been in the right frame of mind, he would have smiled, instead, he sobbed louder.
‘It’s my fault,’ he heard himself cry, ‘It’s all my fault,’
‘No-,’
‘It is!’ Hob took a shuddering breath, ‘All those people I’ve hurt, the lives I’ve ruined…I deserve to die,’ he said the last part under his breath. Dream heard him, he knows he did, but he was silent, then,
‘That may be true,’ he began, ‘But you have learned from your mistakes.’
Hob shook his head, still hiding his face in Dream’s shoulder, feeling pathetic,
‘It doesn’t matter,’
‘It does, Hob Gadling,’
He looked up at his full name, and Dream took the chance to grab his face, gently forcing him to look him in the eyes,
‘Is it not better to endure the hurt than to be cold and indifferent?’
He moved his hand to settle over Hob’s chest, just over his racing heart,
‘Is it not better for your mortal heart to feel rather than simply be a dead muscle?’
Hob blinked, sniffling,
‘I-what?’
Dream didn’t blink, just continued to stare,
‘The purpose of my nightmares is not only to show you your deepest fears, but to hold a mirror to them, to show their true selves,’
More tears gathered in Hob’s eyes,
‘For them to learn,’ Dream urged
‘And you, Hob Gadling, have learned far more than any mortal I’ve known,’
Hob sniffed, ‘I’ve had longer to learn I suppose,’
‘And learn you did,’ Dream sighed sadly, ‘If only others could follow your example,’
Hob rubbed at his eyes,
‘Well, I’m sure it doesn’t hurt having the Dream King as your partner,’
Dream gave a small smile,
‘I suppose you’re right,’ he pressed his cold lips to Hob’s flushed brow,
‘Do you want to try going back to sleep? You have a lecture in six hours do you not?’
Hob sighed, at that moment, all he wanted was to stay there in Dream’s arms, cuddled on the bathroom floor, but he knew his back wouldn’t appreciate it in the morning,
‘Will you-,’ he cleared his throat, ‘Will you stay with me? Just until I nod off?’
As an answer, Dream got up of the floor, carefully helping him to his feet, holding him when his legs trembled again,
‘Beloved,’ Dream began, ‘I will guide you to my realm, in the palm of my hand if you so wish. And I will handcraft you your own personal dream.’
‘You don’t have to do that, duck.’
Dream kissed the back of his hand, ‘But I want to.’
They headed back to bed, Dream slotting behind Hob’s back perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.
‘Sleep, my love,’ he whispered, his baritone sending shivers down his spine, ‘I will be right behind you.’
Hob wanted to say something smooth, something that captured just how much affection he had for the other being. Instead, he just sighed, letting himself fall into his lover’s realm, still wrapped tight in his embrace. The next thing he was aware of was the bright sun, soft grass cushioning him, and Dream looking down at him.
‘You are an easy man to please, Hob Gadling,’
Hob didn’t say anything, distracted by the hand in his hair,
‘So, I’ve been told.’
+1
It had been a while since they met up, two months in fact. Exam season had just finished and both were up to their eyes in work. Hob with grading, and Dream with crafting stress dreams. The last time they met, he seemed to embody his students stress, his permanent bedhead evolving into something you’d get after sticking your finger in a plughole, dark circles that would rival a raccoon under his eyes, and his nails bitten down to the nubs. Hob wasn’t much better, his diet seemed to consist of mothing but sandwiches and coffee, driving them further apart.
But that was all finished now. The term was over, the papers were graded, and now, he could finally reunite with Dream. settling into bed that night, he realised he may have overdone his bedtime routine. The sweet smell of his face cream and the soft material of his freshly laundered pyjamas, no, he didn’t care. It didn’t take long for him to enter his lover’s realm. He found himself in the library, the expanse of stories towering over him, and just a few feet beside him, was Lucienne, hard at work as usual. The steady rhythm of stacking books a pleasant background noise.
Before Hob could clear his throat, the noise stopped, Lucienne’s gaze flicked to him,
‘Hob Gadling,’ she greeted, warmth flashing behind her golden spectacles,
‘Nice to see you again,’
‘Thank you, Lucienne,’ he couldn’t help glancing around her, searching for a familiar dark shape, Lucienne chuckled,
‘He’s working at the minute,’
‘Oh, no worries,’ a chair appeared out of nowhere beside him, ‘I’ll wait,’
Lucienne waved away his words,
‘He could do with a break,’ she motioned with her head for him to follow. With just one step, the scene around them shifted, and Hob found himself on a shore, not any shore he recognised, this was made entirely of black, glittering sand, and just on the cusp of the horizon, stood Dream. He had his back to them, engrossed in whatever he was crafting, from that distance, it looked to be some diaphanous blob.
‘I’ll let him know you’re here,’ but before she could even step out onto the sand, a sharp caw from above stopped them. Hob looked up, just in time to see Matthew, wings flapping frantically, and his beak open in a strangled shout,
‘Don’t!’ he cawed, landing on Lucienne’s shoulder, it took a moment for him to speak again, head bent down as he caught his breath.
‘Don’t!’ he cawed again, ‘Don’t disturb him!’
‘Matthew, though I admire your loyalty, the lord does need to take a break,’
‘I know that’ Matthew snapped, ‘but he won’t listen, and I don’t want to shock him out of whatever you call his little trances.’
‘The last time someone interrupted him,’ he ruffled his feathers, his way of shuddering, ‘He summoned a thunderstorm and struck them with lighting, their ashes blew away in the wind,’
‘Now, Matthew, he reconstituted them, didn’t he?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he gave another frantic flap of his wings, ‘Imagine it, shocked to dust.’
Lucienne tutted, or something like that, Hob stopped listening, suddenly distracted by a certain someone on the shore.
A breeze ran up the shore, Hob didn’t know whether it was random or intentional for dramatic effect, probably the latter knowing him. The breeze ruffled Dream’s hair and blew his robes against his body, a body only Hob was privy to, he knew every curve of muscle, and sharp joints of elbows, and knobbly knees that poked him whenever they lay together. Hob found himself moving closer. His weight shifted the sand but his feet didn’t sink. He walked towards Dream, moving in that slow, lazy pace that came with dreams. He really should ask Dream why that was. He stopped a few feet away, not doing anything, just content to watch.
Dream worked meticulously, his face a stony mask of concentration. In his own realm, the stars in his eyes were bright, not blinding, bright like the twinkling sky ion a warm summers night, his hands full of familiar golden sand. Hob cleared his throat, Dream went still. An age seemed to pass before he turned, slowly, eyes suddenly ablaze. Hob just smiled back, giving a little wave. In an instant, Dream’s whole demeanour changed. His lips, previously set in a deep frown, twitched into a rare, genuine smile, his eyes sparkled even more.
‘Hob,’ he breathed, ‘You’re here.’
Without looking back at his half-finished creation, he let the sand fall form his hand, banishing it to god knows where, Dream was the one to move first, pressing his face close to Hob’s.
‘I am…pleased you are here,’
Hob embraced him, eyeing the gold handfuls of sand, laying forgotten, then glanced back at the other two figures. Lucienne with a pleased smile on her face, and Matthew his beak hanging open,
‘Yeah, duck,’ Hob said, a grin stretching his face, ‘I can tell.’
Dream raised his head, quirking an eyebrow questioningly. In lieu of an answer, Hob cupped his face, thumbs softly caressing his cheekbones, and pressed their lips together. Dream hummed, and Hob felt the sound vibrate, not just in his bones, it thrummed all the way to his soul.