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They were having tea in Hob's living room when Death arrived.
When the doorbell rang, Hob had just finished fussing over Dream, checking him over for any possible injury he may have sustained during his trip in Hell. He’d just finished gently chiding him for yet again going to pay a visit to the literal devil to settle some matter that Hob was sure could have been resolved without Dream having to risk his neck.
Dream had tensed even before the bell rang through the room, undoubtedly picking up on the presence on the other side of the door.
Hob let Death in, taking in the resolute set of her jaw even as she smiled warmly at him.
"Hey," Hob said, smiling back at her. "What brings you here? We were just having a spot of tea. Would you like to join us?"
"Actually," she said, sending a meaningful glance toward Dream, who tensed further under her gaze. "I was hoping to talk to my brother."
"My sister," Dream said, and Hob was surprised to hear apprehension in his voice.
Death ignored him in favour of addressing Hob. "I'm sorry to impose like this," she said. "But the matter I need to discuss with him is of the utmost urgency."
"Of course," Hob automatically said, even as worry started to seep into his whole body. Had Dream's trip to Hell brought unexpected consequences? Was everything alright in the Dreaming? "You're always welcome here, love. I just hope everything is alright?"
Death must have read his worry because her face softened a fraction. "Everything is fine, Hob. I've just come to borrow Dream for a while."
"Whatever it is, I am certain it can wait," Dream said, and Hob, by now, knew him so well to see through his neutral, almost bored posturing. What he saw left him reeling, because Dream looked almost... nervous?
"It really can't," Death said, pinning Dream with a hard stare that made even Hob squirm uneasily.
Dream didn't make a move to stand; if anything, he sprawled himself more firmly in Hob's chair and said, "I promised Hob we would spend the night together. Surely you cannot think I can go back on my word."
Before Hob could say that of course , he wouldn't mind Dream leaving, especially for a family emergency, Dream silenced him with a hard look of his own.
Confused, Hob turned toward Death, who pursed her lips.
"Do not make me do this here, little brother."
Whatever it was, it made Dream gasp. "You would not dare."
"No?" she calmly asked, and Hob thought she looked like someone who really would dare. "Are you really willing to test me, little Dream?"
Dream squirmed in his seat but didn't stand. "I must remind you that we are in Hob's home. I cannot allow you to inconvenience Hob like this."
"I'm pretty sure Hob wouldn't mind," Death said. "I bet he isn't happy with the stunt you pulled today either."
Hearing her words, Dream squirmed even harder. "I must ask you to leave, my sister," he said. "We can talk when you're in a more reasonable state of mind."
"We'll talk now," she said, then turned to Hob. "Hob, would you mind terribly giving us some privacy?"
"Of course," Hob said, but he was interrupted by Dream's shocked noise.
"Absolutely not," Dream said, and Hob could see he was losing some of his composure. "Hob will do no such thing. He is in his own home, my sister, and he can't be expected to leave just because you cannot be reasoned with."
"Fine," Death said, taking a deep breath as if to calm herself. A new kind of resolution settled on her gorgeous features. "Fine. Don't say I didn't try to give you some privacy, little brother."
"Sister," Dream said in alarm as she approached him. "Surely you cannot be serious."
"Oh, I'm dead serious, Dream," she said. "You can't expect to pull this kind of stunt and hide out at Hob's in an attempt to avoid suffering the consequences."
"I shall come with you," Dream hastily said, putting his hands in front of himself to prevent her from getting closer.
"Too late," Death said, trying to grab one of his flailing arms.
"Uh, guys?" Hob interrupted, because he wasn't sure what the problem was, but if it had Dream in such a panic, it couldn't be anything good. "What the bloody hell is going on here?"
Death stopped trying to get a hold of Dream and turned to face him. "Am I correct in assuming you know about his last visit to hell?" At Hob's nod, she continued. "Then you must know that there was something I promised him I would do if he dared to risk his stubborn neck like that again."
"Sister," Dream growled.
Hob looked between the two of them and settled his gaze on Death, considering she seemed to be the more forthcoming of the two. He raised an eyebrow in question.
"I promised I would punish him," she said conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "And I'm here to keep that promise."
Punish him? "What do you mean, punish him?" Hob glanced at Dream and did a double take at how red his face was. "Are you going to hurt him?"
Death must have heard the protectiveness in Hob's voice, because her expression softened. "I will not harm him," she said. "Not permanently, at least."
Hob squirmed in place, torn between not going against the being who was literally responsible for his continuous life and defending his boyfriend. In the end, his protective instincts won, and he said, "Wait a second, love. You can't hurt him!"
"See, my sister?" Dream said, a trace of smugness back in his voice. "Even Hob believes you're being unreasonable."
"I didn't say that," Hob hastily interjected. "But I'm a bit worried about what this punishment might entail."
"That's to be expected," Death said quietly. "But I promise you, my brother will survive, even if his pride may not." She paused and glared at Dream, who was squirming in his seat again. "To put it simply, Hob, I'm going to spank him."
"Sister."
Hob's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Spank... him? Like… smacking his bum?"
"Exactly like that," Death said, ignoring Dream's sounds of protest. "And I can assure you, it does wonders to keep him in check."
"So you've already done that?" Hob asked, glancing sympathetically in Dream's direction.
"Only when it has been necessary," Death replied. "I haven't had to do it in a few centuries. He's a fast learner when he's given the right incentive."
"Right," Hob said, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Dream, his proud and haughty boyfriend, would go across his big sister's lap to be spanked when he misbehaved. "And now you want to spank him because of his trip to hell."
"Hob," Dream said, glaring at him from across the room.
"Stop that," Death scolded, and Dream's face grew even redder as he averted his gaze to the floor. "Hob did nothing wrong, little brother. He's just asking reasonable questions like any concerned boyfriend would." Once she was sure Dream wouldn't protest, she turned back to Hob. "Yes, Hob. I don't know what he has told you, but the last time he was in hell, he barely made it back. If it weren't for Matthew's help, he would have been kept there as a slave for eternity."
Hob paled at her words. " What? "
"It was not–"
"Be quiet," Death hissed, interrupting Dream's protests. "You risked ending up enslaved to a demon. You won, sure, but it was a close call, and the Lightbringer is a sore loser. You know better than me they've been dying to get their revenge on you."
Hob had to lean against the nearest table to support himself at the thought of Dream risking his freedom in such a way. "Oh my God."
"Do you see now why I'm here?" Death gently asked.
Hob looked at her and saw only sisterly concern on her face, then glanced at Dream's pleading eyes. With an apologetic glance in Dream's direction, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I can't say I don't.”
" Hob ," Dream said, and Hob flinched at the accusation in his voice.
"Sorry, love," Hob said. "You know I'd go to the moon and back for you. I'd bloody lay down my life to protect you, but your sister is right."
"Thank you, Hob," Death said, her voice covering Dream's splutter of outrage. She took another step toward Dream and managed to grab one of his arms. "Come on, little Dream, don't make this harder on yourself."
"No," Dream hissed and tried to disentangle himself from his sister's hold.
"It's happening, little brother," Death said, her voice hard and final. "Whether you collaborate or not."
"Not here," Dream furiously whispered.
"I don't see why not." With a mighty tug, Death managed to yank Dream off his chair and started to drag him toward Hob's couch. "Considering the man has to suffer for your inconsiderate actions, he might as well get to see you punished for them."
Don't bring me into this , Hob thought, torn between feeling sorry for Dream and wanting to see him taken to task for his recklessness. As soon as he realised his thought, he immediately felt guilty for it.
Dream blindly reached under his jacket with his free hand, no doubt feeling for his pouch of sand, and Hob's heart lurched in his chest at the thought of Dream storming off, knowing that pride and humiliation would keep him away for heaven knows how long.
Hob bit his lip, not really wanting to rat Dream out, but afraid of the other possible outcome.
Thankfully, Death stopped in her tracks, no doubt alerted by Dream's wiggling, and pinned him in place with a deadly glare.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned. "Unless you want me to find you and punish you whenever you are." She paused and smirked at the pensive look on Dream's face, who was no doubt considering the pros of that situation. "And then I'll bring you back here and start over."
Dream glared at her but slowly took his hand away from his coat. There were two high spots of colour on his beautiful face, and Hob would find them endearing if he didn't know the cause for them.
Death reached the couch and sat down, dragging a reluctant and still resisting Dream until he was standing in front of her, bracketed by her legs.
"Trousers down," she said in the kind of voice that brooked no arguments.
" Sister ," Dream hissed and tried to break free of her hold to no avail.
"Right," Hob said, and he was pretty sure his face must be as red as Dream's. "I'll just leave you guys to it, then."
Dream's shoulders, instead of sagging in relief like Hob would have expected, tensed further at his words.
"I'd rather if you stayed," Death said and reached out to undo the button of Dream's jeans.
"Why?" Hob asked and squirmed as he watched Dream struggle but lose the battle against his sister's quick fingers.
"Because I think he may actually feel better if you did," she answered and took down Dream's zipper, the sound ringing incredibly loud through the room. "And if you stay, you can see with your own eyes that I don't intend to do any actual harm."
"I believe you," Hob hastily said but then thought about the first of her claims. He walked to Dream and, ignoring the awkwardness of the situation, cupped his face with one hand, making eye contact. "What she said—" Hob swallowed and tried his best to smile. "Would you prefer if I was here, love?"
Dream averted his eyes and let out a slow huff of breath. "Perhaps."
Which was as good as yes, in Dream's speech, Hob thought. "All right," he said. "All right, sweetheart. I'll stay, but I want you to say something should your wishes change."
Dream jerked his head into a tight nod and groaned as his pants slid down his thighs and pooled at his knees.
"Come on," Death said and tugged at Dream until she had him splayed over her lap, and the sight was so unreal Hob didn't believe his own eyes.
Not knowing what to do with himself, Hob hovered for a moment and then sat on the nearest armchair, trying his best not to openly stare but unable to help sneaking glances in their direction.
As the first slap echoed through the room, both Hob and Dream jumped, although Hob was sure for very different reasons.
Death settled into a quick rhythm of sharp slaps, and Hob, who by then had completely given up the pretence of not looking, could see how methodical she was in covering every inch of Dream's boxer-clad bottom and administering the occasional smack to the top of his thighs.
Dream was rigid as a board and so quiet that Hob wouldn't even guess he was the one being spanked if he wasn't witnessing the whole thing. Somehow, Hob didn't think Dream's stoicism was going to win him any favours.
"Try to relax, little brother," Death said as she delivered a mighty smack to the back of Dream's thigh, drawing the first gasp from him. "We've barely started."
She really meant business, Hob thought, cringing in sympathy for the reckless, stubborn personification of dreams he loved to call his partner.
Hob had been on the receiving end of a spanking a few times during his long life, and he knew that by now, it had to sting. Yet, Dream remained stoically quiet, and Hob started to worry that his presence might be a hindrance for his prideful lover.
He was still debating whether to get up and leave when Death paused, considering Dream's rigid form. Nodding to herself, she quickly pulled down Dream's boxer briefs.
"Sister, no ," Dream said, breaking his self-imposed silence, and even beneath the low growl, Hob could hear the strain in his voice.
Instead of answering him, Death let her hand fall on his uncovered bottom. The sound resonated through the room like a gunshot, and Hob had to suppress a wince as Dream let out a pained gasp. It was subtle but there, and it was Dream's first sign of showing distress, letting Hob know that the spanking was getting through to his stubborn boyfriend.
Death resumed her relentless rhythm of harsh slaps, and soon the first gasp was followed by other sounds. But it was only when Death started targeting Dream's undercurve and the back of his legs that he began to let out low whimpers that pulled at Hob's heartstrings.
Those whimpers seemed to have no effect on Death because she kept her relentless punishment going. Dream started to minutely shift his legs, not quite kicking, but evidently restraining himself from openly doing it.
An especially harsh slap to Dream's sit spots drew a low whine from him, a sound that broke Hob's heart into pieces.
Hob had no idea how long the spanking went on. It seemed like an eternity to him, but a glance at the clock told him it had been a few minutes.
Dream was no longer able to stifle his small whimpers and couldn't seem to control the movements of his legs either, judging by the kicking. Hob couldn't blame him, considering his poor arse was a painful shade of red by now.
Another smack fell, and Dream kicked out, letting out a low sob. "My sister."
"Yes, brother?" she asked but smacked him once more.
"Enough."
"Oh no, it's not," Death said, her voice stern. "You don't get to decide when you've had enough."
Dream didn't answer. He tried to get off her lap, but she pinned him in place with steady hands and easily manoeuvred him so that his legs were trapped between both of hers.
"Unhand me," Dream said in a low growl.
"I don't think so," she said, smacking down hard over his already red sit spots.
Dream whimpered, and then, so low that Hob almost couldn't quite catch it, he said, "Please."
"Save your breath for when you actually decide to apologise," she said and smacked him harder, eliciting a sob from him.
"Death," Hob tentatively said.
"He's fine," Death said and delivered another mighty smack on the curve of Dream's arse.
Dream let out a small outraged noise, letting Hob know he believed he was far from fine. It brought a reluctant smile to Hob's face because if Dream could manage to sound outraged in a moment like this, perhaps Death was right and he really was fine.
"He's taken much worse than this," Death continued. "He's going to take much worse than this if it's what it takes to keep him safe."
Hob's protests died on his lips at the end of her sentence because, as much as he hated to see Dream hurt and crying, it could have gone much worse for him. It was the thought of the possible fate Dream could have had to endure that prompted Hob to say, "Fair enough."
" Hob ," Dream said, and Hob's heart broke at the betrayal in his voice.
"Sorry, love," Hob said. "Breaks my heart seeing you in pain, really does, but that’s nothing compared to what I’d feel were you to get properly hurt."
"Are you listening, little brother?" Death asked and brought her hand down in a harsh smack that had Dream shifting his hips from side to side. "Hob cares about you. I care about you. We’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, you stubborn, idiotic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification."
Dream's only answer was the sound of his ragged breaths, but Death didn't let his silence stop her. She kept on spanking, hard and unrelenting, until Dream let out small whimpers with every smack and didn’t seem to be able to stay still for longer than a few seconds.
Only then, she paused, looked at Dream, and sighed heavily. "Always so bloody stoic," she murmured, and some of Hob’s guilt quieted at the thought that he wasn't the cause of Dream’s prolonged suffering.
Hob watched as she produced a wooden and sturdy-looking hairbrush, seemingly out of thin air, and winced in sympathy for Dream’s bottom.
When she tapped the brush against Dream’s already glowing bottom, Dream let out a low groan and renewed his efforts to break free of her hold.
"Be still," Death sternly said.
"Sister," Dream said, and the strain in his voice was much more noticeable now. "Be reasonable."
"Reasonable?" She harshly asked, and Hob was surprised when she didn’t yet bring down the brush. "Do you really want to talk about reasonable? After what you did?"
"It was unavoidable–" his words ended in a startled whine as she let the brush fall against his undercurve, hard. "No, no, no," he frantically said as he wriggled his hips from one side to the other. "No, sister, please."
"Be still," she repeated, and landed another smack on the same spot, sending Dream scrambling forward on her lap.
"I cannot take it," Dream said, his voice ragged now.
"You can," Death said, and Hob had no idea how she could possibly be so unmoving in the face of Dream’s distress. It must come with the big sis territory.
"Please," Dream repeated, low and pained.
"Death, love, is that thing really necessary?" Hob quietly asked, because he couldn't stand to see Dream in so much pain.
"Afraid so," Death answered, and her voice was still flinty and unyielding, but when she looked at Hob, he could see in her eyes that she was as affected as he was.
Hob nodded at her, not trusting himself to speak, and winced as the brush made contact with Dream’s poor arse with a loud crack. He swore to himself he would never do something that might get him into Death’s bad graces, just in case.
"I’m sorry," Dream said, and the words sounded sharp and pained, like they had been ripped from him.
"What are you sorry for?" Death asked.
"For upsetting you."
Death smacked her brush down, hard. "Try again."
"Sister, I– ah, not there ," Dream said.
"Oh yes, right there," Death said and smacked his thigh on the same spot once more. "What are you sorry for, little Dream?"
For a moment, the only sound in the room was Dream’s ragged breath. Then he quietly said, "For visiting the Lightbringer’s realm."
"That’s good," Death said and tapped her brush in warning against Dream's undercurve. "And why is that bad?"
Dream groaned but said, "It puts me at risk."
"Damn right it does," Death replied, and the next smack of her brush drew a wail out of Dream.
"You cannot expect me to neglect my duties," Dream said, and Hob winced at the stubborness in his voice, sensing that it was going to cost him.
He was proven right when Death brought her brush down in a quick onslaught of smacks that covered the entirety of Dream's bottom, leaving him openly sobbing over her lap.
"You know I would not interfere with your function," Death said as soon as Dream's sobs died down to harsh breaths. "And you know I would stand aside if your presence in hell was truly necessary."
"It was--" Dream's sentence died in a small cry as she brought the brush down hard on his sit spots.
"Be quiet and let me talk," Death said and paused the spanking once more. "You know better than me that you could have sent an emissary or, at the very least, brought someone with you."
"I would not put one of my subjects at risk if I could avoid it," Dream said, and there was a stubbornness to his voice that let Hob know she was not winning this particular fight.
"Oh, no, I know you'd rather risk your own neck," Death said. "But what would become of your subjects if something happened to you?"
"You know a new Dream would rise," he said, and Hob was horrified at how easily he said it, as if he could be replaced with no hassle at all.
Instead of striking him like Hob expected, Death hummed in agreement. "In the case of your death, yes," she said. "But what if you were detained? What if you were enslaved to Lucifer Morningstar? What then?"
Dream opened his mouth to speak but slowly closed it, and his head sagged forward as if under the weight of his sister's words. His silence was all the answer that they needed.
"Your realm would decay, little brother," she said, and her voice was softer now. "Your subjects would either flee and die in the waking world or rot with it."
"I had not thought of that," Dream said, and swallowed.
Hob wasn't sure he agreed with the concept of prioritising Dream's function over his safety, but if it was what Dream needed to hear to stop taking reckless risks, then Hob wasn't going to complain about Death's methods. Although, he made a mental note to tell Dream how much he, as an individual , mattered beyond his purpose and how important he was to Hob.
"Exactly. You didn't think, and that's the reason we find ourselves here, little brother," Death said. "Now, can you tell me what you could have done to diminish the risks?"
"This position is hardly conducive to talking," Dream answered. "Perhaps if you would let me up-"
"We're not done yet," Death said and ignored Dream's answering groan. "Answer my question."
"I could have prepared better," Dream reluctantly admitted. "I could have delegated an emissary, and if that wasn't favourable, I could have taken someone with me."
Dream hummed in agreement. "What else?"
Dream was quiet for so long that Hob thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally, he sighed, "I cannot think of anything else."
"No?" Death said, and Hob could read a silent threat in her voice. "How about bloody telling someone of your whereabouts?"
"Oh," Dream murmured.
" Oh , he says." Death shook her head in exasperation. "If nobody knows where you are, rescue attempts are going to be delayed. If you take the bloody time to warn someone and put together a contingency plan, risks could be minimised. Do you realise it now?"
"I do," Dream quietly said.
"Then we can finish things up," she said and tapped the hairbrush in warning against Dream's already glowing arse.
"Sister, please, no more."
"I'm sorry, little brother," Death said. "But I need to make sure this won't happen again."
Without another word and ignoring Dream's protests, she resumed the spanking.
The pause had done little for poor Dream, who was now unable to hold back his sounds of distress any longer.
Hob debated leaving the room. Hell, he debated leaving the bloody flat if it meant he wouldn't have to see Dream cry and plead and apologise under his sister's relentless smacks. But he had promised, hadn't he? He had promised he would stay, and if his presence could be of some comfort to Dream, he had no intention of going back on his word, painful as it might be.
Perhaps, he thought, he could actively be of comfort to Dream. He didn’t think Death would terribly mind if he quietly soothed some of Dream's pain, but he found himself reluctant to intrude.
Dream was openly crying and uttering apologies with almost every rise and fall of his heaving chest, and Hob found himself fighting some tears as well. Damn his soft heart, really, because he was aware that Dream had earned every bit of his punishment, but he couldn’t help wanting to gather him in his arms and protect him from all sources of pain and discomfort.
Sighing, Hob stood and slowly made his way toward the couch. He stopped before them and made eye contact with Death, silently asking for permission.
Death smiled knowingly at him and nodded, but never stopped raining down smacks on Dream's upturned bottom, which now that Hob was closer, he could see was an angry shade of red.
Hob crouched on the floor and slowly reached out to card his fingers through Dream's hair.
Dream startled at the touch but didn't pull away. In fact, he let his head sag forward until his forehead rested against the fabric of the couch.
"Is this okay?" Hob whispered.
Dream nodded. It was more like a sharp jerk of his head than a proper nod, but it was an unmistakable yes. His fingers twitched and clenched around nothing, and Hob took pity on him and reached out with his free hand, allowing Dream to squeeze it.
When the next blow fell, Hob was pretty sure he was going to lose the use of his fingers, but that was okay because Dream needed them more than he did, after all. He squeezed back in silent reassurance, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease the pain but hoping to, at least, offer some comfort.
Thankfully, Death delivered the last few smacks and set the brush aside, immediately placing her hand over her brother's back and rubbing slow circles there. "All right, little brother," she murmured. "All over."
Dream buried his face against the crook of the elbow of his free arm and sobbed.
"Come on, sweetheart," Death soothed and tugged at his arm. "Come here."
Hob gently disentangled his hand from Dream's with one last squeeze and ran his fingers against Dream's scalp once more, before pulling back and standing. "I'll go make some tea," he said and headed toward the kitchen, wanting to give them some privacy at least during this intimate moment of comfort.
Once in the kitchen, he closed the door behind his back and sagged on one of the chairs, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He never thought he would witness Dream, his stubborn and prideful boyfriend, brought to tears by the sting of his sister's punishment.
Hob took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and wiped away a tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye. Deep down, he knew Dream deserved his punishment, but it was still difficult to witness someone he loved in so much pain.
Gathering his strength, he stood up and began making the tea. He chose a calming blend, hoping it would help soothe Dream and perhaps even bring some comfort to himself.
He took his time in the kitchen, fussing with the kettle and the tray and the mugs until everything was perfect and he had no more excuses to keep stalling.
Before he could gather the wits to go back to his living room, Death appeared on the threshold, and Hob's heart leaped in his throat.
"Is he-"
"Relax," she whispered. "He's okay. He's sleeping on your couch."
Hob sagged in relief and sat back at the table, motioning her toward an empty seat. He waited until she took her own seat and then poured two cups of tea, fixing hers how he knew she took it and adding some sugar to his own.
They both sipped in silence for a few moments, and Hob had no idea how he was going to break the awkward quiet.
Thankfully, it was Death who broke it. "Thank you for staying," she said, her voice quiet. "I know it wasn't easy for you."
Hob nodded and fiddled with his napkin. Seeing his boyfriend spanked to tears by his sister hadn't been easy at all. "I hope he won't be too mad at me."
"You know," she said, taking a sip of her tea. "I don't think he will."
"Is he going to be okay?"
Death nodded. "He'll be sore for a time, and his pride has taken a major hit, but he'll recover," she said, then smiled ruefully at Hob. "I'm sorry for bringing you into this."
"No, you're not," he said.
"Not really," she admitted. "I thought your presence would help. I still think it did."
"You know how prideful he is," Hob said, fretting over Dream’s reaction. "He's never going to forgive me for this."
"He will," she said, sounding so sure of it that Hob was tempted to believe it. "In fact, I think he's going to need your comfort."
"Anything," Hob said because he would always comfort Dream in a moment of need.
"You know I had to do it, don't you?"
Hob took his time before answering. "I can get behind your reasons. I, too, want to keep him safe."
"I know."
"If I thought you were wrong," Hob said, slowly and with intent. "Or if I thought you were being unduly harsh, I would have fought you, no matter the consequences."
"I know," she repeated, giving Hob a weak smile. "And this is the other reason I asked you to stay."
"It was bloody hard, you fiend."
"Do you think it was easy for me?" she asked, but there was no real reproach in her voice.
"I know it wasn't," Hob admitted. "I could tell."
"When our parents washed their hands of us, someone had to take care of the youngsters," she slowly said. "And taking care of someone is not just the funny bits."
"I can understand that," Hob quietly said. "I used to have a family, you know."
Her face softened further. "You still have one."
Emotion hit Hob square in the chest. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
She smiled and placed her cup on the table, then stood. "I'm afraid I must go. Duty calls."
Hob stood too. "What about him?"
"Let him rest," she softly said. "He rarely allows himself the luxury of sleeping."
"Don't I know it," Hob muttered under his breath.
Death nodded again. "Take care of him," she said before turning and walking away.
"Always," Hob murmured, even though she couldn't possibly have heard him.
With the goal of caring for Dream in mind, Hob sighed and headed toward the living room, abandoning his own tea and leaving Dream's cup behind. He would make a fresh pot later.
Dream was still sleeping, and he looked so peaceful. Hob wanted to wrap him in a blanket and protect him for eternity. With the intention of doing his best to fulfil the second part, he set about the first and headed to the bedroom to fetch one of his warmest and fluffiest blankets.
"Here you go," he murmured, delicately covering Dream's sleeping form.
He debated settling on the couch with him, but ultimately, he didn't want to jostle him too much and disturb his sleep. He also didn't want to leave Dream alone, so he sighed and lowered himself to the floor, sitting as close as he could and ignoring the voice that told him he would feel this in his back for days.
Once settled, he leaned over and kissed Dream's forehead, overwhelmed by love and protectiveness.
"Sleep well, love," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."
-----
When Dream woke up, Hob, true to his word, was still uncomfortably sitting on the floor. He watched as Dream's eyes fluttered open and saw him shift uneasily, still clearly feeling the effects of the punishment. As they made eye contact, Hob could see the embarrassment in Dream's eyes, and he knew it was going to take some time for him to process what had happened.
"Hey." He reached out to stroke Dream's hair, trying to offer some comfort. "Are you okay, love?" he asked softly.
Dream jerked his head into a small nod but immediately averted his eyes, clearly embarrassed.
"Hey, none of that now," Hob murmured, and slowly stood and climbed on the couch, next to Dream. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Dream scoffed. "I was chastised like an errant child."
"You were punished," Hob agreed. "And you took it admirably well."
Another scoff. "Do not lie to me. You were there. You saw me..." he trailed off, and it was the first time Hob saw him at a loss for words.
"You took that well," Hob insisted. "If that was me, I would have been sobbing long before she busted out that bloody thing."
Dream grimaced at the mention of the hairbrush. "My apologies. For involving you in this. I thought seeking your company would stay my sister's hand. It appears I was wrong."
"No apology needed, love," Hob murmured. "I'm just sorry you had to go through that. But your sister means well. She just wants you safe."
Dream sniffled, pressing closer against Hob. "Yes. Though her methods leave much to be desired." He gave a small huff. "The indignity..."
Hob smiled, tilting Dream's chin up. "The indignity is over now. And you're here, with me, safe and sound. That's what matters most." He kissed Dream's lips gently.
"Thank you." Dream paused, then whispered. "Your comfort was. Appreciated."
"Anytime, sweetheart," Hob said, and his heart clenched at Dream's admission, knowing how much it must have cost him.
"Forgive me for asking," Hob said, and felt Dream's body tense up. "You were so adamantly protesting against being spank—" Hob paused at Dream's withering glare. "Punished here, but then you wanted me to stay. What changed your mind?"
"I did not want you to know what was about to transpire," Dream whispered, and his face flushed a deeper red. "But once my sister informed you of her intentions and you were in the know, I found I did not—" Dream paused and averted his eyes once more. "I did not wish to face her wrath alone."
Hob slowly reached out and gripped Dream's chin, gently turning his head until they were looking at each other. "Hey," he murmured. "I'm glad you felt you could ask me to stay." He leaned over and kissed Dream's lips. "And I'm glad I could provide some comfort."
"You did," Dream murmured, and despite being an all-powerful being, he looked as open and vulnerable as Hob had rarely seen him. "And I thank you."
Hob brushed a few locks of hair off Dream's forehead and leaned over to place a kiss there. "Anytime, sweetheart."
When Hob pulled back, there was a small pout on Dream's lips. "You did not come to my defence."
"Hey, that's not fair," Hob said with a laugh, reminiscing on a time long gone. "I tried to talk her out of using that thing on you, remember?" Hob paused and considered his next words, afraid to cause Dream to take flight but having to say them nonetheless. "And besides, she had a point, you know? You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that."
"I believe I have already found myself subjected to a lengthy lecture about the risks I took," Dream haughtily said. "And the damage I could have inflicted on the Dreaming and the dreamers."
"About that," Hob said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "While I care a great deal about the state of the Dreaming and the collective unconscious, I care more about you ."
"I am the Dreaming."
"Hush," Hob said, not in the mood for redirection. "You may be the Dreaming, but you're also you . And it happens that I care a great deal about you. So, while your sister may have also addressed your misgivings as a ruler, I just want to make sure that you know your safety means everything to me." Hob paused and made eye contact, wanting this last bit to sink in. "I don't care for all that bullshit about a new Dream. It wouldn't be you , and you are all that matters to me."
Dream's eyes softened. "I am not accustomed to having someone care so deeply for me as an individual beyond my function," he quietly admitted, his fingers tracing patterns over the fabric of the couch.
Hob reached out and placed his hand over Dream's fingers, stilling them. "Well, you better get used to it, love, because I'm not going anywhere."
Dream's lips quirked up into a small, pleased smile. "I believe I can live with that."
Hob grinned, utterly charmed by Dream's awkward way of accepting affection. He leaned over and kissed Dream's lips. "Does that mean you're going to be more careful?" he asked. "I don't think my poor heart can handle seeing you punished like that again."
Colour rose once more to Dream's cheeks. "Believe me when I say I have no wish to repeat that particular experience."
"I bet," Hob said. "But you haven't answered my question. Just—please, love, be careful. For me, if not for anything else."
Dream's expression softened. "For you," he said. "I shall endeavour to exercise caution whenever possible."
"You better or I might consider turning you over my knee myself,” Hob teased, and grinned as Dream huffed in outrage. “Now, how about you let me take care of your poor arse?"
"Do not —"
"Come on," Hob said, interrupting Dream's outraged splutter. "You can go back to being your proud lordship after I draw you a warm bath and rub some aloe gel on your bum."
There was a battle going on on Dream's face, but at last, he nodded, still avoiding direct eye contact. "A bath would be agreeable. I find myself quite exhausted."
"I'd imagine so," Hob softly said. "Alright, you just rest here. I'll go draw you a nice warm bath."
Hob got up and made his way over to the door. As he was about to step out into the hallway, Dream's voice stopped him.
"Hob?"
Hob turned around to find Dream gingerly sitting up, and there was something vulnerable yet determined in his eyes. "Yes, love?"
"I would like for you to join me. In the bath. If you wish."
Hob’s heart fluttered in his chest at the request, and he couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face. "Of course, duck."
Dream nodded once, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and Hob would do anything in his power to keep him smiling, to keep him safe and protected.
Together, they made their way toward the bathroom, and if Hob planned to spoil Dream rotten for the next few days, well, Death didn't need to know.